Note: For the holy month of Kartik, I have vowed to write a letter every day to Srila Prabhupad.Dear Srila Prabhupad,Once again I’m experiencing stuckness in my writing for Seed of Devotion. I know, I know, I just need to sit down and write. Argh, why …
Author Archives: Bhakti lata
A Letter to Srila Prabhupad
Why We’re Alive
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Here at the Bhakti Center, we have a community meeting every two weeks to simply connect and cultivate relationships. Last Friday we gathered. With each person who spoke into the open space of the circle, I could feel something special build. Then…
Worry Surgery
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I lean in and place a bracelet around the wrist of Murlidhar, the deity of the Lord here in Manhattan. Trays filled with mirrored cloth and glittering jewelry surround me. The morning is quiet. Even the sounds from the street below are muted.I reach fo…
Visions
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I had a chronic illness when I was 13 that lasted for five years. I went to many doctors but none could figure it out. I faced many possibilities – invasive surgery, death, but nothing was certain.So for five years I saw through the vision of death. No…
Within and Without
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(me at 14)January 28th, 2002Sometimes I feel like 14, other times I feel like 3 1/2, other times I feel like 75. So many things to make me feel young and child-like… so many things to make me feel old and withered. Some things I wish I had never seen…
God is Here
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Looking at the photos below, I’m sitting in my chair in front of my computer and I can hear my heart pound. My mind is wiped of all thoughts and my world has become a quiet lake. Everything’s going to be all right. God is here. I pray that on…
Secret
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I’ll tell you a secret: I have absolutely no idea what is going on in my life.Maybe I seem like I have it all together; my career, family life, spiritual life. All my life I’ve been a “conviction” type of girl – deciding on a path and walking that path…
An Honor
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Today I got to dress Sri Radha Murlidhar for the first time.What an honor. Subscribe
My Story
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Last night in a circle of people, Tukuram Prabhu asked me, “So what’s your story?”I drew a blank. “My story? Uh, what do you mean?””Your story. Whatever that means to you.”My mind flew with images of which tack I could take. Being born and raised a Har…
Journal Roulette
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72 volumes. 72 volumes of putting my soul on paper. My journals now take up several shelves of a bookcase in my room, silently containing the history of my life since I was 11 years old.I’m going to conduct a little experiment.I’m going to open up seve…
When The Time Comes…
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In June, three of us young women were seated around a dinner table in Mumbai. One woman in particular was sharing her woes and thoughts on love and marriage.Then she turned the tables and asked me, “Do you want to get married?” “Of course I want to get…
Inspection
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My room here at the Bhakti Center was a tornado zone for quite a long time. So much moving had my life in a whirlwind. Boxes, luggage, piles of clothes and bags lay everywhere.When I had a day off work, immediately I scheduled a trip out of town to buy…
Bring It On
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(photo by flickr.com)On my way to Whole Foods the other day, as always I passed by the street basketball court. The guys who play games on this court are like, NBA material. But they usually just wear their casual shorts and old T-shirts.But this time …
Turn Up The Volume!
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One of my 2013 New Year’s Resolution: Write a minimum of 40 blog posts this year.Guess what?It’s almost September and this is my 13th post. This has got to be my lowest publishing rate ever in the history of this blog. I feel sad and yet also indignant…
Jewel of Stillness
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For the past two weeks, my life has been scheduled chaos. Yeah, I guess I’m just catching the New York vibe, right?Sigh.Amidst such storms of activity, something stands out to me right now as I write this. Last night, Radhanath Swami gave a talk, and b…
Fill the Hole
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Yesterday I was walking to Whole Foods Market to drink a kombucha and write in my journal. I felt tired, aimless. My chest felt cold and empty, like a hearth where the fire has gone out.”Bhakti, hey, nice to see you!”I looked up and saw Hema, a beautif…
Searching, Searching
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When I was in India and I got homesick for America, I would have a very specific daydream:
The library.
Wander into a beautiful library with vast ceilings, shelves filled with books and books, immerse myself in the mystical mood of knowledge an…
Searching, Searching
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When I was in India and I got homesick for America, I would have a very specific daydream: The library.Wander into a beautiful library with vast ceilings, shelves filled with books and books, immerse myself in the mystical mood of knowledge and inquiry…
An Official Mystery
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“You want to walk with Radhanath Swami and me to the Union Square Park harinam?” Dhanurdhara Swami asked me. We were conversing in a hallway of the Bhakti Center in New York City.”Why, sure!” I replied.”Let me just go ask him, and I’ll get back to you….
An Official Mystery
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“You want to walk with Radhanath Swami and me to the Union Square Park harinam?” Dhanurdhara Swami asked me. We were conversing in a hallway of the Bhakti Center in New York City.
“Why, sure!” I replied.
“Let me just go ask him, and I’ll get back to…
Making Peace with Anger
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When I got older, at times I faced an anger so deep that fire seemed to course through my veins. I would shake, tears would stream from my eyes. I would fling words like knives from my mouth. Afterwards I felt like a monster, for surely I had betrayed the trust of those around me. How could anyone love me again?
Through emotional education with Satvatove Institute and my own exploration over the years, I have been on a long, painful and beautiful path of healing. I have learned so much about the dynamics of anger, being in integrity, and being assertive. I would say that I had made a tentative peace with anger.
Then, about a month and a half ago, I was tested. For the upcoming drama here in Mayapur, I was asked to play the part or Lord Narasimha. Lord Narasimha is God in His most ferocious, terrible form as the personification of anger to protect His devotee.
I agreed to play the part.
This particular production was unique, for we would be portraying Lord Narasimha with four people, to represent the aspect that God is everywhere. In practice, I would roar and kill and destroy, my rage filling the entire auditorium.All four of us girls seemed to go deeper and deeper into the experience of divine anger.
But as practices wore on, I would sometimes leave late at night feeling so exhausted and empty. For a week or so I lost my voice so profoundly that my words came out in squeaks. I was supposed to be a lion but I felt like a kitten!
The day of the performance, the director kept insisting on using dramatic bloody guts that I would rip out of the abdomen of the demon I was killing. At her insistence, inside of my chest I felt a brick wall come up.
No.
I wouldn’t do it.
I said I didn’t want to because I had never practiced the whole killing scene before. There were so many other things that were last minute. I didn’t want to ruin my entire costume.
Etc. Etc.
Deep down, I knew the reason why I didn’t want to rip out the demon’s guts.
I was scared.
I was scared of my own anger, of expressing anger to that utter point of rage. In practice, I had always mimed ripping out the demons heart and placing his intestines around my neck. But to actually have blood on my hands, for blood to fly everywhere…
I cowered inside.
That was taking anger too far.
When I was having my lion face make-up done, I remembered the story of how Jadurani dasi had been painting this same killing scene with Lord Narasimha and the demon, Hiranyakashipu. The original painting had had a few drops of blood here and there. Srila Prabhupad had frowned and then ordered her to paint blood and gore everywhere. So she did. Only then was Prabhupad satisfied.
If this is what Srila Prabhupad would want, I thought, then my resistance to this violence is only out of my own personal fears.
Just before the crowds started to arrive, we went on stage and practiced ripping open the armor. I went through the practice with tight lips and a frowning face. Clammy hands.
There was no backing out now. After the practice, I nodded curtly, silently, that I would do it.
The drama began. Scene after dramatic scene, I could feel the tension building. The demon Hiranyakashipu kept trying to kill his son, Prahlad, but the Lord kept coming to protect the little boy. Prahlad’s demon father was at wit’s end.
The finale scene came. A giant, Styrofoam pillar was moved onstage. We four Lord Narasimhas lined up behind the pillar, and I stepped inside the pillar itself. I could feel the entire auditorium watching us on the other side of the styrofoam walls. The air seemed to crackle with electricity.
I turned to the other Narasimhas and whispered, “Let us pray. Let us pray to Lord Narasimha that we may represent Him as a service to the devotees,”
All of our faces became grave and we folded our palms.
I turned back around, folded my palms, and closed my eyes. I felt feverish. I murmured over and over again, “Jai Nrisimha, Sri Nrisimha, Jai Jai Nrisimhadeva,” I could hear my voice echo off of the pillar walls.
Something curious happened. Chills went up and down my whole body.Then suddenly, a deep calm settled over my entire body. I stopped murmuring out loud. I opened my eyes.
Hiranyakashipu shouted, “If He is everywhere, even in this pillar, then I shall kill Him!” and struck the styrofoam walls.
I reached one hand through the crack. Then the other hand. With one move, I tore the pillar to both sides of the stage, leapt out of the pillar and roared from a place deep within. The roar of all four of us filled the auditorium. Cheers joined our roars.
As Lord Narasimha, I killed the demons one by one, like crushing insects. My heart pounded. I went through the motions of how we had done it in practice two dozen times, but suddenly this didn’t feel like practice anymore.
This was real.
We fought and danced through the fight scene. At last the moment came when I placed the demon into a backbend over my knee. I drew my claws and the demon screamed when he looked up at me.
My eyes were fire. My mind spun with the emotions, but mostly with the words: How dare you?
How dare you?
I plunged my hands into the demon’s armor, wrestled with the saran wrap that covered the blood soaked garlands. I lifted the garlands out and suddenly blood exploded everywhere. The audience roared. I kept ripping the garland and then slammed the pieces to the side of the stage.
I drank the demon’s blood. In one final move I mimed placing his intestines around my neck. In deep disgust, I looked down at the demon’s broken body and flung him away. I roared twice more until my entire body shook.
When the play continued, I saw that blood had gotten all over the entire stage.
I only ceased my anger when the boy, Prahlad, came to offer his prayers. My face slowly softened, my claws slowly relaxed. At last I gestured to the boy to come close and I petted him with tender affection.
The fire had left my body and my heart.
When I got backstage, I saw that I had gotten blood not only all over my costume, but the other three Narasimhas as well. What I had feared the most had happened. A part of me wondered if others would shy away from me after witnessing such ferocity.
But there was no fall-out. In fact, all the other actors and the audience was delighted that blood had gotten all over everything. I was shocked. I kept insisting on somehow or other washing out the stains.
I walked home, quietly reeling from what had just happened. I went to sleep that night exhausted to the bone, as if I had just fought a war.
The next morning I woke up deeply reflective. I began my spiritual practice of chanting God’s holy name, and images from the night before began to flash before my mind’s eye. The demon, the four Narasimhas, the roars, the blood flying everywhere. Everywhere.
As I continued to chant and the images wheeled through me faster and faster, my body was swept with chills.
At last. At last I had not only faced my anger, God had given me the opportunity to purify that anger. God had allowed me to channel His anger as a service.
Gratitude rolled through my body in waves.
Days went by and men, women, and children in the Mayapur community approached me. They expressed their gratitude that I had portrayed such a ferocious form of Lord Narasimha. I could only bow and quietly offer their appreciation to Lord Narasimha.
Thank you, Lord Narasimha. Thank you. Thank you. May Your divine anger purify my heart.
Making Peace with Anger
→ Seed of Devotion
When I got older, at times I faced an anger so deep that fire seemed to course through my veins. I would shake, tears would stream from my eyes. I would fling words like knives from my mouth. Afterwards I felt like a monster, for surely I had betrayed the trust of those around me. How could anyone love me again?
Through emotional education with Satvatove Institute and my own exploration over the years, I have been on a long, painful and beautiful path of healing. I have learned so much about the dynamics of anger, being in integrity, and being assertive. I would say that I had made a tentative peace with anger.
Then, about a month and a half ago, I was tested. For the upcoming drama here in Mayapur, I was asked to play the part or Lord Narasimha. Lord Narasimha is God in His most ferocious, terrible form as the personification of anger to protect His devotee.
I agreed to play the part.
This particular production was unique, for we would be portraying Lord Narasimha with four people, to represent the aspect that God is everywhere. In practice, I would roar and kill and destroy, my rage filling the entire auditorium.All four of us girls seemed to go deeper and deeper into the experience of divine anger.
But as practices wore on, I would sometimes leave late at night feeling so exhausted and empty. For a week or so I lost my voice so profoundly that my words came out in squeaks. I was supposed to be a lion but I felt like a kitten!
The day of the performance, the director kept insisting on using dramatic bloody guts that I would rip out of the abdomen of the demon I was killing. At her insistence, inside of my chest I felt a brick wall come up.
No.
I wouldn’t do it.
I said I didn’t want to because I had never practiced the whole killing scene before. There were so many other things that were last minute. I didn’t want to ruin my entire costume.
Etc. Etc.
Deep down, I knew the reason why I didn’t want to rip out the demon’s guts.
I was scared.
I was scared of my own anger, of expressing anger to that utter point of rage. In practice, I had always mimed ripping out the demons heart and placing his intestines around my neck. But to actually have blood on my hands, for blood to fly everywhere…
I cowered inside.
That was taking anger too far.
When I was having my lion face make-up done, I remembered the story of how Jadurani dasi had been painting this same killing scene with Lord Narasimha and the demon, Hiranyakashipu. The original painting had had a few drops of blood here and there. Srila Prabhupad had frowned and then ordered her to paint blood and gore everywhere. So she did. Only then was Prabhupad satisfied.
If this is what Srila Prabhupad would want, I thought, then my resistance to this violence is only out of my own personal fears.
Just before the crowds started to arrive, we went on stage and practiced ripping open the armor. I went through the practice with tight lips and a frowning face. Clammy hands.
There was no backing out now. After the practice, I nodded curtly, silently, that I would do it.
The drama began. Scene after dramatic scene, I could feel the tension building. The demon Hiranyakashipu kept trying to kill his son, Prahlad, but the Lord kept coming to protect the little boy. Prahlad’s demon father was at wit’s end.
The finale scene came. A giant, Styrofoam pillar was moved onstage. We four Lord Narasimhas lined up behind the pillar, and I stepped inside the pillar itself. I could feel the entire auditorium watching us on the other side of the styrofoam walls. The air seemed to crackle with electricity.
I turned to the other Narasimhas and whispered, “Let us pray. Let us pray to Lord Narasimha that we may represent Him as a service to the devotees,” All of our faces became grave and we folded our palms.
I turned back around, folded my palms, and closed my eyes. I felt feverish. I murmured over and over again, “Jai Nrisimha, Sri Nrisimha, Jai Jai Nrisimhadeva,” I could hear my voice echo off of the pillar walls.
Something curious happened. Chills went up and down my whole body.Then suddenly, a deep calm settled over my entire body. I stopped murmuring out loud. I opened my eyes.
Hiranyakashipu shouted, “If He is everywhere, even in this pillar, then I shall kill Him!” and struck the styrofoam walls.
I reached one hand through the crack. Then the other hand. With one move, I tore the pillar to both sides of the stage, leapt out of the pillar and roared from a place deep within. The roar of all four of us filled the auditorium. Cheers joined our roars.
As Lord Narasimha, I killed the demons one by one, like crushing insects. My heart pounded. I went through the motions of how we had done it in practice two dozen times, but suddenly this didn’t feel like practice anymore.
This was real.
We fought and danced through the fight scene. At last the moment came when I placed the demon into a backbend over my knee. I drew my claws and the demon screamed when he looked up at me.
My eyes were fire. My mind spun with the emotions, but mostly with the words: How dare you?
How dare you?
I plunged my hands into the demon’s armor, wrestled with the saran wrap that covered the blood soaked garlands. I lifted the garlands out and suddenly blood exploded everywhere. The audience roared. I kept ripping the garland and then slammed the pieces to the side of the stage.
I drank the demon’s blood. In one final move I mimed placing his intestines around my neck. In deep disgust, I looked down at the demon’s broken body and flung him away. I roared twice more until my entire body shook.
When the play continued, I saw that blood had gotten all over the entire stage.
I only ceased my anger when the boy, Prahlad, came to offer his prayers. My face slowly softened, my claws slowly relaxed. At last I gestured to the boy to come close and I petted him with tender affection.
The fire had left my body and my heart.
When I got backstage, I saw that I had gotten blood not only all over my costume, but the other three Narasimhas as well. What I had feared the most had happened. A part of me wondered if others would shy away from me after witnessing such ferocity.
But there was no fall-out. In fact, all the other actors and the audience was delighted that blood had gotten all over everything. I was shocked. I kept insisting on somehow or other washing out the stains.
I walked home, quietly reeling from what had just happened. I went to sleep that night exhausted to the bone, as if I had just fought a war.
The next morning I woke up deeply reflective. I began my spiritual practice of chanting God’s holy name, and images from the night before began to flash before my mind’s eye. The demon, the four Narasimhas, the roars, the blood flying everywhere. Everywhere.
As I continued to chant and the images wheeled through me faster and faster, my body was swept with chills.
At last. At last I had not only faced my anger, God had given me the opportunity to purify that anger. God had allowed me to channel His anger as a service.
Gratitude rolled through my body in waves.
Days went by and men, women, and children in the Mayapur community approached me. They expressed their gratitude that I had portrayed such a ferocious form of Lord Narasimha. I could only bow and quietly offer their appreciation to Lord Narasimha.
Thank you, Lord Narasimha. Thank you. Thank you. May Your divine anger purify my heart.
Let Go
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A rope extended from my chest and my harness tightened. Underneath my helmet, I was sweating. My hands shook.”Okay, slowly walk backwards,” the guide said to me. “You’re at the top of the cliff now, so when you start feeling the rocks slope sharply dow…
Let Go
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A rope extended from my chest and my harness tightened. Underneath my helmet, I was sweating. My hands shook.
“Okay, slowly walk backwards,” the guide said to me. “You’re at the top of the cliff now, so when you start feeling the rocks slope sharpl…
Quiet
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Quiet. I have found quiet. The sound of my fingers hitting the keys sound like the clicking of palm tree leaves in the breeze. Fans whir above my head in soft murmurs. The afternoon air is velvet on my skin. I’m surrounded by blue, chalky walls, and w…
Quiet
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Quiet. I have found quiet. The sound of my fingers hitting the keys sound like the clicking of palm tree leaves in the breeze. Fans whir above my head in soft murmurs. The afternoon air is velvet on my skin. I’m surrounded by blue, chalky walls, and wh…
A Quiet, Epic Moment
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“What is the most honored profession in Japan?” I asked my 7th grade boys class. Today was my first day of school as a teacher at Sri Mayapur International School, and I had just reviewed my discipline system, reading, writing, and homework system.”Ani…
A Quiet, Epic Moment
→ Seed of Devotion
“What is the most honored profession in Japan?” I asked my 7th grade boys class. Today was my first day of school as a teacher at Sri Mayapur International School, and I had just reviewed my discipline system, reading, writing, and homework system.
“…
Birthday Prayer
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Yesterday morning for my birthday, my friend Mandali and I took a rickshaw to Bhaktisiddhanta Saraswati Thakur’s bhajan kutir. This is the place where the Thakur made a vow to chant one billion names of the Lord in prayer for the fallen souls of this a…
Birthday Prayer
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Yesterday morning for my birthday, my friend Mandali and I took a rickshaw to Bhaktisiddhanta
Saraswati Thakur’s bhajan kutir. This is the place where the Thakur made a vow
to chant one billion names of the Lord in prayer for the fallen souls of thi…
The Mayapur Academy
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After five years of prayer, endeavor, and many, many blessings, three days ago I received a Diploma with Distinction from the Mayapur Academy.
When Nrisimha Kavacha Prabhu came through Alachua in 2007, he spoke about the Mayapur Academy. The Academy …
The Mayapur Academy
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After five years of prayer, endeavor, and many, many blessings, three days ago I received a Diploma with Distinction from the Mayapur Academy.When Nrisimha Kavacha Prabhu came through Alachua in 2007, he spoke about the Mayapur Academy. The Academy wou…
My Heart is an Altar
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Several days ago, after the temple had been closed for the afternoon, we ladies of the Mayapur Academy went onto the altar of Pancha Tattva to do an annual cleaning. When I first stepped onto the cool marble floor of the altar, I just gazed up in wond…
My Heart is an Altar
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Several days ago, after the temple had been closed for the afternoon, we ladies of the Mayapur Academy went onto the altar of Pancha Tattva to do an annual cleaning. When I first stepped onto the cool marble floor of the altar, I just gazed up in wond…
Embracing My Nature
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I have always considered my nature to be that of a brahmana – one who feels the most alive and content to study and teach.
Today, though, I have been embracing the fact that my nature is also that of a ksatriya – an administrator, leader, even a bit …
Embracing My Nature
→ Seed of Devotion
I have always considered my nature to be that of a brahmana – one who feels the most alive and content to study and teach.
Today, though, I have been embracing the fact that my nature is also that of a ksatriya – an administrator, leader, even a bit …
Enough
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My alarm clock tone is the 1966 track of Prabhupad singing pranam and Hare Krishna. This morning I decided to put in my earphones and listen to the whole track.
Prabhupad’s voice filled my being.
The thought came to me how I want this track to be pl…
Enough
→ Seed of Devotion
My alarm clock tone is the 1966 track of Prabhupad singing pranam and Hare Krishna. This morning I decided to put in my earphones and listen to the whole track.
Prabhupad’s voice filled my being.
The thought came to me how I want this track to be pl…
Wish Granted
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From the moment I had woken up at 3:30 in the morning, I was an engine revving to go. Go, go, go! Go to Mangal Arati, go to the Mayapur Academy, go practice, go chant, go! Get everything done so that I could go hear my guru speak tonight.
Radhanath S…
Wish Granted
→ Seed of Devotion
From the moment I had woken up at 3:30 in the morning, I was an engine revving to go. Go, go, go! Go to Mangal Arati, go to the Mayapur Academy, go practice, go chant, go! Get everything done so that I could go hear my guru speak tonight.
Radhanath S…