Living the Dream

There seems to be a tension between comfort and aspiration in our lives. We seek to explore, to grow, to achieve, yet we also desire security, safety and certainty. It’s clear, however, that we often have to sacrifice one to get the other. If we opt to remain in the comfort-zone, we may have to live with the inevitable feelings of being humdrum, run-of-the-mill and unexciting. On the other hand, if we dive for our dreams we’ll have to ready ourselves to brave the rocky road of uncertainty and opposition. Every significant achievement has its price tag.

In reality, we usually go for something in between. Decisions on where to pitch our life are largely based upon the prevailing social mood of the day. What is everyone else doing? What are the expectations of society? What will keep everyone happy? Breaking free of such barriers and pursuing our ‘inner calling’ is a tough job. As life responsibilities increase, it’s easy to get boxed in, sealed tight and shelved up. Shifting the daily routine becomes more and more taboo. Doing something different may be seen as unintelligent, rash and irresponsible. And even when there are no grounds for such accusation, we conveniently accept those opinions just to reinforce our comfortable life and maintain the status quo.

Life has its way of grounding us down. Very few people have a dream, even fewer seriously consider how to fulfill it, and only a rare soul actually has a decent shot. In an age where security, establishment and balanced prosperity have become the guiding beacons for our comfortable life, a pause for thought may be worthwhile. The Bhagavad-gita reminds us of a broader vision that needs to be etched into our consciousness. The inevitable laws of nature mean we come to this world empty-handed and we leave empty-handed. Everyone, without exception, is guaranteed to lose everything. Although our temporary constructed situations of life seem so real, they are all washed away by the ruthless waves of time. We’re building castles in the sand. It sounds counterintuitive, but I’m trying to invest quality time in developing this “vision of eternity”, hoping that it will make me a whole lot more dynamic in this temporary phantasmagoria.

As I wander around in the spiritual hub known as Vrindavana, I’m reminded of a local saying which is beginning to make more and more sense to me: “All reality outside of Vrindavana is actually a dream, and all dreams in Vrindavana are actually a reality.”

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Good Old Days

I couldn’t imagine winter in India would be colder than London. I was wrong. The misty chill of a Vrindavana morning penetrates your bones to the core. The stone floors and absence of heating systems mean there is no respite – inside is usually colder than outside! Nevertheless, the devotional fervour and busyness of Vrindavana never diminishes. Pilgrims stream in every day, each with a spiritual goal in mind: most visit for personal inspiration, others come to engage in some austerity and rigorous vow, while the elderly usually come to live out their final days in preparation for death. We’ve come for the first, we’re involuntarily doing the second, and he third… well, that’s not in the plan for the time being at least…

Every day I do my early morning chanting in the courtyard of our temple. It was a 3.00am start today. Although it’s early for my standards, every day I’m blessed with the company of the same elderly faces, who, tightly wrapped up in multiple shawls and scarfs, wholeheartedly prostrate themselves, circumambulate the temple, offer prayers and settle into rapt meditation. This is their life. Their dedication is unwavering, steady as a rock, seemingly oblivious to all obstacles which come their way. Despite their ailing health, the severe lack of material conveniences, and the seasonal climatic attacks, they are determined to end their days in complete spiritual absorption, diligently preparing for their imminent journey to the next world. After a lifetime of jobs, family, responsibilities and social interaction, they live as lone mendicants in this holy land, probably with a vow to never leave. They have realised this is the business end of life – this is where it’s make or break. After all, the Bhagavad-gita confirms that the consciousness with which we leave this world determines our next destination.

It prompted me to reflect on how our spirituality should intensify with each passing year. We have to build momentum, increase the urgency, and eagerly look for more and more opportunities to genuinely go deeper. Gradually, all the empty promises of the world that steal our attention should pale into insignificance, allowing us to focus on the essence of life. An elderly lady told me yesterday – “the good old days are not of the past, I’m experiencing them now, and I’m sure there are more to come!” A nice play on words, with a great meaning behind them. Though so many material limitations invariably arrive with age, the spiritually enthused soul is free to move in the skies of devotion. The later years of ones spirituality can open unlimited doors of experience and opportunity. I’m witnessing the living proof, and its giving me great hope.

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Simple Spirituality

Vrindavana is special. I always question my qualification to even approach the most sacred place in the universe. My commitment is weak, my character is flawed and my mentality remains self-centred. The deficiency of purity blocks my vision and appreciation of the situation I find myself in. Still, I have come here as a beggar. I hope I’ll meet the saints, remind myself of what is really important in life, catch a glimpse of Krishna, and reconnect with the voice of inspiration within. I’ll try and keep my eyes, ears and heart open, so I’ll receive what I have come here to get.

A casual stroll through the village streets reveals a depth of wisdom. Holy places are invaluable because they are a living theology. What it written about in pages of books and talked about in hours of discourses, is lucidly revealed in the simple lifestyle of devotion that comes so naturally to the people here. We often relate how spirituality became a part of our life – but here we can see how people’s lives have actually merged into the spiritual reality. It’s a different level of devotion. Everything naturally revolves around Krishna.

Interesting to think of a worldview where we are not the centre. But how can I not think about myself first? It seems alien, unfulfilling and even scary. Ironically, however, that utter selflessness brings one to the most profound level of spirituality. Water the roots, and the whole tree automatically becomes satisfied. Feed the stomach and the entire body is nourished. In other words, when our frantic search for selfish happiness stops, and we absorb ourselves in selfless service to God and His parts, we perfect our spirituality and experience true satisfaction of the soul. Nothing mystical, magical or esoteric – just the simple eagerness to serve. It is that simple. So simple, Swami Prabhupada once said, that we may just miss it.

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Soul Searching

After a month of hectic travels across the UK, it’s time to change gears. As I catch my breath in London for a week, I simultaneously prepare for a flight to India this coming Tuesday. My destination is the remote village of Vrindavana, the holy place where Krishna spent His childhood years. Located 130 km south of Delhi, it’s a mystical place which is full of inspiration and insight. They say that nobody returns from Vrindavana the same person, and that’s exactly why I’m going there. Though we act as spiritual doctors, we are undoubtedly patients as well. People accept us as teachers of wisdom, yet we remain humble students. After a month of sharing spirituality with others, now comes an opportunity to do some soul-searching and reflect on whether I’m walking the talk.

These trips are not just a physical journey to a special place but also an inner journey towards transcendence. The great saints of Vrindavana exemplify the pinnacle of spiritual consciousness. Complete absorption in the spiritual reality rendered them indifferent to the external world. Their living quarters were not formal brick or wooden structures, but temporary arrangements like the hollow of a tree, a clearing under a thorny thicket, or an underground cave. In these austere and solitary settings, the great saints would settle into spiritual trance and have their conversations with God, continuing for hours on end. Their spirituality wasn’t a casual activity. It wasn’t a ritual. It wasn’t simply a discipline – rather, it was full of emotion and feeling. It was from the core of the heart.

I doubt that I could isolate myself and go that deep, and neither is it recommended to try. But hearing of such remarkable personalities nevertheless inspires me to intensify my spiritual endeavors. I’m trying to break free of my mechanical and ritualistic approach. I’m trying to rediscover the freshness, enthusiasm and simplicity that I once had. I'm searching for that childlike innocence that is so beautiful. I’m going back to basics. The core spiritual practices and teachings I was introduced to at the onset of my spiritual journey remain the bridge to the eternal reality; they are not to be taken lightly. I’ll attempt to go a little deeper, and hopefully I’ll become a little closer to Krishna. I’m approaching Vrindavana in the mood of a beggar: spiritually impoverished but confident that I’ll find some sacred treasures along the way.

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