119 VOLUME 8 |ISSUE 3 |2017
For many who joined ISKCON, the principal impetus for bypassing
or leaping over the rational impediments to joining was having
one or more subjective bouts of bliss, often while chanting. I can
relate the following from my own story: Several days after I’d
tentatively moved into the Boulder, Colorado temple, while still
in the process of deciding whether or not to take the leap, I was
riding in a van full of devotees returning from downtown Denver,
where we’d been chanting all day. The devotees were each reciting
the Hare Krishna mantra individually on prayer beads, some softly,
some more loudly, some in a monotone, others in a singsong way.
I was also chanting on the beads that had been issued to me. At
a certain point during the ride, the cumulative sound of mantra
recitation welled up into a kind of sweet, shimmering wave of
sound, which in my imagination seemed to be pouring out of
some mysterious realm of beauty and profundity. Awash in the
sound of chanting, I began to feel a wave of bliss rise up in me, a
tangible feeling of extreme happiness and lightness, all burdens
lifted, all knots untied, all things made good. The feeling didn’t
result from any particular thought or pattern of reflection, from
any process of intellectual synthesis or resolution. It was simply
a rich, delicious, sublime, subjective feeling of bliss, ecstasy—an
unexpected, indescribable sensation of mental clarity and peace.
That sensation was so delectable, so uniquely wonderful, and such
a gift to a mind in deep conflict, that I consciously said to myself (I
remember this quite clearly):
If by chanting Hare Krishna and practicing Krishna
Consciousness I might come to a point one day where
I’ll feel what I’m feeling now all the time, then I’m ready
to do whatever is required. I want that sweet, pure, clear,
lovely feeling so badly I’ll do anything to get there. If
this particular feeling, this rich, dense, sublime emotion,
this intimation of perfect wholeness and harmony is
what this practice leads to, then I’ll make whatever
sacrifice is necessary to stay on the path. I’ll follow
the guru. I’ll be celibate. I’ll study hard. I’ll work hard.
Whatever it takes.
By the following day, still aglow, I was starting not to let the
negatives bother me too much, to pay them less attention. The
lingering memory of the bliss-bath of the previous evening then
seemed to overwhelm everything else. If you could peer into my
mind, you’d have heard an internal monologue that sounded
something like this:
OK. So, I don’t really understand the male/female
separation thing. But I think it has something to do with
purity and detachment and transcending. I guess it’s
just a necessary part of the process. The devotees say
it’s about a kind of mutual respect, a way of allowing
each other space to advance on the path. I can sort of
understand that.
And what about giving up acid? They say chanting takes
you to a place even higher than LSD and lets you stay
there forever. I think I felt a little of that while chanting
last night, and I’m sure there are higher states to
experience. If I stay around, I could become enlightened
naturally, without acid. I can do that.
And yeah, they all do seem kind of hard–core, kind of
obsessed with their spiritual practice. They’re totally
and deeply into this and have cut themselves off from
everything else. That seems kind of extreme, but it does
seem to work for them. It’s obvious they’re happy. I
guess you have to get that serious, that focused, that
self-denying, to achieve a high spiritual state. Am I ready
for this? I think I am.
What about surrendering to the guru? In pictures he
looks really blissful—obviously he’s in some higher state.
And the devotees seem to really love him. Some of them
have seen him and talk about how incredible it was to
be near him and how wonderful and kind he is. For a
long time I’ve been intrigued by the idea of holy men,
people who’ve reached advanced spiritual states. So
maybe he’s one? If he’s a totally enlightened and pure-
hearted teacher, why not become his disciple?
And they seem to have some pretty far out ideas about
gods and goddesses and demons and avatars and
Krishna’s planet in the spiritual world. Seems there’s a
lot of Hindu mythology in this and they seem to take
it all literally. This is pretty far out stuff. But I’ve tripped
enough to know that anything is possible, that the
highest truth is beyond anything I can conceive, so
who’s to say what’s weird and what’s not, what’s true and
what’s not? And those Indian prints of Krishna are pretty
trippy—I really feel something when I look at those. I
suppose the least I can do is be open-minded and try to
experience all this more deeply and see where it takes
me.
But what about all those rules and regulations, following
a strict schedule and having people tell you what to
do? If someone tells me I have to peel fifty potatoes or
sweep and mop the temple floor, I’ll have to do it. Will I
be able to deal with that? But those things do need to
be done and someone’s gotta do them, and I’d be the
new guy and probably have to play humble. But the
thing is, they all seem really nice, genuinely sincere. They
don’t seem to be into exploiting each other. They seem
pretty content. So how bad could it be? I’ll deal with it. I
mean, if they can do it, I can do it.
But if I totally join and stay, it seems I won’t be able to
just come and go when I please. I’ll really be tied to the
ashram. I mean, it’s a full-time commitment. That could
feel a little confining, even claustrophobic. Well, I guess I
can just try it and see how it goes.
And what about the idea that they have the highest
truth, and so I shouldn’t read any books other than their
guru’s? Am I ready for that? I have to admit I’ve read a
lot of philosophical and spiritual books and I’m more
confused than ever. These people seem so happy and
so sure of what they have. So who knows, maybe this
is really it, maybe this is what I need to do. Can’t hurt to
stay around a while and see what happens.
Plus, all of this is from India, which is obviously a spiritual
place with ancient wisdom traditions—all those holy
men meditating in the Himalayas. So I guess it’s road
tested. Plus Allen Ginsberg chants Hare Krishna, and
For many who joined ISKCON, the principal impetus for bypassing
or leaping over the rational impediments to joining was having
one or more subjective bouts of bliss, often while chanting. I can
relate the following from my own story: Several days after I’d
tentatively moved into the Boulder, Colorado temple, while still
in the process of deciding whether or not to take the leap, I was
riding in a van full of devotees returning from downtown Denver,
where we’d been chanting all day. The devotees were each reciting
the Hare Krishna mantra individually on prayer beads, some softly,
some more loudly, some in a monotone, others in a singsong way.
I was also chanting on the beads that had been issued to me. At
a certain point during the ride, the cumulative sound of mantra
recitation welled up into a kind of sweet, shimmering wave of
sound, which in my imagination seemed to be pouring out of
some mysterious realm of beauty and profundity. Awash in the
sound of chanting, I began to feel a wave of bliss rise up in me, a
tangible feeling of extreme happiness and lightness, all burdens
lifted, all knots untied, all things made good. The feeling didn’t
result from any particular thought or pattern of reflection, from
any process of intellectual synthesis or resolution. It was simply
a rich, delicious, sublime, subjective feeling of bliss, ecstasy—an
unexpected, indescribable sensation of mental clarity and peace.
That sensation was so delectable, so uniquely wonderful, and such
a gift to a mind in deep conflict, that I consciously said to myself (I
remember this quite clearly):
If by chanting Hare Krishna and practicing Krishna
Consciousness I might come to a point one day where
I’ll feel what I’m feeling now all the time, then I’m ready
to do whatever is required. I want that sweet, pure, clear,
lovely feeling so badly I’ll do anything to get there. If
this particular feeling, this rich, dense, sublime emotion,
this intimation of perfect wholeness and harmony is
what this practice leads to, then I’ll make whatever
sacrifice is necessary to stay on the path. I’ll follow
the guru. I’ll be celibate. I’ll study hard. I’ll work hard.
Whatever it takes.
By the following day, still aglow, I was starting not to let the
negatives bother me too much, to pay them less attention. The
lingering memory of the bliss-bath of the previous evening then
seemed to overwhelm everything else. If you could peer into my
mind, you’d have heard an internal monologue that sounded
something like this:
OK. So, I don’t really understand the male/female
separation thing. But I think it has something to do with
purity and detachment and transcending. I guess it’s
just a necessary part of the process. The devotees say
it’s about a kind of mutual respect, a way of allowing
each other space to advance on the path. I can sort of
understand that.
And what about giving up acid? They say chanting takes
you to a place even higher than LSD and lets you stay
there forever. I think I felt a little of that while chanting
last night, and I’m sure there are higher states to
experience. If I stay around, I could become enlightened
naturally, without acid. I can do that.
And yeah, they all do seem kind of hard–core, kind of
obsessed with their spiritual practice. They’re totally
and deeply into this and have cut themselves off from
everything else. That seems kind of extreme, but it does
seem to work for them. It’s obvious they’re happy. I
guess you have to get that serious, that focused, that
self-denying, to achieve a high spiritual state. Am I ready
for this? I think I am.
What about surrendering to the guru? In pictures he
looks really blissful—obviously he’s in some higher state.
And the devotees seem to really love him. Some of them
have seen him and talk about how incredible it was to
be near him and how wonderful and kind he is. For a
long time I’ve been intrigued by the idea of holy men,
people who’ve reached advanced spiritual states. So
maybe he’s one? If he’s a totally enlightened and pure-
hearted teacher, why not become his disciple?
And they seem to have some pretty far out ideas about
gods and goddesses and demons and avatars and
Krishna’s planet in the spiritual world. Seems there’s a
lot of Hindu mythology in this and they seem to take
it all literally. This is pretty far out stuff. But I’ve tripped
enough to know that anything is possible, that the
highest truth is beyond anything I can conceive, so
who’s to say what’s weird and what’s not, what’s true and
what’s not? And those Indian prints of Krishna are pretty
trippy—I really feel something when I look at those. I
suppose the least I can do is be open-minded and try to
experience all this more deeply and see where it takes
me.
But what about all those rules and regulations, following
a strict schedule and having people tell you what to
do? If someone tells me I have to peel fifty potatoes or
sweep and mop the temple floor, I’ll have to do it. Will I
be able to deal with that? But those things do need to
be done and someone’s gotta do them, and I’d be the
new guy and probably have to play humble. But the
thing is, they all seem really nice, genuinely sincere. They
don’t seem to be into exploiting each other. They seem
pretty content. So how bad could it be? I’ll deal with it. I
mean, if they can do it, I can do it.
But if I totally join and stay, it seems I won’t be able to
just come and go when I please. I’ll really be tied to the
ashram. I mean, it’s a full-time commitment. That could
feel a little confining, even claustrophobic. Well, I guess I
can just try it and see how it goes.
And what about the idea that they have the highest
truth, and so I shouldn’t read any books other than their
guru’s? Am I ready for that? I have to admit I’ve read a
lot of philosophical and spiritual books and I’m more
confused than ever. These people seem so happy and
so sure of what they have. So who knows, maybe this
is really it, maybe this is what I need to do. Can’t hurt to
stay around a while and see what happens.
Plus, all of this is from India, which is obviously a spiritual
place with ancient wisdom traditions—all those holy
men meditating in the Himalayas. So I guess it’s road
tested. Plus Allen Ginsberg chants Hare Krishna, and
