Soul Survivors

by Bhutatma dasa

Thomas Hobbes, a materialistic, and admittedly cranky, British philosopher from the 17th century, held a rather stark view of life. He famously declared that in its natural state, the life of man is “nasty, brutish, and short.” Following his own lead, he also suggested a quick-and-easy method for realizing one’s inner-being; viz., let someone put a musket to the side of your head. You will, he assured, learn immediately and precisely who you are—a tiny core of being whose essence amounts to nothing more than a craving to survive.

As devoid of grace as Hobbes appears to have been, his proposal does reflect a certain portion of Vedic wisdom; the understanding that every living entity possesses an inherent aspiration to live forever. Of course, the Vedas relate this powerful inclination to survive, and the fearfulness that emerges when we are directly confronted with death, to the eternal nature of the soul. As Srila Prabhupada writes, “A forgetful, conditioned soul is fearful, (but) fearfulness is a sort of illusion for the living being when he is in slumber and forgetting his eternal relation with the Lord.” (Srimad Bhagavatam 1.14.38)

Human beings, of course, are not the only living entities who encounter this dream-like panic when faced with the possibility of death, or “non-being.” “There are 8.400,000 species of living beings beginning from the highest intellectual being, Brahma, down to the insignificant ant, and all of them are enjoying the material world according to the desires of their subtle mind and gross material body.” (Srimad Bhagavatam 1.2.33) So all forms of material life are enjoying in their own way, and resisting “non-existence” in their own way. In light of this, I found some current research on the survival mechanisms of plants intriguing, both as illustrations of the Vedic principle (and its Hobbesian version), and at the same time as glimpses of the amazing creativity of Paramatma, and how He arranges for self-preservation in various ways, all suited to the life form itself. In Srimad Bhagavatam 1.12.17, Srila Prabhupada makes this point, explaining how Supersoul offers protection “to different grades of living beings…by His different potencies.” And he reaffirms this idea in 1.13.45, wherein he states, “Every living creature is allowed all protection by the order of the Supreme Lord in terms of each one’s acquired position in the world.”

In indirect homage to Supersoul, scientists who are exploring such things as the manner in which plants respond to changes in the environment and the sophisticated strategies they employ to ward off attackers, are finding ever increasing appreciation for the ingenuity of our quiet neighbors.
Nowadays, when plant biologists refer to their subjects, the terms they use portray plants as active, purposeful entities who seek self-preservation in ways that indicate acute sensitivity. “Plants are not static or silly,” says Monika Hilker of the Institute of Biology at the Free University of Berlin. “They respond to tactile cues, they recognize different wavelengths of light, they listen to chemical signals, and they can even talk through chemical signals.” Touch, sight, hearing, speech? Doesn’t sound like your Dad’s garden anymore! As Dr. Hilker explains, plants exhibit “sensory modalities and abilities we normally think of as only being in animals.”

The view of plants as “slightly animate”, not much more than a food source for the critters who graze upon grassy fields (or steam up pots of veggies) appears starkly out-of-date, and measurably out-of-line, with the incredible behaviors plants routinely demonstrate to the careful observer. Ponder a few of the following examples of plant survival strategies, and perhaps the notion of plants as “passive sunlight collectors” will seem slightly oversimplified. Plants defend themselves, speak to one another, and even eavesdrop on their fellow plant’s conversations.
“Plants are very good at avoiding getting eaten,” says Linda Walling of the University of California, Riverside. “It’s an unusual situation where insects can overcome those defenses.” For example, when a predator nibbles on a plant’s leaves, specialized cells on the plant’s surface release chemicals to drive it away or even emit an adhesive to entrap it. “I’m amazed at how fast some of these things happen,” said Dr. Consuelo M. De Moraes of Pennsylvania Sate University, citing how within minutes of being munched upon by a caterpillar, a plant will have organized a full-on defense from the intruder.

Sometimes these defensive measures include cries for assistance. Scientists have uncovered how plants, upon sensing the jaws of an uninvited diner getting busy on their corpus, send out volatile chemicals that act as the vegetable kingdom’s version of a 911 call. And who you gonna call? How about insect-eaters such as dragon flies, who delight in caterpillar meat, or tiny parasitic insects, who can infect a caterpillar and destroy it from within. (It is brutal out there!)
Sometimes plants send off communiqués to summon insects who can help rid them of unwanted and potentially damaging eggs. Take the case where a cabbage plant senses that a female cabbage butterfly has laid her eggs on the plant’s leaves, snugly attaching them with tiny dabs of glue. Once it detects the glue on its leaves, the mighty cabbage swings into action. It fires off a chemical SOS message that beckons female wasps, who are drawn to the cabbage under siege, and upon arrival inject the hostile caterpillar eggs with their own eggs. As the infant wasps gestate, they consume the plant-devouring gestating butterflies, and viola! the cabbage is rescued—a high-tech home security system without the monthly fees or sluggish police response times!

Unconstrained by any sort of vegetable kingdom ACLU, plants also routinely eavesdrop on one. As described in the journal Science, a parasitic weed (similar to the morning glory) can detect volatile chemicals released by a potential host such as the tomato plant. The young parasitic weed uses the signal to direct its growth closer and closer to the tomato plant host, finally encircling its stem and literally sucking the life phloem right out of it. The parasitic weed is so adept at “listening in”, it can even distinguish among the messages emitted from healthier or weaker plants, and make a beeline for the stronger ones. “Even if you have quite a bit of knowledge about plants,” the article’s author explains, “it’s still surprising to see how sophisticated they can be.”
So next time you stroll by a vegetable garden and think you hear a muffled “Everybody wants to go to heaven but nobody wants to die,” don’t be so quick to shrug it off as your imagination—with the help of the Supersoul, these plants have got it going on.

Vrndavana’s Mercy

by Visvamrtra dasa

Srila Prabhupada writes in Journey of Self Discovery, “When the guru is fully satisfied that prasādam distribution is going on, he is very much pleased, and he engages himself in the devotional service of the Lord by chanting and dancing.” During the auspicious Karatika festival of 2005, I was fortunate enough to spend some days in Vrndavana, I also had the delightful opportunity to visit the beautiful Krishna Temple newly established in Vrndavana by the ISKCON Bangalore Devotees, including its elaborate prasadam kitchen. The compound covers a number of acres, and is visible from Bhaktivedanta Marg as you first enter Vrndavana from the main highway from New Delhi. The peaceful atmosphere of the compound is further enhanced by locating the guest facilities a good distance from the road, making a more serene environment for chanting, reading and so forth. My mind was especially attracted to the beautifully cultivated gardens and lake. The temple devotees exhibited brahaminical behavior and character, and I noticed how the facilities were spotlessly clean and maintained in the “first class” manner Srila Prabhuapada appreciated. Preaching activities include gorgeous Deity worship, observing Vaishnava festivals and engaging the temple guests in discussions of Krishna Bhakti. Also of special interest to me was the current program of prasadam distribution, wherein each day the temple devotees provide many thousands of free meals to Brijvasi school children. If you have any chance to do so, I heartily recommend you take the time to visit this temple and the devotees there — all around it is a wonderful Vaishnava experience. Also, please see the link below for some of the photos I took during my visit. http://www.facebook.com/home.php?ref=home#/photo.php?pid=30303696&id=1629036048

A Case of Mistaken Identity

by Paratrikananda dasa

In the Vedas it is said that the soul is eternally pure and uncontaminated, asango hy ayam purusah. So how is it the soul appears to be immersed in the material world and appears to be influenced by matter?

All of us have felt elation, sadness, inspiration, anger, fear, etc., when watching a well-made film. The motion picture experience enables us to become so engrossed in the narrative that we begin to identify with the characters and become emotionally invested in the story. It is the very intention of the filmmaker to elicit this emotion from an audience, and the very reason an audience will see a film. Nevertheless, the moment the movie ends and the theater lights come up, we begin to remember that we have nothing to do with the characters or the story—we have our own life and our own story, which is likely vastly different from the one we just took in.

The soul’s assumption of identity in the material sphere is much like the experience of a moviegoer. This misidentification of the soul is objectified through a particular physical body and mind. Because the soul can never interact directly with matter, it is provided a body and mind composed of matter to exhibit activities in the material sphere.

The material body and mind are mediums for the activities and reaction to activities (karma) of a soul identifying with matter. The present abilities and limitations, as well as pains and pleasures of the body and mind, are in direct proportion to the soul’s previous noble and ignoble activities.

Every work which you are doing, good or bad, we have to suffer or enjoy the reaction of our work. And so long we have to suffer or enjoy the reaction of our work, as long as we shall go on like this, so long we have to accept this material body. This material body is just given to us by the arrangement of nature’s law for the exact status of suffering or enjoyment.

Lecture by HDG A. C. Bhaktivedanta Swami Prabhupada

Bhagavad-gita As It Is (KBI edition) 4.14-19

New York, August 3, 1966

Because activity and the reaction to activity are dynamic principles perpetually affecting each other, the body and mind are perpetually changing to reflect the dynamics. What I experience at present is a reaction to activity in the past, and how I respond to that reaction becomes a new action that creates a reaction in the future. Thus there is a continuous cycle of action and reaction and the eternally pure spirit soul trapped in this cycle is referred to as a “conditioned soul”. This cycle is terminated when the conditioned soul stops identifying with matter and reverts to its pure spiritual identity.

So this situation, our contact with matter, is just like dream. Actually we are not fallen. Therefore, because we are not fallen, at any moment we can revive our Krsna consciousness. As soon as we understand that, “I have nothing to do with [matter]. I am simply Krsna’s servant. Eternal servant. That’s all,” immediately he becomes liberated.

Lecture by HDG A. C. Bhaktivedanta Swami Prabhupada

Srimad Bhagavatam (KBI edition) 2.9.1

Tokyo, April 20, 1972

Termination of the karmic cycle begins when the conditioned soul contacts a self-realized soul and is given a chance to revive the memory of spiritual existence. A self-realized soul is free from the mistake of material identification and is preoccupied by transcendent reality. Termination of the karmic cycle is accelerated when the conditioned soul accepts the superior status of the self-realized soul and agrees to take guidance from such a soul. In this scenario the self-realized soul adopts the position of spiritual master (guru) and the conditioned soul adopts the position of disciple.

Just try to learn the truth by approaching a spiritual master. Inquire from him submissively and render service unto him. The self-realized soul can impart knowledge unto you because he has seen the truth.

HDG A. C. Bhaktivedanta Swami Prabhupada

Bhagavad-gita As It Is (KBI edition) 4.34

***

I hearten the readers of this work to survey the original books of His Divine Grace A. C. Bhaktivedanta Swami Prabhupada, for advanced disquisition on subjects of transcendence.

Come All Ye Faithful

by Nalinikanta dasa

First let me offer my respects to my Guru, Srila Prabhupada, and to the readers.

Faith is a phenomenon transcendental to material influences. It is a condition of the heart, inspired by Lord Vishnu, Who resides within.  Though just as apparently intangible as love and devotion, it is directly felt by us, and is reciprocated with by the Lord and by those in His direct service.

In this regard, there are two quotes from Srila Prabhupada I would like to mention; “It is only by faith that one can advance in Krishna Consciousness,” (Bg. 9.3 purport) and “Faith means unflinching trust in something sublime.” (Bg. 2.41 purport)

Simple thoughts on the first quote are that true belief is in the heart, and results from past lifetimes of devotional practice; and that pleasing God is not as much a matter of function (although that counts) as of attitude. Krishna is called Bhava-grahi, He who accepts the attitude of the devotee, or the love and devotion with which anything is offered.  He is not in need of the offering itself.  Sometimes He tests His devotees through difficult circumstances, as He enjoys seeing and glorifying their faith and perseverance on the spiritual path.

In the past, it has bothered me when we publicize how many books we have sold, or temples we have built, or money we’ve collected, or rounds we have chanted. It would be better if we didn’t publicize such accomplishments, but rather felt our inadequacy and lack of devotion, as we try to remain sheltered at the feet of our divine Guru.  We are little if anything.  We can be proud only if we have faith in His Divine Grace, and even that piety comes by his mercy.

Thoughts on the second quote are that “faith in something sublime” cannot refer to anything material, as the first instruction of Bhagavad-gita is that we have nothing to do with the body or its byproducts.  It is clearly stated therein that it is not possible for Lord Krishna to have placed any real truth on the bodily platform, after His condemning the bodily concept of life (Bg. 2.12 purport).

What, then, to speak of the guru in material terms, as in a “bodily present guru,” or other such concoctions?  The demand that the Lord appear before one, or prove Himself to humanity, or that the guru as God’s representative be physically in contact with us, is nowhere to be found in Srila Prabhupada’s speeches or writings, because the principle itself is faithless and atheistic.

Self-realization and God-realization are enacted on the transcendental platform.  They begin with the hearing process, with hearing the divine sound. The FIRST GURU in our parampara, Lord Brahma, heard the divine sound of Lord Krishna’s flute, and was thus initiated into transcendental knowledge (Brahma-samhita, 5.27).

Fortunate we are that we did get physical association with His Divine Grace, but the faith he blesses us with requires no physical connection.  The thoughts, words and sounds of His Divine Grace are absolute, as are our meditations on the Supreme Lord. The Lord and His devotees bless the individual soul when they are pleased with the inner heart’s attitude of service in bhakti-yoga.  Devotion begins with the transcendental quality of faith, and from that beginning to the advanced stages, such as revelations and realizations of self and Krishna’s Forms, the whole yoga is completely transcendental to material experience.

These are some simple statements meant only to emphasize the point:  we should believe in God and in His true devotees, and practice our relationship with them, as they are fully capable of understanding and reciprocating with our devotion, without consideration of one’s material circumstances.

Anjali’s Gift: A Perfect Dharma

By Caitanya Candra Dasa

In the fifty-plus years that I have been a tenant in this body, I have neither sought, nor thought to become perfect in any endeavor.  Indeed, I have self-characterized my actions as those of an inveterate marginalist.  The concept of marginalism has its roots in economics.  It suggests that one can achieve eighty percent of any endeavor with a reasonable amount of effort and resources; but, attaining one-hundred percent of something requires an inordinate and often untenable amount of effort and resource.  This is why governments have been unable to eradicate material “anarthas,” such as pollution, polio, and pimples.  At some point, I read that the position of Brahma is attained by perfectly executing one’s dharma for one hundred births.  Really?  One hundred births?  I mentally scratched applying for the position off my to do list (along with being a guitar-god, president of the united states, and, life-long bramacharya).

I applied this concept of marginalism to my endeavors early in life.  After all, why work like crazy to make the dean’s list, when I could maintain a B-average simply by showing up to class?  Why break my neck to impress the cheerleader, when the nice girl with braces and coke-bottle glasses wanted to carry my books? (It was actually my guitar, but you see my meaning).  Why attend Dartmouth, when the local state college was closer to home and cheaper?  Why sweat through fasting from grains and beans once a month?  Fast from everything on Bhima Ekadasi and Janmastami, and get the same result in two days.  The fact is I was content to be merely above-average.  It just didn’t seem to be worth the endeavor to be the best at anything. I don’t make this admission as a matter of pride, only as one of principle.

After fifteen years of marriage and preparation, my wife and I decided to conceive our first child.  Once again, I brought my marginalist tendencies to the table.  Instead of chanting the prescribed fifty extra rounds–after all, we were career professionals, and it was all we could do to maintain the requisite sixteen rounds—I simply prayed everyday “Please Krishna, give me a child for whom this is the last birth.”  After some time, we were blessed with a beautiful daughter whom we named Anjali, and our joy was complete.  I had been blessed with the perfect child.

To this day, I caution each soul thus: “Never mind the devil’s deal.  When you barter with God, make sure you read the fine print.”  As with King Citraketu, our joy was short-lived.  Shortly after her first birthday, Anjali was diagnosed with a rare genetic and very terminal disease.  We spent five hellish weeks living in the pediatric intensive care unit, a kind of neon-flushed, HMO “patala” with an array of entities who spent each hour painfully poking, prodding, picking, pricking, staining, stabbing and sticking our helpless first-born. We were besieged on all sides by rooms of bewildered parents wandering in and out asking with frantic, hapless eyes “Why, God?  Why our child?”  After which we were told to go home and try to make the best of the few days, weeks, months, or moments that we had left with our beloved.

The next three months were spent on a “24-7” watch.  Our daughter required constant care.  I made a looped CD of Srila Prabhupada chanting, and placed it in her crib.  Prabhupada and the maha mantra were her constant companions.  By Krishna’s grace, and the support of our family, we managed to work in shifts and do the needful.  The three or four hours of sleep that was granted was fitful and offered no respite.  Truly, any spiritual merit that I might have accrued was used to fuel that grim endeavor.  We were past working on physical strength, past emotional resolve, past adrenaline—we were working only by the strength of our love for our child.  Bound body to body, soul to soul by “bhakti” alone.

The day Anjali left her body, I cradled her tiny frame in my arms.  Members of her family had gathered and we were all chanting as she breathed her last.  When I handed her lifeless form to the stranger from the mortuary that had been sent to collect her remains, Anjali’s grandmother, Atita and I crumbled into one another’s arms and sobbed for an eternity of moments.  I would never see her again.  I had lost the only perfection that I had known.

As our days of healing began, I reminded our friends and well-wishers that I felt myself to be the most fortunate of men.  I had asked Krishna for the boon of a child for whom this would be the last birth, and I was confident that my wish had been granted.  I knew that my years of spiritual training in Vedic theology, knowledge of karma, and the true nature of the soul, as well as the austerities of “sankirtan” and “sadhana,” had helped prepare me to assist this amazing soul on toward spiritual perfection.  I felt small and humbled at the prospect that my family and I had been given this duty.  I cannot claim to know with absolute certainty what happens to each soul at the moment of death.  But I know that the most perfect thing possible happened to Anjali.  She left a life so brief that it was impossible for her to accrue any more karma.  She left surrounded by Krishna’s devotees, hearing Prabhupada chanting.  If there is a more perfect death to be had, I have seen it not.

As an urban high-school teacher, no less than eighty percent of my students live without the benefit of a father’s love and guidance.  I have seen Arjuna’s somber, prophetic vision of a society brought to ruination due to the exploitation of unprotected women by unscrupulous men, and the production of unwanted progeny.  This imperfection, in my opinion, is the single greatest cancer in our society.  When I tell my students the story of Anjali, I add that the unlimited love that I had reserved for my first-born, I now give to my students.  And, it has never, and will never run dry.  It is a perfect love, and I see its reflection in the eyes of the hundreds of students with which I have been blessed.

Some years after, by the mercy of guru and Lord Gauranga, my wife and I were gifted with our second perfection.  Our lovely and gifted Radhika has already evidenced every physical, and spiritual perfection (and, thankfully, a few quite normal imperfections).  But it was by the grace of our first-born, our angel, our Anajli, that I was able to experience the perfection of the dharma of fatherhood.  When it is time for me to leave this world, I will do so having known and done at least one perfect thing.