"Krishna Magic" at Grad School

This photo was taken back in May when I received my master's degree at UF. Since there was no formal graduation ceremony due to COVID-19, I put on the cap and gown one afternoon to solidify the ending of a two-year saga and asked a friend to snap a photo. It was a mini closing ritual of sorts, and this post is part of that closure. I want to share with you a transformative "Krishna Magic" experience (to quote Yamuna Devi) that occurred during my time in graduate school:

When I began the program, it had been ten years since my undergrad days and I felt rusty! It was a challenge to produce 15-25 page papers on a regular basis, yet the pressure helped hone my writing skills. As a teaching assistant, I graded endless assignments, while gaining experience lecturing at a college level. For those who don't know, I was working toward an MA in women's studies with a focus on gerontology (specifically on older women's experiences of ageism). There were times when the pressure felt too intense, even taking a toll on my health, and I wondered if it was worth the effort.

Thankfully I felt compelled from within to continue and was thus able to witness Krishna’s plan unfold. Every five or so years, a German professor in the sociology department teaches a graduate level course on death and dying. She "happened to be" teaching the course last fall and—surprise!—it counted toward my certificate in gerontology. As part of the course curriculum, we interned at a local hospice center. My project focused on the effects of music and singing on older women in hospice. Yes, I would actually sing to patients!

It was there that I met Rose (not her real name). I got to know Rose a little bit over the course of three visits. She was a Presbyterian woman in her 50s and was interested in hearing about my upbringing as a Hare Krishna. I sang the Hare Krishna mantra to her, which she appreciated, as well as some of her favorite Christian songs. She expressed her love for the piano, so I played the recorded piano music I had brought with me. During one of my visits, Rose said, with eyes closed, "I keep looking up." I asked her what she was seeing and she replied, "Lights. I see lights. They say that there are lights at the end of the tunnel." She had a smile on her face.

On my third and final visit with Rose, it "happened to be" the last day of Kartika. The nurses informed me that she was nearing the end and that it could be any time now. Rose had several adult children, yet none of them had come to visit. So I became a stand-in for her family that afternoon. I sat by her side and held her hand, praying that I could be there for her during her final moments. My shift was only two hours long, so when my time was coming to an end and nothing seemed to change in Rose’s status, I began to pray with increased urgency.

Ten minutes before I was to leave, the nurses came in and turned Rose to her side. When they left the room, I stood by Rose and spoke encouragingly into her ear, reminding her of her bright future with God by her side, how she was not her body, and how she was safe to leave when she felt ready. As I chanted in her ear, time seemed to stand still and I could feel Krishna’s presence in the room. Suddenly I was compelled to spontaneously call out: “Fly free spirit soul, fly free!” I then resumed chanting and less than a minute later, Rose breathed her last. I could feel a sudden shift in the room when her spirit left.

Almost immediately after Rose died, a nurse walked in. I guess she could tell by the look on my face that something had happened, because she asked, “Oh, she’s gone?” It seemed mystical that Rose passed away in that small window of time between nurse visits. I felt honored and touched that Rose had chosen to die with me by her side, chanting in her ear. As I walked back to my car, tears of gratitude filled my eyes. I felt Krishna’s kindness toward Rose, as well as his reciprocation with my prayer that I could be there for her at the end. This was my first encounter with the dying process and it was transformative.

Even though I didn't know much about Rose or the life she had lived, to this day I feel close to her on a soul level. We shared a magical time with Krishna at the center. Thank you Rose.

All of the pressures of graduate school became instantly worthwhile after this day, and I realized that Krishna had had a plan for me all along. I have always felt drawn to being of service to those who are dying and I look forward to seeing what door Krishna opens next.

Thank you for reading. I hope that each of you have a new year filled with "Krishna Magic" moments!

With affection,

Shyamala Kishori

A Vision for ISKCON's Future

Here is a short piece I was asked to write for the book Emergence of Women's Voices in ISKCON:

I am grateful to all the Vaishnavis (devotee ladies) who came before my generation and paved the way for us to serve Krishna according to our natures. It is because of their struggles and sacrifices that I grew up having the opportunity to lead kirtan, play mridanga, and give lectures. As a young girl, I heard firsthand accounts of how Srila Prabhupada’s female disciples steadily served their spiritual master amidst circumstances that were often discouraging. It saddened me to hear how these Vaishnavis, to whom I turned for guidance and wisdom, had been dismissed due to bodily conceptions. Their steady service under such circumstances is a powerful testimony to their spiritual strength and depth of devotion.

I envision a future for ISKCON where every Vaishnavi is valued and respected. Communities will seek out the women’s wisdom and perspective on important issues. Vaishnavis will be recognized as spiritual leaders, mentors, educators, and speakers. Every woman will feel inspired and supported in serving Krishna according to her propensity, per Krishna’s instructions in Bhagavad-gita (3.35), whether that entails running a center, giving class, raising children, or any number of other services. The men in our Movement will be concerned about the spiritual, physical, and emotional well-being of the women. During Srimad-Bhagavatam lectures, the feminine pronoun will also be used so that young girls growing up in the Society will know that they too can be devotees of Krishna. Men will appreciate and support the kirtans led by Vaishnavis and encourage their daughters to learn to play the mridanga and other musical instruments. Temples will have instruments on both sides of the room so that anyone musically inclined may participate. Men and women will take turns being first to recite Srimad-Bhagavatam verses and to receive maha during arati. Devotees will speak up when they see women being treated disrespectfully. The men will acknowledge and empathize with the struggles that women have gone through in ISKCON and work toward reformation. In this vision for the future, Vaishnavis are not treated as second-class citizens, rather as spirit souls, part-and-parcel of Krishna and invaluable members of our Society.

The vision I describe above is not merely abstract; certain ISKCON communities, centers, and leaders already embibe it. For example, I grew up in New Goloka, North Carolina, where Bir Krishna Goswami encouraged all the gurukulis to lead kirtan. Then when I was in my twenties, I had the opportunity to live for several years at the Krishna House in Gainesville, Florida, where I observed how, under the guidance of Kalakantha Prabhu, all ashrama residents and newcomers are treated with equal respect and care. Regardless of gender, devotees are given equal opportunity and encouragement to lead kirtan, give lectures, and take on various services according to their natures.

Dear Vaishnavis, let us come together and support each other on our spiritual journeys. We can encourage each other by not instinctively declining when someone invites us to give a lecture, write an article, lead a kirtan, or take on another service outside of our comfort zone. Together we can find the courage to use our voices in glorification of Krishna and His devotees and encourage others to do the same.

Torrential Rains of Mercy

 

Sadhu Sanga Retreat, North Carolina 2015

The downpour is sudden, forceful and refreshing. Somehow I find myself in the merciful monsoon of Krishna's divine names.

Surrounded by a sea of chanters with eager faces and outstretched hands, I note their joyous smiles and how they are swept up in waves of dance. They seem to attract the rains of mercy, for as their numbers increase, so too does the strength of the downpour. 

I sit here as an observer, hesitant to get wet, stubbornly clinging to the umbrella of my false ego.

But Krishna's name is so powerful that it rips away at the fibers. As nectar drops seep through, something shifts within. Hope fills my heart. How did I get so fortunate? I let go of the umbrella and reach out both hands to catch some mercy.

Everything I've ever wanted is here in Krishna's name. It saturates the dry, lonely heart with solace, shelter, unwavering friendship and love. My sojourn in this world has left me so parched and exhausted that I want to soak in this monsoon for hours, days, years...

I hope it never ends.

But torrential rains soon become a gentle drizzle as devotees gather their belongings and move on to other destinations.

I take comfort in Sacinandana Swami's concluding words: we can beg the names of Krsihna to remain with us and remove our deeprooted fears. Never again do I have to travel the rugged, desolate terrain of this material world alone, for I have discovered the best companion.

 What a relief!