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Tuesday, November 29, 2016

Thanksgiving Message

Thoughts on Thanksgiving



As an American living in Mexico, I don’t celebrate Thanksgiving so much. Since my mother passed away five years ago, there hasn’t been much need. My Mexican family doesn’t really get it. I try to explain, but it’s just not a Mexican thing.




When I was a kid growing up in Connecticut we did the whole Martha Stewart Thanksgiving with the turkey, dressing, and cranberry sauce. My step-father was French, and he loved the whole idea that the Indians had helped the pilgrims. The French are partial to the ideal of the noble savage first forwarded by Jean Jacques Rousseau. Rousseau, the revolutionary human rights philosopher who felt that humans in their primitive condition are generous and kind.  The American Indians were his example.




Now I’ve used the word “Indians” twice, since that was my upbringing and I was talking about the 60s when I grew up. Nobody says “Indians” any more, of course. It isn’t politically correct. In Spanish the correct nomenclature is gente indigena, which translates as indigenous people. I think this is much better than “Indians” since the native American peoples are not from India. When Colombus found himself on the island of Hispaniola, he thought that he had discovered “India” and took captives for the King of Spain, calling them “Indians.” The name stuck. But in Mexico, anyway, it’s not correct to call people indios anymore.


Squanto at the first Thanksgiving Dinner

My job at the family table every Thanksgiving was to read the story of “Squanto the Indian.” It was the start of my career as a story-teller and teacher. I would read a little book  about how the pilgrims, who had fled religious persecution in Europe, had a hard time surviving in the “New World.” After suffering a particularly bad winter they were helped by Squanto, who showed them how to plant corn and pumpkins, to fish and hunt wild turkey. In gratitude they organized a big feast, and that was the first Thanksgiving. You’ll find some details of the story of Squanto here: http://historyofmassachusetts.org/squanto-the-former-slave/

I was about 11 years old at the time, back in 1962. Since I was to read the story, I began to read everything I could about the “Indians.” I had a huge illustrated book with color paintings of the conquest of the Americas, beginning with Cortez and the Aztecs. There was the history of the Algonquins and the East Coast Indians. I read about the “French and Indian War,” and traced the gradual retreat of the indigenous American peoples to reservations in the West where they were corralled and massacred by settlers. I could understand that the treatment of the American Indians amounted to genocide. When I learned of the real fate of the American Indians, it seemed unfair that they had helped the pilgrims only to be driven away and massacred.


My fascination was heightened when we traveled west and I got to see the big Navaho reservation in Arizona and New Mexico. Here in Mexico, the Southern “Indians” were the Mayans, the Olmecs, Toltecs, Mixtecs and Aztecs who founded the Teotihuacan civilization thousands of years ago. After the conquest they remained, mixed with the Spanish conquerors and created the Criollo and Mestizo culture which served as the basis for the modern Mexican state. Still, while there is a large indigenous population here in Mexico, it’s no paradise.

The native peoples of America are also struggling. There’s not much thanks for them. The Aztecs and their cousins the Mixtecs were the first to populate the Sonoran desert back in the stone age. And yet, if they try to cross the northern border, they may be asked to prove that they did not migrate here illegally. The Aztecs created the sun calendar, used the zero, and built pyramids to the sun and the moon. But they don’t see the point in the American tradition of thanking their cousins and then driving them into the sea.

As a kid growing up in Connecticut, I loved the story of Squanto and the pilgrims and how they all sat down together and celebrated peace. My stepfather was French: he loved the idea of the Wild West, cowboys and Indians, and so did I. I used to play cowboys and Indians with my brothers. I would wear my Roy Rogers hat and chase them around the grass in the back yard with a popgun in the summer. They had bows and arrows and would usually get the best of me. We moved out west so my father could work in Hollywood. On the way we saw the Navaho reservation near the Grand Canyon and bought souvenirs. Later I had a more sobering encounter with the Native Americans of California.



When we moved to California in the 60s, my father took interest in helping the local indigenous people there. We visited the Pima Indian Reservation in Southern California every winter where my stepfather gave out sweaters and blankets. We drank hot coffee out of styrofoam cups in the bleachers as the Pima kids played basketball on a grass court against Leo Jonas High School. In their faded uniforms and sneakers they played better than the  Los Angeles Lakers.



The Pima Indians rocked.

As I grew older I never lost my fascination with the indigenous peoples of America. As the Vietnam War raged, I read “Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee,” by Dee Brown, a savage account of the genocide that wiped out the Indian tribes of the United States.

Wounded Knee Massacre


As I said, I live in Mexico, where there is a large indigenous population. Here, we don’t celebrate the famous feast of gratitude that American school-teachers love so much. Here in Mexico we don’t know much about the “pilgrims” and the “redskins.”

Today, Thanksgiving, as I write this post, Native Americans in Standing Rock, North Dakota are struggling for water rights against oil interests who are determined to take their land. In freezing weather, they’re being tear-gassed, water-cannoned, whipped, dogged, and caged. So much for gratitude. http://www.huffingtonpost.com/entry/standing-rock-sioux-tear-gas-thanksgiving_us_583496a3e4b000af95ece35d


Police react at Standing Rock

As that great champion of the noble savage, Jean Jacques Rousseau might say, plus ça change; plus c’est la même chose...The more things change, the more they stay the same. We live in the iron age of exploitation and violence.

If gratitude to the native American people doesn’t really define Thanksgiving any more, we can still look towards the holiday as a tradition of giving thanks. Nowadays we sit around a table with friends and family and express thanks for what we have on Thursday only to race to the market on Black Friday to buy what we don’t have. A lot of people don’t even call it Thanksgiving any more: It’s “Turkey Day.”




 No one really pauses much to think about where all that turkey comes from. Apart from the violence against the Native American peoples, the American version of "Giving Thanks" has grown into a celebration of mass murder against the native American bird. Millions of turkeys are slaughtered just weeks before the festive day. The turkeys don’t have much to celebrate.



The Wednesday before Thanksgiving is the most traveled day in the United States. Airports are jammed. Back in the bad old days of the 1970s we would stay out late at the airports trying to sell books on that day.

So many people try to get home, nostalgic for the happy family they never really had, only to find quarreling and bickering over the gravy and stuffing.


"All happy families are alike," Tolstoy says. "But every unhappy family has its own story to tell." Uncle Liberty has political views he’s determined to discuss and Aunt Jesus wants to make sure everybody has made peace with the Lord. Diversity isn’t much tolerated and discourse is all but dead. The young folks sit around the cranberry sauce playing with their cell phones and don’t know how to have a conversation. And amidst the bickering there is some pious talk about “thanks.” Perhaps for these reasons, the ritualized system for giving “thanks” that has to do with Thanksgiving sometimes seems so superficial.


My Guru Mahārāja didn’t much like the idea of a “Thank you,” as a matter of formality. He found it shallow and said as much on a few occasions. He felt that to say thank you creates too much of an idea of “separate interest.” He didn’t like the idea that your interest and my interest are separate; I get something from you and go away. After I take what I want, I say “Thank you,” as a formality. I am no longer interested in you. You have satisfied my interest. So, I say thank you by way of letting you know that you have served my interest and are no longer useful.



I see his point. Many westerners would visit Śrīdhara Mahārāja hoping that he would confirm a prejudice they held and give them the authority they needed to continue with a certain orthodoxy. They wanted free information and treated him as if he were a human encyclopedia. Or they wanted entrance into an esoteric subject, or a blessing to get what they wanted. Once they had his blessing or had learned what they needed to, they would say “thank you,” and go away. Śrīdhara Mahārāja felt that a heartfelt connection involved much more than a mere thank you. He wasn’t charmed by the idea of taking something from someone and then closing the bargain with a thank you.


I have seen fanatics take their objections to this kind of formality too far. When I was in the United States recently, I visited a temple. An old friend greeted a young monk with the words “Good Morning.” The monk schooled my friend on the meaninglessness of saying “Good Morning.” He said, “What good does it do to say, ‘good morning’? What if Death comes for you when you are saying ‘good morning?’ instead of vibrating the holy name of God? What will be your destination? Better chant the holy name instead of saying ‘good morning.’”

I suppose he was doing his best to follow instructions. But the avoidance of formality can also be superficial. Govinda Mahārāja was more generous in his attitude towards such pleasantries as commonplace greetings. He would say “Please,” and “Thank you,” and “Good Morning,” with a cheerful smile. He was as joyous a man as you might ever meet in your life. He didn’t have a problem with saying “thank you,” even though his own Guru had frowned on the usage.



Govinda Mahārāja was never an imitation of Śrīdhara Mahārāja; he practiced his master’s teachings through his perfectly lived example. Instead of explaining what was meant by a “heart-to-heart relation,” or lecturing about thanksgiving, he would show us what was compassion, what was divine love, what was a dignified life of spiritual joy. He was as full of thanks for all his blessings as he was generous in giving joy to all who knew him.

I wish Thanskgiving were more of a spiritual tradition where we celebrated nonviolence with a nice vegetarian meal, instead of glorifying the mayhem of American football.



But, it's always good to take a moment and show gratitude for what we have. Having been so critical about the national holiday, it’s seems strange to add my thoughts on gratitude here. But since I grew up honoring Thanksgiving, I might as well give it a go, in spite of all the bad juju about the Native Americans and the violence against turkeys.


So here goes: I’d like to say thank you to all my friends. You know who you are. Thanks to the old and faithful and thanks to the new and untested friendships as well: “Make new friends but keep the old; one is silver and the other gold.” I give thanks to the great devotees and the small ones too. You have given me the inspiration to go on. I would name names, but someone would be left out.



You know who you are. Thanks for inviting me to your homes in Mexico, Russia, Ukraine, Thailand, and the United States.













Thanks for the memories, the good times, the work we shared together, and the laughs we had to get over the bad times. Thanks for the insights and the translations, the tea and conversations. Thanks for reading the blog, and thanks for checking in from time to time. God Bless you all, Hare Krishna, Peace and Love. Mahayogi.

Monday, November 21, 2016

The Science of Faith: Proximity of Saints

I'm splitting this post into two, so as to make it easier to read. This is a  continuation of the previous article on faith...




Śrīdhara Mahārāja continues:

"The Lord Himself says [that the small controls the great through surrender]. In the Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam, he explains devotion to a big yogi, Durvasa:  “I am already surrendered and committed to My devotee. I have no independence of My own. I am already committed to My devotees and I can't back out from that claim. So you'll have to go to that Ambarisa, as your appeal to Me is futile, useless, won't work anything, won't fetch anything for you. I am already committed there to My devotee, you will have to go back to My devotee and beg forgiveness there."



 God says this, Narayana says this. And this is not hyperbole. It is wholesale truth, not merely a show or poetry, it is truth cent per cent. aham bhakta-parardhino, hy asvatantra iva dvija sadhubhir grasta-hrdayo, bhaktair bhakta-jana-priyah: "This is My nature, Durvasa: I am committed to My devotees. I have no independence from my devotees, and this is My voluntary contribution, or acceptance, or commitment.  This commitment to my devotees is voluntary.  So though I am the Absolute still ,My voluntary commitment is such by nature. What to do?"

“That is bhakti. So we are out to find out the most secret wealth the world has ever conceived, secret power, or whatever you see which can control: the smallest can control the highest, greatest.

That sort of learning, or tact, or whatever you may say, it is possible. Mahaprabhu came with that most valuable thing. He says,  "What do you do? You make yourself busy for nothing, or busy for rubbish's? Try to acquire this most valuable, this magical wand. Nothing so valuable was ever discovered in the world. Take to this subtlemost power by which the smallest can control the highest, the greatest. This is love, this is love, this is faith, this is affection.  So cultivate faith and devotion, give up everything and cultivate about this, search for this, search for Krsna, search for love, search for devotion.
  


Surrender and faith mean “Die to live.” This idea of faith in bhakti this idea of surrender is self determination to the highest degree, self determination.  Self-realisation to the highest degree is to acquire such a position in faith and surrender that by humility we may be master.[i] And we'll be able to conquer the whole by that sort of qualification, and not by jumping and capturing and carrying and looting and fighting, not that.”


How do we come by faith?

If faith is such an important aspect of self-realization, the question becomes, “how do we come by faith?” Faith is not the accumulation of conviction through reasonable argument and logic. It comes to us when we have some living touch with saints. Faith, like love like laughter and language, is contagious. Faith comes by being in the proximity of the faithful. The power of association, of social pressure, of learning with peers has been closely studied in pedagogy. Teachers have long understood the importance of association in learning.  There is a technical name for this kind of influence in education. It is called the ZPD or “Zone of Proximal Development.

The idea of a “Zone of Proximal Development” originated with an important name in pedagogical theory, the Russian theorist Lev Vygotsky. According to Vygotsky’s theories of child development and education, the teacher’s function is not merely that of transmitting information. There is an intangible effect of associating with a master that puts us in what Vygotsky calls the “Zone of Proximal Development.”

Proximity in Learning: Vygotsky’s Zone

Lev Vygotsky: Zone of Proximal Development
Vygotsky felt that cognitive development in children, especially in the case of language, has much to do with environmental factors such as socialization; in other words, language is not so much taught as acquired. In Stephen Krashen’s theory of language acquisition, language comes to us by our association with others and our innate tendency to communication much more so than by being taught. Language acquisition is not so much a question of imitation and rote learning but association with others who communicate in the language.

Vygostksy’s ideas have a wide application in learning. In India, for example, a music teacher will not begin music exercises with his student on the first day of class. The student will learn to clean the studio, to sit with the master, to prepare his tea, and finally to hold the instrument. Proximity with the master is felt to be an important stage in the learning process.

The teacher’s ability, his confidence in his own mastery creates within us a sense of possibility. We see how it is done, but we also get the sense that what he is doing is possible. We instinctively understand, “If he can do it, I can do it.” Of course, the master makes what is difficult seem easy. We imitate the master and fail. His hand guides us and we make progress. Soon we find that we achieve a certain competence in the material and feel that we can do what the master does. We are in the master’s “Zone” and by becoming close to him, we feel confidence and possibility.

Think of a 3 year old boy on his father’s lap as his father drives an 18 wheel 80 ton truck at 60 miles an hour on the freeway. The experienced driver may let the boy hold the wheel as his powerful hands maintain their grip. While daddy drives, the boy feels that he is really driving the truck, although his tiny fingers barely touch the wheel. The experience serves the child later when he needs the confidence to drive a car.  Mere association with his father has given him certain tools that come handy later.



Scientific Explanation of Association and Learning: ZPD

The zone of proximal development (ZPD) has been defined as: "the distance between the actual developmental level as determined by independent problem solving and the level of potential development as determined through problem solving under adult guidance, or in collaboration with more capable peers" (Vygotsky, 1978, p. 86). Vygotsky believed that when a student is in the Zone for a particular task, providing the appropriate assistance will give the student enough of a "boost" to achieve the task. This doesn’t mean that the teacher explains the problem and gives the solution; the master’s presence is sometimes enough to motivate the students to solve the problem. They can see that the solution is possible, even while the problem appears difficult. They know that the master can do it. His confidence is reflected in the student’s conviction. He may provide a hint or reveal a trick, or even go so far as to offer a guiding hand; the students find that they are capable in the presence of their master of solving the problem. When the master withdraws, the students find that they are not so capable anymore. They have advanced a bit, but they aren’t as expert as when they were in the master’s presence. When they seek him out again, they find that now they can solve the former puzzle without difficulty. The master presents them with a slightly more difficult problem. This is the basic give and take of the educational process and the relationship between student and teacher.

Sometimes the teacher doesn’t need to be present personally. He may confide in some of the more advanced students to direct the process. Peers are often better teachers than the master himself. Our peers understand our weaknesses even better than we do. They also appreciate the difficulties involved in learning, having recently mastered the same problem, where the teacher’s memory of the difficulties involved may have approached the theoretical. In this sense, our peers may offer even better help than our master.

Vygotsky views interaction with peers as an effective way of developing skills and strategies. He suggests that teachers use cooperative learning exercises where less competent children develop with help from more skillful peers - within the zone of proximal development. Vygotsy’s idea of the “Zone” is an attempt to explain scientifically, with psychological jargon, what we already know to be true. Association is an important and often intangible determinant in development, not only in cognitive skills, but in many practical areas.

As we become expert in a task, we rely less on the master and more on our peers to the point where we become independent adults, capable of self-reliance. This is true not only for language-learning, where Vygotsky’s ideas have been developed as valuable pedagogical techniques, for example in in communicative approach, but in many other areas of education, including mathematics, sciences, sports, and music.

Proximity in Faith: Sādhu Sanga




The successful application of Vygotskian techniques in pedagogy demonstrates the power of association.  Language, according to Vygotsky, is acquired through proximity with language-speakers. The same is true for the language of consciousness.  Faith is the language of consciousness, and faith, like laughter and love, is contagious. Many of us struggle with our conscience and find so little faith there that we don’t understand where faith comes from.  So where does faith come from? How does it awaken? If we apply the idea of the Zone of Proximal Development to transcendental knowing, it’s easy to see how the same principle can be transferred to the idea of faith. By proximity with saints, our faith increases. 


As Vygotsky pointed out in his pedagogical theory, humans are social beings—we learn from our peers even more than from our parents. This is a scientific principle. Our association determines our learning. And just as we can learn to solve ordinary problems with the help of the company we keep, we may also learn to solve the ultimate problems of consciousness with the help of higher association. The Upanishads tell us to seek out this higher association in the form of a master, a saint who has seen the truth[ii]:




Faith invades our being when we find ourselves in the company of a divine master or in other saintly persons. When we are in the company of such dedicated souls we find that what seemed impossible is not so. Just as the boy who sat on the lap of his father while he drove a truck we find ourselves competent to do impossible things very easily. The master has seen the light, and with his help our eyes are opened: “I was born in the darkest ignorance, and my spiritual master opened my eyes with the torch of knowledge. I offer my respectful obeisances unto him.”[iii]  By proximity with the master what was difficult becomes easy: “By the grace of my divine master a lame man can walk over the mountains, a blind man can see,  and one who was formerly deaf and dumb can speak eloquent words of poetry.”[iv] This is not a sectarian message, for true believers only. It is nonsectarian. When we arrive at the limits of our own capacity we need help. God is infinite and beyond our comprehension, but he can reveal Himself. To proceed we need the help of one who has experienced this revelation, who has dedicated their life to God.


When I was recently in Moscow, I was asked by a Russian Orthodox Priest who attended my lecture, “How can we love God?” I told him, “I’m not sure. I don’t know God, myself. But I have been in contact with those who were God-loving souls. My advice is seek out someone who loves God and follow his path.”



We are asked to seek out God-loving souls wherever they are.  The company of such saintly persons is desirable. This is not a sectarian message. Such souls may be found in any walk of life, within or without a temple, mosque or church. This is a joyous idea. If faith functions as the eyes of the soul, where can I get faith? Find a faithful soul and try to get some light from him or her. They will lead you to a higher light, to their source. Keep going until you get to the source. This is possible through association with saints or sadhu-sanga.





[i] trinad api sunicena, taror api sahisnuna
amanina manadena, kirtaniyah sada harih
"One who is humbler than a blade of grass, more forbearing than a tree, who gives due honour to others without desiring it for himself is qualified to always chant the Holy Name of Krsna."]
Siksastakam, 3

[ii] त्रिनद् अपि सुनिचेन, तरोर् अपि सहिस्नुन
अमनिन मनदेन, किर्तनियह् सद हरिह्

tad viddhi praṇipātena
paripraśnena sevayā
upadekṣyanti te jñānaṁ
jñāninas tattva-darśinaḥ
"Just try to learn the truth by approaching a spiritual master. Inquire from him submissively and render service unto him. The self-realized soul can impart knowledge unto you because he has seen the truth."

ॐ अज्ञान-तिमिरान्धस्य
ज्ञानाञ्जन-शलाकया
चक्षुर् उन्मीलितं येन
तस्मै श्री-गुरवे नमः

oṁ ajñāna-timirāndhasya
jñānāñjana-śalākayā
cakṣur unmīlitaṁ yena
tasmai śrī-gurave namaḥ
I was born in the darkest ignorance, and my spiritual master opened my eyes with the torch of knowledge. I offer my respectful obeisances unto him.

मूकं करोति वाचालं
पङ्गुं लङ्घयते गिरिम्
यत् कृपा तम् अहं वन्दे
श्री गुरुं दीन-तारणम्

 mūkaṁ karoti vācālaṁ
paṅguṁ laṅghayate girim
yat kṛpā tam ahaṁ vande
śrī guruṁ dīna-tāraṇam

By the mercy of the guru, even a dumb man can become the greatest orator, and even a lame man can cross mountains.