Monday Morning Greetings 2026 #12 – Do You Believe in Miracles? II

March 23rd, 2026

Who is Murti Murti and what in the world does her name mean?

 

Murti Murti’s father was already a yogi when she was born, so she practiced vegetarianism from the beginning of her life. That was unusual for Venezuela in 1973. So, when Havi dasa, the first devotee preaching there, found out about her while visiting her school, he gave her some special attention and carefully explained to her the philosophy of Krishna consciousness. She was all ears. She must have had a connection with India from a previous life.

 

Soon after meeting Havi dasa she implored her father to let her join the ashram. She told him she had found God. The pious man, hearing her sincere plea, signed the legal documents giving permission for his teenage daughter to move into the ashram.  Soon after, Śrīla Prabhupāda visited her country and initiated her.

 

“Your name is Murti Murti,” Śrīla Prabhupāda announced, “the perfection of all forms.” She was a young and attractive teen, so when the brahmacārīs attending the initiation heard her name and looked at her, they blushed. But Śrīla Prabhupāda hadn’t yet finished his sentence. “Devi dasi, Murti Murti devi dasi, the servant of Śrī Radha, who possesses the perfection of all forms”

 

She remained a strict brahmacārīi (a celibate lady in the ashram), preaching and distributing books, for seven years. She then married an Argentinian devotee whose family were pious Catholics and insisted they get married in the Church. The kind local priest Jorge Mario Bergoglio (later Pope Francis) married her in the Church knowing that she was a Hare Krishna and later also baptized Kamala, her daughter. When later she was having a problem getting permission from the government for a Ratha-yātrā in Buenos Aires, she requested him to help. He agreed! The permit was quickly issued.

 

I first met Murti Murti when preaching in Argentina in 2005 where she served as temple president. She had never stopped her dedicated service to her guru maharaja’s mission. I was therefore surprised when Kaveri dasi, who is one of her students, and also mine, told me that Murti Murti had never been able to visit Vrindavan, the more-than-Mecca of the Hare Krishna faith.

 

How was that possible? It seemed an injustice that such a stalwart, selfless servant of ISKCON was never rewarded in this way for her life of devotion.

 

Well, from Argentina a round-trip ticket costs almost $2500. She also has health challenges and is elderly so it would be necessary for her daughter to accompany her. In that economy the amount required is a fortune, and a life of service is not necessarily monetarily renumerated. And the flight with layovers can often take nearly forty hours. But still, almost fifty years of selfless service. Something seemed wrong!

 

The Yogamaya Fund was started just for this purpose. We help those devotees who have done or could do substantial service for the mission of Śrī Caitanya but cannot afford to come to India. We therefore coordinated with Kaveri to start a GoFundMe for the ticket and pilgrimage of Murti Murti and Kamala, her daughter, and collected their expenses in less than ten days.

 

Could there ever be a devotee more deserving of this?

 

Murti Murti devi dasi and her daughter had a wonderful pilgrimage to the Govardhan Eco Village, Mayapur, Puri, Vrindavan, and finally Govardhan Hill.

 

On the next to last day, we started to walk around the sacred Govardhan. There is a place with a short clear path towards the hill where stones are piled up in a way that allows one to hug Govardhan in devotion. One devotee mentioned that to her, so she enthusiastically went in quickly and then came out waiting for the others who followed her. Suddenly, a small śīla (stone) fell next to her. Her friend noticed and pointed it out to her. They had no idea where it came from. She picked up the śīla and then showed me. I was astounded.

 

Any stone from Govardhan is considering worship-worthy as non-different from Krishna, but I had never in my life seen a śīla like this. It was heart shaped and on one side golden and the other side black, which in our tradition represents Śrī Śrī Radha and Krishna. Now sometimes in devotion one can find something with a slight resemblance to what one hopes to see and see it in that way. But this was different. Although it wasn’t painted, it could have been. It was dark black and distinctly golden on opposite sides of the śīla.

 

With proper blessing she took the small śīla for personal worship.

 

Later I consulted a sādhu friend who used to walk around the hill praying for Giriraja to appear when a similar thing happened to him. He had asked a revered local saint about it. “When Giriraja wants to enter a devotee’s heart, He can mystically appear in this way!”

 

Just a coincidence or did Giriraja appear to a devotee who selflessly served Śrīla Prabhupāda without apparently receiving the reciprocation and facility she deserved? Did He grace Murti Murti by bestowing Himself upon her in the form of an extraordinary, never-seen-before, heart-shaped golden and black śīla? I have no other explanation.

 

Do you believe in miracles?

 

 

Murti Murti Devi Dasi at Govardhan.
Murti Murti Devi Dasi at Govardhan.

 

Monday Morning Greetings 2026 #11 – The Mystery Verse II

March 16th, 2026

The audience for Monday Morning Greetings is varied. There are senior practitioners on the path of bhakti and others that just have interest in spiritual topics and how I present them. Usually, I speak on general subjects that have relevance to all my readership. Last week I shared a bit of esoteric Vaiṣṇava scholarship. As I haven’t fully finished the subject of that piece, I will write about it again this week. I hope everyone will still find the continued discussion of the “mystery verse” to be interesting.

 

The Mystery Verse II

 

Last week I elaborately explained how Verse Eight of Chapter Twenty of the Caitanya-caritāmṛta is apparently out of place in the context of what is being discussed there. I didn’t have time or space in my post to explain that after I introduced this subject in a seminar, I discovered that there was a commentary on that subject.

 

Every year Hari Pārṣada Dās, a respected ISKCON Sanskrit scholar, was invited to be a presenter at my Puri retreat. He would also attend my classes. After our class on this subject, when I asked if there were any reflections on my presentation, he offered a comment.

 

He explained, there was a commentary on that verse by Radha Govindanath, a renowned Vaiṣṇava academic scholar of the early 20th century. In the commentary, he first described the problem:

 

Verse Eight is an anomaly. Previous to this verse Śrī Caitanya’s painful feeling of separation in the mood of Śrī Radha was described. Why then is He suddenly experiencing harṣa (jubilation)?

 

Also, He has already completed His mission of preaching the holy name (saṅkīrtana). Why is He suddenly bringing it up again? And even from inside Gambhīra where He is relishing viraha-bhava (the mood of separation from Krishna)?[1]

 

Radha Govindanath then reconciles Verse Eight with what was spoken before:

 

What is described before Verse Eight is Śrī Radha in the mood of mohanākhya-mahābhāva (the highest level of Her devotion). One of the anubhāvas (after-effects) of that devotion is listed as brahmāṇḍa-kṣobha-kāritvaṁ (seeing the entire universe in a state of agitation). This is described in Ujjvala-nīlamaṇi 14.181-182.

 

Śrī Caitanya in the mood of mohanākhya-mahābhāva, Śrī Radha’s highest level of devotion, saw the universe suffering, especially in Kali-yuga, and felt compassion.

 

She (or more precisely Śrī Caitanya in that mood) saw only one solution for the souls of Kali-yuga, and that is hari-nāma-saṅkīrtana.

 

She (Śrī Caitanya in that mood) thus became joyous and hopeful for the jīvas of this age. Śrī Caitanya then spoke our mystery verse to Svarūpa Dāmodara and Rāmānanda Rāya inside Gambhīra.

 

“In great jubilation, Śrī Caitanya Mahāprabhu said, ‘My dear Svarūpa Dāmodara and Rāmānanda Rāya, know from Me that chanting the holy names is the most feasible means of salvation in this Age of Kali.’” Antya-līlā 20.8

 

It was thus not an anomaly for Śrī Caitanya in the deepest mood of Śrī Radha to feel compassion for the souls of Kali-yuga and glorify hari-nāma-saṅkīrtana. Verse Eight thus fits perfectly in the context of the chapter.

 

When I had seen this particularly quandary myself and could not find a reference to support my claim, I had some lingering doubt if what I saw was true. It was thus edifying to discover that such an eminent commentator on the Śrī Caitanya-caritāmṛta also saw the same thing. I still liked, however, my own explanation:

 

“When feeling mercy, it’s natural to feel gratitude for the cause of one’s mercy. What is the mercy that Śrī Caitanya is experiencing? His two missions, both His preaching mission and his cultivation of rādhā-bhāva, have both been successfully completed due to the mercy of the holy name. How can He forget that, especially as it only due to the mercy of the holy name that He is experiencing the height of Śrī Radha’s love? Our mystery verse is thus a natural expression of gratitude for the holy name and what it has given Him.”

 


[1] I discussed this quandary much more elaborately in my last post of March 9th (https://wavesofdevotion.com/2026/03/09/the-mystery-verse/).

 

Monday Morning Greetings 2026 #10 – The Mystery Verse

March 9th, 2026

I loved the verse.

 

“In great jubilation, Śrī Caitanya Mahāprabhu said, ‘My dear Svarūpa Dāmodara and Rāmānanda Rāya, know from Me that chanting the holy names is the most feasible means of salvation in this Age of Kali.’” Antya-līlā 20.8

 

Although I loved the verse, I also had a problem with it. It came out of nowhere, so to speak, as it just didn’t seem to follow what was being described and discussed before it. I thus couldn’t fully understand the verse’s context and purport.

 

This Monday morning will explore why in the context of what is being discussed it is so mysterious and then offer an explanation to resolve that mystery.

 

I will begin by looking closely at the verses before Text 8 in Chapter 20 to see if I can unlock its context and thus meaning. I therefore will start my investigation in the previous chapter.

 

The beginning of Chapter 19 tells the story of Śrī Caitanya receiving a cryptic message in sonnet form from Advaita Ācārya, the head of the Vaiṣṇavas in Bengal. It was his sincere prayer that had been the cause of the Lord’s appearance.

 

“Please inform Śrī Caitanya Mahāprabhu, who is acting like a madman, that everyone here has become mad like Him. Inform Him also that in the marketplace rice is no longer in demand.

 

“Further tell Him that those now mad in ecstatic love are no longer interested in the material world. Also tell Him that one who has also become a madman in ecstatic love [Advaita Prabhu] has spoken these words.” Antya-līlā 19.20 and 21

 

Everyone hearing the message was left flummoxed. What in the world was he talking about? Even Śrī Caitanya feigned ignorance of its meaning, although He indirectly expressed that He understood it. This is what He surmised.

 

There were two basic reasons for His appearance; the external cause (why He came for the benefit of others) and the internal cause (why He came for himself). For others, He came to spread the holy name and infuse spontaneous devotion into the world. For Himself, He came to experience the feelings of love felt by His topmost devotee, Śrī Radha, at the height of Her love. When Advaita therefore wrote that there was no demand for rice in the market, he was hinting that Śrī Caitanya’s external mission was successful. The world was flooded with pure devotion. People therefore no longer had demand for what they had already received by His mercy. The proof of this idea is confirmed in the next stanza, “[…] those mad with ecstatic love were all liberated and had no interest in the world.”

 

In simple terms, it was Śrī Advaita who petitioned Him to come and save the world. As that external mission has been successfully completed, it was now Advaita indirectly calling Him back.

 

Since He no longer had to be concerned with the external reason for His appearance, He could now singularly focus on His internal mission, to taste the love of His topmost devotee, Śrī Radha, at the height Her love, Her separation from Krishna. And He did:

 

“From that day on, Śrī Caitanya Mahāprabhu’s emotional state changed markedly; His feelings of separation from Kṛṣṇa doubled in intensity.” Antya-līlā 19.30

 

The remainder of Chapter 19 describes the intensity of Śrī Caitanya’s internal pursuit after receiving Śrī Advaita’s message and order:

 

“As His feelings of separation in the ecstasy of Śrīmatī Rādhārāṇī increased at every moment, the Lord’s activities, both day and night, were now wild, insane performances.” Antya-līlā 19.31

 

Chapter 20, where our mystery verse rests, gives us a bird’s eye view of Śrī Caitanya in the Gambhīra (His cave-like room) where He did his bhajan, His deep spiritual practice. He spends day and night overwhelmed in ecstasy tasting the verses and songs of Śrī Radha’s deep feelings of separation. And please note that He remains absorbed in the holy name in that mood. He is totally lost in Śrī Radha’s intense feelings of separation. Now back to our mystery verse:

 

“In great jubilation, Śrī Caitanya Mahāprabhu said, ‘My dear Svarūpa Dāmodara and Rāmānanda Rāya, know from Me that chanting the holy names is the most feasible means of salvation in this Age of Kali.’”

 

Do you now see why its placement in the chapter is such an apparent anomaly? Śrī Caitanya had completed His preaching mission and was now totally absorbed in the most intense experience in the mood of Śrī Radha. Why now, deep in the fulfillment of His internal mission, was He again involved in His external mission? Hadn’t Śrī Advaita indicated that this part of His life was now finished? My proposed resolution to this quandary is as follows.

 

When feeling mercy, it’s natural to feel gratitude for the cause of one’s mercy. What is the mercy that Śrī Caitanya is experiencing? His two missions, both His preaching mission and his cultivation of rādhā-bhāva, have both been successfully completed due to the mercy of the holy name. How can He forget that, especially as it only due the mercy of the holy name that He is experiencing the height of Śrī Radha’s love? Our mystery verse is thus a natural expression of gratitude for the holy name and what it has given him.

 

That’s my mystery verse. That’s my resolution. And I hope you enjoyed this rather long journey on my Monday post!

 

Monday Morning Greetings 2026 #9 – What I Learned from the King of the Elephants

March 2nd, 2026

Last week I explained that after reading the first twenty verses of Gajendra Mokṣa in the Bhāgavatam, I was disappointed. The verses were descriptive, but I could not find the intellectual or emotional content there to inspire something for me to write about.

 

Was I wrong! I wish I had read just a few more verses that morning.

 

To make a long story short, all the animals in the forest were terrified by Gajendra, the king of the elephants, because he was so much bigger and stronger than they were. While bathing in the river, however, he got attacked by a crocodile. Despite his sizable advantage in physical stature, after a prolonged struggle he was facing imminent defeat. The water was just not his natural habitat. His strength gradually waned, while the crocodile, an aquatic, naturally gained strength. To save himself his only recourse was to take full shelter of God.

 

Gajendra’s fight is a metaphor for life. Just as the elephant needed a supportive environment to be successful in his fight, to strongly practice spiritual life in the face of life’s challenges we need to be economically (varṇa) and socially (āśrama) situated. I loved how Śrīla Prabhupāda put it.

 

“Our Kṛṣṇa consciousness movement has actually declared war against the illusory energy, in which all the living entities are rotting in a false understanding of civilization. The soldiers in this Kṛṣṇa consciousness movement must always possess physical strength, enthusiasm and sensual power. To keep themselves fit, they must therefore place themselves in a normal condition of life. What constitutes a normal condition will not be the same for everyone, and therefore there are divisions of varṇāśrama — brāhmaṇa, kṣatriya, vaiśya, śūdra, brahmacarya, gṛhastha, vānaprastha and sannyāsa. Especially in this age, Kali-yuga, it is advised that no one take sannyāsa.” Bhāgavatam 8.2.30, purport

 

But what if, despite sincere effort, one cannot find a suitable economic and social situation? With one’s strength waning can one be successful in spiritual life?

 

The second aspect of the metaphor answers that.

 

Although Gajendra was wallowing in defeat because he was in an environment that was against his nature, his impending defeat was an impetus to take shelter of God. Similarly, the value of any socio-economic structure is the strength it gives us to take shelter of God. If our so-called defeat in life, however, inspires us to further take shelter of God, then how are we the loser?

 

Śrīla Prabhupāda brings the point home, and perhaps brings it one step further:

 

“We are always in danger because at any moment death can take place. It is not that only Gajendra, the king of the elephants, was afraid of death. Everyone should fear death because everyone is caught by the crocodile of eternal time and may die at any moment. The best course, therefore, is to seek shelter of Kṛṣṇa, the Supreme Personality of Godhead, and be saved from the struggle for existence in this material world, in which one repeatedly takes birth and dies. To reach this understanding is the ultimate goal of life.Bhāgavatam 8.2.33 [emphasis mine]

 

And that is what I learned from the story of the king of elephants!

 

Monday Morning Greetings 2026 #8 – Bhāgavatam: The Book of Revelations

February 23rd, 2026

For ten years I have been able to come up with a solid realization to write about every week. For the last six weeks it has been a struggle. By Thursday again also nothing. I knew the reasons why. It had something to do with a month of leading retreats throwing me off schedule, but I needed to do something about it immediately. I could just not tolerate offering another reprint Monday. In desperation a thought came.

 

Due to the retreats, I have also have not been steady in my study of the Bhāgavatam. Scripture arms one with jñāna-cakṣus, a vision of the world through the eyes of knowledge. Only one empowered in this way can see the world in a way that enables one to write something meaningful about it. I thought, if I read the Bhāgavatam maybe some realization will come.

 

I immediately picked up the Eighth Canto and started to read. I vowed to become steady in my daily reading again.

 

I began to hear verse after verse listing the Manus, the universal administrators. There was practically no commentary. I needed more philosophical content to be inspired, so after twenty such verses I skipped to Chapter Two, Gajendra Mokṣa. That should be interesting. That’s chock full of philosophical input. It begins, however, with verse after verse intricately describing the beauty of the heavenly Trikūṭa mountain. The verses were simply descriptive, but again not many teachings there. A question came to my mind.

 

The Bhāgavatam, and almost all Vaiṣṇava literature, is composed in verse form. It takes so much effort when the expression of one’s thoughts is confined to meter and rhythm and the other demands of writing in this way. Why did the writer expend that effort for composing the verses I was reading when they contain, little, if any philosophical or devotional content?

 

Voila! I have this week’s topic. Why is traditional Indian philosophy often or mostly expressed through verse?[1]

 

In verse individual Sanskrit words are impregnated with meaning and feeling.

 

The import of verse is especially highlighted by the selected words chosen, often impregnated with deep meaning and feeling in themselves. As you study and naturally become familiar with certain Sanskrit words your understanding of the feeling and philosophy of the text and the school’s teachings becomes significantly enhanced. Those words also give you an easy reference when they have been used elsewhere, further elucidating the meaning of the verse you are studying. In other words, verse is the best vehicle to reveal a school’s teachings by highlighting important words that are filled with special meaning.

 

Verse codifies philosophy and is a tool for learning.

 

A sūtra is a terse statement that codifies philosophy. When you study, or preferably memorize a verse, commentaries help unpack the meaning of each word. You can easily memorize a school’s teachings by just recalling each word of the sūtra and then unpacking its meaning. Verses in the Bhāgavatam are not necessarily sūtras, but the same mechanism is there; learning a key verse often gives one ownership of a whole tattva or philosophical truth.

 

Poetic verse has a special potency to involve the reader.

 

Marshall McLuhan was a prominent Canadian social philosopher focusing on media theory in the late 1960s. He is famous for coining the expression “The medium is the message.” He theorized that the effect of the medium itself is more important than the content it communicates. Mediums that have the maximum stimulating impact make you the most active in learning the messages they convey. There is not a better medium to make the reader actively involved than poetry, because the reader must search for meaning that is often indirect and hidden.

 

Poetic verse is the best medium to convey emotion.

 

The Bhāgavatam is rasa śāstra. That means it is meant to convey an intense emotion to the reader, which in this case is bhakti. In conveying emotion, it is always better to make the reader feel it rather than explaining it. Poetic verse seems the best medium to communicate emotion by encapsulating it in poetic verse in a way to make you feel it.

 

Poetic verse is the best way to reveal the meaning of śāstra.

 

Śrī Jīva describes the way the meaning of śāstra is revealed. “In śāstra the words (vācaka) themselves carry the inherent power to reveal what they signify (vācya).

 

If the words themselves have the power to reveal the meaning of śāstra, then what better way to present those words than with the methods of poetry where specific words are highlighted for their meaning and feeling?

 

I was stuck today in my writing. I took shelter of the Bhāgavatam and some realizations came.

 

The Bhāgavatam indeed is the book of revelations![2]

 

 


[1] We are using the word verse here to indicate verse with poetic skill, not just any simple often clumsy rhyme.

[2] After writing this a thought came up. The translations of the verses of the Bhāgavatam are not in verse form. How much is therefore lost in translation? Perhaps this is why Śrīla Prabhupāda in his translation and commentary insisted that the Sanskrit, transliteration and word for word are also published. In this way, those who cannot read it in the original Sanskrit can still enhance their own study by memorizing select Sanskrit verses and become aware of the powerful meanings of select words. I personally cannot imagine studying in any other way.

 

Monday Morning Greetings 2026 #7 – In Defense of Ignorance

February 16th, 2026

“In defense of ignorance”?

 

Well, here it is:

 

“Those who worship avidyā (the culture of ignorance) come back to this world. However, those who are fully engaged only in vidyā (the culture of knowledge) fall even into a greater darkness.” Śrī Īśopaniṣad 9[1]

 

But how can that be?

 

Words often have multiple meanings depending on their context. Here vidyā refers to spiritual knowledge and avidyā refers to material knowledge. If we understand avidyā as material knowledge, the quandary is resolved.

 

Material knowledge is fundamentally ignorance because it binds one to the world of birth and death. But to engage in vidyā without it is in some ways worse. Śrīla Prabhupāda describes the utility of avidyā in his commentary to verse nine:

 

“The culture of spiritual knowledge necessitates the help of the body and mind; therefore maintenance of the body and mind is required if we are to reach our goal.”

 

In other words, to take to spiritual life without the understanding of how to keep the body and soul together is dangerous.

 

Another good example of such darkness is the premature adoption of sannyāsa. Sannyāsa means a life exclusively dedicated to the cultivation of vidyā. When it is adopted before one has been purified by avidyā, meaning working through one’s desires in varṇāśrama, then disaster looms. Has anything caused more disruption and pain in ISKCON that the repeated fall of those in the sannyāsa order who renounced the world prematurely?

 

It should be clear that when talking about avidyā, Śrī Īśopaniṣad it is talking about Vedic avidyā, material knowledge in support of vidyā, not illicit activities of gross ignorance, as avidyā on its own binds one to this world.

 

It should also be noted that within avidyā are certain skills almost essential to the path of bhakti. For example, the Six Goswamis, especially Śrī Rūpa and Śrī Sanātana, studied and wrote commentaries on poetics. It is an essential skill in understanding and expressing the finer points of vraja bhakti. Again, standing alone, a study of poetics by itself is not transcendental.

 

Two verses later in Śrī Īśopaniṣad the value of avidyā is stated emphatically—we should not renounce those things that have value in bringing us to the platform of spiritual knowledge (vidyā) even if they seem to be material.

 

“Only one who can learn the process of nescience [avidyā] and that of transcendental knowledge [vidyā] side by side can transcend the influence of repeated birth and death and enjoy the full blessings of immortality.” Śrī Īśopaniṣad 11

 

And that’s my defense of Ignorance!

 

 


[1] This is Śrīla Prabhupāda’s translation of the verse:

“Those who engage in the culture of nescient activities shall enter into the darkest region of ignorance. Worse still are those engaged in the culture of so-called knowledge.”

I used in my post the translation of the verse from Hari Parshad’s class during the Saranagati retreat at the Govardhan Retreat Center from February 5th through 9th of this year, titled Bhoga, Tyāga, and Beyond.

 

Monday Morning Greetings 2026 #6 – There is No Victim Consciousness in God Consciousness

February 9th, 2026

There is no Victim Consciousness in God Consciousness[1]

 

“Victim consciousness is a stage of consciousness in which people deny personal responsibility for the things that happen in their lives. People in victim consciousness believe that the world is acting upon or against them, and they are the innocent targets of other peoples’ action or behavior.”[2]

 

Elevated God consciousness is the opposite. Here are four examples:

 

Dharma the Bull

 

King Parīkṣit was informed that a bull had been badly beaten. He immediately rushed to the scene of the crime. Although the bull knew that he was beaten by the personality of Kali, the bull refused to identify him.  He knew that ultimately without the sanction of the Lord, no one could afflict trouble upon him. He then began to explain in detail the various misconceptions about the cause of suffering and how one could use them to abnegate personal responsibility and remain ignorant of the lessons God meant for one to learn.

 

Observing the bull’s reaction, and hearing his exposition full of knowledge and philosophy, the king recognized the bull as Dharma (the personality of religion): “You are speaking according to the principle that the destination intended for the perpetrator of irreligious acts is also intended for one who identifies the perpetrator.” In other words, although it is the duty of one to protect the vulnerable from exploitation, victim consciousness is not encouraged.

 

Vidura

 

The elderly Vidura was unfairly thrown out of the kingdom by Duryodhana, his cruel nephew, whom he had served selflessly his whole life. In addition, he was harshly insulted by him. He refused, however, to play the victim. Rather, he saw that God was delivering to him an important message: it was time to retire from the intrigues of family and political life and leave for pilgrimage. An elevated soul sees destiny as the language of God.

 

Bhīmadeva

 

Although Yudhiṣṭhira led a noble and sinless life, his suffering year after year was unbearable. Even worse, nobody could satisfy his inquiry as to why he had to suffer. In frustration he inquired from his grandfather, Bhīṣmadeva, who was lying on the battlefield waiting to die. Somehow, his grandfather was able to muster up the strength to reply. Destiny, he explained, is just God’s grace offering us the gift of spiritual realization for those who respond to their fate righteously and according to appropriate guidance.

 

Socrates

 

When Socrates was unfairly condemned to die by the Greek assembly for political reasons, his wish to confront his accusers was granted. Rather than feeling persecuted, he informed them, “If you think you will harm me, you will not harm me; you will only harm yourselves.” Socrates was expressing something quite deep. The self or soul is eternal and spiritual. It therefore can only be harmed by one’s own acts of selfishness. In other words, if he was executed, the Greek Senate, who would kill him in a mood of exploitation, would be the one disadvantaged and not himself, who would respond in dignity.

 

It’s unfortunate how far the world has veered from a culture of personal responsibility and self-correction based on God consciousness.  Certainly, all forms of oppression and exploitation should be shunned and appropriately rectified. There are powerful realizations one can glean from the perspective of the downtrodden. One should be wary, however, of adopting the consciousness of victimization and conceding the power to change one’s life to external actors. Contrast this to the teachings of the Bhāgavatam which educates and fully empowers one to change oneself in any circumstance.

 

“We all suffer, but to be a victim is a choice.” — Unknown

 

 


[1] I just completed of a one-month yatra — Mayapur/Puri/Vrindavan/Govardhan. My computer crashed and I couldn’t write. Here is a substantially edited reprint of Monday Morning Greetings November 18, 2019.

[2] Barry and Janae Weinhold — https://web.archive.org/web/20220122105432/https://weinholds.org/victim-consciousness/

 

Monday Morning Greetings 2026 #5 – How Are You? My Answer

February 2nd, 2026

How Are You? My Answer[1]

 

How are you?

 

Everything is going great, but there is one problem.

 

What is that?

 

I’m not the controller.

 

What?

 

If you are not the controller, how can you be the enjoyer?

 

Why not?

 

Because no matter how many things are going your way, if you are not the controller, not everything will go your way.

 

So?

 

When we are in the mood of the enjoyer, then the problem, the thing that doesn’t go our way, becomes prominent, and not the things that are going our way. That one lousy thing, no matter how insignificant it is, ruins everything, at least for most people.

 

How?

 

As it is said, “A pinch of suffering is felt more than a ton of happiness.” Think Bill Gates with a toothache. Not just physical pain, but any small insult, or any frustration of our immediate, or long-term desires, can ruin everything. As this world rarely conforms to our desires, it is always a place of suffering for those immersed in false ego, the desire to control and enjoy, which is, unfortunately, most people.

 

What to do?

 

We have to change our strategy. We need to go from seeking our happiness in destiny, what happens to us, which is beyond our control, to seeking happiness in in our free will—how we react to what happens to us—which is within our control. In other words, we need not to change the world, but to change our selves, and this is within our power.

 

Explain further.

 

We are consciousness, or being, who reaches fulfillment in love or service. Happiness is thus not controlling the world, but serving the world, and that opportunity and consciousness is available no matter what the circumstances.

 

How are you?

 

Everything is fine. I am not the controller, but when you have an inner life, then that does not matter at all.

 

 


[1] I am in the middle of a one-month yatra—Mayapur/Puri/Vrindavan/Govardhan. My computer crashed and I couldn’t write. Here is a reprint from nine years ago on May 29, 2017.

 

Monday Morning Greetings 2026 #4 – How to Feel Bad About Yourself!

January 26th, 2026

I’m a hopeless optimist. A friend once joked: “You’re so optimistic that you could be falling out of the Empire State Building and on the fiftieth floor say, ‘So far so good.’ We laughed, but it is no joke.

 

A dose of pessimism, however, is essential for bhakti. I think I am realizing that increasingly with age. Hopefully my unhinged optimism is cracking. How?

 

The pain of purification

 

Devotion gradually cleans the heart and helps you see yourself, warts and all. When the mind is cluttered with desires it is often hard to notice our faults, like not noticing something out of place in a cluttered room. Finally, a glimpse of reality: How many lifetimes have I been parading as Pauṇḍraka?[1] Can I bear the pain of purification?

 

The pain of understanding God

 

How painful it is to conform one’s way of living to a truth higher than one’s whims and attachments. The Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam informs me page after page, “You are not up to the mark. Change!” Can I bear the pain of transformation?

 

The pain of realization

 

I not only understand a truth; I see a truth — a realization. That realization is so clear that I kick myself. “It’s so simple. How in the world did I miss that?” I am pained to have lived in ignorance. As more realizations inevitably come can I bear the pain of self-realization?

 

The pain of regret

 

Bhakti begins with regretting our previous life of selfishness separate from God and then surrendering to God. That first stage of spiritual commitment is called tapa, or remorse. Tapa also means heat. Such remorse is heat because it challenges or burns our false sense of superiority. “No, I am not wrong! It is not my fault! It wasn’t a mistake!” Am I strong enough to resist such rationalization and enter the path of devotion? Admit it; regret it. Let that acknowledgment burn your charade. Can I bear the heat of remorse?

 

The pain of opening the heart

 

The essence of the Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam is to chant the name of our beloved Lord without attachment or inhibition. Such simple-hearted sincerity is painful because the proud fear such vulnerability. Chanting means to open that heart fully and beg for the mercy of the holy name. Why the resistance? Can I bear the pain of opening my heart in devotion?

 

The joy of pain

 

The world is humbling, which is painful, but it doesn’t have to be ordinary suffering. If we can turn it into the soul’s aching for connection to God, it can be the birth of devotion and a source of the greatest joy.

 

And that’s how to feel bad about yourself on the path of Bhakti!

 

 


[1] A foolish king described in the Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam who paraded around in the dress of Krishna and declared himself God but was later killed by Krishna.

 

Monday Morning Greetings 2026 #3 – Can Destiny Be Changed?

January 19th, 2026

Can Destiny Be Changed?

 

First, a story from the Jain tradition that sheds some initial light on our inquiry.

 

Five friends walk into a forest of mango trees to eat. In a very crass tone the first friend advises, “Cut down the tree!” “Why cut down the tree?” the next friend counters, “Just break off one branch.” “Why saw off the whole branch?” the third one protests, “Just break off the part where the mangos are.” The fourth suggests something more sensitive: “Why not just pick the mangos?” The fifth friend is even more considerate: “Why do we have to pick the mangos at all? Why not just take the ripe ones that have fallen on the ground?”[1]

 

The reactions of the different friends who desire the mangos from the tree represent different degrees of selfishness, with each requiring a commensurate level of atonement to nullify the offense.

 

For example, the person who wants to cut the whole tree is the most selfish and requires the strongest reaction to learn the lesson. No atonement would suffice, and only the full brunt of a karmic reaction could rectify the offense.

 

The person who just takes the ripe mangos that have fallen on the ground, but does not offer them to God, represents the least selfish alternative. To counteract the offense, simple sincere regret for the offense may be sufficient atonement.

 

The Jain text below commenting on our story sums up the science of atonement (nullifying egocentric acts):

 

If one unwittingly makes an imperceptible and minor mistake in dealing with someone, simply regretting one’s mistake may be sufficient to mitigate the reaction. For a more serious mistake an apology may do. An even more severe offense may require atonement. For the most egregious offenses, however, only by suffering a commensurate reaction to the offense can one be purified of that transgression. In such a case one’s destiny is certainly set in stone.

 

As one advances spiritually, however, one’s approach to altering destiny is not limited to atonement, especially as most of the karmic reactions we receive are connected to past acts that we are no longer even aware of. In other words, rather than merely putting one’s effort into preventing the ill fruits of one’s action, one counters one’s fate by the appropriate response to it.

 

After all, the real fruit of karma is the happiness and distress we feel, meted out by destiny. That certainly can be altered by understanding what is happening to us and appropriately responding to it. Socrates’ reaction to being condemned to death is a perfect example of this.

 

Socrates was sentenced to death by the Senate of Athens for the trumped-up charge of contaminating the youth with his teachings. He accepted his fate peacefully and made the simple request of being allowed to address his accusers.

 

His powerful words, recorded by Plato in “The Apology,” are worth pondering: “If you think you will harm me, you cannot harm me. You only will harm yourself.”

 

Socrates understood that we are eternal and that the real harm to us is acting against the interest of our soul. His thoughtful response therefore elevated his consciousness, while his accusers were karmically digging their own graves.

 

Was not Socrates’ fate changed by his enlightened perspective? Imagine the fate of a person in a similar situation but without his realization of the eternality of the soul. Would not that person’s fate be quite different? Therefore the best way to change our fate is by responding to our destiny with dharma or righteousness.

 

The Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam is filled with many such examples in which a deeper perspective on life alters the distress meted out by the mace of destiny, such as King Parīkṣit’s response to being cursed to die, or Vidura’s reaction to being banned from his kingdom by his evil nephew.

 

For this article I will just share Bhīṣmadeva’s advice to his grandson Yudhiṣṭhira, who inquired from him about how to digest his terrible fate in life. He suggested a way to gives us the realizations that ultimately elevates our consciousness and brings us true happiness:

 

There is no cause for despondency in life, no matter how trying circumstances get, if one, through understanding destiny as God’s beneficent and absolute will, does three things. One should bow one’s head in gratitude, respond in righteousness, and do so under one’s qualified mentors, thus extracting the fruit of destiny, a personal realization elevating one to a better life.[2]

 

To sum up: We can best counter destiny, which is ultimately our distress and happiness, by appropriately responding to destiny rather than changing it. In this way, by extracting the fruit of destiny, which is the realization meant to elevate our consciousness, we remain free from despondency. And in that sense we can change the essence of our destiny, which ultimately is our happiness and distress.

 

Although I am approaching my preferred word count, I think it will be very helpful in negotiating this challenging concept to add two analogies. They demonstrate that while the broad parameters of our destiny are mostly fixed, within those parameters our destiny can still be changed by how we view and experience it.

 

Example 1

Destiny is like being on a rocky road to a particular destination that we have no choice but to follow. In that sense destiny is fixed. One can, however, pave that road to make the journey smooth. In other words, within the parameters of our fate we can certainly mitigate our karmic reactions, and in that way change our fate.

 

Example 2

Destiny is like being dealt a bad hand in poker. Your cards are fixed. Still, if you play your cards properly you can minimize your losses or even win. This is a nice analogy to show both the fixed nature of destiny and the ability to change it by how we play our hand.

 

Can destiny be changed? In the most important way, yes! I will leave you with Rumi:

 

“When providence seems to be digging a hole to throw us in, it is actually planning to quench our thirst by drawing water from the ground.”

 

 


[1] This story is from a Jain treatise on karma that a friend shared with me many years ago when I was preparing a seminar on karma.

[2] This is my summary of Bhīṣmadeva’s instructions from Bhāgavatam 1.9.12-15.