Varaha- The Avatar That Saved Modern Vaishnavism

Varaha- The Avatar That Saved Modern Vaishnavism As We Know It

Indeed our religion has changed and developed greatly over the years to accommodate stresses and pressures involved from the contemporary culture of the day. Perhaps this ability to change is what has allowed Hinduism to survive the test of time when all of the religions which existed at its earliest beginnings have long since passed on into myth with the cultures they once serviced. There was at one time a real danger, and indeed the ripples are still being felt in the areas that were affected, of the end of not only Vaishnavism (the worship of Lord Vishnu and his Avatars) but of all Hinduism. This was a time of invasion, destruction and a time when one of the great Avatars of Vishnu once again rose to protect our way of life.

 The year was 1001 A.D. when Mahmud of Ghazni first entered India. In his eyes was the gleam of greed for all the riches held within the temples of western India. Gold and jewels, fine clothes, spices like pepper that were even more costly than precious metals were all given in these great temples. Under the guise of conversion of the heathens he pillages and ransacked the great temples. Destroying the great temple of Somnath in Gujarat and thousands of other pilgrimage sites he carried back the gold and jewels for himself and the broken idols to buried beneath the steps of the Kaaba in Mecca. This was only the first of the conquests into India that would take it’s toll on the religious and scientific cultures of the areas destroyed.

After several hundred years Turks and Afghans entered India to rule. Taking Delhi as their capital they extended campaigns ever further southward. Destroying the great Vishnvanath temple in Banaras and the temple to Sri Rama in Ayodhya that had existed since time immemorial. The Muslim armies finally came within sight of the richest and grandest of the great temples. The southern Dravidian’s had temples that stood so large they were as fortresses of stone; bound in gate after gate and covered in intricate carvings. The greed of the Sultinate was almost too much when they could almost taste the massive amount of precious things that dripped and gleamed in these places that honor gods they considered blasphemous.

  The famous hill shrine of Tirupati Venkateshwara stood shining atop the Saptagiri like a white pinnacle of Ivory. The only way to reach this temple was to climb the seven peaks of the Saptagiri range using the Alipiri footpath that is even today used by pilgrims. In the climb the armies left a swath of destruction until finally reaching one of the seven great doorways upon which was carved a great boar. Varaha, Vishnu's avatar who saved the earth on his tusk from a demon. Seeing what they considered an unclean beast the armies dared not cross the gateway and fled the temple gates in the process saving the temple and all preserved within.

  This story is common to many of the great temples in the south of India. If you hike to these areas you can see the broken carvings and walls until you reach an image of Varaha after which it seems nothing had ever taken place. No war, no destruction, and no loss of culture or knowledge.

 In modern times you can see a marked difference between the regions affected by these conquests. In areas most heavily affected like the states of Uttar Pradesh, Madhya Pradesh, etc etc, much of the lost knowledge has yet to be reclaimed. The general state of Hinduism for most locals there has become more of a superstition, even literacy is at an all time low in these places. In places like the south or in Bengal and Maharasthra where these conquests were fought against and pushed away it is easy to see the difference in even today's culture. In literacy, culture, knowledge of “Sanskaar aur Sanskruti” as well as why we actual perform certain acts is common knowledge. 

   In writing this I do not mean to place judgment on modern Muslims nor on Hindus living in the states affected by the ancient conquests. I simply enjoyed the tales so commonly told in India and of the boogeyman still feared in much of Gujarat; the dark and frightening pillager that began it all, Mahmud of Ghazni and of that great Avatar that saved us yet again; Varaha, the great boar.

Concerning Pronunciation in Mantra Japa

Concerning Pronunciation in Mantra Japa  

                When it comes to Mantra japa, there are regularly two schools that one comes across. The school which holds itself the standard of orthodoxy and holds correct pronunciation and grammar almost more dear than life itself and then there exists the rather new school which puts forth that whatever is in one’s own heart and intention is more important than grammar and pronunciation. As for myself, I try to hold a middle ground believing that both paths of thought hold merit.
                 The Vedas have stood the test of time. Due to the untiring dedication of Brahman tradition in India. The Vedas (only recently a written form having existed) have come through nearly the last ten thousand years unscathed and untouched by time. This is partially due to the first school mentioned above. Without a tireless effort to preserve the ancient scriptures and the grammar, meter and pronunciation that comes with them the Sanskrit language would have developed and changed leaving us with a tainted form.   
                There are also reports that some mantras have been formed specifically for the sound and vibration caused by the combination of syllables to achieve some desired effect. Logically, if these same mantras were recited without a proper pronunciation and meter this same vibration could not be achieved and one would only create a shadow of what should be.   
                Though, as earlier stated, the second school of thought also holds its own merit. Adi Shankaracharya’s Bhavani Ashtakam is a prayer to goddess Bhawani or Durga saying in the third stanza…


Na Janaami Dhanam, Na cha dhyana yogam,
Na janami thanthram, na cha sthothra manthram,
Na janami poojam, na cha nyasa yogam,
Gatisthwam, Gatisthwam thwam ekaa Bhavani

Neither do I know how to give,
Nor do I know how to meditate,
Neither do I know Thanthra*,
Nor do I know stanzas of prayer,
Neither do I know how to worship,
Nor do I know the art of yoga,
So you are my refuge and my only refuge, Bhavani  

                Simply said, even without the knowledge of proper pronunciation of mantras a person can still commune with the divine; though I cannot say if this is easier or more difficult. 
                In my view, the second school should be used by those unaccustomed to Sanskrit. The divine does not turn away the dumb or uneducated (Not to say that anyone who is not accustomed to Sanskrit is either). Even Valmiki, the writer of the great epic the Ramayana, when he first came across Narada he, being a bandit, was so uneducated he could not repeat the complex mantras Narada Muni asked him to recite and so Narada gave to Valmiki the name Rama; Rama, the name in which the entirety of the Vedas are said to reside. Once one is educated in Sanskrit though, I agree that it is his duty to tirelessly work toward perfection and become a part of the living history that has preserved the scriptures for the past ten millennia.

Namma Bengaluru

Namma Bengaluru

                 People have commented on how my trip to Bangalore was nothing but a waste. A waste of money that I could have used elsewhere, a waste of time I could have spent completing my degree and a waste of work when I could have been doing other things. To those people I have to disagree completely.              
  Bangalore taught me how to live, how to laugh and how to love. In the faces of the people of Bangalore I saw my fate; in their eyes I saw my family; and in the heart of Bangalore I saw my motherland. In Bangalore I was saw the utmost hopes for humanity that raises one’s own heart to the sky. While I also saw the failings of humanity and what needed to be changed for our own society to survive.            
   In Bangalore I learned my purpose, found my own courage in life and discovered the essence of my soul. In spice filled streets and grand gardens my mind exploded with idea and thought. On lonely red dirt roads and green coconut groves my imagination soared. Upon high terraces from which the city stretched far out below me to the sunlit horizons I could fly.              

     My mornings were spent among family; permeated with the sounds of the chanted Vedas to awaken the Lord from his slumber. In the afternoon, the sound of the bustling and crowded streets, hawkers and beggars following my every step and the welcome sight of friends in college and on their way to work. The evening was signaled by the sounds of conchs from temples that dotted the city, the muzens call from atop the tall towers of mosques and the church bells ringing for Saint John and Saint George. The rains would come and wash away the days filth; bringing new life to the city as it lit up in a beautiful neon daze.              

   Life was never boring. Life in Bangalore is grand whether one was the utmost pauper or the richest businessman. Festivals and shows, sights galore, always smiling faces to meet; Bangalore is a welcome home to all. Art and music can be heard, seen and felt through the city at all times. Hearts ablaze with artistic flame are kindled to full light from the atmosphere Bangalore has given.            

   Bangalore is all this and more. In that wonderful city, that beautiful place I learned who I was and what it means to be alive, to be human. A part of my heart will always remain in the garden city where cool air conditioned breezes bring the monsoon rains. A part of my soul will always remain in Bangalore just as a piece of Lord Krishna is always in Vrindavin.      

         This is why my life in Bangalore means so much to me. Why a piece of me will always call Bangalore home. Thank you to all the wonderful people I left behind and I envy that you get to stay and I cannot… yet. I will always love Namma Bengaluru

Timeless India

Thank you to everyone who has helped me on my path. To everyone who has helped me explore and fall ever deeper in love with India.
Timeless India:

                Many people have asked me why I started traveling to India at all and the only answer I can give is that India called me to her. Traveling through that country you realize that India is not simply a patch of earth but a vibrant living thing. Bharat Mata is a name given by locals meaning Mother India and she is just that and for some inexplicable reason all my life I felt a pull by Mother India almost as a human calls her child home, I felt as if I were being called home.          

       India is a land of multiplicities. Everything is in seen in multiples of each other; god is seen in millions of forms, the sheer amount of languages being spoken numbers in the hundreds and the cultures and peoples associated with these are even more numerous. Ageless India and yet on the verge of becoming a Twenty-first century world power; one can find bronze and iron age chants still being sung in temples that are almost as old while skyscrapers reach to the heavens even taller than the temples, dances that have been danced for a millennia are performed while Bollywood and more contemporary styles bring together fusions of the ancient and new.          


         India is also a land of paradoxes. Unbelievable beauty exists among her architecture, music, landscape, and culture while poverty is an all to apparent problem. India almost seems to exist in the past, present and future at one time. Relying on the timeless practices and rituals the she has followed since before even civilization yet striving so quickly for the future that parts of her are left in all three times.              
    This is why I have fallen in love with my Mother India. With all her variations she is a beautiful young maiden and a harsh and ancient crone. She is a symbol of peace in so many ways and yet she has been invaded since time immemorial, India has survived and changed and grown. India never dies and at times it seems India will outlast the world. She is haven to me as a port in the storm, as a mother is to her child… Mother India.

Sight of the Lord

   The bus rumbled slowly up the hills of Tirumala, the sun just beginning to rise above the landscape pierced the thick mists that had formed on the holy mountains. The air was electrified with devotion; my first sight of the holy temple of Tirupati was of a giant Shank and Chakra glowing in the morning on the peak of the mountain. My heart accelerated its pace and my mind leapt into a frantic want to see that most ancient image of god.
                We entered into the temple after an eternity of waiting. My heart and mind were exhausted but I still ached to have darshan of the lord. Before entering into the inner-sanctum I made the simple prayer and hope that I would be able to see the lord properly. The crowd behind and in front of me were relentless… the pushing was almost frightening. One could be caught and pushed in any direction without digression and the simple mass of bodies all clamoring for a simple look into the golden doors was vast. 

 I entered the inner-sanctum and came face to face with the image of my lord. Balaji had heeded my prayer and I was pushed into a pocket directly in front of the ageless Srinivasa. Reality and time slowed to a stop, all noise for me was lost and nothing existed except for Venkateshwara and myself. I stood in awe of the grandness, the beauty and grace of the lord. It almost felt as if he was staring back at me, deep into my soul. With that single glance of the Lord my mind was in absolute bliss and I felt as if so many questions, so many confusions I had were all answered in that momentary look into the face of god. My mind was quieted and my heart beat with sheer adrenaline.
                After the darshan, that for me lasted eternities, I was pushed from the face of my lord. I craned my neck for even one tiny look more into that most holy of holies. I exited the temple in complete calmness with the only aspiration of coming to see my lord again. I realized that tears had been flowing down my cheeks as I felt my face wet; I circumbulated the temple in parikrama, the names of God swirling in my mind. Everything, all I have ever wanted or thought suddenly made sense... all questions were answered leaving me with the memory of my visit to abode of Sri Srinivasa.

 

India Journal- The first few days

Day 1`- Delhi


                I landed in Delhi and was immediately relieved that the 16 hour flight was over. With no leg room, three crying babies in the row next to me and some uncle behind me that felt the need to put his hand on the back of my head rest every time he had to get up for the bathroom but being here has made it all worth it. I realize now how much I really missed the sights and sounds of India.  The second I left the airport the humid, end of monsoon season air clung to my skin but I never enjoyed it more. Anything was better than a freezing plane.
                After I arrived I realized how much was going on in the country and city. Anna Hazare, the leader of the movement against corruption here in India was just arrested last night here in Delhi. Kiran Bedi, India’s most famous female policeman and staunch supporter of Ana was also arrested for peaceful protests. The whole atmosphere makes you wonder what it felt like when Gandhiji was protesting against the British. 
                 The protests are also something unique to India. In almost any other country I can imagine they would have become fierce riots by now but because this is India not a single finger has been lifted at all. Supporters of Anna Hazare have subscribed to complete peaceful civil disobedience. So I can quite easily say that because I am here I am seeing history in the making.    
                My friend’s new house is gorgeous and it’s nice to see some familiar faces. Tomorrow I will be left alone to do what I please. Let’s see what I come up with..

                Day 2- Delhi 

I woke up today to the sound of the Vedas, ringing bells and the sweet smell of jasmine flowers and incense. Due to jetlag this was at 6:30am and so after my morning puja and chai I did not have much to do until much later in the morning. Listening to bhajans in the morning I decided to go to the ISKCON temple in Delhi to see Lord Krishna. Though I am not a member ISKCON I have always enjoyed their temples because of their cleanliness and enthusiasm. Just as Adi Shankaracharya wrote:
 Bhaja Govindam Bhaja Govindam Govindam Bhaja Mudamithe Samprapte Sannihite Kaale Nahi Nahi Rakshati Dukrijinkaare.
                Meaning simply, worship the lord! Oh fools, grammar will not save you in the end. Though I do not totally agree with ISKCON from an orthodox standpoint I do admit that they have opened a gateway to those unlearned in the Vedas and orthodox scriptures by Bhakti. Which in my idea, devotion and purity, is by far more important than though proper performance of ritual. Though at the same time, I agree we must do everything to save those rituals in our mind as a base for our devotion.      

I, being white and wearing a choti and saffron dhoti, was confused as being a pundit while I was there at least a dozen times. It was nice though to not be looked at twice because of what I was wearing or how my hair was tied, at least in the way people usually look at me in… utter confusion. After, I went on a quick shopping spree around Connaught Place, A market left over from colonial times. The architecture is purely British but the shops are incredibly global. You can find anything from Levi Jeans and KFC to hand woven Indian tapestries and French cuisine. Being mid-day the weather in Delhi had become stifling and so I headed home as soon as I could.  

Day 3- Delhi

                I awoke and went through my usual morning rituals; showering, waiting for my tea and talking to my parents. During the day I stayed at home visiting Sauravs Dadi Ma (Fathers mothers) and relaxing since I know soon I won’t have a minute to myself after the beginning of classes of my program. She is an amazing woman with stories to tell that could keep someone listening for hours. She could tell about her many international trips, the incredibly connected people she knows, her time protesting and being arrested only to be placed in Tihar political prison for years. Her sense of humor and he grace of speech bring to light many of the undercurrents of the situation now with Anna Hazare and the current state of affairs of the Indian governmental system. 

In the evening we left for bowling with Piyush… I bowled the worst I ever have…. And then went to the acclaimed best Panwalla in all of Delhi. It was a sight, the nicest cars and richest people all crowded around this tiny many in the city center of Delhi. He has been the only Panwalla I have ever seen to be able to change 500 rupee notes without complaining. I have to agree though that he does make the best pan I have ever had.  
                We also got a chance to stop by India Gate and see the protests in support of Anna Hazare and the anti-corruption bill. The atmosphere was infectious; so many people with a single goal. Indian flags were held by nearly everyone and those who did not carry flags danced or raised their arms in protest. Though this was a protest it was interesting to see that there was no air of animosity, if only toward the central government. There was no feeling of hate except at what was being protested. The feeling was so infectious I almost wanted to stay longer than we did.

                Day 4- Delhi 

                Today it was raining badly but I took the car to Khan Market to buy some topis in support of Anna Hazare… of course that’s the excuse I give but truly I’ve always liked the look of the Nehru topi. I then visited Qutab Minar; the largest free standing minaret in the world. The whole complex was amazing. I huge mixture of architectural styles as the complex existed from the 11^th century on wards. The Ashok pillar stands in the center courtyard of the complex. A feat of engineering of which even today we cannot compete metallurgicaly. I had known that to build the complex a lot of stone was taken from Hindu temples that the Delhi sultanate had destroyed but I was surprised that one could quite clearly make out the carvings of Hindu deities on many of the stones. There were even a few stones which had complete “wall” deities on them, undisturbed and undamaged. I did have very mixed feelings about this. On one hand the architecture and feat of engineering for the complex was amazing but on the other the builders had defaced so many sacred temples I became slightly angry though of course nothing can be done now.  

                In the evening I met up with a few close friends that I hadn’t seen in months. It was great to see them and feel as if it were freshman year of college again. We danced the night away at a place called Shiro. An amazing club/ restraunt but I was surprised that as good as the music was and as strong the drinks were very few people were dancing. Let’s hope the clubs in Bangalore are different.

               
Day 5-8 Bangalore 

                I arrived in Bangalore amidst the hustle and bustle just before Krishna Janmashtami. I spent the first two days reacquainting myself with Bangalore and helping Poojas grandmother “Pathi” get ready for the festivities. I really missed Bangalore; easily it is one of my favorite cities in the world. The first puja for the holiday was meant for only family and so was very sweet to be a part of. Tomorrow evening Pathi will have nearly 30 people from her Carnatic singing group here to celebrate properly.
                The orientation to Christ University has been fantastic. Everyone has been extremely helpful and the program seems to have taken every precaution for the participants of the program. We are required to wear formal clothes when the program starts officially on Monday

                Tonight I am meeting Vamsi. It’ll be great to see him as it has been a year or two since I have met him. He will be here for the rest of the time that I will be here in Bangalore so I am a bit more at ease with navigating day to day life here knowing that if I have any real problem I can have someone my own age show me the ropes. I have also finally gotten in touch with Mana. One my Poojas best friends from high school. She seems extremely nice on the phone and says she will help show me around campus and the surrounding area. 

                So far a great beginning in Bangalore; good friends, good food and a good school, it looks like this will turn out to be an amazing experience. 

The Politics of a Dress Code

Yesterday I went to a panel on the discussion of transgender topics. It is hard for me, as I am not transexual, to sometimes understand the feelings of a transexual person, though one comment really sparked my interest. The comment was how, even though on the outside a certain person may look calm and collected, on the inside they may continually have that tiny voice of worry speaking to them and making them wonder what the people around them are thinking or looking at while they walk by; wearing heels and make up for a transgendered woman or being bound and wearing mens clothing for a transgendered man was what felt right and comfortable for them inside but they may always have that tiny bit of fear about how people may react. The conversation continued that this voice of worry wasn't known if this was out of fear of how unpredictable can be (as the topic of physical abuse had already been touched on).

I can relate to this, wearing dhoti, shika and tilak around I am sometimes worried about what others may think or do even though I am doing, for myself, what feels right and comfortable. Stares of disbelief and confusion are quite common when you walk by a group of unsuspecting people

Depending on the area and people the range of emotions can change, among a group of Indians or other Hindu's I would feel very comfortable. Even if I was the only one dressed in dhoti, since I know they would understand why I dress the way I do. Walking by the average person on the street I may be worried about the stares I get or I may enjoy the face of disbelief I may give someone.

My favorite times are those when someone will shake off the disbelief and come to me directly and ask me what it is and why I am dressed the way I am. This takes away any irrational fear I may have as I realize the person is not an ignorant bigot but a curious and interested human being.  

I have gotten some very rude comments from ignorant people before, as they think I am wearing a dress or think I have some dirt on my face but in the end this is a tiny minority of people who will never accept anyone and are most likely more self-concious than we are.

All I can say, to all those Transgendered people out there, you've got courage! Keep doing what you do and enjoy it. Do what makes you feel right. Do what makes you feel you!

My Conundrum on Dualism

Today a friend and I were discussing the idea of duality (ex. a tree is separate in existence from its surroundings or the idea of good and evil) in theistic thought and I realized why the idea of duality had never made any sense to me.

In my "world view" I realized that duality had never made sense to me because since childhood I had always believed that all things were a part of each other and the universe was actually one.. I guess you could say entity. I don't believe I was ever taught this view of life... it has always simply been a part of me. Considering Christianity is full of duality (good vs. evil, God vs. Satan) and that is the basic religion I was raised with.

I tried to explain my views with the analogy of a black hole.. the black hole representing the ultimate truth or reality. 3 astronauts were being pulled in (aka.. Good, Neutrality and Evil).. as the men are pulled in their atoms are slowly pulled apart and they can see (from a purely philosophical standpoint) that they are made of the same basic materials. Then as they get closer to ultimate truth they start to intermix and one cannot be seen as being different from the others. Finally they are pulled in as the realization of oneness is complete.

A friend gave me a slightly less violent analogy of white light being shot through a prism. Though it is all from a single source the light is spread into many different forms (the different forms of existence or reality). This I think is a slightly nicer analogy compared to the one I thought of.

Then my friend began asking me that since good and evil were actually the same then why should we be good. This is my thought, yes, good and evil, light and dark are all from the same primordial source and true realization is to realize there interconnectedness but from that primordial source they have spread and become there own manifestations and so we should continue on the higher path of good... even as we know that good and evil are actual of the same source.

I haven't thought this out totally but these are my own private ideas.

Any ideas???

A Rough Beginning To An Autobiography

White, Adopted, Gay, Hindu

An Autobiography

                Categorization, the dictionary definition states that categorization is the description of objects, people and places by labeling or giving a name to characterize. We are all categorized in our lives; it allows others to instantly believe they know everything about us. In our ever faster paced lives social utilities like Facebook and MySpace allow us to categorize ourselves to our friends and thousands, if not millions, of others we don’t know.  Categorization gives us a basis for our identities; it gives a basic name to who we are. Our all important identity is in fact who we are, whether that identity is what we are born with or what we become is decided as we grow. We can choose to expand or stay in the shell or protection that we are granted by following societal identification norms to the T.

                Since the early 19^th century it has been obvious that humankind is obsessed with categorization as the whole field of scientific thought of that century and beyond became completely enslaved with the need to classify everything and everyone in the great taxonomical experiment. We have created whole lexicons of words to describe our genders, religions, race, and relationships.  Is this all we are; A classification that can be done in a few words? Can this possibly ever hope to describe our experiences, show the true depth of our relationships or even attempt to explain the vast expanse that can encompass our beliefs on fate, the universe and what the word religion means? 

                In the short phrase, White, Adopted, Gay, Hindu; I am classified by race, family relationship, sexual preference and religious views. As different and odd as this classification may seem when put together it does give a quick, if small, insight into who I am but as a person, as a human, I am so much more, we all are, possibly more than words will ever be able to describe.  

This book is my testament of what and who I am. My experiences and thoughts that I want to pass on and give to society. The story of how and why I am classified in this way and what it took for me to finally realize my ideals, morals and my beliefs that set me apart. This is also a book to show how each person is so much more than a number on a page or a name on a Facebook account. 



Chapter 1
Childhood Memories

I was born in the rural town of West Union in Adams County the Southern Ohio valley. I was born to a girl of sixteen who had arranged for my adoption long before the date of my birth. My new parents, John and Cheryl McCane had become parents after expecting that it was impossible for them to have children after nearly ten years of marriage on November the second 1987. I was born a month premature so I had been kept at the hospital for a month after my birth before I could finally be taken home. 

Even after being allowed to be taken out of the hospital my health was very poor and so my father had me sleep on his chest and whenever I would stop breathing he would shake me lightly to bring air back into my lungs. My mother still tells me how I was so small, a little below five pounds, that I couldn’t cry at first and I sounded like a baby chicken if I did attempt to cry. Though soon I did learn to cry and I made up for what I couldn’t do as a new born because of a terrible case of colic. So much in fact that after several months, my aunts and uncles took pity on my mother and began taking shifts with me so she could finally sleep. 

My Father was an electrical engineer for Cincinnati Milacron and had been for ten years at my birth and so traveled everywhere and anywhere for the company. His time at home was limited when I was a child but I still remember well waiting at the window to see him drive up after a week’s trip to Japan or a month in Europe. This left my mother alone for the majority of the time and so from my earliest childhood I have mostly memories of her. Though, I could never get enough of hearing my father’s stories about places that were so far away and so different to the tiny village that I grew up in. He would bring presents from the places he had been so to this day I have the most interesting home décor, Amazonian dart guns, a Japanese tea set, sculptures and pictures from around the world dot my apartment. As a child I had no idea how the instillation of such curiosity would affect my future.

My younger sister, Julia McCane was born 2 and a half years after me, a surprise to parents who thought that having a child of their own was impossible. I was never the child to be envious of my mother’s attention toward my new sister. If anything I was the most excited big brother there could be. As children we fought worse than two gladiators in pitted combat and yet our parents were always told how well behaved we were. At the age of 13 my parents decided to teach us discipline and enrolled us both in a Tae Kwon Do school. Instead of instilling discipline this simply gave us the tools to turn our fights into mortal combat. My sister was an amazing Gymnast, one of the best in the country for her age and so this enhanced her ability to gracefully flip over my head while kicking me in the back. As horrible as our relationship sounds, as any brother, if anyone dared hurt my sister I was there to defend her and Vice versus. We were a very tight knit country family that was quite common for the area.

We went to church every Sunday morning where either my grandfather or one of the families close friends was probably the preacher. Both of my grandfathers were preachers and devout Christians. My mother was the member of a family singing group with her brothers and sisters. Some of my fondest memories as a child were of sitting and listening to those old, familiar songs. If I ever feel down or homesick I just think of those times and I am instantly in a better mood. While I never liked to sing in public my parents made sure I was in every Christmas, Easter, and every possible holiday play in between the two that the area could offer. Now that I think back to those days when my wise man costume was a XXXL sweater or a cut up sheet it amazes me how much you can do with so little.

Yard sales were very common summer occurrences where I grew up and I am very sure that my family always put up the biggest. Our house was a very large, Victorian style home with a complete wraparound porch… this meant that we hosted every even that could be hosted. Weddings, baby showers, funeral wakes, anniversary parties and yes the inevitable summer yard sale. Of course not everything in our yard sale was ours but a conglomeration of our families, my grandparents and all of my uncles and aunts families stuff. As children we used this as an opportune time to get a little cash ourselves and so would sell off our old toys or open up lemonade stands next to the rode and sold to whoever the yard sale attracted… I mean, no one can resist a few 6 year olds at a lemonade stand. It also gave us reason to go on adventures with our cousins.

At one such summer yard sale when I was about fourteen years old I decided to take my sister and our cousins Jack and Kayla (who were slightly younger than me) on an adventure to see what we called a rainbow tree somewhere in the forested hills near our house. The summer had been particularly wet and so the ground was damp and muddy. My cousin Kayla had worn a new light blue leather jacket and brand new white tennis shoes to show off. We sneaked away from the house as our mothers all sat together gossiping about everything on the porch while waiting for customers to show up. We hiked for about a half-mile into the forest without incident until we came to a huge canyon that we had to cross before we could reach the fabled rainbow tree. A tree had fallen the year before and could be used as a bridge between the sides of the canyon. It was large enough to crawl over for kids our size so I headed right over. Kayla followed, a little more cautious and then came her younger brother Jack’s turn; he scooted until he was half way and then began to cry incessantly and told us all he hated us for getting him to do this... my younger sister being who she was crawled out to him and tried to push him so he would scoot to the other side. This turned out badly as she fell off the log onto her back in the bottom of the canyon nearly ten feet below. By this time we were all hysterical, I thought Julia had been paralyzed because she kept screaming she couldn’t get up and Jack was still crying that he was going to die on the log. I crawled down the canyon wall to get Julia who jumped up perfectly fine…  “I thought you were paralyzed”, I remember saying. 

“Oh, I’m fine now”, I remember her saying back. Smiling and giggling the whole time. We managed to climb the canyon wall where we found Jack had finally crawled onto the ground and off the log. Just in time for us to give up and climb back over… oh and I forgot to mention, in all the fuss Kayla’s new shoes became a nice muddy brown that never came clean even after my mother washing them over and over and her leather coat had been ruined.  When we made it back home in this disheveled and absolutely filthy state all of our mothers berated us and forced us to take showers… even as we knew had the best time on our adventure; even if we had given up half-way.

Shub Navratri to All!

O’ Mother, Jagadambe. O’ mother, Narayani. O’ mother, Sherowali.
The nine lights are lit; the incense strong and burning. Offerings of Sari’s and flowers are about you.
Give us your blessing on this Navratri. Grant us the boons we need.
Your child adores you o’ mother. Your face shines with the light of a thousand stars.  
Bangles are put on your arms as kum kum and sindoor are applied lovingly.
The holy lights are a dazzling site. All is given for you.
A mother cannot refuse her child. Your love is kind and merciful o’ Padmavati.  
Grant us our wishes dearest of all.


Happy Navratri to All!!! :) 

A Short New Composition

To the one who plays the magic flute, the one called Keshava.
My mind is always focused on you, chanting your many names and thinking of you always.
I can hear the strain of a flute in my most desperate times, comforting and divine.
I relish the sight of you, you with the peacock crown.
Whose eyes are full of love, you peer at me from your stone form, always caring for your devotee.
The love of Radha, Meera and of the entire universe, sustainer of life we greet you in many forms.
The faces of God in this human existence are many but truth is one. All is that and all are one. 

My Rant on Tradition in Religion (Written December 2008)

In many churches, temples and cathedrals across the country I have noticed the same terrible phenomenon happening over and over again.  Tradition and ceremony have taken the place of true worship in many religious orders. Tradition is not a bad thing it allows us to remember the ways of our ancestors. It gives us a base to launch from in our own spiritual journey. Though in many ways we have forgotten why we do these ceremonies of worship.  Many of the most sacred sacraments have lost there extremely profound meanings. 

Take the idea of the Holy Communion, in which the miracle of transubstantiation is meant to take place. In my own church and in other church’s I have attended it seems as though we are simply repeating that which we have done since we were taught as children, while never even thinking of the wondrous miracle that has happened or even the deeper meaning; what the actual ceremony signifies. I personally do not believe in transubstantiation. I believe this sacrament is a symbolic memorandum for Christ and the price he paid for Christians. This is still an extremely profound and spiritual ritual. Another example, in my home church we used to take the beginning of services to pray and reflect on God. Though, if you look around very few are doing anything but falling into a drowsy state. The only one, it seems, who is doing any reflecting or making any prayers is the preacher.    Are we worshiping god or are we simply repeating the motions in a blur of forgetfulness.           

If you were to ask the average churchgoer anything of the scriptures that wasn’t as superficial as a story that had been drilled into them since childhood, they probably would not be able to answer you. To ask them the deeper meaning of it or even if they saw any metaphors or morale’s in the story would appear to be a waste. As it would seem that we would want to know as much about our religion as we could, this does not appear to be true among the masses. In my experience I have met many who had read the Bible but had retained none of it. None of its incredibly intricate storylines, hidden meanings morals and metaphors. They then believe that reading it once is good enough and think little of it for the rest of there life as a “Christian.” I have seen Ministers preach the most ludicrous messages and then I have seen the masses follow that message without even a thought. No thought to read the passages yourself and gain your own understanding of the text. It is written that no other can face the God almighty for you but you on judgment day and I have a feeling he’s not going to accept the excuse “But I was told this.”  One must think for themselves. We cannot become sheep among the wolves. I do not wish to say that all Christians are of this sort. On the extreme you have Christians who read there bibles and pray everyday. These are good people for the most part though there are those that would use the scripture against the Christians who have become sheep. 

I have seen many examples of a single, charismatic person who had read and thought about the scripture and had then twisted it for their own means. In the story where Satan took Christ to the pinnacle of the mountain Satan was able to use the Holy Scriptures against Christ. He shaped them for his own will. Lucky for us Christ knew his stuff.  We must do the same. We are meant to at least attempt to become Christ-like. If we read and know the scriptures we cannot fall pray to these wolves in sheep’s clothing.  It is in this way that pure tradition is a bad instance, it numbs us, in a since, it allows us to become comfortable in our routine of going to church on Sunday and simply following what the preacher has us do without question.  There are many very good preachers and ministers but at the same time it is written that one must beware false prophets. So I repeat the statement, are we truly worshiping god or are we simply repeating the motions in a blur of forgetfulness. 

Disclaimer- I am not going after only Christians in this post but at the time I had written this I had not enough experience to say it is true of other religions which I know understand to be sadly true. 

My Rant on the Topic of God in Schools (Written October 2008)

OK, first of all, I really could have cared less about the group “Put God Back in Our Schools” but then my little sister joined and I realized I had to say something.

 First of all, Christians must understand they are not the only religion in the world. I know that the normal reply I would get to that is “But we follow the true religion... etc.” For one thing, there is no way for anyone of any religion to say that they follow the “true” religion. All Christians may say any other faith is false and that any other god is false. If that’s your belief that’s fine, but you cannot prove it. No matter how many scriptures you quote or any stories you tell cannot prove that Christianity or any other religion for that matter is true. It is simply a matter of the heart and a matter of faith. People around the world have just as much faith in different god’s as a Christian in the USA would have. Just as many miracles have been performed through other religions as have been done through Christianity. 

My point is that it’s fine if you want to put God back into schools but it cannot be only the Christian god. If you place the Ten Commandments in front of a school, then why not a couple quotations from the Baghavad Gita, or the Quran? You have to see it from the point of view of the other 5 billion people in the world. If you were Muslim, Hindu, Jewish, or any other number of religions and you went to school everyday with a  thousand other people telling you that every belief you had were wrong and you were going to hell simply because you were different how would that feel. Maybe to put it in a better perspective, if you, as a Christian moved to another area where there were primarily Muslim or Jewish students  and you went to school and everyone laughed at you because you were different and told you were wrong. How would that feel?

I know most Christians believe that you must “save” the heathen masses from fire and brimstone but to tell you the truth most of the rest of the world just doesn’t care or believes that they are already saved and what right do you have to tell people who follow there religion perhaps more faithfully than most Christians that they are going to hell because of what they believe in?

One of my biggest issues is that most Christians (I’m not saying all just most) have no idea about any of the other religions, philosophies, or ideas in the world. If you’re working so hard to convert someone at least no a little about the other person’s religion so you don’t look like another “dumb American” in front of the world.  

I know that only of a couple of years ago I might’ve agreed with you but since then I have seen the rest of the world and have thought hard about what is right and what is wrong and forcing your religion onto children that may be of different faiths by putting up ten commandments or even having a Christian prayer is wrong for the minority of students of different faiths.  This creates inequalities among people and that invariably is wrong.  So if you want to put God back into the school system, that’s fine with me. Just don’t put only a Christian God. Legally you’d have to cater to any other religion that was also present at that school anyway, so just a warning, be prepared to put up a lot of different monuments and not just the Ten Commandments. 

I’m sure I’m going to get a ton of hate mail after I post this. Just please be mature adults and remember that you aren’t the only people in the world.   

Disclaimer: I know I didn’t address the issues of Atheistic beliefs in schools but that is a whole other post. 

A Few Short Verses Composed Out of Love and Devotion

I sit out this night watching a moon of crimson so deep the waters of the nearby pond are afire with its clear reflection. The stars are all alight as the moons fiery beauty has taken the place of the hot summer sun. The lilting sounds of a flute drift over the lakes and grasslands to my ears. It is then that I see the exceedingly sweet form of the flute player appear in a grassy clearing; his body, dark in color and a perfect dreamlike form. The flutes tune is intoxicating and summons Radha, the lord’s eternal consort to him from the darkness. Her skin was so fair and her movement supremely graceful. She met him in the center of the clearing, her devotion clear. Eight other girls appeared; Krishna’s gopi’s, twirled and danced around the divine couple to the flutes sweet sound. It was then I saw my lord dance, eight new Krishna’s appeared for the eight gopi’s and they danced the maharaas. My heart fained at this vision, Madhava’s forms moved in out, interweaving with the gopi’s with the divine couple enshrined at the center of the dance. The moon sat high in the sky now and it seemed that even the heavens rejoiced at the Lord’s lila as the moons light seemed fixed on the dancing figures.  Radha lay on Krishna’s arm as he played for the dancers. The flutes notes felt more like tangible love than mere music. Then, as quickly as the breathtaking vision had come it began to fade. The dancing forms all disappeared into the darkness until only Radha and Krishna were sat alone in the grove. Then even those sweet forms evaporated into the darkness and back into reality I was pulled away from my lord but as I looked back at the moon, which had become a light blue, I saw my Lord Krishna smiling at me.

************************************************************************** 

Oh sweet Krishna, one who is enshrined in Radha’s heart.

Oh Shyama, we are the Gopi’s that hear your flutes call.

Madhava, oh dark one, your call is intoxicating pulling us ever nearer to you.

Your skin remains the color of the spring storm cloud.

Your gaze, one of playful love, is one in which the entire universe exists.

Your face shines as the full moon on a clear dark night.

We call to you oh Keshava.

We beg for your company lord.

You are in all hearts and minds.

Even the thought of you is like a tangible love, enfolding us in your protection, giving us sustenance.

Oh, Vrindavina Krishna make this devotee as your gopi who is waiting for even the slightest glimpse of your sweet form and sees the enchanter of hearts in every flower and tree.

Oh, Narayana Krishna, destroyer of ignorance and the embodiment of love, bless your servant.

The name Krishna is as pure joy on the lips.

The name Madhava is as magic to the ears.

The name Narayana is as a crest of protection to his devotees.

Repeat the name Hari, Keshava, Krishna Murali.

Jai Sri Krishna

Jai Radhe-Shyam

Radha ramana Hari Gopala Hari

Jai Sri Hari

*********************************************************************************

Om Namoh Narayanaya

Sri Narayana, mahavishnu, you who are the protector of our world and the sustainer of our existence; your forms are many but always you show the true path of dharma and righteousness.

Om Matsyaroop namaha, protector of the first humans

Om Kurmaroop namaha, base of the holy mountain

Om Varaharoop namaha, savior of Bhumidevi

Om Vamanaroop namaha, the Brahmin boy who asked for only three steps of land and covered the universe

Om Parasuramaroop namaha, the warrior sage who created Kerala

Om Rajaramaroop namaha, beloved of Sita ma and Hanuman, maharaja of that golden city Ayodhya

Om Krishnaroop namaha, one who gave the greatest gift of the lord’s song

Om Buddharoop namaha, the essence of ahimsa

Om Kalkiroop namaha, we await your return, Oh Vishnu, to our world

*********************************************************************************

Sleep my dear one, let the gentle breezes put you to rest.

We put you to bed but you are never truly asleep.

Ever watchful, you who are always in our hearts never leave the sides of your devotees. 

********************************************************************

Dark one, diviner of hearts, hear our songs to you

Songs filled with love and devotion.

Madhava, grant us your boon, the sight of your beautiful form.

We long to see you Lord Krishna, why do you hide from us?

You have turned us into Gopi’s from Vrindavin, lovelorn and wondering.

Always we search for you lord and yet you are in all things.

*******************************************************************************

                Oh Bhagawan, whether as the sweet mother, the gentle father or as the fierce protector your beauty shines as a light against the darkness of ignorance.

                All things, when put in your names proceeds without issue

                The water offered to you becomes sweet healing nectar and the food becomes amrita

                Oh Ananda Antaryami, omniscient and omnipresent, who is the whole of our universe and sustainer of the three worlds, I prostate to you.

                I bow to your lotus feet.

*********************************************************************************

                Rains come to you test Radha as she runs to her love

                They flow as thunder crashes and nature’s malhar springs forth

                She moves fearlessly, focused upon her lord

                The rains and violent winds force her to prove her love

                Her heart beats strong as she races to meet her other half for without one the other is incomplete

*********************************************************************************

Some call you Ishwar, some Allah, and some God.

You exist with different names but are one.
Whether it is a Muslim, Hindu, or Christian who cries out your names it is still you who responds.
One who does not differentiate or segregate; you are who we call divine.

Your followers exist in different forms and pray in different ways.
Whether it be the sound of a blowing conch and ringing bells, the sound of the Muzens call to prayer or a quiet church hymnal; you take joy in all these things and all are devoted to you.  

Whether poor or rich, strong or weak, old or young, you do not differentiate between your devotees.
Your judgment and compassion are boundless and the same for each of your children and yet your forms are many.

The loving mother Goddess Durga, the strong protector Hanuman, the doting and loving father of the Christians you are all these things and yet still the singular source of all.

Some call you Ishwar, some Allah, and some God.

*********************************************************************************

I hope you all have enjoyed these few verses composed for no reason except devotion.

Best wishes to all of you.