Please Remember - 5 min. hip-hop musical video based on Sri Isopanisad Mantra 17.
vayur anilam amritam athedam bhasmantam sariram om krato smara kritam smara krato smara kritam smara 
TRANSLATION: Let this temporary body be burnt to ashes, and let the air of life be merged with the totality of air. Now, O my Lord, please remember all my sacrifices, and because You are the ultimate beneficiary, please remember all that I have done for You. 
Watch it here: https://goo.gl/QS3J4R  

Source: http://m.dandavats.com/?p=20212 ;

Amazing Harinam in Hong Kong, China Island (Album with photos) 
Srila Prabhupada: All glories to the chanting of Hare Krishna mantra or Krishna sankirtana movement. All glories. All victory. How it is victory, all victory? If you chant this Hare Krishna mantra, then the dirty things which have accumulated in your heart due to material contamination will be cleared off. (Purport to Siksastakam).
Find them here: https://goo.gl/K5CjO1

Source - http://m.dandavats.com/?p=20252

This morning I was cleaning out one of the sheds, and found this old suitcase filled with cassette tapes. There were some of the old Bhaktivedanta Archive tapes, Golden Avatar tapes, various lectures, bahjans and kirtans. I started to listed to some of the old vintage kirtans and lectures and I was filled with a nostalgic mood of yearning, for the early days of the Hare Krishna Movement. This lead me to re-examine the old Back to Godhead magazine issues. The following is one article I found very reminiscence of those early days.

A Conversation between A.C. Bhaktivedanta Swami & Allen Ginsberg 
Recorded by Guru Das Adhikary

Swamiji had come to San Francisco in late January, 1967 for the opening of the Krishna Consciousness Temple there, at 518 Frederick Street. Allen Ginsberg had always shown friendly and helpful interest in the Society; and he agreed to attend a giant “Mantra Rock Festival,” which the temple members were planning to hold in the Avalon Ballroom. And so, a few days before that event, the good poet came to early morning Kirtan (7 A. M.), and later joined the Swami upstairs in the apartment his pupils had rented for him.

We were sitting in the glow of this holy man, munching on Indian sweetballs cooked by the Swami, when Allen Ginsberg came through the door, a warm smile on his face.

The Swami offered him a sweetball: “Take.”

They sat in silence for a few moments, radiating mutual love.

SWAMIJI: Allen, you are up early.

GINSBERG: Yes. The phone hasn’t stopped ringing since I arrived in San Francisco.

SWAMIJI: That is what happens when one becomes famous. That was the tragedy of Mahatma Gandhi also. Wherever he went, thousands of people would crowd about him, chanting, “Mahatma Gandhi ki jai! Mahatma Gandhiki jai!” The gentleman could not sleep.

GINSBERG: (smiling) Well, at least it got me up for Kirtan this morning.

SWAMIJI: Yes, that is good.

A few days before, the San Francisco Chronicle had published an article called “Swami in Hippie Land,” in which the reporter had asked: “Do you accept ‘hippies’ in your temple?”

The Swami had replied, “Hippies or anyone—I make no distinctions. Everyone is welcome.”

SWAMIJI: Allen, what is this “hippie?”

GINSBERG: The word “hip” started in China, where people smoked opium lying on their hips. [He demonstrates.] Opium and its derivatives then spread to the West, and were looked down upon by the people in power, who were afraid of the effects. As a result, the hip people created their own culture … language, signs, symbols.

San Francisco is a spiritual “shivdas” [meeting ground]. The word hip has changed into hippie today. But basically, Swamiji, the young people today are seekers. They’re interested in all forms of spirituality.

SWAMIJI: Very nice.

GINSBERG: The hippies will all fall by at one time or another.

There was some discussion regarding New York’s Lower East Side and the Haight-Ashbury in San Francisco—both of which are locations of Krishna Consciousness temples, and are well-known to Allen Ginsberg. Then:

SWAMIJI: You have not had LSD, Allen?

GINSBERG: I have had it.

SWAMIJI: It is dependence, Allen.

GINSBERG: It’s like a car—a mental car—to resolve certain inner things.

SWAMIJI: Krishna Consciousness resolves everything. Nothing else is needed.

They then discussed the upcoming dance at the Avalon. Allen Ginsberg felt that certain mantras would be more palatable to American ears than others, and that he would like to try his tune at the dance. Swamiji agreed: “Very nice.”

Poet Ginsberg said he was not yet ready to become a devotee, but that he chants the Maha Mantra every day, and will do so until he leaves this Earth. The Swami thanked him for the work he’d already done in spreading the Kirtan (Krishna Conscious) Movement, and assured him that, if he chanted Hare Krishna daily, “everything will be perfect.”

Allen Ginsberg then prostrated himself, and, touching the Swami’s feet, he symbolically wiped the dust from them onto his forehead. Then, with a few sweetballs in a paper bag under his arm, he took his leave.

Source - https://mail.google.com/mail/u/0/#inbox/153e05a239e68fa3

Preaching program in Moscow, Russia (Album with photos)
Srila Prabhupada: Pure devotees chant the Hare Krishna mantra, and simply by hearing this chanting from a purified transcendental person, one is purified of all sinful activities, no matter how lowborn or fallen one may be. (Sri Caitanya-caritamrta, Antya-lila, 3.126 Purport)
Find them here: https://goo.gl/YHcUfu

Source - http://m.dandavats.com/?p=20257

Scenes from the Nandagram- Farm Community, Gujarat, India (Album with photos)
Srila Prabhupada: Our centers are like the oasis in a vast desert. In the desert there is no water, but occasionally if one is fortunate he may come in contact with an oasis and he is saved. Similarly in this material world we are drying up due to a lack of spiritual knowledge. Our ISKCON centers are meant to give relief to the dried up conditioned souls who are searching after the nectar of joyful life. Letter to Bhagavan, December 18, 1970.
Find them here: https://goo.gl/sZkOhJ

Source - http://m.dandavats.com/?p=20265

In 1976, when Srila Prabhupada visited New Vrindaban for the last time, the community was caring for four working teams of oxen and over 150 cows. A new barn had been erected in Bahulaban, and Prabhupada visited it to see the cows and four new-born calves. He let one of them lick his hand as a devotee told him how the cows were yielding about 120 gallons of milk every day, which they were turning into ghee, cheese and buttermilk. Prabhupada was pleased. But there was one cow he still hadn’t seen. Kaliya, now fourteen years old, was the retired matriarch of New Vrindaban’s herd. She had given birth to eight calves herself, and up until the previous year, had still been producing about six gallons of milk a day for the Lord and the devotees -- despite having maladies common to aging cows of her breed, such as blindness in one eye and respiratory problems.

Writing in Brijbasi Spirit magazine, cowherd Amburish Das described how Kaliya -- the smallest cow in New Vrindaban at 800 pounds -- never pushed and shoved to eat grain as the other cows did, but stood patiently waiting her turn. “There may be some mild cows, but Mother Kaliya is even more than mild -- she is a devotee,” he said. “Her humility is unmatched.” This rare soul was finally reunited with Srila Prabhupada after seven years in a meeting that left an indelible mark in the minds and hearts of those who witnessed it. Towards the end of his visit,

Prabhupada walked with a large group of devotees to go see Sri Sri Radha Vrindaban Nath in the farmhouse temple at the old Vrindaban farm, where Kaliya resided. It was a beautiful morning, the rays of the rising sun shining hazily through a light mist. As Prabhupada rounded a curve and spotted the Vrindaban farmhouse in the distance, one of the devotees, Advaitacarya Das, pointed to a small herd of cows far up at the top of “Govardhana Hill,” which rose to their left. “Srila Prabhupada, look!” he said. “There’s Kaliya. She’s our first cow. You used to drink her milk.” Suddenly, as Prabhupada looked up at her, Kaliya broke away from her herd and made her way alone down the steep bank. Matching the devotees’ pace, she stepped out right in front of Srila Prabhupada, and began walking with him as if she were his pet calf. “Ah,” Srila Prabhupada said simply. “My dear old friend Kaliya.”

She continued to walk with him for some time, a quiet connection hanging between them that the devotees all felt. Then, finally Kaliya picked up her pace and disappeared over the horizon. “For me, it was a mystical experience,” says Advaita. “Srila Prabhupada was always preaching that we’re all trying to get to Vrindavana, where Krishna and his cowherd boy friends are eternally playing and taking care of the cows. And to see Kaliya come down the hill and walk with him like that just made it all very real.”

- memory by Madhava Smullen (source)

Hare Krishna

Source - http://servantoftheservant-ananda.blogspot.in/2016/04/prabhupada-and-kaliya.html

THE IMPORTANCE OF COMBINING “HORIZONTAL” GROWTH WITH “VERTICAL,” OR SPIRITUAL, GROWTH: Much of what I write about could be called “horizontal” growth, or tools, thinking processes, angles of vision, or making the mind our friend, that while in of themselves are not counted as bhakti, they're essential for it, and to me, inseparable for remaining, or becoming, an enthusiastic devotee, and happy human being—the spiritual and material sides of life. Horizontal growth means in the broadest sense being a balanced person strongly influenced by the mode of goodness, where our physical, emotional, mental, and intellectual requirements are naturally addressed, but in such a way as to be made favorable for bhakti practices.

To put this in devotee lingo, we could say this is within the purpose of the socio-religious system of Varnasrama, but to me, without the baggage. Without getting into the details, formally designating a person as this or that varna appears counter-productive in today’s world. However, we can serve its purpose by helping devotees discover and deal with their life issues, become balanced and happy human beings, and find an occupation, and possibly a mate, that compliments their natural proclivities, all within the context of spiritual advancement.

Many devotees struggle from not addressing their past or personal life issues which bleed into their spiritual lives and can make it difficult to avoid making aparadhas or offenses to others and in fully absorbing themselves in sadhana, which is the ultimate healing method. In such a condition we have a divided mind and our out of integrity and in conflict with ourselves.

Some say to me, “Just chant Hare Krishna!”

Sure, if you can chant purely without distraction, and are happy in the process—go for it. I am all for that, and see the purpose of personal growth work as total absorption in the spiritual life.

Simply stated, If your dealings with other people don’t trigger your past hurts with the same kinds of relationship problems continuing to reoccur, but instead your dealings with others are generally full of kindness, compassion, and love, and you are happy and making spiritual progress, then you don’t need anything else.

In my experience, without focused, and often, assisted introspection and personal growth work, this is extremely rare. Regardless of how balanced we are, most devotees can benefit from assistance in understanding themselves, because we all have our blind spots and many have unhealthy ways of relating to at least some types of persons. Compassionate and wise feedback are an essential part of spiritual advancement.

We see sometimes devotees who have been practicing strict sadhana for 30 or 40 years who feel stuck in their lives, feel something is missing, and are not happy people. They may have being doing everything right in terms of sadhana, but have never engaged in serious introspection to sort out their past and really understand themselves.

We can do harm to ourselves by using our spiritual life as an excuse to not embrace our humanity, and understand what we need to do as our life’s work. This is why every temple and community of Vaishnavas needs to address both the personal growth and spiritual needs of its members, and is why we need an army of professional devotee therapists and lay counselors who know when to refer out. This is my bias based on my own personal growth work and in working with devotees.

WHAT WE LOVE CAN REVEAL OUR OCCUPATIONAL DIRECTION and PEOPLE WHO LOVE SOMETHING ARE THE BEST TEACHERS ABOUT IT: This is another simple, profound truth, and yet for me, and perhaps others, naming what we love can be a challenge. Personally, growing up, I came to see love as a meaningless word. First of all, I was so emotionally shut down, or out of touch with myself as a defense to a violent home, I never felt the emotion, and only officially, occasionally used it.

Then, when my mother—from my perspective—left me with my alcoholic father, when I visited her she would say she “loved me.” I questioned what kind of loving person would abandon me. After talking up the path of bhakti at 19 and living as a single monk, I also imbibed a further view that love was only for Krishna, and anything else was lust.

So in a sense, love became like a four letter, or curse, word, reinforcing my previous negative association with it. It represented attachment and bodily consciousness, and we “weren’t the body,” so it was to be avoided. We didn’t want to be sentimentalists! As it turns out this is a very shallow understanding of bhakti, and is an incomplete view our teaching more akin to the impersonalist path of jnana which stressed renunciation and detachment for their own sake.

However, since I was with other inexperienced persons, many of whom were recovering from the acute distress of living a materialistic life, and from relationships which were not centered on God, it was a natural response to the lifestyle we were trying to transcend. Many perspectives or practices may be good for a while, but not for all time, and some are our life, like hearing and chanting about Krishna!

After I first moved out of the temple in search of my material self, healing from my past, and finding my calling, I used to listen to motivational speakers. I greatly appreciated their teachings, but I got to the point of trying to apply them to my life, and I came up short. I would hear, “Live with passion,” from Tony Robbins, and I would draw a blank. This was partially due to my past as I outlined above, but also my particular mellow, laidback personality. Thus it has taken me a long time and much personal growth work and sadhana to really understand what I “love” to do.

Now, love can be used very cheaply too, like “I love ice cream,” but if we can go deeper in personal maturity we can uncover what moves us to action, what we are stimulated to think about, or what we're enthused (i.e. love) to do with our time. To me this is essential in uncovering our gifts and life work. There is a book with the title, “Do What You Love, The Money will Follow,” which expands on this. Generally we will only excel at what we love to do, and this is one of the many secrets of a fulfilling life, that, and doing our work as a devotional offering.

My hope is that you will spend some time with this idea, especially if you are searching to better understand yourself and what you are meant to do as a way to serve God, or Krishna. What we love is also our “fun.” So to me, my fun is sharing this with you and ideally seeing how you apply it and are transformed in the process.

Source: http://www.krishna.com/blog/2016/04/1/importance-combining-%E2%80%9Chorizontal%E2%80%9D-growth-%E2%80%9Cvertical%E2%80%9D-growth-and-power-love-reveal-our

The sun rose on the eastern horizon. My taxi wound onward and onward through tiny villages of thatched huts and hand-painted advertisements towards the holy land of Vrindavan.

Five years.

Five years had spun by since I had last come to Vrindavan. My heart ached with prayers to see past the pollution and noise and Westernization to experience the essence of Vrindavan. The real Vrindavan. The sacred Vrindavan.

We edged closer and closer to Vrindavan and I folded my palms to sing and to pray. Tears came to my eyes. I wanted the real Vrindavan and yet I struggled with the possibility of what I was going to see. I would be in Vrindavan for only three days, conducting both business and pilgrimage. Three days to get it all done, three days to get to the essence.

My second morning, I woke up scribbling shopping lists in my mind. By the time I walked over to the temple of Krishna Balaram for morning services, my mind was SWIMMING with stuff to get done in Loi Bazaar. I was eager to sit down and do a full inventory of all cash outflows on this trip, and my mind raced with plans.

While in the temple, I thought, "I know I have only chanted two rounds of japa meditation, but let me just spend an hour or two on this accounting first. Then my mind will be more at ease and I'll be able to be more focused in japa."

When I came back to my room, I felt: No.

Krishna is first. Krishna is priority. I must put Him first.

I decided to chant a minimum of eight rounds, sitting down, in my room, before doing anything else.

I "looked" at the sound of the holy name springing from my mouth. I remembered that the definition of "mantra" is man - mind, tra - to control, so a mantra is meant to control my mind. And recently, I felt that my mind was controlling ME.

I realized that of course my mind is going to wander. So I was forgiving. I came back, came back to the sound. Every time I came back to the sound of the holy name, there was this feeling of "whuuuumph" like my mind had been flying around and suddenly I was pulled down to land, whuuuuumph, back on the holy name. It was awesome. I almost felt like I could hear thatwhuuuuumph sound.

Shopping lists dissolved. My burning desire for that lovely scarf faded. 

I had thought that I had had important business to accomplish and to chant japa was a secondary chore. In those moments of listening to the sound of the holy name, I realized that chanting attentive japa actually empowers me to accomplish ten times what I thought I could ever accomplish.

Thus eight rounds became ten, ten became twelve.

In this simple effort of mine to chant the holy name and SHOW my sincerity, I believe that Krishna reciprocated tenfold and He gave me darshan - or divine vision - of Sri Vrindavan Dham.

After chanting, as I had predicted, my mind was razor sharp and I blazed through my accounting.

When I made my final calculation, I put down my pen and picked up my japa bag and headed down to visit the rooms of Srila Prabhupad. Whenever Srila Prabhupad came to Vrindavan in his later years, he would live in these rooms, and ultimately he left the world in these rooms. Just by walking through the doorway, my mind became as quiet and warm as when I was chanting japa.

Hung on the wall was a picture of Srila Prabhupad that sent chills racing through my body. 

My mind flashed with images of what I think is love - romance and dances and sweet words and smiles. But this picture showed me true love. Srila Prabhupad's body is emaciated, he is lying on his deathbed, which was in this very room, and a disciple holds a dictaphone to his mouth. He is giving commentary on the tenth canto of the Srimad Bhagavatam. 

In those final moments of his life, he was serving. Giving truth. Giving love.

Let me love the way you love, Srila Prabhupada.

I sat down to chant in front of his murti, or sacred statue, which was seated behind his original desk. In my short time there, I saw an elderly woman from Russia and a monk from India and a young couple from South America come to bow before him. I realized that we all owe him our lives. All of us. 

When I left Prabhupad's rooms, I was on my way to the Welcome Center to book a taxi to get to the airport on Sunday morning. I ran into a girl I've known for several years now, her name is Indulekha, and we started chatting. I got to connect in with the friends she was traveling with, as well as her mother.

We all ended up having lunch together at the MVT restaurant. At lunch, I was told that tomorrow was the celebration of Holi and it would be impossible to do shopping in Loi Bazaar. It would be dangerous. Scary. Hearing their stories, I felt scared.

It dawned on me that I needed to squeeze in not only the rest of my business but all of my pilgrimage goals into one evening.That evening. Oh boy.

In the late afternoon, we set out for Loi Bazaar, the four of us a motley crew - France, Russia, and the US all rolled into one spicy mixture. We talked about Krishna nonstop. We whirled our way through various stores, on a quest to discover an elusive item. At last we were triumphant at the new Ganga Prasad shop near Radha Shyamasundar temple. We high-fived each other!

When I was paying for the bill, I took out my business binder to account for this expense. The pen that I fished out of my bag was this gold pen that  I had brought to India to write elegant thank you notes and such. I wrote the mundane financial equation out in the glittering gold ink and Veni Madhava commented, "Hm, a gold pen,"

"Oh yes," I smiled a little bashfully. I put it back in my bag and fished out a blue pen.

Since we were so close to Radha Damodar Mandir, I declared how much I wanted to go there, and the other ladies were happy to go too. We entered the busy temple, which was blasting with music from the musicians who had set up in the courtyard. Holi was getting into full swing. Radha Damodar were holding little metal Holi syringes, and the other Radha Krishna deities were holding plastic ones! Temple-goers were splashed in bright pink and green and yellow and danced in circles.

The four of us headed into Srila Prabhupad's  humble rooms. His murti was there, also seated behind a desk, studiously bent over with his hand poised holding a pen. We commenced to chant japa. Despite the deafening music, suddenly the room felt quiet, like we were in a cocoon.

When the music paused, I said, "Hey, you guys, lets do a little kirtan while they've stopped their music,"

So we all started singing together, and immediately the music started blasting away again, so we just sang louder. We sang at the top of our lungs!! I suddenly realized that we wouldn't have been singing at the top of our lungs with such abandon, grinning from ear to ear, our hearts pounding, if that loud music hadn't been there. And so inside my heart I offered my gratitude to the musicians, for they had provoked our wild enthusiasm and love for Prabhupad with our chant of "Jaya Prabhupada Jaya Prabhupada Jaya Prabhupada Jaya Prabhupada!!!"

When we had triumphantly concluded our brief kirtan, something curious happened. Veni Madhava said to me, "Why don't you give Prabhupad your gold pen, and take the one he's holding?"

I was astonished, surprised with this idea. "Really? But I've already written with the pen I have, is that okay?"

"Sure," she said.

So with a big smile, I crept forward and replaced Prabhupad's simple ballpoint pen with my gold pen.

The significance of this hit me after we left the temple, and for hours afterward. Prabhupad had somehow guided me so that I would be given his pen, and in his rooms at Radha Damodar where he wrote such powerful scripture in his meditation to save the fallen souls. I am praying that I may follow in his footsteps and write as a service to Krishna.

When my friends left the room, I lingered to offer prayers for a soulful wedding and marriage. When I went to join them, they weren't waiting at the temple entrance. I realized that maybe they had gone to Prabhupad's kitchen. So I headed back inside the temple. My friends weren't there; nevertheless I fell to my knees to offer obeisance.

Propped up against the wall is a picture of Srila Prabhupad quietly eating lunch, taken before he had traveled to the Western world. He is gazing out at the samadhi of Rupa Goswami and his expression conveys his meditation on how to fulfill the Goswami's wishes to share Krishna with the world. So I folded my palms and my prayer came out as a mantra, "The holy name, vaishnava culture, the holy name, vaishnava culture, holy name, vaishnava culture, holy name, vaishnava culture, holy name, vaishnava culture...." I was tingling all over.

When at last we all met up again, my friends said that they wanted to go to the temple of Radha Raman. Although Radha Raman was on my list of places to go, I hesitated because I still had much more shopping to do. But if I didn't go to Radha Raman today, NOW, I would not go at all.

Krishna first. Put Krishna first. Go with the devotees.

I looked at my binder, saw areas where I could adjust, snapped the binder shut and put it in my bag. I would go to Radha Raman.

Darkness had fallen, and our walk to the ancient temple via a shrouded alleyway was fraught with foreboding monkeys and streams of people shouting, their eyes wild and their clothes and faces splashed with crazy colors. When we reached the quiet and ancient temple, apprehension ran through my blood. When we approached the actual temple of Radha Raman, we saw that right outside of the temple entrance people were throwing color and immediately we were all like, "No way." Ruining our nice clothes was one thing. Possible assault was another. 

I folded my palms and called out, "I love you Radha Raman, I do, but this isn't going to work,"

I felt some disappointment but also relief that we were unanimous in turning around. But then Veni Madhava said, "Hey, I have a place to show you to get the special mercy,"

"Really? But how?" I said to her retreating back. She had turned down another dimly lit pathway. We all followed, dubious. Suddenly I could hear kirtan, and I was amazed. Were we coming into the temple the back way or something??

But no, we had come to a room that was full of babajis singing kirtan. This was Sri Gopal Bhatta Goswami's samadhi, the saint who had established this temple hundreds of years ago and had worshiped Sri Radha Raman with such love. The kirtan was so soulful, so straight-up Vrindavan. In those moments, I stepped through all of my painful surface notions of Vrindavan and entered deep into sacred Vrindavan. My friends circumambulated the altar. I sat down to absorb the singing

Although we didn't get to see Sri Radha Raman, we got to offer our respects to His most beloved servant, and that was almost like we had taken darshan of Radha Raman Himself, as He is most pleased when His devotees are glorified.

Then we headed out to catch a rickshaw back to Krishna Balaram. We bartered with some of the wallahs there but they were all too expensive. At last, one younger man stepped forward and said that he would take us for 60 rupees. We agreed, and he lead us to a nice auto rickshaw that sat the four of us. Our driver was this old, old man with a turban on his head and a smile upon his bright and weathered face. Just by looking at him, one could see that he was a gentle, sweethearted Brajabasi.

The most amazing thing? He was taking us back to Krishna Balaram via the parikrama marg. This meant that we would have darshan of the sacred places of Imli Tala, Radha Madan Mohan, Kaliya Ghat, Yamuna devi, and so much more. We were being taken on pilgrimage by a true Brajabasi. All of us were so delighted and amazed at our good fortune. The whole way home we exclaimed over the various holy places and offered our respects as we drove by, the temples and the river all silhouettes in the moonlit night.

This was my Vrindavan day. I am still in wonder, total wonder that somehow, SOMEHOW, Krishna answered my prayers to experience the real Vrindavan. I could have never planned such a day in a million years. But somehow, each piece of the puzzle fell together, like magic, magic, magic.

I firmly believe, though, that it all began with a drop of sincerity to chant the holy name. Put Krishna first. The magic will follow 

Source: http://seedofdevotion.blogspot.in/2016/04/vrindavan-magic.html?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed:+SeedOfDevotion+(Seed+of+Devotion)

HG Hrdaya Chaitanya Prabhu a member of our GBC body met India’s PM, Narendra Modi, yesterday at Brussels, Belgium. 

Source: http://m.dandavats.com/?p=20230 ;

Srivasa Thakura is a close associate of Caitanya Mahaprabhu and a member of the Panca Tattva. He is understood as tatastha-shakti, a marginal energy of Krsna. Devotees who are headed by Srivasa Thakura are described as ‘parts’ of transcendental body of Sri Caitanya Mahaprabhu.

They all participated in His transcendental pastimes and helped to spread Krsna consciousness, sankirtana-yajna. On the other hand, Srivasa is also Narada – an eternal transcendental associate of Lord Krsna.

Srivasa was studying Srimad-Bhagavatam with Advaita Acarya, who was at that time in Navadvipa. They worshiped Krsna, who as an answer to their prayers, appeared as Caitanya Mahaprabhu

The home of Srivasa, Srivas-angam, was a place where Sri Caitanya perform sankirtana-yajna, congregational chanting of Krsna’s Holy Names.

Source: http://www.ramaiswami.com/srivasa-thakur-appearance/

Question: 

Is there any scientific explanation for the concept of changing bodies? Could a spirit soul transfer to a completely different universe or dimension? Does the soul remain in the body after death for any amount of time?

Our Answer:
Anyone can prove to themselves, using scientific methods, that they perpetually remain the same conscious entity while the body perpetually changes. It's simply a matter of hypothesis and observation. Depending on what kind of science you accept as valid, the Bhagavad-gita gives a thoroughly scientific explanation of transmigration of consciousness through different bodies, especially in the eighth chapter. You may also want to examine Dr. Ian Stevenson's three thousand case studies of children remembering past lives.

A conscious being, atma, may conceivably be transferred to any part of the material world in the next life. One's destination after death is based on the decision of God and His representatives. Our karma and our desire is factored in.

The soul leaves the body at death and does not remain in the body. 

Source: http://www.krishna.com/there-scientific-explanation-changing-bodies

ārtā devān namasyanti

tapaḥ kurvanti rogiṇaḥ

nirdhanā dānam icchanti

vṛddhā nārī pati-vratā

ārtāh — the distressed; devān — to the gods; namasyanti — pay obeisances; tapaḥ — austerities; kurvanti — perform; rogiṇaḥ — the diseased; nirdhanāh — the poverty-stricken; dānam — donations; icchanti — desire [to give]; vṛddhā — old; nārī — lady; pati-vratā — is devoted to her husband;
“The distressed automatically start paying obeisances to the gods [for they have no other option]. The diseased naturally perform various austerities [for they have no other option]. The poverty-stricken desire to give big donations [for they do not have the option of doing it in real life] and an old lady automatically shows devotion to her husband [for all hope of attracting paramours is lost].”

— (Subhāṣita-ratna-bhāṇḍāgāra, Sāmānya-nītiḥ, page 157, Verse 168)

[Verse and translation provided by Hari Parshad Prabhu] 

Life’s temptations frequently deviate us from the right path – they make us give up principle for pleasure. Conversely life’s tribulations, especially tribulations that we have no hope of solving on our own, impel us to the right path; they make us accept the available even if it is not particularly appealing, because the alternative is utterly unpalatable. This Subhashita talks about such forced choosing of the right course of action.

People often have a similar utilitarian attitude towards God. Such motivated devotion is usually interrupted devotion. When things go wrong in our life, we come rushing to God; and when things start looking up, we bid him goodbye.

The mistaken notion that God is a dispensable means is illustrated in an insurance company’s ad: “If you don’t have our insurance, it’s time to say your prayers.” Actually, it is always the time to say our prayers and to connect with God. Why? Because we as souls are his eternal parts, and we can find lasting happiness only in loving and serving him. Moreover, even in dealing with our practical problems while living in this material world, no solution can work without God’s sanction. Srimad-Bhagavatam (7.9.19) illustrates how the apparent solution can’t provide the actual solution, if divine sanction is missing: parents can’t always protect their children; medicines can’t always save the sick; and boats can’t always rescue the drowning. Extending this principle, we can contemplate that the insurance company too can’t guarantee us relief. What if it goes bankrupt at the same time when we are facing a crisis?

Of course, motivated devotion is better than no devotion at all – instead of living godlessly, we at least believe in God and worship him, even if for self-centered purposes. How we can rise from motivated devotion to pure devotion is outlined in the Bhagavad-gita (07.16-19). The first verse (07.16) mentions four kinds of people who approach Krishna and start worshiping him: the distressed, the inquisitive, the wealth-seekers and the knowledgeable. Krishna appreciates all of them for their piety in approaching him – he calls them as large-hearted (07.18). Yet he lauds especially the knowledgeable, for they are unmotivated in approaching him – they are interested only in him, so their devotion is one-pointed (07.17). He concludes the section by declaring (07.19) that after many lifetimes, the motivated become unmotivated when they finally understand that Krishna is everything – he is the embodiment and fulfillment of all our heart’s aspiration for happiness (vasudevah sarvam iti).

When we see Krishna as a means to an end, we focus on him only till we get that end. Not only that, if we feel that we can get that end by some other means, we turn away from him. If we find that we can’t get it by any other means, we return to him. But such return doesn’t last for long – it ends when we start feeling that some other means might work better. Thus, we keep taking U-turns in our journey towards Krishna.

The best way to come end such oscillation is by philosophically understanding and experientially realizing that he is the highest end of everything. And Krishna is the end not in the negative sense of the exhaustion of something desirable – he is the end in the positive sense of the termination of something troublesome. Our long and harrying search for happiness that has extended over many turbulent lifetimes ends when we are united with Krishna in love.

Source: http://www.thespiritualscientist.com/2016/03/god-not-means-end-highest-end/

There is no easy translation into English of the Sanskrit word, bhakti. It’s a bit of an anomaly. Bhakti is love, specifically divine love, but even the word love itself is a poor attempt to describe this most cherished of all emotions.

By Ravindra Svarupa dasa

In Sanskrit the word haṁsa is the name for both a bird and an advanced yogī. The bird has such estimable qualities that its very name became applied to the spiritual practitioner.

In English, Prabhupāda followed a well-established convention and rendered haṁsa as “swan.” The advancedyogī or devotee is accordingly “swan-like.”

For example, Prabhupāda once remarked, in reference to his disciples: “So Kṛṣṇa consciousness means swan-like, they should be like swans. Their behavior should be like swans. They should live in clean place, at refreshing place.”

In this second usage, haṁsa has probably become most generally encountered when prefixed by the superlativeparama, meaning “highest,” best,” and so on.  Strictly speaking, paramahaṁsa denotes the highest of the four ranks of sannyāsa (see ŚBh 5.1.27, purport), but it is used in more general sense to describe the best of the sages or devotees.

We often see the word placed as a title before the names of a variety of spiritual teachers.

If dedicated transcendentalists are compared to swans, it should come as no surprise that committed materialists are likened to crows. The Bhāgavatam (1.5.10) describes worldly literature as vāyasaṁ tīrtham—a pilgrimage site for crows, that is to say, a garbage pile. In his commentary to this text, Prabhupāda elaborates on the bird metaphor:

Crows and swans are not birds of the same feather because of their different mental attitudes. The fruitive workers or passionate men are compared to the crows, whereas the all-perfect saintly persons are compared to the swans. The crows take pleasure in a place where garbage is thrown out, just as the passionate fruitive workers take pleasure in wine and woman and places for gross sense pleasure. The swans do not take pleasure in the places where crows are assembled for conferences and meetings. They are instead seen in the atmosphere of natural scenic beauty where there are transparent reservoirs of water nicely decorated with stems of lotus flowers in variegated colors of natural beauty. That is the difference between the two classes of birds.

A special talent traditionally attributed to the haṁsa is said to be the basis of the extension of the avian name to a spiritually advanced person. Prabhupāda explains (Kṛṣṇa chapter 85):

The word paramahaṁsa mentioned here means “the supreme swan.” It is said that the swan can draw milk from a mixture of milk and water; it can take only the milk portion and reject the watery portion. Similarly, a person who can draw out the spiritual portion from this material world and who can live alone, depending only on the Supreme Spirit, not on the material world, is called a paramahaṁsa.

Even one of the avatāras of the Lord bears the name “Haṁsa.”

Therefore, after all this, it may come as a shock to discover that the avian haṁsa is, in fact, a goose—in taxonomical nomenclature, the anser indicus, known otherwise as the “bar-headed goose.”

As we shall see, the haṁsa—the anser indicus—is an extraordinary,  amazing bird fully qualified to give its name to great devotees and even to the Lord himself. So why then the English “swan?”

The reason can only be that in English-speaking countries, the goose has long been the subject of very bad p.r.  So much so, that the very word “goose” has come to be synonymous with “fool” or “idiot.”

Even proverbially, the goose has suffered invidious comparison with the swan, as, for example, in this still remembered observation—made in 1786—by Horace Walpole, Fourth Earl of Oxford, concerning the painter Sir Joshua Reynolds : “All his own geese are swans, as the swans of others are geese.”

Two centuries later, the goose received the same unfavorable evaluation in popular lines by Charles Kingsley:

When all the world is young, lad,
And all the trees are green;
And every goose a swan, lad,
And every lass a queen. . . .

It’s no wonder, then, that the only good translation, connotatively speaking, for haṁsa is “swan.” It’s a no-brainer, really: Consider the expressions “goose-like great sage,” or “top-most goose-like devotee.” They just don’t do the job.

Nevertheless, it is time we end this historic discrimination and rehabilitate the goose. Especially the haṁsa. Of course, this effort was pioneered in the celebrated 2001 documentary Winged Migration, in which the haṁsa itself takes a cameo star-turn (see the beginning of Chapter 7 in the DVD).

The actual haṁsa—anser indicus or bar-headed goose—is in its own right the perfect emblem and symbol for the greatest of transcendentalists.

Like the swan (Cygnus), it is beautiful . . .

. . . and likewise graceful in water:

In fact, you can see from this photograph why Europeans could take the haṁsa for a kind of swan.

In flight, the haṁsa is spectacular:

Interestingly, the Wikipedia article notes of the haṁsa: “It has sometimes been separated from Anser, which has no other member indigenous to the Indian region, nor any at all to the Ethiopian, Australian, or Neotropical regions, and placed in the monotypic genus Eulabeia.”

A “mon0typic genus” is a genus that contains only one species. In other words, the haṁsa is in a class by itself. And not a goose (Anser). I don’t know who came up with the name Eulabeia, but it is appropriate: According to alexicon of New Testament Greek, eulabia means “reverence toward God.”

Haṁsas are “super birds,” in the judgment of S. Marsh Tenney, a professor of physiology who has studied them extensively. “They do everything even better than other birds.” He is quoted in an article in Audubon magazine by Lily Whiteman, who gives quite an account of the birds’ annual prodigious feat:

At 29,028 feet, Mount Everest is tall enough to poke into the jet stream, a high-altitude river of wind that blows at speeds of more than 200 miles an hour. Temperatures on the mountain can plummet low enough to freeze exposed flesh instantly. Its upper reaches offer only a third of the oxygen available at sea level—so little that if you could be transported instantly from sea level to Everest’s summit, without time to acclimatize, you would probably lose consciousness within minutes. Kerosene cannot burn here; helicopters cannot fly here. Yet every spring, flocks of bar-headed geese—the world’s highest-altitude migrants—fly from their winter feeding grounds in the lowlands of India through the Himalayan range, sometimes even directly above Everest, on their way to their nesting grounds in Tibet. Then every fall these birds retrace their route to India. With a little help from tailwinds, they may be able to cover the one-way trip—more than 1,000 miles—in a single day.

In other words, the haṁsa when migrating flies at about the normal cruising altitude for passenger jets.

Moreover, by using tailwinds, the geese capitalize on weather that could pulverize lesser creatures. “These birds are powerful flappers, not soarers that just glide with the wind,” says M.R. Fedde, an emeritus professor of anatomy and physiology at Kansas State University’s School of Veterinary Medicine, who has conducted laboratory studies of the bar-headed goose’s respiratory system. Partly because their wings are huge, have a disproportionately large surface area for their weight, and are pointed to reduce wind resistance, “they can fly over 50 miles an hour on their own power,” Fedde says. “Add the thrust of tailwinds of perhaps 100 miles an hour if they are lucky, and these birds really move.” Able to gauge and correct for drift, bar-headed geese can even fly in crosswinds without being blown off course. The same powerful and unremitting flapping that helps propel them over the mountains also generates body heat, which is retained by their down feathers. This heat, in turn, helps keep ice from building up on their wings.

(Here is the complete article, with more wonders of the bird and some speculation so far-fetched it only deepens the mysteries of the haṁsa.)

We hear of great yogīs and sages in past ages retiring to the Himalayan mountain fastness to practice severe austerities as they sought the divine in profound and prolonged meditation. It is said that by power of yoga practice, these paramahaṁsas could greatly reduce their respiration, thereby slowing their metabolism; they could at will increase their bodily heat. Thus remaining in a remote place which provided them with neither air, nor food, nor heat, they pursued their spiritual goal with unwavering determination.

(By the way: Even though we can hardly imitate them today, we can apply their principles practically—at least according to the directions of Bhāgavad-gītā, which set forth what is, in effect,  a domestication of the path of transcendence. You don’t have to go to the Himalayas: you can do it right at home.)

Yet even for us, the prodigious, Himalayan-traversing haṁsa is a fitting emblem and symbol for the paramahaṁsa, the great, heroic athletes of the spirit in whose footsteps we should follow.  Let us therefore cherish the memory not only of the human paramahaṁsa but of the bird haṁsa as well.

And compared to the haṁsa, the swan is nothing but a goose.

www.soithappens.com 

Source: http://m.dandavats.com/?p=20174 ;

The family of vaisnavas is somehow or other our support. Prabhupada made this movement a very personal one. In the beginning, we overlook how important relationships are because we are not used to it. In the material world, when a relationship does not work, you just cut it off and try another one… then another one and another one.

Now I’m not talking just about friendships. So many friends came and went in our lives in the material world but spiritual relationships are very different. Spiritual friendships are different because devotees are very rare. Therefore, devotees are precious and the relationship with the devotee is precious and once broken it is difficult to repair; not like a broken pot that can be glued back together.

Therefore with devotees we cannot just afford the mentality that if it does not work, get rid of this one and get another one! Because the day will come when we will need all the devotees. The day will come when we will very much depend on devotees because the vaisnavas are sustaining us in our spiritual life and without them it becomes so difficult. The day will come when all artificial behavior in our relationships will have to go because that cannot sustain us and time will test us. As they say, “It all comes out in the wash!” It means that sooner or later, it has to get real.

In the beginning, maybe one can have a Shakespearean performance of Krsna consciousness but at one point we need genuine relationships and genuine friendships. This is very important therefore we must be very careful to make sure we avoid unpleasant exchanges between devotees even for the sake of service. Sometimes, it may be necessary that a devotee is not doing it proper and you have to straighten him out.

We sometimes have to chastise but it is an unfortunate thing to do because in the course of it we may break a relationship. That is just one thought that comes to my mind: friendship between vaisnavas.Friendship is not just by declaration, not just Facebook friends or face-value friends, friendship means more.

Source: https://www.kksblog.com/2016/03/the-family-of-vaisnavas/

By Uddhava Bandhu Das

The yearly boat festival in Vrindavan, part of the Gaura Purnima celebrations, is most popular amongst the devotees. The sunken courtyard of Krishna Balaram Mandir is flooded and becomes a beautiful kund where small Radha Shyamasundara are taken on gentle ride on Their swan boat. They glide to every corner of the lake to the sounds of resounding kirtan to see all Their devotees and admirers.

The surface of the temple lake is completely covered by flower petals by artisans in a beautiful flower rangoli design that mysteriously stay in place. This year’s design includes a huge lotus motif in rose petals with the ISKCON lotus-tilak symbol done in golden flower petals bordered by real floating open pink lotuses.

Seven-hundred kilos of flower petals were used to decorate the temple room and used by devotees to rain down on their Lordships that created a festival for the eyes. In total, over one-hundred thousand individual flowers were used for the festival decorations, taking sixty devotees about thirty-six straight hours.

The Vrindavan boat festival originally started in 1979, but we learn from long-time resident Daivi shakti Mataji that interestingly, the temple was purpose-built by Surabhi Prabhu to be flooded for a boat festival from its inception.

In the early days of the festival, devotees would perform dramas and place bhoga on the different banks of the temple lake. The Deities would then stop in Their boat to view the dramas and accept the devotees offerings. 

Source: http://m.dandavats.com/?p=20186 ;