Patmos

August 2, 2008

Patmos is a barbell shaped island not far from Turkey and so within a few hours of leaving Kusudasi, we arrived here. This is a sparsely populated place and totally different from Mykonos. Patmos is religious while Mykonos is secular. One is the island of God the the other is the island of Party. Patmos was the island of preference to exile dissident Christian leaders from Ephesus. St. John of gospel fame was the most famous resident sent to Patmos. And so this island has its origins in early Christian history. Today there is still a large monastery dedicated to St John. In fact even though the island is part of Greece, it is actually run by the local monks. The island is most famous for the

The Cave of St John and his massive monastery which looks more like a fortress than what I thought a monastery might look like. Even though the place is much older and authentic than the House of the Virgin in Turkey, spiritually, I did not feel much life or “juice” in this place. From an historical perspective, however, it is another story. The island is exciting! Between here, Ephesus and the House of the Virgin I am witnessing the birth of a new religion, at least from the Greek perspective. In the near by church there is a museum that is loaded with ancient manuscripts, liturgical vestments, sacred jewelry and other relics that I was amazed to see. Unfortunately no photos were allowed. They always do this. It seems that you can never photograph the good stuff, but I am sure these things are all available in books and on the Web. However, it is certainly exciting to personally see things and places. You gain a connection to these places that you can never get from a book or Web pages.

The first thing we did was to enter the cave of St John. Today there is a small stone building constructed over the cave. This cave is the spot where John apparently wrote the book of Revelations and perhaps even his gospel. Others say he wrote is gospel at Ephesus. In either case, I visited both places so I am covered. LOL Before I entered

I heard the usual hagiographic stories about cracks appearing in the cave as God sent John a sign of how to teach his new faith. Inside the cave, which is dark and rather ominous, we were shown these cracks where God “spoke” to John. In addition, I saw other holes and depressions that have religious interest. One was a head rest and the other was a hand rest. Today pilgrims file through in an endless stream kissing these sacred spots. It was all interesting, but really it did not move me. In the birth place of the Virgin I also heard the same types of miraculous stories but for some reason I was not bothered by them. But here I was. These days I am just closed to male driven religions, and as far as I can tell orthodox Christianity seems to be male dominated. Orthodox priests wear black robes and keep large beards, which makes them look authoritarian and commanding. I am just far beyond this things these days, whether it is shaven heads or big beards. Such things do not impress me. But it was good to see.

The look of an orthodox church, especially inside, is beautiful! Gold covers everything and their use of icons comes close to the Hindu idea of murtis, so I feel comfortable with this aspect of orthodoxy.

The monastery high above the cave is ancient and formidable. On the way up there is a beautiful church that includes the museum that I mentioned. Oh the things that I have seen! This museum holds an amazing collection of ancient manuscripts and sacred vestments. Anna, I am honored and humbled to have been able to visit this place. It was also interesting to hear the stories how the island was constantly attacked by pirates and how the monks defended themselves with walls and small doors and how they poured boiling oil from the top of walls on the pirates. Apparently these ancient walls have never been penetrated by pirates and any other attackers. It was all very practical and amazing to see. I enjoyed my visit to Patmos.

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The Majesty of Ephesus

Saturday, Aug. 2, 2008 Ephesus, Turkey

After the house of Mary, our tour bus drove to Ephesus, which is the location of some of the most spectacular ancient ruins just 10 kms away from the house of the Virgin. These ruins are pre-Christian going back to as far as 2000 BC. They are absolutely splendorous! The ancient world must have been amazing. Sitting amongst these ruins I have the same feeling as I did in the ancient Roman ruins. Who were the people who built this city? How did they live? How did they see the universe? As I walk through these ruins and all the others that I have seen I constantly remind myself that I a only looking at the skeletal remains. In my mind I have to imagine these places with full buildings and people living their lives. When I visit modern sites such as the Vatican I do not need to do this. And yet these skeletal remains in themselves are so impressive that they rival in majesty places like the Vatican that are still intact. Originally Ephesus was on the Aegean Sea, but due to silting it is now 6 kms from the sea. It was surprising to hear how this was the place that St Paul, St. John and other patriarchs of the early Christian Church lived. Later in the afternoon I will go to the island of Patmos where Saint John was exiled. Most of these great Christian personalities were exiled out of this city for their preaching against the worship of the Goddess. John was sent to Patmos and Paul went to Rome. This tour is turning out to be as much about early Christianity as it is about the ancient world. I did not expect this. I have no time to prepare for these trips. I just go and then find out later where I went! I call it reverse travel. This place makes me want to go to the Mideast to see that part of the early development of Christianity. What I am seeing here is only the Greek and Roman side of things.

As you enter the ruins of Ephesus you start down the main road called Curetes Street that leads through the market (the agora) past the public bathes and the brothel to the most amazing facade of the central library called the Celcus library. From there turn left and head up Marble Road to the main Stadium, which can seat as many as 13,000 spectators. At one time 250,000 lived at Ephesus. The famous temple to the Goddess Artemis which was one of the 7 wonders of the ancient world used to be here. Unfortunately today, only a huge ditch remains from the once majestic and colossal temple that once stood in this place. Time in the form of earthquakes, fire and war has taken is toll on. It is said that the library once rivaled the great Alexandrian library in Egypt. Amazingly the facade of the library has been rebuilt along with some of its arches. It is recorded that Alexander the Great once visited this city in 334 B.C. and revered it as one of the greatest cities in the world He promised to rebuild the temple of Artemis, but the citizens apparently refused saying, “It would not befit a deity like you to build a temple to another Deity.” History records that the Temple of Artemis burned the very night Alexander was born. The residents of Ephesus saw Alexander the Great as bad luck. The best way to appreciate this great city is through its photos.

There are, of course, many more parts to this ancient city including the Church of Saint John, the Church of Saint Mary and the Isa Bey Mosque, but these are all later constructions and, honestly, in the presence of these ancient ruins pale by comparison.

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The Belly Dance Shop

August 2, 2008 Kusadasi, Turkey

I hope it is not inappropriate to show the inside of a Turkish Belly Dancing shop. This is typical. One moment I am in the house of the Virgin and buying rosary beads and the next moment I am in a Belly Dancing shop buying zils. LOL When we travel we are the pilgrim and the tourist. We enjoy both the sacred and the secular. In the end is there really a difference?

Notes on Photography

Sunday, July 27, 2008

Your photography is a record of your living, for anyone who really sees.*

Taking pictures is easy, doing photography is hard! Photography is like writing. It takes practice, practice and more practice, and just like writing, one needs to find an interest and style, one’s voice, so to speak. What kind of photography am I interested in? People and places mostly, and I think I have been doing well in Britain because Britain is an English speaking country. But to take a good shot, one needs to think about many things, composition, depth of field, white balance, lighting, flash settings and even ISO. But in a highly dynamic and even chaotic situation such as a street, there is no time to think about these details. You simply have to know what to do. Everything must be automatic. So I am concentrating on this aspect of photography and I am breaking myself in on this trip.

But knowing one’s camera and the details of photography is just one component of taking a successful shot, there are other components that are just as important, namely, the human aspect, and working with a photo after it has been taken. The human aspect is by far the hardest and certainly the most interesting. Almost everybody these days has at least one camera with them, even if it is only a cell camera, but the photographer is not just someone who carries a camera; being a photographer is a state of mind. There is an attitude that goes along with photography. One’s eye is constantly looking for a shot, the mind is never ceasing to compose. Photography is work and it is a trained and skilled activity.

During this trip, I have been asking people if I may take their photo. I am forcing myself to overcome the fear of approaching a total stranger and asking for something as personal as a photograph. This is by far the hardest part of street photography, but being in an English speaking country makes it much easier. The average person with a camera will never ask a stranger for a photo, only a photographer does that. Before I take someone’s photo I often tell them I am a photographer and explain why I would like to take their photo. In some circumstances I simply do this with a juster, but at other times I just take the shot and hope that I do not get rebuked or reported to the police. Afterwards, if I can, I show the person the photo and tell them how good they look, and how happy I am with the shot. I tell the men they are handsome and strong or outstanding, and I tell the ladies they are beautiful or special in someway. I do my best to make them happy with the shot. And I do not mean it insincerely. If I am taking someone’s photo there is a reason. There is something special about that person. They are strong or beautiful! Sometimes I even leave a little change. I do this with street musicians and mimes. As much as possible I always try to thank my subject in some way.

As far as working with a shot after it was been taken I have learned that I do not have to take a perfect shot in the street. Afterwards, I can do a lot to improve a photo. This is why shooting in high resolution, even in raw format, gives me a lot to work with after the shot. I can crop the photo, zoom in, adjust lighting, color and contrast and add any number of affects. The ability to process a shot should never be under estimated. In fact it is no less important than actually taking the shot!

In my opinion the key to being a photographer is to become absolutely comfortable with holding and using one’s camera, learning to be fearless, friendly and open with people and adaptable to the environment and finally, knowing how to work with a photo after it has been taken. Beyond this, it is only a matter of practice, practice and more practice.

Here are some examples of my photography:

*Paul Strand, American Photographer

Stonehenge

Friday July 25th 2008

I write these notes while sitting before Stonehenge: A pile of rocks in a field. Yet the whole world is coming here. I hear the sound of traffic to my right and to my left, a constant stream of humanity coming to see a pile of rocks! Ah, but these are not just any rocks, these are Rock rocks. What is most enticing about these rocks is the contrast between the flat plain and the rocks themselves. They appear as if out of nowhere. Where did such an usual outcropping come from? This, of course, is the attraction of Stonehenge. We all love a mystery. But these rocks are only a small piece of a much greater puzzle. There are hundreds of burial mounds throughout the area, similar to the mounds of West Virginia. Although this network speaks of an ancient people that were preoccupied with the sun and presumably the planets and other celestial bodies, nobody actually knows who these people were or where they came from or what these ancient rocks where actually used for. We just do not know for sure. Some say these rocks were created by the Druids as an ancient temple, others say this site is a mystical site, a kind of yogic chakra and, some even say space aliens created these ancient rock formations. As simple as it at first seems, Stonehenge is well worth the visit! (I like the space alien theory of Stonehenge best. 😉 )

 

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Arriving in London

Wednesday, 28 September, 2005

Sitting in London’s Heathrow is a most amazing experience. I had to wait 3 hours for my connecting flight to Paris. London lays on the cusp. It is the last point between the English speaking world and everywhere else. And for me it is the end of the known world. This is my drop off point. Beyond Heathrow I move into uncharted waters. I feel both excited and apprehensive. I sit here listening to French pop music on my mp3 wondering what lays beyond.

I land in Paris’s Charles de Gaul, just to the north of Paris more or less on time, via British Airlines. I did not realize it, but the flight from London is only 45 minutes. You spend more time getting on and off the jet than you do in the air.

It is so quiet here, not like Heathrow at all. I don’t think there was a single French person on my British Airline flight. I guess they fly only Air France. Heathrow was a bee’s nest of activity. I can see that Charles de Gaul is huge, but where are the people? It is like a village. It does not have the international buzz like London at all. Coming into London from the air I see how hugely populated England is and landing in Heathrow takes you right over the city. It is a most exciting experience looking down. Landing in France, on the other hand, is completely different. The environs around Paris are all rural. France is not at all packed like Britain. And the airport is so quiet. Perhaps there is another part of the airport that is international like Heathrow.

Then I took the train and metro to my hotel somewhere in the downtown of Paris. The train and Metro ride into Paris was not like I expected at all. I feel I am in New York, only New York is cleaner! I expected a modern and clean subway system like San Francisco perhaps. This place is hard core. I feel that I am in a cold drab northern US city like Detroit. I wonder how safe it is to be here?There is no customs check coming into France, just an immigration check. You could bring anything into the country, less of course all the security things that they screen for when you board the plane like guns and nail clippers! After arriving I changed money with a traveler’s check, and even tried it with an ATM card. No problem in either case, except the ATM card is much easier and I am sure a whole lot more expensive.

 As I step outside of the Metro station and into the world where I will live for the next four days, I feel that I have been dropped off at the corner Bay and Young in Toronto. Crowds of people! So here are all the Parisians. Wow, so many cars, busses, motor scooters, motorcycles and no one will stop for you. I could get killed around here! Streets splitting off in every conceivable direction. And where are the signs? I just stand on the corner of Rue du Faubourg and Boulevard De Labastille for 10 minutes taking it all in. Finally I find where they keep the street names. It is hard to tell what is what. I ask myself what am I doing here? From the peace and quiet of the California desert to here in Downtown Paris? It is like being in downtown Toronto. What am I doing here? lol

My God, what a trashy place Paris is!. Even New York has less graffiti and less garbage. And the people look so burned out! It is not a sunny place like California at all. It is dark and sombre. One look at the Parisians and I completely understand the lyrics of Mylene Farmer. Paris is unbelievably African and middle eastern, at least in the metro. London, on the other hand, has been given over to Indians. I have never seen so many saris as I saw in Heathrow. I could have been in Delhi. London and Paris have totally different moods. London is polite and clean. Paris is disturbed and filthy. In Britain everyone is constantly apologizing for everything. I have never seen a more polite bunch of people. Paris, on the other hand is, “Get out of the way or I will take aim and run you down”!

And what is with this smoking business? Every one here is constantly smoking. Walking on the streets, sitting in cafes, in their cars, and I assume in their homes. Smoking smoking smoking, what a disgusting habit. I bet smoking is pervasive throughout Europe. You can not believe how little smoking there is in America compared to this place. And Canada is even less. Steve, you ooze Parisians. They all have this serious, “been done wrong, life sucks, look”.” I will call it the “Sartre existentialist’s look.” Ha, my hotel is on the most busy street I can imagine. It is like being on Manhattan Avenue in downtown New York. But I have to admit my tiny tiny five star room with the view of the next tenement building twenty feet away is quiet. But don’t worry I am sharp enough not to let first impressions dominate my view of Paris. Tomorrow I will begin looking for the soul of Paris.

St. Paul’s Cathedral

Friday, July 25, 2008

St Paul's Cathedral, London

St Paul’s Cathedral in London is a masterpiece of religious architecture that rivals anything in Paris or Rome. The street outside is congested, loud and touristy, but once inside all that fades away and you are immediately transported into another realm. There is an excellent self-walking tour that I recommend, but after that, put the audio away and go through again and “feel” this sacred place. The Cathedral has been recently cleaned so you get a good sense of what it must have felt like when it was first built. There is no doubt, St. Paul’s is a living building. It is also a national church, something that I never realized even though I grew up in the Church of England. It is the state church of England and I am sure was the state church for the empire in its day. I was deeply moved to see a book containing the names of all US soldiers killed during WW II (48,000 I am told) right at the main altar. The British are indeed grateful to America for what was done during the second world war.

On the steps of St Paul's in London

I was also touched by the paintings by a modern Russian artist, Sergei Chepik, that hang on the wall in the main hall. Chepik depicts a different type of Christ, not the one sitting as a child sitting in the lap of his mother, but one who is a prisoner in a Soviet Gulag during Stalin’s reign of terror. Knowing a little of Russian history now, Chepik’s interpretation of Christ is powerful and touches me. I am also impressed by the church authorities for placing such an interpretation in their main hall. There is, no doubt, a political statement behind this and I agree with it.

Deep within the bowels of the church there is an interesting tour that contains a lot of state history. Don’t miss that part. It is not same as the pantheon of dead popes that you find in the Vatican, but it is worth seeing. St Paul’s, being a state church, is more secularized then the Roman Churches.

As I always in such places I stayed for communion. I now clearly understand why I left the Anglican fold years ago. In spite of the grander of this wonderful building and even the worship of the people, the service was dry and tasteless for me. I could not feel the devotion that I felt at Notre Dame or Chartres. As I began to read the Nicene Creed, which I used to recite as a youth, I realized that I cannot in any honest way recite it now. I left the service without taking communion. I admit that at Notre Dame in Paris I did take the sacrament and it had meaning for me, but here I could not. Perhaps in Paris the difference was because the service was in French and Latin and I could not properly understand the words, but at least the ‘taste’ was there at Notre Dame. St. Paul’s had no such taste of bhakti for me. I remain hopelessly touched by Mother.

I can find no photos of the inside of St. Pauls. Did they not allow photography?

Mexican Nature

It is after 7 AM in the morning and the sun has still not risen. Back in the desert the sun is full blast by 5 AM. This place is 5000 kms south. What a difference that makes! In Riverside every thing is brown. Here everything is green, tropical green. Mexico is so beautiful. I never thought I would say anything like that.

In America we have this idea that Mexico is some kind of a trashy run down ugly country, but what I have seen so far is just the opposite. From the airport to wherever I have am we drove 200 kms througth the countyside yesterday. What I saw was most impressive. I think of Mexico in term of Tiajana, which is a trashy broader town, but here nothing is trashy. Now I realize that I am staying in one of the finest resort hotels, but what I am saying is based on what I saw in the countryside along the way, all 200 kms of it. I now am forced to reassess my opinion of Mexico. I have just returned from a morning walk that lasted over an hour. The place reminds me of India except that it is clean. We sometimes joke about what is the difference between India and Mexico, India has Krishna. Maybe, but Mexico is much cleaner! This place is a tropical wonderland. Birds! You remember them. Waking in Canada was always to the sound of birds. Here the birds are amazing.

 

Driving to this place I noticed one distinct feature. There were no bill boards! We drove for two and a half hours and except within the villages and towns there were no bill boards. What a difference that makes. Bill boards shout at you. Noise. Noise Noise. They talk about America as being the best place on earth. It is propaganda. This place is quite reasonable. I see nice cars, not as big as America, but new and clean. It is not the place I expected. Not the Tijawana I expected.

 

Family Religion

Dear Ramai,

You recently asked a most intriguing, but almost absurd question: What is our family religion? Such a question should not even have to be raised, but in the case of our family, alas, it must be asked and I will do my best to answer. Let me first provide some personal religious history, which will put the issue into context.

I was born an Anglican. In Canada the Anglican Church, also known as the Church of England, is one of the common protestant churches. The name Anglican is not used in this country, instead the word is Episcopal and so I would be known as an Episcopalian. After the American War of Independence, American Anglicans wanted to drop the “english” connotation suggested by the word Anglican and so adopted the Scottish term, Episcopal, to refer to their new America branch of the Church of England.

Growing up my family was moderately religious. We would go to Church about 2 or 3 times a month. My mother was the more pious of my parents and so she made sure we attended church at least on this basis. My father, at best, was lukewarm to religion, but at least he did not block my mother from taking us to church. My father never talked much about religion so I am not sure, even to this day, what his actual religious leanings are. I suspect there is a streak of atheism beneath his religious silence. He often told me not to wear my religion on my shirt sleeves. Good advice if you ask me, although I have never followed it, especially during my “born again” Hindu days. At any rate I grew up in a church-going family and I was eventually confirmed as a full-fledged member of the Anglican Church.

In many Christian churches there is a ceremony called Confirmation that most adolescent boys and girls go through to become a full member of their church. Confirmation is somewhat equivalent to the Jewish Bar Mitzvah or the Hindu Upanayana, the thread ceremony that you have undergone. In order to qualify for Confirmation my brother and I had to attend a certain number of religious classes and so my mother took the extra efforts to bring us to these classes. At the time of the ceremony a bishop, a high church official, came to our family church, Saint Timothy’s, and performed the Confirmation in a ceremony that involved the “laying on of hands.” The gesture of the bishop placing his hands over our heads as we bowed before him is symbolic of Christ touching the heads of his disciples. It is an act of blessing and an indication of the discipular succession (parampara) from Christ to his apostles and eventually down a line to the Archbishop of Canterbury and ultimately to my brother and I. The Archbishop of Canterbury is the “pope” for the Church of England. Afterwards we were considered full members of the Church of England and were allowed to participate in the Eucharist or communion service. I can, therefore, definitely say that growing up my family religion was Christian Protestant Anglican. Sometimes I wish I could say something as simple as this for you, Ramai, but you live in religiously unique situation. You are a generation in transition.

As a child and youth, church attendance was not something that I enjoyed. I did it because I had to. However, from my earliest days I have always had faith in God and a strong religious nature. As odd as this may seem, I am not a pious person, nor have I ever been so, but in spite of this I maintain my religious nature and my faith in God. You can read my views on God in the installment, “Radhika’s Question.” I would say that I am more heterodox than orthodox, but I leave that for you decide.

By age twelve I became increasingly conscious of religious matters and began to have serious problems with Christianity. I disliked the idea that only Christians were on the path to God and that the followers of other religions were condemned to something less. The exclusivity of Christianity made me doubt whether Christianity could ever be my life long religion. There were other issues, but this single Christian teaching bothered me the most. Why would God be so limited to not include members of other faiths?

As a result I entered the spiritual “supermarket” and began to study and experiment with other religions. I read the Old and New Testaments, the Qur’an, the Lotus Sutra and other Buddhist works, books on yoga, philosophy, and psychology and to the best of my youthful ability I even read Plato, Aristotle, and the Greek myths. I read virtually every book on religion, philosophy and psychology that I could get my hands on. In those days I had an insatiable appetite for the “Truth.” Such intense reading went on between the ages of 12 and 18. But ultimately it was Hinduism and the Bhagavad-gita that had the greatest impact on me and eventually led me to Krishna Consciousness. I pride myself for having read the Gita well before I had any experience with Krishna Consciousness. In fact I had read Prabhupada’s Gita, the abridged Macmillan “blue” Gita, without knowing that is was the “Hare Krishna” Gita. You can read the details of how I actually came to Krishna Consciousness elsewhere on this site, but the important point is that even thought I joined Krishna Consciousness at a relatively early age and stayed for two decades, it was not something that I could ultimately sustain for life. Krishna Consciousness is not my religion nor is it our family religion. Today I look at Krishna Consciousness as my mother. I love my mother, but I am not going to live at home with my mother anymore.

Krishna Consciousness is a variety of Vaishnavism that I consider “born again” religion. It is religious fundamentalism, Hindu style. From about 1969 when I was 17, until 1989 when I was 36 I lived in Krishna Consciousness and had you asked me the question, “What is my religion?” I would have told you that Krishna Consciousness was my religion. This, of course, is not technically correct because Krishna Consciousness is just a particular branch of Bengal Vaishnavism, which is part of Hinduism. I suppose that if I was asked this question by a hospital administrator, just to make things simple, I would have said that my religion was Hinduism. But certainly I did not feel that I was Hindu. I was Krishna Conscious.

The years between 1985 and 1988 were critical. Cracks were appearing in the mantle of Krishna Consciousness with the advent of internal ISKCON strife and even criminality that was appearing within New Vrindavan. You can also read about this on this site. During this time I made two important trips to India with Gaura Keshava. I took initiation as a Shri Vaishnava and I translated Bhaktivinoda’s autobiography, Svalikhita Jivani. I will write about these events separately, suffice to say that the combined effect had a monumental effect on my life. During this same time, your mother left us, we married your step mother and then together the family left New Vrindavan and moved to Berkeley California. It was a turbulent time! After leaving New Vrindavan and suffering from depression, disillusion and disappointment I slowly moved away from Krishna Consciousness and into the greater world of Shri Vaishnavism and ultimately into Hinduism. So what is our family religion? Is it Shri Vaishnavism or Hinduism?

The matter is still more complicated because the family is religiously split. Being the son of your mother and living at a time when we were within the Hare Krishna movement, you and your direct bothers and sisters have one kind of religious upbringing, a strict “born again” Vaishnavism, some would say a cult upbringing. You lived in an ashrama, you grew up with a shaved head and you attended Gurukula. But what about the children of the second family, your sisters? They have no experience of Krishna Consciousness, instead their religious upbringing is more Hindu because they grew up at a time when our family was deeply connected with the Hindu Temples of Southern California. You, of course, know this history, but did you know that a few years ago I purposefully pulled the family away from the temple because of the adolescent antics of Keshava and Karnamrita? I did not want their activities to affect my position as a priest in the temple. It is a true but unfortunate fact that members of a congregation expect their priest to be “perfect.” A priest is barely allowed to be human. Indeed he is public property. This naturally curtailed the family’s religious involvement with Hinduism. In fact you, in the first family, actually have more claim to a family religion than they do.

Ramai, the matter is still more complex. pastedGraphic_1.pdfWhen I was growing up, religion was a preoccupation for me. I was on a quest for “the meaning of life” and I took it seriously. Consequently, I joined a “hot” religion like Krishna Consciousness and lived through the discipline and experiences of that way of life. But as I have described elsewhere, it was a “box,” a place that strictly controlled how I lived and thought. It served its purpose, but like a chick who has left the nest, it is not a place that I can return to. From my perspective all religions are boxes where people put their lives. Some may be bigger boxes than others, some may be better suited to “normal” life, but they are boxes none the less. So I personally can never go back and live in a box, any box, and I know Sukulina feels the same. In other words, I do not think you will ever get a family religion out of us. We both have lived so intensely as devotees and as a professional family of priests, we have been so close to the fire for so long, that neither of us will ever be able to provide you with a family religion. And let me tell you something more. Having studied religion academically to the extent of getting a doctorate, I have had all of the walls of religion torn down. Nothing of religion is intrinsically sacred to me. When you study religion deeply, especially comparative religion, you learn that it is human beings that create the sacred, it is human beings that create absolutes, it is human beings that create the walls of religion. I have been so trained that I can move back and forth, inside and outside the walls of religion, any religion, with total ease. I know how permeable these walls are. This is why I can move within the walls of Hinduism and function as a priest and then the next moment step outside this theological circle and teach as a religious outsider. It is impossible for me to take the walls of any religion as absolute. I have few taboos left and so I can have no personal religion that I take as absolute.

I am not sure how this sounds to you. When I state that my walls have been torn down and I have no personal religion, this does not mean that I have no faith. It just means that my way of being religious is radically different from the way most people understand and need religion to be. My personal views on religion are extremely simple and you can find them in the installment, “This is my Religion” also on this site. Boil it down, life is a wondrous mystery and beauty. Life is my religion and the universe is my temple. But never forget: when I speak in this way I have a lifetime of religious discipline behind me that is both practical and academic. Mystery and beauty as a religion may sound good, but it hardly fulfills the needs of people. Most people want the walls of religion to be impermeable. People need the discipline of religion and they need a church or a temple with rules. People want to feel secure. How strange it is that as a priest I can give religion to the world and yet as a father I can not give religion to my family!

In spite of this, I recognize the importance of boxes and walls for most people and especially for young people with families. I think having a religion is important. Life is a mystery and a beauty, and religion is an important way to relate to this mystery and beauty. I just do not think your mother or I can honestly give you a family religion, and even if we could, I do not think we want to. The biggest box we have found is Hinduism, but the way it is practiced in temples is necessarily as a small box. This unfortunately is the way of all religions. Plus with Hinduism there is an ethnic factor that you may not be comfortable with, and if you go to a Western based Hindu group such as ISKCON then you have the cult factor to deal with. So you will have to choose for yourself. Being a spiritual pioneer is not easy and being the son or daughter of spiritual seekers is also not easy. You certainly chose a difficult family, but now you have a wonderful opportunity: you can choose without restrictions how you wish to live and what your religion will be. According to your nature I suggest that you enter the spiritual supermarket and as I did explore a few religions. See what they can teach you. Choose science if you wish, it can also show you mystery and beauty.

*Photograph by Malati Marvin

Maintaining a Life of Spiritual Practice

Dear Punam,

Thank you very much for the wonderful japa mala set that you and your family purchased for me in New Zealand. I consider this a rare and wonderful gift. I am honored.

Let me take this opportunity to write my thoughts on the matter of spiritual purity versus common practicality and where I draw the line between these two issues. When it comes to matters of religion, especially in this country, with the prominence of Christian fundamentalism and now even with Hindu fundamentalism in the form of the Hare Krishna and the Swami Narayan movements, we live in a world where spirituality in gauged primarily in terms of how strict and uncompromising one can be. This is an ideological driven spirituality and it manifests in many forms, including literal interpretation of religious texts, rigid dietary practices, and even excessive forms of religious practice to name just a few. We judge the world as an evil and therefore judge spirituality in terms of withdrawal from worldly affairs. We shun earthly pleasures as being anti spiritual and even evil. In the name of spirituality we deny our earthly needs and create guilt and unhappiness in our lives. We hear the stories of famous saints and sage who have denied worldly desires and thereby achieved great spiritual fame, but when you read the old sacred texts that are all too often locked away from common view because their treasures are held in Sanskrit, we find that spirituality is not so anti worldly and not as removed from practical life as we might expect.

In the Sanskrit Ramayana of Valmiki, a sacred work thousands of years old, we read that when Sita was approached by the demon Ravana, who assumed the guise of a forest hermit, she invited him to sit for lunch saying that soon her husband (Rama) would return with food in the form of deer, iguana and wild boar. (R. 3.47.23) The implication is obvious: she would cook the meat as soon as Rama returned. Sita and Rama, hunting and cooking meat? Did you also know that when the demon Maricha, in the form of the golden deer, approached the cottage of Rama, one of Sita’s reactions was to ask Rama kill the deer so that they could use its hide as a seat in their cottage. She clearly asks Rama to bring the hide of this animal for this purpose. (R.3.43.19-20) I have a deer skin that I often use to sit upon during puja, I am sometimes questioned why I keep such an impure thing. In many places throughout the Ramayana we find the forest sages getting together for an evening that includes meat eating and even alcohol. In one case we read of a demon, in the guise of a sage, who used to coax other sages to his home for a meal and then kill them in a very unusual way. The text clearly says that goat meat was the main attraction. (R. 3.11.57) The impression one gets on reading these passages is that occasionally one sage would acquire a goat and would then call his sage friends together for a “goat-feast.” In other words, it appears that the sages would get together to release a little “austerity tension” by having a good time, and then return to their ashramas to continue their routines of penance and spiritual discipline.

Similarly, throughout the Mahabharata, a similar text, we find sages eating meat, drinking liquors and even having various sexual exploits. And of course, we all know of the gambling habits of the son of Dharma, Yuddhisthira, as he gambled away everything including his brothers, his wife and even himself. Moreover, the Bhagavad-gita, also part of the Mahabharata, tells us that a yogi should sit on a deer skin during meditation. (Gita 6.11) This is clearly mentioned in the chapter which discusses meditation. We also regularly perform thread ceremonies (upanayanam) where a deer skin is wrapped around the boy as he symbolically prepares to enter the forest for education. Where does that deer skin to come from? And how does it relate to the principle of non-violence (ahimsa)? Should I also not mention that most of the sages of the Ramayanaand Mahabharata were married men with multiple wives? Spiritual men with wives in polygamous relationships? What I am pointing out here are practices that today we consider impious or unbecoming of religious people that involve various degrees of meat eating, intoxication, gambling and sex. Both Valmiki’sRamayana and Vyasa’s Mahabharata reflect a certain time and place in the history of early Hinduism. These sacred works mirror the value systems including the morality, ethics and spirituality of their day.

Contrast this with, Tulasi Dasa’s Rama Charit Manas, the often called the“Hindi Ramayan,” which is much closer to our times, only about 500 years old. Effectively Tulasi Dasa rewrites the original SanskritRamayana and “sanitizes” most of the controversial practices of the main characters that I have described above. You never hear of Sita serving meat to Ravana. It is clear that the Hinduism of the past was much different than the Hinduism of the present. It is also clear that Tulasi Das’s Rama Charit Manas is primarily a work of bhakti, devotion, whereas the Sanskrit Ramayana of Valmiki is a work about political power, good overcoming evil, and ultimately dharma. It is not a work of devotion like the later “Hindi” Ramayana. Rama’s status as an avatara of Vishnu is hardly mentioned, whereas in Tulasi Das’s work virtually every page makes it clear who Ram is, the Supreme Lord on Earth.

My point in raising these issues is to show that what was perceived as spiritual behavior in the past is different from what is perceived as spiritual behavior today. We think that a strict vegetarian diet is an essential part of what constitutes being a pious and spiritual Hindu today. You also know that even tea, coffee, onions, and garlic are considered as taboos by very strict Hindus, but did you know that garlic is considered an amrita, a sacred healing substance in Sanskrit medical texts? Can you imagine the sannyasis of ISKCON or the sadhus of the Swami Narayan movements getting together for a Friday night of meat eating and drinking to work off a little “austerity tension”? It would be scandalous and such devotees would be promptly rejected from of the temple, yet our most sacred books are full of many similar transgressions by our most venerated sages. But it seems to me that the diet of Sita and Rama in the forest that included meat was totally appropriate for their location. They were living in a practical way, but what a heresy to even suggest such a thing! And I have little doubt that if Yuddhisthira were living today he would spend quite a bit of time in Las Vegas. We might even think that he had a gambling problem. Again, what a thing to say about the son of Dharma? It is heresy! and yet the texts confirm it.

In fact I would go so far as to say that the older texts like the Ramayana and the Mahabharata represent a more authentic tradition because they are based upon how one might expect real sages to act in real situations. The later bhakti traditions that we have today as found in the ‘Hindi Ramayan’ of Tulasi Das and in the Hare Krishna and Swami Narayan movements are ideological traditions based on the principles of devotion. They sound good and can certainly be held as an ideal, but it is not how real people live in real situations. Please do not misunderstand, I am not making a case for meat eating or alcohol consumption or lose sexual values. Nor I am attempting to rationalize sensual weaknesses.

What I am suggesting is that if one wants to have a lifetime of spiritual practice, one must take personal responsibility for one’s life and be prepared to balance things according to one’s practical needs, and the earlier traditions of Valmiki’s Ramayana and Vyasa’s Mahabharata are good examples of this being done according to time and place. If one takes things too literally or so strictly that one eventually “snaps” and gives up spiritual life altogether, as I have seen many spiritual practitioners do, then what is the point? Religious fundamentalism is an ideological driven form of spirituality that does not lead to happiness, nor, for most people, can it be sustained. I have personal experience in this regard. Perhaps the sages with their occasional “goat-feasts” knew a few things about spiritual life that we need to learn.

So Punam, when you give to me a gift of antique Tibetan chanting beads made of bone, a substance that is considered impure or inappropriate by today’s standards, I am not upset in the least. I am not offended to receive them or even to use them. They may not conform to current standards of devotional piety, but I know that piety is more than how we interpret it today. My views are informed by both the older traditions ofRamayana and the Mahabharata as well as the recent sacred books of modern Hinduism like the “Hindi Ramayan,” and I live my life accordingly. I would not be surprised in the least, if I one day, deep in the pages of the Mahabharata, I read that Vyasadeva himself had a set of bone chanting beads.

 

 

 

Image taken from: http://www.yogabasics.com/japamalabeads/mala-beads/full-malas/nepal-bone-full-mala