Published 12 November 2001 BEING ‘PLUGGED IN’ doesn’t make for globalisation. It’s a fact that those who own computers make up six per cent of earth’s population, and less than four out of a 100 have Internet access. Even among seasoned web surfers, it is a growing concern that computers and the Internet are hurtling us headlong into the outer darkness of dystopia. For reasons like these, many forms of ‘eastern’ meditation are becoming popular in the West where an insatiable appetite for things of this world has rendered much of the East dependent on it. But we, the East and West, have something in common – the feeling that there’s not enough time; there’s too much frenzy, too much speed, too much compression, in a word, stress. “What is stress?” Well, for one, it’s an internal emotion that keeps many awake nights on end. As Gandhi once said, “When doubts haunt me, when disappointments stare me in the face, and I see not any ray of hope on the horizon, I turn to Bhagavad Gita and find a verse to comfort me… Those who meditate on the Gita will derive fresh joy and new meaning from it every day.” How can we be peaceful when even gold and silver monetary standards are gone? We live in a fairy dust world where major wealth is no more than an electronic impulse on a computer disk and yet billions sail back and forth daily on Internet networks. Can it be called magic? Maybe. It may even be a form of prapti siddhi, but is it bringing us peace of mind? Stress stems in part from the feeling that our world is held together by things so tenuous as electrical energy and the ‘balance of terror.’ “We have sold our souls,” wrote historian Arnold Toynbee in 1972 of his British compatriots, “to the pursuit of maximising material wealth, a pursuit which is spiritually wrong and practically unattainable.” A few stress-related instructions from the fifth chapter of the Gita may be of some help. For example, “One whose happiness is within, who is active and rejoices within, and whose aim is inward is actually the perfect mystic,” and “A person in full consciousness of Me, knowing Me to be the ultimate beneficiary of all sacrifices and austerities, the Supreme Lord of all planets and demigods, and the benefactor and well-wisher of all living entities, attains peace from the pangs of material miseries.” Stress and a united world are incompatible. If we de-stress – on spiritual instruction – the global village can become a reality. (The writer is emeritus member of the ISKCON Governing Body Commission)

Meditations / Mukunda Goswami This article was posted in the Hindustan Times 6 May 2002. MADHVACARYA WROTE that liberation or moksha means attaining the lotus feet of Bhagvan Krishna, or entering an eternal relationship of service to the Supreme Lord. As lyrics to a popular song once intoned, “Everyone is looking for something.” That something we all seek is shelter; and for some that is liberation. But liberation seeking is rare. Most of us look for ultimate happiness in the tri-varga world of artha, kama and dharma (wealth, sensual pleasure, and religiosity). Few are actually seekers of moksha or liberation. Generally, we want perfection by becoming extremely wealthy, by quickly and easily satisfying our most cherished physical desires or by action such that the devatas will award our specific desires. Only those who are philosophical about life or who feel materially exhausted are after moksha. But what exactly is liberation? Some think it’s merging into ultimate Brahman or oneness. Others think it’s suicide. Most think attaining perfect artha, kama and dharma will bring true shelter. If I have enough money, I don’t have to fret. I’ve become liberated from financial worries. If I can have unlimited bodily pleasures, I’m liberated from sensual demand. And if I have performed all my havan yagyas correctly, done the right austerities and appropriately pleased the devatas, I’m liberated from want. History has shown us that militant ‘liberationists’ have risked their lives fighting for what they are certain will free masses by giving them economic, political or social emancipation. The term ‘liberation’ has been widely used in this context, where protecting peoples’ rights gives shelter. These are only some of the vain searches for protection against the unknown, from that which is frightening, and from death itself. There’s a strong tendency in human society to take shelter of scientists, loved ones, and leaders of political, religious, psychological and philosophical movements. We pattern our lives after our role models in these fields. But liberation is moksha. And real moksha, permanent moksha, is as the sage Madhvacarya described it. It means yoga samadhi, or constant meditation and prayer, along with a desire to love God. As Christ taught, we are to “be in the world, but not of it.” He was advocating heaven on earth without the physical, or astral ascent into swarga (heaven). But even elevation to swarga is not final. Madhva taught that lasting liberation is available only when love of God, with full knowledge of the meaning of God, is achieved. This is called jivanmukta.

In case you didn’t see my recent newsletter or the web, this is what Hindustan Times (of India) published on February 22, 2002. They paid Rs.1000.00 for this short article entitled, “The secret message of Hollywood’s “Matrix.” START: Verse 7.14 of Bhagavad-gita tells us that Maya can be conquered only by surrender. Maya is difficult to overcome. But, the Gita states that those who have surrendered can easily cross over it. The Hollywood film, “Matrix”, is a tale that says the world is illusory — a ‘virtual reality’ created by machines that has taken over the planet earth. They have subdued and grown humans, using them like batteries, to power the grand deception we call the world. Neo or Mr. Anderson (Keanu Reeves), the film’s hero, is killed by the machines but is brought back to life ostensibly through the love of Trinity (Carrie-Anne Moss), his female partner. And VCD and VHS renters beware: there’s no sex in Matrix. What appears to be a Buddhistic portrayal of a world that is fake, turns out to be a kind of love story. Two lost souls magically find each other and achieve victory amidst the ruins. Neo comes back from the dead, and becomes the leader of a militant underground, supposed to consist of the only Homo Sapiens left alive after the machine takeover. Death is conquered by love, and not simply by realizing the world is “unreal”, or in Vedic terms, illusory or “Maya.” Neo is miraculously brought back to life by Trinity, who confesses to his lifeless frame that she has fallen in love with a dead man, but she makes it clear that she’s NOT AFRAID ANY MORE. Her attitude of unconditional surrender parallels what the Gita tells us about conquering Maya. And since the purpose of this column is to interpret life transcendentally, we can see human love exhibited in Matrix as super mundane. It’s rare that an American film would attempt to teach us something higher. But clearly Matrix was made with that in mind. The world we inhabit — the one we see, touch, smell, taste and feel — is an illusion. And yet there is something that IS real – something that is beyond, something more compelling than a meretricious apparition. That something may be described as divine love or the Krishna factor. Out of all the grotesqueness that emanates from Hollywood, a film with supernatural intent is a rarity. Its success at the box office should be welcomed along with the observation that millions of people – those not bedazzled by the project’s special effects and violence – are in fact in search of the divine. Matrix, indirectly shows that devotion, or bhakti, is the turning point at which we can — in a natural way — overcome the forces of evil and illusion that trap us in a shadow world not of our own making.

(The following article was posted in the “Meditations” column of the Hindustan Times, one of India’s largest English language daily newspapers, on Monday, 23 June 2003.) WILLIAM GLADSTONE (1809-1898), four-time Prime Minister of Great Britain, is said to have become a horse. A visitor who came to see him was told to wait. After an hour impatience took hold, and when the visitor was alone he peeked through a door to see what was preoccupying the Prime Minister. Gladstone was on his hands and knees, and his grandson was sitting on his back playing the horserider. It’s also said that in their next lives people become their pets, ornithologists birds, big game hunters lions and tigers, lepidopterists butterflies, naked yogis monkeys, ivory poachers pachyderms, and surfers fish. The Gita states that whatever we’re thinking of at the time of death determines our next body (8.6). Unfortunately human life, although endowed with advanced brainpower and other faculties, is unstable and precarious. Human life is a precious gift for which there is no guaranteed continuation after death. If used for the right purpose, it’s a blessing; if misused, a curse, says the Gita. Sometimes children discard old and worn out dolls or toys that were once coveted presents. But at other times, childish playthings endure for years, and are treasured throughout life. American publishing magnate William Randolph Hearst supposedly at the time of his death uttered the brand name of a snow-sled given to him one Christmas. It was his only happy memory. Maybe he became ‘the abominable snowman!’ Those with spiritual intelligence might ask ‘what is human life for? or ‘how can I keep this human form?’ Even more advanced would be to ask ‘what can I do to maintain my humanity after this life, but without misery, disease and death? Given the abilily to think things over, one might wonder why human life appears to have a beginning and an end and why the onslaught of danger and uncertainty never stops. Humans have the capacity to gain a non-physical existence that is free from birth, death, disease and old age – neither human nor subhuman. This is possible in this day and age through bhakti. Fortunately, devotion can be practiced by anyone, anytime and anywhere. One develops devotion through acting according to the Lord’s Instructions, obtaining an existence that is superconscious, above human and animal. It’s easy and sublime, but we have to make a start. (The writer Is emeritus member of lSKCON Governing Body Commission)

(The following article was posted in the “Meditations” column of the Hindustan Times, one of India’s largest English language daily newspapers, on Wednesday, 11 June 2003.) ONE MILLIONS dollars is what each person would have if all the wealth in the world were equally divided, say reliable sources. In a similar vein, enormous pockets of poverty exist because of scarce refrigeration and transportation facilities — technologies easily shared across international borders. Having enough for everyone’s need but not enough for everyone’s greed is as true now as it was in Gandhi’s day, Bhagavad Gita uses nature to help us better understand everyday things about spirituality. The 15th chapter discusses a banyan tree whose inverted reflection is compared to our world. Banyan trees are bewildering and mysterious. Some cities routinely cut off their expansive branches because the tree threat. ens autos and truck traffic, walls and buildings, and smooth walkways. Of nature’s most important, plants, banyan and pipal generate more oxygen per pound than any other known trees. But banyans, the silent beauties, could get out-of-hand. In the Vedic botanic repertoire, the lotus is the most repeated image. In the Gita the lotus leaf is noted for its property of remaining dry while in water. This feature of the leaf is compared to a person living in the material world but not disturbed by it, being in but not of the world. Rupa Goswami writes of phalgu vairagya or incomplete renunciation, and the Bhagavata refers to kaitava dharma,(1.1.2). The precise meanings of phalgu and kaitava are arguable, but minimalist definitions indicate that which is shadowy, hidden, covered or unsubstantial. In other words, renunciation and religiosity are often stunted, superficial and hypocritical. The art or ‘trick’ to living happily in the material world is to meditate constantly on the Supreme Lord. This form of meditation is sometimes referred to as samadhi, and the technique as yukta vairagya. Constant meditation won’t happen without love. Love is what keeps photos of children on managers’ desks. It keeps spouses together for decades. It reaches into the deepest regions of the human mind and heart. It longs for a better world. However, to be in love with God requires knowledge of God’s attributes, activities, and forms, as well as absorption in devotional service as a daily fact of life. Notions of ‘love of God’ abound, but they are mosily tangled and fickle. Constant, life-changing love derives from a far deeper source. The writer is emeritus member of the ISKCON Governing Body Commission.

(This article was posted in the ?Meditations? column of the Hindustan Times on 8 October 2002.) WHAT?S WRONG with the scent of a lotus, with music, cake, sunset or the softest touch? What?s wrong with an exhilarating risk? Nothing, if we perceive things in the right way, but sought after without discrimination, the results can be disastrous. Desire that exceeds need easily get out of hand and can lead to illegal actions. This is the start of criminality: Unnecessary cravings must be uprooted, but this is only possible if something better is on offer. Ancient texts inform its of something called *param dristva* or the ?higher taste?, which the Bhagavad Gita says is superior to rasa or ?sense enjoyment.? Rasa is also defined as ?taste?, so what could possibly be wrong with taste? Scriptural knowledge informs us that we will always have a taste for sense objects, even if we compensate for overindulgence with redemptive measures, including punishment. A somewhat extreme illustration of this principle is the criminal activity known as recidivism, or repeated offences. Most toughs know the law of the land and its penalties, but are used to taking extreme risks. They tend to act at night, knowing it?s wrong. They say they?re sorry even confess and get absolution – a partial atonement – before doing it all again. So what would true crime prevention look like? Punishment is inadequate. Reformation requires education. A change of heart and mind is what?s needed. An absence of crime depends on an absolute yet everyday sense of morality; a Godliness that is not pulpit bound, a pervasive righteousness. We need spirituality without blind belief and a strong ethical code, devoid of dogmatism. Even someone as immersed in worldly affairs as Robert Bartley, editor of The Wall Street Journal, once called for a moral consensus. One, ?to which philosophers and lawmakers and judges can repair: A foundation, that is, for saying that some things are right and others wrong… If we are to deal with the issues of crime, welfare, violence. abortion and so on. we need to recover a sense of shared morality As a society, we need to start developing, to start looking for a new establishment to lead us.? (published in The Wall Street Journal, 26 May, 1995) Bartley?s shared morality is another way of saying ?foundational morality?, which must start with education about rediscovering God?s purpose. This mental re-engineering is what gives us the higher taste, a devotion that stills the pendulum of reckless duality.

(This article was posted in the ?Meditations? column of the Hindustan Times on 1 October 2002.) SHOULD CHARLES Darwin?s evolutionary theory still be the reigning philosophy of biological science and the general understanding of our origin? Many think not. From a secular point of view, thoughtful students of anthropology and palaeontology have serious doubts about Darwin?s 1859 writings on evolution. Further, 80 per cent of Americans today think that Darwin?s theory is not the only explanation of our beginnings and that creationism should be taught in that country?s public schools. These findings were the result of a year-2000 US poll. There are scientists who remind us that the ?missing link? has never been discovered, and that after nearly a century and a half of ?natural selection?, no one has produced hard evidence of one species transforming into another. Moreover, in his classic 700-page book, Forbidden Archeology, Michael Cremo catalogues discoveries of hundreds of tools, arti- facts and human remains. These findings were situated in strata dated with current scientific methods at over a million years old, indirectly corroborating truths in the Puranas. The Padnia Purana lists the numbers of aquatics, plants, insects, birds, beasts, and humans at 8.4 million. Today?s ?jury? of anthropologists believe that two million species have been named to date, and that there are up to 30,000,000 more to be discovered and categorised. If God is accepted as omnipresent, omniscient, all loving and omnipotent, it follows that God can and does intervene in human affairs, hears prayers, has a relationship with us, and creates universes in all their diversity of life forms. Moreover, a series of moral principles such as cleanliness, kindness, courage, compassion, austerity and truth, accompanies any full knowledge of God. Conversely, and significantly, many influential thinkers embraced Darwinism because it made no moral judgments, leaving all developments to chance and random occurrences. Scriptures in most religions confirms that every species was created by God and has existed since time immemorial. Theories based on Darwin, which embrace survival of the fittest and amorality, are intellectually and spiritually restrictive, and cannot co-exist rationally with full knowledge of God. How did we get here, and why do we exist? Darwinian theory cannot retain such a monolithic and quasi-religious status in the scientific market place. The Puranic and Vedic writings detail, our origins and purpose. and deserve at least as much attention from scientists worldwide. The writer is emeritus member of the ISKCON governing body of commission.

(The following article was posted in the “Meditations” column of the Hindustan Times, one of India’s largest english language daily newspapers, on 6 May 2003.) ‘FAMILIARITY BREEDS contempt’ is a maxim known to almost every English speaker. It’s even found in the Bhagavata (10.30.31), referring to one who while living on the Ganga wishes to travel to another holy river. Ancillary to this epigram is ‘absence makes the heart grow fonder’ Ironically, psychological surveys have determined that absence does not make the heart grow fonder. In fact, it tends to make us forget even our nearest and dearest. ‘Till death do us part’ is more than just a leave-taking, according to mental doctors. It’s forgetting, plain and simple. But what about extra-marital and paramour love? There’s a longing, an aching to meet the secret lover, so write many mundaners and even higher-order thinkers like Krsna Dos Kaviraja. This type of love, sometimes called parakiya rasa, is said to be more intense than ordinary conjugal love. Can such longings be used in a spiritual way, or is this a violation of transcendentalism? In sanctified circles it is said that prema is the ultimate form of love. Some sadhus inform us that vani or separation is greater than vapu or meeting. They claim that longing can make us more pious and godly – longing, that is, for the Supreme Being. This is a reason icons are part of Vedic culture. Though some traditions think images are sacrilege, symbolic, or for the imagination of dullards, such forms are necessary even for those who score high on IQ tests. Deities appear in homes, outdoor shrines and temples, and we find them in sculpture, necklaces, paintings, etchings, cufflinks, timepieces and photographs. They appear in media that range from mud to metal. Attraction to gods and goddesses is not the sphere of the ignorant and superstitious; such mentalities are found everywhere. Rather, it addresses a fundamental issue: all of us are hungry for love, and we’re sometimes disappointed in relationships we hold sacred. Images of God are more than meet the savage eye. While all people are human and animals simultaneously, our higher nature perceives that there is a greater dimension to anything solemnly revered. Worship and adoration, when not directed at film stars and rock idols, can fulfil a higher, more fundamental need. Our central requirement to revere something needs to be redirected, and dovetailing this natural love toward God would benefit the world.

(The following article was posted in the “Meditations” column of the Hindustan Times, one of India’s largest english language daily newspapers, on 30 April 2003.) THE BOOK most often cited as the oldest and wisest, Bhagavad Gita, seems to promote anger. The text appears to consist mainly of Shri Krishna attempting to arouse Arjuna to fight. Yet the Gita is cited as an ultimate treatise of right over wrong. Although anger is generally prohibited in Vedic thought and action, the Gita is a notable exception. How can its hero and protagonist decide to kill his own relatives? We generally agree to violence in cases of defence and when we need protection. We approve of police and other peace-keeping armed forces. Life and property are considered sacred things for which we can give up our own lives when necessary. But what about fighting for kingdom and glory? The Kurukshetra war was fought for two main reasons: to establish right over wrong (4.8) and to validate unconditional surrender to God (18.73). These messages unravel the mystery of bloodshed within a religious tradition. We might recall that Jesus acted violently when he saw a temple courtyard filled with money-lending stalls. His righteous anger is part of a tradition that dominates today’s religious landscape. In its second chapter, the Gita repudiates anger (2.63), citing it as a key factor that keeps us trapped in the material world. And at first, the saintly Arjuna refuses to fight (2.9). But, in criticising Arjuna’s ‘petty weakness of heart,’ Shri Krishna explains that He has already put the Kuru warriors to death and that Arjuna will be only an instrument (11.33). When God Himself appears in His original form, whatever He prescribes will be good for all. He knows the future. Duryodhana and company represented evil and tyranny. The Gita tells us that the ultimate good is surrendering to the desires of God, even when those instructions seem wrong to us or ‘un-doable’. Modern warfare is hardly godly, and certainly doesn’t implement good over evil. To compute current affairs with no basic understanding of karma and transmigration is myopic. All leaders have been appointed to act by the Supreme Lord, and their duty is to consult the Gita, which is not for the lily-livered. But it’s the final peace treaty. The writer is emeritus member of the ISKCON Governing Body Commission.

Published 8 January 2002 THE BHAGAVAD Gita, arguably the world’s oldest book, gives humankind a formula for peace that is still relevant. The 29th verse, fifth chapter (bhoktaram yajna-tapasam, etc.), informs us that God is the supreme proprietor of everything. We naturally extend our sense of ownership to our home, family, community and beyond. But this sense of proprietorship can also be deadly. Disputes arise over land, money and personal power. Even major conflicts have been carried out in the name of God. This is one reason people tend to be suspicious of religion. As Mathew Parris said to the world last month in the London Times, “… it is not clear whether most people need a true God – to save us from the false ones – or whether gods, all gods, were the problem, not the solution.” The Gita, however, does not just represent God and ‘religion.’ It is a mix of philosophy and finer feelings. Even great western thinkers (Thoreau, Emerson, Goethe, Tolstoi and Einstein, to name some) have noticed its penetrating insights into human nature. The philosophy of Bhagavad Gita holds that we don’t actually own anything – that our nation, cars, homes, and our families, ultimately belong to God. Even our own senses don’t belong to us, according to the Gita. This conviction is at odds with the senses, where greed triumphs over need. Because we consider ourselves masters of our bodies, the five senses never feel satisfied; they want more. This tendency to want more is magnified and exploited in an acquisitive society. Even wanting respect can be a form of selfishness. And if we all want more, where does it end? In the Mahabharata, Yudhisthiraj observes how the greatest wonder in this world is that we see living beings die all around us, yet we believe that this will never happen to us. This form of denial is the number one illusion in this world, but is death the end? Maybe not. Yudhisthir’s insight is good in that it signals immortality of the soul; but it’s a bad sign if we think we can go on simply acquiring the temporary things of this world, pampering our persons, or gratifying our senses till the end of life. Without a spiritual basis to our worldview we are prone to selfishness, – personal or extended – and for this reason peace is hard to find. The Gita and its peace formula can give a spiritual basis to our lives, especially if we are willing and able to realise its significance, read it regularly and live by its principles.