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Our Sense of Wonder—Gone Under

Now that scientists like Jacques Monod have helped us toward “an anxious quest in a frozen universe of solitude,” here are some time-tested secrets for rediscovering the warm and wonderful.

“Alienation,” social scientists say, is our inability to relate meaningfully to others, to nature, and to ourselves. As Dr. Urie Bronfenbrenner reports in Scientific American, alienation is growing at an alarming and unprecedented rate. This trend appears to result from a radically different life view imposed upon the past few generations.

Not so many years ago, most people saw in human events and the things of nature the hand of a purposeful God. But today, many scientists, such as the late Nobel Prize winner Jacques Monod, regard God, meaning, and an intelligence behind the universe as childish concepts. In Monod’s words, man must awaken to

his fundamental isolation. Now does he at last realize that, like a gypsy, he lives on the boundary of an alien world. A world that is deaf to his music, just as indifferent to his hopes as it is to his suffering or his crimes.

God no longer holds “the whole world in His hands.” Now emptiness, the void, accounts for everything, and mankind-long accustomed to living in a world full of meaning—grapples with how to adjust to this revolutionary change.

It hasn’t been easy, nor the results encouraging. As historian Theodore Roszak observes, twentieth century society has projected “a nihilistic imagery unparalleled in human history.” The main themes of the century stand out as disillusionment, pessimism, and the lure of destruction.

Clearly, Monod was no maverick. Nobel laureate Francis Crick (co-unraveller of the DNA code) has said, “I myself, like many scientists, believe that the soul is imaginary.” In schools all over the world, students learn that man is a “naked ape,” or, as one textbook puts it, “nothing but a complex biochemical mechanism powered by a combustion system which energizes computers with prodigious storage facilities for retaining encoded information.”

This main theme in modern science—“reductionism”—has drawn much criticism. Dr. Roszak, for instance, depicts reductionism as “the effort to turn what is alive into a mere thing.” Psychiatrists and social commentators like Dr. Viktor E. Franki feel that the society spawned by reductionism is wearing away humanity’s psychological health. Recently, an international congress of psychoanalysis concluded that “ever more patients are suffering from a lack of life content.”

In the layman’s language, “lack of life content” means anxiety, stress, boredom, apathy, despair, meaninglessness, cynicism—in a word, alienation. As playwright Eugene Ionesco writes, “Cut off from religion, metaphysics, and roots, man is lost. His actions become senseless, useless, absurd.”

By defining man as a machine and affording him no more dignity than a stone or a piece of broken glass, reductionism has cut deep. Our sense of wonder, our ability to appreciate life’s everyday beauties—the sun, the moon, the fragrance of the earth—has comes into question and grown dull.
A Return to the Root“Of lights I am the radiant sun.”“Of purifiers I am the wind.”“Of bodies of water I am the ocean.”

The effects of reductionism are prompting many people to reexplore the spiritual dimension. English novelist J.B, Priestly, for one, visited the ColoradoRiver and observed how it had carved out the Grand Canyon. He said, “You feel when you are there that God gave the river its instructions.”

Dr. Roszak asks, “Why, one wonders, should it be thought crude or rudimentary to find divinity brightly present in the world where others find only dead matter or an inferior order of being?”

In their textbook Psychology, Lindzey, Hall, and Thompson confirm, “All human cultures from the dawn of history have valued the mystical or religious experience. Man always seems to be searching for some higher form of consciousness or awareness.” This statement returns us to the crux of the problem: twentieth century man has deviated from this search and is paying the price—alienation.

In the past, people solved alienation by experiencing what we might call “the divine presence,” both within themselves and in the people and things around them. But simply wiping the dust off old catechisms and relearning their formulas by rote won’t help us. The emphasis of numerous religious groups on memorizing doctrines rather than on experiencing God has only weakened people’s convictions—and has helped (or even started) the process of alienation.

Despite its obvious shortcomings, modern science has taught us at least one thing: we should test a truth before we accept it. And thousands of years ago, sages and yogis had the same idea. They advised their students not to dwell in doctrines but to link themselves with the living world around them. By following the sages’ directions for meditating on nature, the students experienced truth for themselves.

Appropriately, the handbook of spiritual education, the Bhagavad-gita, deals extensively with alienation and its cure. At the beginning, Arjuna suffers from intense alienation. “My mind is reeling.... Now I am confused about my duty and have lost all composure because of weakness.... I can find no means to drive away this grief which is drying up my senses.” The Supreme Lord, Sri Krishna, instructs Arjuna on how to rediscover his ability to live in a meaningful. God-conscious way.

About halfway through the work, Arjuna asks, “How should I meditate on You? In what various forms are You to be contemplated, O Blessed Lord?” (Bg. 10.17). In reply, the Lord suggests ways to realize His presence in the happenings of this world. His Divine Grace A.C. Bhaktivedanta Swami Prabhupada comments that since it is difficult to perceive God directly, “One is advised to concentrate the mind on physical things in order to see how Krishna [God] is manifested by physical representations.”

This process is like appreciating an artist through his art. When we see a masterpiece, we naturally admire the talent and skill of its creator. The yogis and sages report that by looking upon the universe with this same sense of wonder, we can experience samadhi (blissful immersion in God consciousness), or what today’s psychologists call a “peak experience.” Alienation vanishes, and we feel reconnected to the root of existence—Krishna.

On the pages that follow, the reader will find some of Lord Krishna’s suggestions, accompanied by short meditations—all in all, “enough to make you wonder.” As Srila Prabhupada has remarked, by reawakening this sense of wonder “one becomes increasingly enlightened, and he enjoys life with a thrill, not only for some time, but at every moment.”

As scientists have discovered, the sun gives out more energy in one second than all the earth’s people could use in millions of years. Also, the sun is the light of our lives; without it the entire world would be dark. Even our light bulbs are simply reservoirs of the sun’s rays. And, as we learn from the Vedic literature, the sun itself is but a tiny reservoir of the Lord’s glowing effulgence.

Most people have experienced the zestfulness of a breezy day, or, in winter, those gusts that simply “go right through you.” The wind, whooshing all around, seems to wash us even more smoothly and swiftly than water (and it even sounds clean). The wind, then, suggests the all-pervasive, all- purifying Lord.

Of all bodies of water, the ocean runs the deepest and stretches the farthest. In fact, for sheer greatness, practically nothing else in the world can compare to it. So the ocean reminds us of the Lord’s greatness.
“I am the original fragrance of the earth.”“I am the taste of water.”“I am the heat in fire.”“I am the healing herb.”

Everything in this world has a certain flavor or fragrance, as the fragrance of a pine tree, a lemon, or a rose. This pure, original flavor in everything is Krishna.

Most of us have had the experience (say, after driving through a desert) of walking right past the soft drink dispenser to the water fountain. When you’re really thirsty, nothing satisfies like water—the pure taste of water, which is one of the energies of the Lord.

We need fire for our factories, our furnaces, and our frying pans. As we’ve already seen, fire comes from the sun, and the sun comes from Krishna. So the fire and the heat of the fire are Krishna.

How could it be that things that grow in the ground provide just the right remedies for worrisome diseases? When man-made “wonder drugs” come about only after much care and concentration, do these natural wonder drugs come about, as scientists say, by chance—or by the Lord’s kindness?
“I am the ability in man.”

How can a master musician or artist do with ease what most of us couldn’t do with the greatest effort? What makes the difference between “all thumbs” and “all- star”? The answer is Krishna.
“I am victory, I am adventure, and I am the strength of the strong.”“Among the stars I am the moon.”

Conquest and the questing spirit, even the questing capacity—all come from Lord Krishna, the Supreme Personality of Godhead.

When the moon fills the night with its cool light, people feel refreshed. And the moon’s light makes vegetables grow and become succulent. Thus, the moon brings to mind the cooling and soothing face of the Lord.
“Among the stars I am the moon.”

When the moon fills the night with its cool light, people feel refreshed. And the moon’s light makes vegetables grow and become succulent. Thus, the moon brings to mind the cooling and soothing face of the Lord.
“Among subduers I am time.”

“The glory that was Rome”-and the glory that was anything else—just couldn’t outlast eternal time, by which Lord Krishna gets the best of everything and everyone.
“Of secret things I am silence.”

Our ability to hold forth on some topic, or to hear about it, or to hush up about it, comes from the Lord.
“Of weapons I am the thunderbolt.”

The thunderbolt, the ultimate shocker, gives us some idea of the Lord’s power.
“Of seasons I am the flower-bearing spring.”

Everyone likes spring. It’s neither too hot nor too cold, the flowers and trees blossom, the grass comes alive, and everything flourishes. The greens and pinks and blues and yellows, the fresh-smelling breezes, the sun-filled evenings—as with any other work of art, these masterstrokes tell us something about the artist. The most joyful of all seasons, spring reminds us of the most joyful of all persons, Krishna.
“Of sacrifices I am the chanting of the holy names (japa).”

Everybody is giving his time and energy to get something he can enjoy. The father works hard all day so that he can enjoy the happiness of his wife and children. The politician spends long hours in meetings and masterminding sessions so that he can have a satisfied constituency. Everybody is taking pains to please somebody. Yet there’s a way to please everybody, and it’s pleasing in itself—chanting the Lord’s holy names.

Petty Nationalism: Reigning Cats and Dogs

In the course of researching my next book, I traveled last July to the all-American town of Fort Meyers, Florida, located just off the Gulf of Mexico a few miles up the Caloosahatchee River. I stayed at a Holiday Inn overlooking the river, and while browsing about the hotel’s recreation area I met a nice family from Scotland who regularly take their summer vacation in Florida. The war over the Falkland Islands had just ended, and out of politeness I mentioned the British victory to the young Scottish couple and their son. The man immediately became excited and exclaimed, “Yes, we showed them, all right! We beat them. We had to beat them, because we were fighting for a true cause and they didn’t know what they were fighting for.” The man’s son tugged at his father’s shirt, trying to get him back to their Ping-Pong match, but the Scotsman continued glorifying the British victory, emphasizing the high ideals that had motivated the British soldiers.

The underlying psychological cause ofsuch nationalism is simple: human beings (and, indeed, animals, birds, fish, and insects as well) are naturally inclined to live together and seek their fortune as a united group. A united ant colony quickly rebuilds its anthill metropolis after a rude foot has kicked it down. A united herd of elephants can defend itself against a lion’s attack. A united human city works harmoniously and becomes prosperous. And a united country presents a strong and influential image to the world.

If a spirit of unity binds together most species of life, what distinguishes the human spirit of unity? Human beings stand out for their ability to perceive the greater oneness of all life forms and, indeed, of life itself. Ultimately, a human being’s sense of unity can extend beyond the material platform to the transcendental realm of God consciousness. By recognizing everything to be part of God, a human being can see the oneness of all existence and the dependence of everything on the Supreme Being.

But the way modern nationalism unites people is by dividing them into superficial, temporary, conflicting political units. Nationalism demands that we abandon our real spiritual identity and unity and instead fight like dogs and cats. Since conflicts of interest between nations are endless, nationalism can never be the basis of lasting peace, which must stand on a superior awareness of the oneness of all life.

Krishna consciousness teaches that all life is one because all living beings are part and parcel of Krishna, or God. The social system that grows out of this understanding is called the varnashrama system, and it organizes people into efficient and enlightened communities and societies with the Supreme Personality of Godhead at the center. The Krishna consciousness movement seeks to establish such social units, in which everyone can learn to love Krishna without conflict of interest. Whereas nationalism flourishes by whipping up hatred for “the national enemy,” varnashrama flourishes by cultivating love of God and compassion toward all creatures.

In my travels through Latin America I have seen that a corrupt government will sometimes create frenzied anti- American feeling so that the local people won’t discover and lynch the corrupt local leaders themselves. On the other hand, Americans often maintain an idiotic stereotyped impression of Latin America that serves only to gratify false North American pride. Thus nationalism easily becomes a tool for political exploitation and indeed creates spiritual darkness, hatred, and violence among those it supposedly inspires.

Still, one may argue, political organization is a necessary evil, since power exists and must be exerted in a rational and orderly way. Civilizations must have a common identity to function efficiently. Different groups of human beings, despite their ultimate spiritual oneness, have distinct cultural and psychological patterns and thus will naturally group themselves together as separate peoples, nations, states, and communities.

We agree that although God consciousness is necessary for man—and, indeed, is the goal of life—we cannot abolish the natural tendency of people to organize themselves into political and cultural units and to rule themselves or to allow themselves to be ruled by various political systems. But in every politcal system God consciousness must always be central. Only then can we avoid the conflicts that arise when mere political or national pride is vulgarly substituted for genuine God consciousness as the ultimate process for uniting people.

Recently Psychology Today ran an article called “Our Pets, Ourselves,” which reported the latest scientific findings on human-animal relationships. Psychologist Randall Lockwood of the State University of New York at Stonybrook has shown that most people consider a person walking a dog more sympathetic and friendly than a person who is not. Apparently, Americans love their pets, and they actually recover from dangerous heart conditions and live longer when they confide in their pets and, indeed, pet their pets.

The love Americans have for their pets certainly contradicts Western theology’s ghastly contention that animals have no soul. Is it actually possible that tens of millions of Americans are hugging, coddling, petting, kissing, and confiding in furry bags of molecules and atoms? Is the affection a pet shows for its master merely a chemical reaction? And if so, why don’t people hug and kiss bottles of chemicals instead of pets? Why do we consider someone a good person because he protects a pet?

On the other hand, if animals do have souls and certain animals are lovable, why then do we brutally slaughter billions of other animals simply to satisfy our demoniac desire to eat meat? Why do we tolerate the blatant hypocrisy of a huge American cattle industry side by side with an American Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals?

In the first segment of this column we explained how nationalism is based on the hypocrisy of loving one’s own countrymen and looking upon others as enemies. There is certainly a similar hypocrisy in our mindless coddling of certain animals and our heartless slaughter of others.

The lack of a scientific understanding of life, the soul, God, and God’s laws has created an unbearably hypocritical and demoniac culture in our country. Perfect knowledge of Krishna consciousness can clear up our ignorance of spiritual matters and help us build a more consistent and enlightened society. Unless Americans begin to appreciate and understand Krishna consciousness, which teaches scientific knowledge of the soul and God, the stunning and immoral contradictions of our society will ultimately destroy us.

Piety at the Pig Roast: Morality the American Way

In the fastidious, righteous America of the past, it was exhilarating and fashionable to intellectually break down the hangups that made people feel guilty about immoral acts. In today’s degraded, drifting society, teachers and professors are scrambling back to the old provincial concept that education should teach a person to be good, moral, and self-controlled.

“The scientific method is a marvelous means of inquiry,” says Steven Muller, president of Johns Hopkins University, “but it really doesn’t provide a value system. The biggest failing in higher education today is that we fall short in exposing students to values.”

Charles Muscatine, a professor of English at UC Berkeley, who calls today’s education “a marvelous convenience for a mediocre society,” says that education does have a purpose: to cultivate “informed decision- making that recognizes there is a moral and ethical component to life.”

Students “should be taught philosophy, moral philosophy, and theology,” says psychiatrist Robert Coles, who teaches at Harvard and Duke. “They ought to be asked to think about moral issues, especially about what use is going to be made of knowledge, and why—a kind of moral reflection that I think has been supplanted by a more technological education. Replacing moral philosophy with psychology has been a disaster, an absolute disaster!”

Well and good. A refreshing and unexpected display of American intellectual piety. But there are problems blocking a return to moral education. For one thing, who’s to decide the obvious question “What is moral?” and the perhaps more difficult question “What is immoral?”

We fear the violence of an immoral society, yet autocratic measures to insure morality are something we perhaps fear more. We don’t want America to collapse like hedonistic Rome, yet we certainly do not want to follow the example of highly “moral” countries like Iran. How do we insure morality and at the same time avoid losing our freedom?

Consider the moral predicament caused by what would seem the most obvious moral precept. The Bible says, “Thou shalt not kill.” Yet this simple moral maxim seems impossible for most Americans to accept, or even understand—even those clamoring for a return to morality. The Bible tells us not to kill. But Americans certainly do love to kill. Americans are avid hunters, fishers, and meat-eaters, although we tend to ignore or even deny that this is killing.

For example, the September 27 edition of Time reports this breathtaking display of spiritual dullheadedness: “’My father’s favorite quote was from the Bible,’ Democratic Senatorial Candidate Mark Dayton, 35, told voters at a Minnesota pig roast.” Quoting the Bible at a pig roast, after all, is good American fun. There’s certainly nothing immoral about killing a pig.

Consider Kentucky Governor John Y. Brown (recently involved in a controversy over his Florida banking transactions). Governor Brown made a vast personal fortune by popularizing Colonel Sanders Kentucky Fried Chicken. In other words, as a businessman he arranged to kill millions and billions of chickens. He also started the Lums Restaurant Corporation, a fast-food cow-killing chain. When asked about his money, he said, “It was made through the American process.” He added, “There is nothing improper or illegal. I have nothing to hide. Anything I’ve made I’ve made honestly and I spent honestly.”

If it’s the “honest American way” to slaughter billions of innocent animals, including the cow, which provides us milk like our mother, then how are we to agree on a standard of morality?

And why maintain sophisticated institutions like Harvard, or indeed the U.S. Congress, if our morality can’t go beyond the level of insects and animals? Animals defend their own kind. And if we simply defend our own kind, if we limit our morality to not hurting other human beings, then we are acting on the level of animals. True morality means respect for the holiness of all life, and indeed of all that exists, since everything emanates from the Supreme Holy, the Supreme Lord.

Without a thorough understanding of the science of God, morality is a farce, whether it’s administered by so- called religious leaders like those in Iran or by the pious agnostics we find in American universities. We must have a solid understanding of God, as explained by Krishna consciousness.

Krishna consciousness teaches that all life is a sign of the eternal soul. God is the Supreme Soul, the supreme life, and all that lives is part of God. If we can’t even follow the simple injunction “Thou shalt not kill”—if we instead prefer big educational and political discussions over chicken and steak dinners, pig roasts, and barbecues—then we are far too ridiculous, as a nation, to survive.

Privilege Declined

“I thought of the people I had known who had shown the promise of genius and then left that promise unfulfilled …”

My landlord is a descendant of the Rothschilds, that complex genealogy of European aristocrats who have been accused of everything short of cannibalism, including the takeover of the world by manipulation of their vast fortunes. Well, my landlord falls short of Napoleonic in his ambitions: his are triumphs of the simple. Granted, in our touristic French village there are few houses to match the nobility and gilded decor of his; but he has no desire to buy up the rest of the village or extend his power beyond the hundred or so walls of his humble empire.

Since we live in houses that face each other, I see him sometimes in the early morning, standing proudly at his window, breathing in deep drafts of fresh country air. From what I have seen of the inside of his mansion, he favors Louis XV furniture, fine satin draperies, and chandeliers of Austrian crystal. His elegant living room is lined from cashmere carpet to frescoed ceiling with handsomely bound books, heavy with gold embossing and hand-engraved designs. He loves to open wide the door of that great room as though drawing open the curtain on some lavish theatrical presentation, yet he has the reserve and good judgment not to stare at his guests, whatever their reaction may be to the drama of wealth and power unfolding before their eyes.

He likes the cultivated forms of nature and prides himself on the neatly trimmed lawns and brilliant flower gardens of his great estate, lined with shrubbery pruned into shapes. Although he’s well into his fifties, he wears his age nobly. Yet his neck is not stiff nor his eye hard, for he has seen the price men pay for pride and arrogance, and he is careful to respect the integrity of a person’s labors, however humble his station. In fact, nothing so satisfies him as to loaf upon the cool veranda of his club and talk about the world with anyone and everyone, to joke and laugh, and drink aged Scotch.

After my return from a recent trip to India, I presented him a two-foot-square painting of Krishna in royal blues and gold, a fine piece of work in traditional Rajasthani style on silk. He looked admiringly at the painting.

“You know,” he said, looking up with an air of seriousness he assumes at such moments, “you are a lyrique, my friend—intelligent, and despite your mystical affiliations” (he leaned forward as if to share with me some deep secret) “a man of good taste.” And with that he chuckled heartily, satisfied as much by his own remarks as by the gift.

Well, such is my landlord. He has seen the sun setting on the Riviera, smelled the wet, fresh earth of Brittany after the spring rains, felt the surge of admiration ripple across the social halls of Paris as he enters with his lovely young wife, heard the whistle and whine of the Concord as he jets across the Atlantic. No Napoleon is he, no strong face burning East. Yet, in some remote corner of his being, a lyrique himself, a sprig off the upper branch of French life. A thinker of dull thoughts, for the most part, but poetic in their expression.

When we met that day, I felt the detached curiosity a devotee may sometimes feel when confronted by the other life, the life of privilege he might have known had fate not stepped in and introduced him to the eternal message of the Bhagavad-gita. Was it all so bad, the life my landlord knew? Could I not learn to enjoy the world of privilege as he did, better equipped as I would be with the knowledge of how far to go in the pleasures of the mind and flesh? Could there not be for me, too, a portion of life’s bounty as the world knows it, or were my vows of spiritual discipline unretractable, too firm to allow me to rejoin the familiar world of family, society, and love?

The vision of what might have been filled my horizon as I left his house that day. What kept me from reaching for the other life my visit had brought so sharply into focus was in part its philosophical and spiritual deficiencies. But it was more the utter resignation, the capitulation such a life would demand. Most people I knew who lived for the world of the senses so lacked individual distinction that each seemed a small particle of some immense, nondescript lifestuff rather than an eternal spiritual being, capable of feeling and inspiring others to feel the mystery of the creation.

But there was something more as well.

After leaving my landlord’s house I went for a stroll in nearby Jean Jacques Rousseau Park, and there I saw two attractive girls cantering gaily about on dark chestnut horses. Two well-groomed young men escorted them on bays. Responsive to the reins, the horses pranced and strutted. The carefree picture set against the immense countryside was like a mockery, the fruit inches away from Tantalus’s lips.

I was fascinated by the scene. As far as the distance would allow, I began examining the faces of the riders, trying to penetrate the social masks they wore, probing, searching as for some clue. I knew the young men. They had been at a reception my landlord had given for new residents of our village. We had spoken of India, of Krishna, and of the search for one’s spiritual self. They had listened, politely, nodding at the appropriate times—yes, surely such an interest was needed for a balanced life. But their speech was casual, social, for they already knew everything and had seen everything, and now they received every new intelligence with an amused look in their eyes. Nothing shocked them any more. Not death, not old age, not all the signs thrown by nature to warn us of our own mortality. It was the way things were. It was what they had come to expect of life.

Ah, there it was. It was not so much what they did that made their life impossible for me, for I also traveled and met people of importance and occasionally even rode a horse. It was their attitude of acceptance, their complacence about themselves and about their life, their lack of faith in anything better. I could not, would not ever come to that. For me the utter simplicity of soul, of self beyond matter, would remain a constant source of wakefulness against approaching lethargy or other dangers. I remembered an example my spiritual master, Srila Prabhupada, had once used to describe the attentiveness of a devotee. Samurai warriors, he described, were trained by their martial arts guru to sleep so lightly that the slightest sound would wake them and put them on guard. At night the guru would silently creep up and bring a bamboo switch swiftly down across the disciple’s legs. It would get to the point where the disciple could hear the swish of his guru’s stick, awaken, and roll instantly out of range before the switch hit the ground.

Yes, that was it, the core of the problem. Could I as a devotee belong to this world of privilege without taking upon myself the apathy and burden of that privilege? Could I ever speak truthfully of the material world as I had learned to see it, help others awaken to its snare of illusion, and at the same time belong to this world of which I would have to speak? Were the two things possible? Would not the very fact of living to see my own ambitions fulfilled come between me and the truth of my eternal self, first as a shadow, then as a virtual wall? And would I then be any different from the vast camps of others who had let themselves be captured by false visions of wealth, ease, pleasure, by the deadly honors of profit, adoration, and distinction?

That was the danger, and it was real enough. I thought of the people I had known who had come close to the full, whole life of devotees, who had shown the promise of genius and then had left that promise unfulfilled because they decided to trade that spiritual prerogative for just such a mess of the world’s pottage of loping horses and pretty young girls. Touched by Srila Prabhupada’s words and character, they had begun as determined devotees but had suffered some eclipse of vision and fallen away. And whenever I meet them, whatever they have become—and there is no limit to their variety—they are like the blind men with the elephant: each one has accepted some part of life for the whole, some fragmentary truth or half-truth for truth itself, some personal little interest for the all-embracing interest of Krishna consciousness. If that were to happen to me, how could I ever speak again?

I spent that evening quietly at home, chanting Krishna’s holy names and reading Bhagavad-gita. There was more than mere solace in these humble acts. There was strength to push on even when the whole world seems to be forcing you to be someone else. There was the wisdom to reinforce the fight against maya, the illusory energy. And there was Krishna, and a vision of a sweet homecoming at battle’s end, urging me on:

“Therefore the doubts which have arisen in your heart out of ignorance should be slashed by the weapon of knowledge. Armed with yoga, O Bharata, stand and fight” (Bhagavad-gita 4.42).

Roundup at Olduvai

A Fictional story

A the helicopter descended through the dawn light near Olduvai Gorge, Eleanor Doting checked her seatbelt. Had her son Vincent arrived safely? He had insisted on parachuting in the day before to have extra time alone with Rocky, his younger brother.

Why did Vincent always have to jump into things? At age ten he campaigned at school for JFK, even though she explained to Vincent a hundred times that his classmates couldn’t vote. At eighteen he left college to join some hippies in California, and a couple of years later he wrote to say he was living at the Hare Krishna temple in Paris.

Paris no less! Within minutes she had booked a flight, and within days they were sitting together on a park bench near the Eiffel Tower, where she’d caught up with him chanting and dancing with his shaven-headed friends.

“Vincent, come home. You can have anything you want. I’ll even give you money for marijuana. I’ll ...”

“But Mom. I never smoked ...”

“Sure you didn’t, deary. Why not come back with me? I have a plane ticket for you.”

“But Mom, you can see me here all you want And I’ll visit you next Christmas, promise.”

“Now Vincent...”

“ ‘Vishnu dasa,’ Mom. I have a new name.”

Vishnu dasa indeed! Well, he had in fact come to visit that Christmas, and every year after that too. She freely admitted that he (still Vincent to her) had a better head than Rocky, who had taken forever to finish grad school, only to join the Peace Corps in Africa, for heaven’s sake. Rocky later returned to New York and made decent money designing software. But the boy never shaped up, always wore old jeans and flannel shirts, kept a long beard, and drank too much. And now, for the love of Pete, he was back in Africa—“looking for his roots”!

So this time she had booked a flight to Dar-es-Salaam instead of Paris, she was chasing Rocky instead of Vincent and she’d had to rent a helicopter to boot. If Harry Doting were alive to see what she was doing with his hard-earned money...

This time she had asked for Vincent’s help, which was also a first. She’d had to, because Rocky now had some crazy idea about staying forever in Africa, and she knew Vincent was a good talker, with a more sober, logical head since joining Hare Krishna. She should know. Didn’t she patiently listen to him “preaching” to her for hours every Christmas?

After resting through the heat of the day, Mrs. Doting mounted something resembling a mule and, with her guide, found Rocky’s camp near the bottom of the gorge early that evening. She heard voices coming from a lamplit tent.

“It’s all guesswork.” Vincent was saying, “They dig up a few pieces, a tiny fraction of the earth’s surface, and they figure they can tell us what happened here millions and billions of years ago.”

“Why not?” Rocky replied. “Geologists call it ‘the stratigraphic column.’ It’s the layers of rock that have been piled up since the very beginning.”

“But look,” said Vincent. “Most scientists accept only the stratigraphic evidence that supports their theories. They ignore findings that indicate modern man existed millions of years ago. Still other scientists say that since ninety percent of the sedimentary layers may have eroded away, the stratigraphic column is a useless tool.”

“But you look,” said Rocky. “Right here on page twenty-eight of my book …”

Mrs. Doting could contain herself no longer. “That’s the trouble with you,” she shouted, bursting through the tent flap. “Ever since you dug that silly old textbook out of the attic, you’ve been saying you could find your roots—your ‘lost ancestors.’ for goodness sake—in some jungle.”

Recovering from the surprise entrance, the boys offered their mother a seat.

“It is our roots,” Rocky insisted, “our origins ...”

“But you can’t know for certain what happened even a thousand years ago,” said Vincent “what to speak of a million or a billion, by digging the ground. It’s a hoax. Your own book says that the science of geology didn’t produce a coherent model of earth’s history until after 1960. So in less than thirty years you and a few geologists have mapped out millions of centuries? I wouldn’t swallow it even if you’d been working ten times that long.”

“It’s that silly book and a few others he’s been reading.” Mrs. Doting chided from her perch on a camp cot.

“Well, in all fairness,” said Vincent tapping his Bhagavad-gita,“I too have a book that talks of remote origins. Here in the Fourth Chapter you can read that the Gita and highly intelligent followers of the Gita have been around for at least 120 million years. Look, here’s how it’s calculated.”

Rocky wouldn’t look. “That’s your religion,” he scoffed. “You just believe whatever your religion tells you. That’s blind faith.”

“And you don’t have blind faith that a handful of men have pieced together a believable history of the earth in just a few years from a few rocks? The difference is that the Gita isn’t guesswork. It’s been handed down unchanged for millions of years. Your holy geologists change every day to account for their so-called evidence. Does the truth change every day, or does it stay the same eternally?”

“Well, I don’t know if Rocky will ever change,” said Mrs. Doting, missing the point by a mile, as usual. “Here he is way down in this dusty pit when he could be making big money back home. And all this ‘roots’ business. Tell me, is life meant for roots or for …”

“Yes, life is meant for finding our roots, Mom,” said Vincent. “But you won’t find anything conclusive by digging in this gorge. Life’s too short and we’re too faulty. We’ve got to discover a perfect source of knowledge.”

“Ah. Perfection,” said Rocky sarcastically.

“But that’s what you’re looking for, what you claim to have found—and in a bunch of scattered digs and a few broken bones. You look for broken bones. I’ll look for a perfect person to give me perfect knowledge from a perfect book.”

Mrs. Doting sighed and let the boys continue, hoping Vincent would win out.

Not that she was taking sides. She just didn’t want Rocky living way out here in the wilds. Whatever Vincent’s Gita said, at least it brought him home for Christmas, and visiting him didn’t require a mule.

Seeing By Krishna’s Light

India’s greatest treasure—the universal wisdom spoken by Lord Krishna—is the true hope for humanity.

We have guided missiles and misguided men.” This poignant remark by Martin Luther King, Jr., about the state of the modern world rings strikingly true. In recent times there has been an amazing increase in human ability to control the outer world through science and technology. But with that has come an alarming decline in human ability to control the inner world. The resulting variety of irrational passions lead to immorality and corruption at best, and terrorism and brutality at worst.

The current state of the world rests on the search for happiness, a quest that, Lord Krishna tells us in Bhagavad- gita, lies at the heart of all human endeavors. While asserting that happiness is our inalienable right, the Bhagavad-gita provides a clear pathway for its achievement. The fundamental teaching of Lord Krishna in the Bhagavad-gita is that our current existence has two dimensions—material and spiritual; we are spiritual beings residing in material bodies. (2.13)* Modern scientific studies in fields such as past-life memories, near-death experiences, and consciousness also strongly suggest a spiritual part of our being that exists after bodily death.

Furthermore, Lord Krishna explains that just as the soul animates the body, the Supersoul, the Supreme Being, animates the entire cosmos.

Lord Krishna tells us that material existence is temporary and troublesome because of an existential disharmony: human beings tend to neglect the spiritual dimension of their lives and focus only on material ambitions and achievements. This imbalance stunts their ability to partake of the fullness of life. The resulting dissatisfaction appears individually as stress, depression, anxiety, irritability, and so on, and socially as disunity, violence, and war. This disharmony also results in the universal and inescapable evils of birth, old age, disease, and death (13.9).

Our innate longing for immortality in a world subject to death suggests that we belong to an immortal world. Lord Krishna posits a higher-dimensional world beyond the pernicious effects of time (8.20). That realm is characterized by a sweet harmony of divine love between the innumerable subordinate souls and the Supreme. There, the Supreme Person, being all- attractive, is the pivot of all relationships and is therefore best known as Krishna, “The All-Attractive One.” There, all souls enjoy an eternal life of full awareness and bliss, provided they are in harmony with Krishna’s will. If they rebel, they fall to the realm of matter, where they can see the results of disharmony and eventually decide to reform themselves.

Suffering And Its Solution

During their exile in the material realm, souls occupy different bodies according to their desires and activities. Each body, whether human or subhuman, imposes on the soul the demands of eating, sleeping, mating, and defending. The soul struggles hard to try to fulfill these bodily demands, whose repetitive nature makes life a continuous hardship, with only momentary relief whenever the demands are satisfied.

Suffering, however, is good, because it provides the necessary impetus to return to harmony, just as fever provides the impetus to accept a cure. Among the 8.4 million species that inhabit the cosmos, the human form is specially gifted: only in a human body does the soul have the requisite intelligence to question his suffering and attempt to remedy it. Bhagavad-gita addresses such intelligent human beings.

Asserting that material nature is endlessly mutable (8.4), Lord Krishna advises the seeker of true happiness to not be disturbed by the dualities of heat and cold, pain and pleasure, and so on, that result from the inevitable changes in the material world (2.14). But Krishna does not recommend a life of inane fatalism; He exhorts us to direct our energies in a fruitful direction. Because our anomalous condition results from a disharmony with our spiritual nature, Krishna recommends that attempts for improvement be directed not in the material realm but in the spiritual.

The Relevance Of the Bhagavad-gita

It is here that we can see the relevance of Lord Krishna’s teachings to the modern state of affairs. Over the past few centuries modern man has performed immense intellectual labor in an attempt to decrease the miseries of material existence. But all these efforts have been directed within the realm of matter, resulting in an improved ability to control material energy through science and technology. Modern man has, with almost a religious dogma, avoided applying his intellectual faculties to understanding the spiritual dimension. But all the cherished human qualities—love, compassion, honesty, selflessness—spring from the soul, the spiritual aspect of our being. Therefore negligence of spiritual life has had disastrous consequences, including a marked decline in human virtues. Hence Dr. King’s observation that we live in a time of guided missiles and misguided men.

Lord Krishna systematically explains the difference between matter and spirit and provides a practical method for spiritual elevation. Lord Krishna thus helps us understand how ignorance and neglect of the spiritual dimension is the bane of modern civilization.

Returning To Harmony. Srila Prabhupada’s Gift To The World

Lord Krishna recommends yoga as the means to spiritual emancipation. Contrary to the general notion, Lord Krishna states that mere physical postures and breathing exercises do not constitute yoga; they are just the beginning of one type of yoga. Actual yoga involves harmonizing all energy—material and spiritual—with the original source of energy, the energetic Supreme. Lord Krishna states that meditation (dhyana-yoga), philosophical speculation (jnana-yoga), detached action (karma- yoga), and devotional service to the Lord (bhakti- yoga) are means by which a soul can advance on the path back to harmony. But ultimate success comes only by devotional service (11.53-54); other paths are only stepping stones to the attainment of that devotion (6.47, 7.19, 3.9).

The best method of devotional meditation for the current period in the cosmic cycle (Kali-yuga) is mantra meditation (10.25), especially the chanting of the maha-mantra: Hare Krishna, Hare Krishna, Krishna Krishna, Hare Hare/ Hare Rama, Hare Rama, Rama Rama, Hare Hare. A person moving forward on the path of harmony discovers in time a decrease in mental agitation from irrational passions, an unshakable inner tranquility, and finally an eternal ecstasy of love coming from the spiritual stratum (6.20- 23). Lord Krishna therefore concludes with an unequivocal call for loving harmony with the Supreme (18.66).

Lord Krishna declares the higher realities of life to be pratyaksha avagamam, directly perceivable within (9.2). Thus we see that Lord Krishna’s approach to the study of the cosmos is not at all dogmatic; rather it is bold and scientific. He presents the postulates logically and systematically and provides the enterprising spiritual scientist with a practical method to verify those postulates.

Lord Krishna’s explanation of the truths of life is so cogent, coherent, and profound that, for most modern Western scholars who studied Bhagavad-gita for the first time in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, it was love on first reading. The remark of the famed American writer Henry David Thoreau is a sample: “In the morning I bathe my intellect in the stupendous and cosmogonal philosophy of the Bhagavad-gita, in comparison with which our modern world and its literature seem puny and trivial.”

Unfortunately with the passage of time, imperial biases among Western scholars obscured the wisdom of the Bhagavad- gita from enlightening the whole of humanity. And Indian intellectuals, afflicted by feelings of cultural inferiority from prolonged foreign subjugation, did not give the Bhagavad-gita the importance it deserved.

It was only when His Divine Grace A. C. Bhaktivedanta Swami Prabhupada carried the wisdom of Bhagavad-gita to the West in the 1960s that the world started recognizing the glory of this philosophical masterpiece once again. Srila Prabhupada’s Bhagavad-gita As It Is soon became the most widely read English edition of the Gita. Now translated into dozens of languages, Bhagavad-gita As It Is has transformed the lives of millions from confused despair to enlightened happiness.

East-West Synthesis

Srila Prabhupada has been acknowledged as the greatest cultural ambassador of India to the modern world. His vision was a global East-West synthesis. If a blind man carries a lame man, they can both move forward. Similarly, Srila Prabhupada understood that if the materially prosperous but spiritually blind West and the spiritually gifted but materially impoverished India joined forces, the combination would usher in an era of peace and prosperity all over the world. ISKCON is working tirelessly at the grassroots level to make this vision a reality.

The West has embraced a hedonistic way of life. And the East, especially India, enamored by the glitter of Western culture, is casting away the treasure of Vedic wisdom that is its priceless heritage. It behooves all intelligent and responsible students of Bhagavad-gita to understand, assimilate, and distribute to their fellow human beings the gift of the wisdom of Lord Krishna.

Seeing Technology in a Spiritual Light

This exchange between His Divine Grace A.C. Bhaktivedanta Swami Prabhupada and some of his students took place on a morning walk in Chicago, in July 1975.

Student: Earlier you were saying that the Western world is spiritually blind and that India is technologically lame, but that if they combine their resources, then both India and the West will benefit.

Srila Prabhupada: Yes. If the Western world, the blind man, takes India, the lame man, on its shoulders, then the lame man can point the way spiritually and the blind man can sustain them materially, technologically. If America and India pool their technological and spiritual resources, this combination will bring about perfect peace and prosperity all over the world.

How blind these Americans are. They have attained the human form of life—such an intelligent form of life—and yet they are utilizing it for riding motor boats in the lake. You see? A human being should use every moment for regaining his God consciousness. Not a single moment should be wasted—and these people are simply finding new ways to waste timer

Of course, the Americans are doing things in a very nice way, with great technological advancement, but what they are doing is blind. You may be a very good driver, but if you are blind, then how well will you drive? You’ll create disaster. So the American people must open their eyes spiritually, so that their good driving capacity will be properly utilized. Now they’re trying to see through microscopes. But as long as they remain blind to their own spiritual identity, what will they see? They may have microscopes or this machine or that machine—but they are blind. That they do not know.

Student: I think most Americans are more interested in raising a family than in self-realization.

Srila Prabhupada: Krishna consciousness is not hindered by family life, one way or the other. Ahaituky apratihata. God consciousness cannot be checked by anything—if you are sincerer In any circumstances you can be engaged. You can execute Krishna consciousness in four ways: pranair arthair dhiya vaca—by your life, by your money, by your intelligence, and by your words. So if you want to be a family man—if you cannot dedicate twenty-four hours daily—then earn money and use it to spread Krishna consciousness. And if you cannot earn money, then use your intelligence. There is so much intellectual work to do—publication, research, and so on. If you cannot do that, then utilize your words to tell people about Krishna. Wherever you may be, simply explain to someone, “Krishna is the Supreme Personality of Godhead. Just offer your obeisances to Krishna.” Finished. So where is the scarcity of opportunities? You can serve Krishna in any capacity, provided you want to serve. But if you want to engage Krishna in your service, that is a blunder. People are going to church—“Krishna, serve us; give us our daily bread.”

People manufacture their own problems. Actually, there are no problems. Ishavasyam idam sarvam: God has arranged everything. He has made everything perfect and complete. You see so many fruits for the birds—so sumptuously supplied. Purnam idam: Krishna has already supplied everything in sufficient quantity. But these rascals are blind—they do not see this. They are trying to “adjust:” Why do they need to make an “adjustment”? Everything is already sufficient. It is just that people are misusing things. But otherwise, they already have sufficient land, sufficient intelligence—everything is sufficient.

In Africa and Australia they have so much land—and instead of relying on nature’s bounty of crops, they are raising cattle to kill them. This is their intelligence. People are growing coffee and tea and tobacco, even though they know these things hurt their health. In some parts of the world people are dying for want of grain, and yet in other parts of the world people are growing tobacco, which will only bring disease and death. This is their intelligence.

The problem is that these rascals do not know that life is meant for understanding God. Ask anyone. Nobody knows. They are such fools. Don’t you see how much care they are taking for dogs’? They’re blind: they do not know whether they’ll be God conscious or “dog conscious.” The dog runs on four legs, but people think they have become advanced because they can run by car—on four wheels. They think they have become civilized, but their business is running, that’s all.

Student: And the purpose for the running is the same—eating, sleeping, mating, and defending.

Srila Prabhupada: Yes. If the purpose is the same as a dog’s, then what is the use of running by car? Of course, you can use the car for reaching people with the message of Krishna consciousness. You can use everything for Krishna. That is what we teach. If there is a nice car, why should I condemn it? Utilize it for Krishna: then it is all right. We don’t say, “Give it up.” Nor When you have produced something by your God-given intelligence, it is all right—if you use it for God. But when you use it for other purposes than Krishna, then it is nonsense.

Take this car—so nicely decorated. If I say, “It is all nonsense,” is that very intelligent? Nor “The purpose for which you have created this car—that is nonsense:” So we simply want people to change their consciousness. We don’t condemn the things they have produced.

For instance, with a knife you can cut vegetables and fruit, but if you use it for cutting your throat, that is bad. So now people are using the knife of technology for cutting their own throat, for forgetting all about self-realization, Krishna consciousness. This is bad.

Nri-deham adyam sulabham sudurlabham plavam sukalpam: our human body is just like a good boat—with our human intelligence we can cross the ocean of nescience, the ocean of repeated birth and death in this material world. And guru-karnadharam/ mayanukulena nabhasva-teritam puman bhavabdhim na taret sa atma-ha: we have a favorable wind—Krishna’s instructions in the Vedic literatures—plus we have a good captain, the bona fide spiritual master, who can guide us and enlighten us. With all these facilities, if we cannot cross the ocean of nescience, then we are cutting our throat. The boat is there, the captain is there, the favorable wind is there, but we are not utilizing them. That means we are killing ourselves.

Servant of the Senses

Dr. Patel: The other morning, when a young lady told you, “I am practicing medicine and serving people,” you said, in effect, “You are a tool.”

Srila Prabhupada: Yes. She is not serving. Of course, as they say, “Everyone is serving”—serving money. Everyone is serving, but unless he gets paid, no service. That is not service. Everyone in the material world is serving somebody. Because by nature he is a servant.

Dr. Patel: He’s serving everyone.

Srila Prabhupada: No, no. As the English proverb says, “Everyone’s servant is no one’s servant.” Anyway, service is required. You cannot live without serving. That is not possible. Every one of us is serving somebody. But the result of this material service is disagreeable. I have given before the example that Mahatma Gandhi gave so much service. But the result was he was killed. He was killed. That person who killed him did not think, “Oh, this old gentleman has given so much service to us. Even if I do not agree with him, how can I kill him?” But people are so very ungrateful—you see?—that whatever service you may render, they’ll never be satisfied.

Dr. Patel: Gandhi’s service—he was doinghis prescribed duty.

Srila Prabhupada: No, actually. But first of all, let us define service. What is service? Service means there is a servant and a master. And service is the transaction between the servant and his master. But we have created so many unprescribed masters. The wife master, the family master, the country master, the legislative master, this master, that master—you see? And we are giving service. “Oh, it is my duty. I am giving service.” But ask any of these masters, “Are you satisfied?” He’ll say, “What have you done?”

Dr. Patel: The master won’t be satisfied.

Srila Prabhupada: No. These self-created masters will never be satisfied. And really, by serving them we are trying to serve and satisfy our own senses. I am giving service to my wife because I think she will satisfy my senses. Therefore I’m not giving service to my wife—I’m giving service to my senses. So ultimately, we are servants of our own senses. We are nobody’s servants. This is our material position. Yes, ultimately, we are servants of our senses.

Constitutionally, I am a servant, but at the present moment, being conditioned by the material nature, I am giving service to my senses. But my senses are not independent. They are totally dependent. For instance, I am now moving my hands, but if the true master of my hand, Krishna, paralyzes it—no more moving. Nor can I revive the moving capacity of my hand. So although I am claiming I am master of my hand, master of my leg, and so on, actually I am not. The master is different.

One of Krishna’s other names is Hrishikesha, “the creator and master of all senses.” Therefore we should transfer our service to Lord Krishna. Hrishikena hrishikesha-sevanam bhaktir ucyate: we have tried in so many ways to serve our senses, but when we engage our senses in serving the master of the senses, we get the spiritual satisfaction of bhakti, devotion. Devotional service to Krishna is also service, but it is not service to the inert senses—it is service to the living master of the senses. This is real satisfaction. So constitutionally I am a servant. I cannot become the master. My position is that I have to serve. And if I don’t serve the master of the senses, then I will have to serve the senses and go unsatisfied.

Dr. Patel: Now, the fact remains that each man does have prescribed duties to wife, family, country, and government.

Srila Prabhupada: Yes.

Dr. Patel: We have different kinds of bodies and senses, also, and that gives us different duties. One man has to act as a priest or teacher, another as an administrator or military man, another as a farmer or merchant, and still another as a laborer or craftsman. And when a man does his duty without expectation of any fruits, this is as good as devotion to the Lord.

Srila Prabhupada: No, no. Not expecting any fruits is not enough. You must do more than that. You must give the fruits unto Krishna. Give the result of your prescribed duties to Krishna. You can earn a million dollars, but don’t simply take it all yourself or lavish it on your family. Give this fruit to Krishna. That is real service.

Just like you are working as a medical practitioner. So give your earnings to Krishna. Then you become perfect. We simply have to see that by our work Krishna is satisfied. Krishna says yat karoshi: “Never mind what you are doing.” Tat kurushva mad-arpanam: “Give Me it.” [Srila Prabhupada laughs.] And people say, “No, no, no, sir. I am serving You, but the money is in my pocket.”

Dr. Patel: Everything is Krishna’s. How can you give anything? Even a leaf?

Srila Prabhupada: Oh, yes, yes. Just like these boys and girls are giving. They are giving their whole life. They do not ask me for money: “My dear sir, please give me some money; I will go to the cinema.” They are serving, and they have given everything. This is service. They are not poor. They’re earning, but everything for Krishna.

If you divide your income partially—“Some percentage for Krishna, some percentage for my sense gratification”—then Krishna says, ye yatha mam prapadyante tams tathaiva bhajamy aham: “As all surrender unto Me, I reward them accordingly, proportionately.” If you have spent cent percent of your energy for Krishna, Krishna is cent percent for you. And if you have spent one percent for Krishna. He is one percent for you. Responsive cooperation.

This movement has advanced so much all over the world because we have these boys and girls who have dedicated everything for Krishna. Therefore it has so quickly advanced. They do not think of anything personal. Only how to serve Krishna. Samsiddhir hari-toshanam: the highest perfection is to please the Supreme Personality of Godhead.

Shattering “The Silence Of The Absolute”

Official: Our movement is very well known in the United States. Have you never come across our society?

Srila Prabhupada: What is the aim of your movement?

Official: The evolution of man.

Srila Prabhupada: “The evolution of man.” So man is going to evolve more? What is that ultimate “evolution”? What is your movement about?

Official: A reintegration of man with the cosmos, or cosmic consciousness.

Srila Prabhupada: Cosmic consciousness. We also believe in individual consciousness and cosmic consciousness. We are now studying this subject matter in our class. Kshetra-jna: the individual soul is a knower—conscious—and the Supersoul, God, is also conscious. So we also admit: universal consciousness. That is God’s consciousness. But our consciousness is limited.

Official: Our movement is studying the same thing.

Srila Prabhupada: Yes. So that is real evolution: when our consciousness is in agreement with the supreme consciousness. That is Krishna consciousness.

Official: Ours is a mystical and philosophical order that allows its students to achieve the perfection of consciousness.

Srila Prabhupada: So what is the ideal of that perfection of consciousness?

Official: It is love.

Srila Prabhupada: “Love.” That’s nice. Very good. So the supreme consciousness and our individual consciousness—when they are in exchange of love, that is perfection. Is that right?

Official: This ultimate consciousness is one of union with the Absolute. It is one of light, of samadhi, of total love. This is the highest.

Srila Prabhupada: “Love.” When we speak of love, there must be two persons. So what is your philosophy?

Official: The love of which I am speaking is a love that binds everything together, that bathes everything in light and love.

Srila Prabhupada: So there is no action?

Official: No, there is action.

Srila Prabhupada: What are those activities?

Official: Giving.

Srila Prabhupada: Giving—and taking, also.

Official: There is giving. There is also taking. But the person who has achieved this ultimate perfection—whenever he takes, he immediately gives it to someone else.

Srila Prabhupada: Yes. The transaction between two lovers: the first gives; the second takes. Sometimes the second gives and the first takes. This is exchange. Similarly, I give my beloved something to eat, and he also gives me something to eat. And again, I disclose my mind unto my beloved; my beloved also discloses her or his mind. These are loving exchanges.

Official: I understand that we are talking of love meaning two persons, but why can’t we think of love in terms of an exchange between man and everything? Between man and the cosmos?

Srila Prabhupada: As you say, cosmos means consciousness. And consciousness means persons, the Supreme Person and His subordinates. For instance, I may want to love a whole tree, with all its leaves and twigs. Now, if I pour water on the root of the tree, it goes to the leaves, twigs, branches automatically. So if we love the supreme consciousness, the Supreme Person, who has got universal or cosmic consciousness, then automatically our service goes to everyone, everywhere.

Official: This is also our philosophy.

Srila Prabhupada: But you cannot love everyone and anyone or everything without finding out the original source of everything.

Official: Our order is a school that teaches its students to progress, step by step, toward that ultimate source of all sources.

Srila Prabhupada: What are those steps?

Official: It is a gradual progress. Our students come, they receive initiation, and then they are guided. They are given certain principles, and then gradually, at their own rate, by their own powers, they ultimately arrive at perfection.

Srila Prabhupada: So, what is that ideal of perfection?

Official: That ideal of perfection is nirvana.It is the kingdom of Lord Jesus Christ. It is the ultimate point for which all men are ultimately striving.

Srila Prabhupada: So, what is that? Nirvana means zero. Everyone is striving for zero?

Official: Nirvana means something different for us.

Srila Prabhupada: What is that?

Official: It is an entering into something that is alive and real.

Srila Prabhupada: Nirvana—this is a Sanskrit word. Nirvana means “finish.”

Official: For us, the word nirvana means an end, but an end to this material existence and an entrance into the silence of the Absolute: onto a level that is real, whereas this one is false. This one is rejected.

Srila Prabhupada: Why “silence”?

Official: The term “entering into silence” is a mystic term.

Srila Prabhupada: You cannot explain it.

Official: It is indescribable, because it is something that is arrived at inside, through meditation. You can’t really describe it in words.

Srila Prabhupada: Why? You are describing so many things in words, and yet the ultimate goal you cannot describe.

(continued in the next issue)

St. Louis Blues

The stadium is packed. The home team’s at bat. You’re there with your family. It’s the last place you’d expect to feel utterly alone.

I can recall the scene quite clearly. I was sitting in the bleacher section of the Busch Memorial Stadium one summer evening as the setting sun swept the pale blue sky with luminous streaks of color. The air was heavy with the combined scents of peanuts, popcorn, and beer. Around me, the crowd was relaxed and amiable, composed mostly of people who seemed to be related to each other. On the field below, a robust young woman emerged to sing the national anthem, only to be drowned out by the accompaniment of the organist. The St. Louis Cardinals, their red-and-white uniforms contrasting sharply with the brilliant green Astro-turf, shifted in boyish impatience as the anthem soared to its vigorous conclusion.

It was a warm and familiar scene. The wholesome congeniality of this Midwestern city was reflected in the faces around me, beaming through their Italian and Germanic flavoring with American prosperity. As the women filled each other’s ears with the details of the latest gallbladder operation, the men hunched forward in absorbed concentration, oblivious to everything except the pitch and the swing. Banners in small fists waved, and the combined sound of twenty radios chorused each play, as our favorite team came from behind in the fifth inning.

I had come with my own family—two sisters and my brother. We were in the habit of doing everything together. Our ages were snug with Catholic closeness, and we had a long- standing rapport of comfortable friendship. I had always found baseball appallingly dull, but I usually went along for the companionship, filling in the scorecard precisely to keep my attention from wandering. There was a strong sense of security in the bonds of my familial affections, and this was only heightened by the fervor of team loyalty and nationalistic patriotism.

It was not at all rational, then, that I should find myself saturated with an overwhelming sensation of loneliness. In the midst of that crowd, bolstered by all that was dear to my heart, I felt completely and totally separated. The vendors’ shrill cries could have been coming from millions of miles away, and the game taking place on the field seemed pointless and incomprehensible. My heart was swelling with sadness, as if I were in a foreign country without any familiar refuge. Yet here I was in my home town! The lack of logic only emphasized the intense emotion.

Sometimes there is a kind of poetic beauty in the mood of loneliness we might experience, say, striding along on a solitary path in the January twilight. It’s a willful relishing of uniqueness, something we schedule to revitalize our psyche. But sometimes loneliness attacks us in a completely inappropriate setting, creating an unwanted disruption to intimacy and camaraderie. Suddenly your birthday party becomes a room full of noisy people, your new date doesn’t seem to understand your English, and your first curtain call leaves you blinded and shaken. A beautiful experience stands stripped of the emotional richness that gave it life, and under bare scrutiny, you discover that there’s nothing actually there. It’s a frightening experience, as you push away the suspicion that all is not really right with your life—that you’re missing something so urgent and essential that even the sweetest pleasures are soured with the sensation of being all alone.

The missing ingredient is Krishna consciousness. Without some real sense of God and how He is involved in our lives, we are certain to feel empty. We are always linked with Krishna; He is simply waiting for us to turn to Him again. Naturally our lives, when devoid of the central figure of worship and love, will be pale and lonely. Lord Krishna Himself explains that He is the actual best friend of each living being, residing within the innermost core of our hearts, always ready to guide and nurture us back to our full relationship with Him. Sudden flashes of loneliness are small but profound signals of our misplaced affections. Proof of their accuracy is that they disappear in direct proportion to the degree with which we embrace vibrant Krishna consciousness.

Sometimes I still find myself slipping into these feelings of loneliness, despite all external security. But rather than being dismayed, I am comforted. I am reminded of my real home with Krishna and of my eternally satisfying relationship with Him. The warmth of this realization drives out the chill of loneliness.