Dear Śrīla Prabhupāda,
nama oṁ viṣṇu-pādāya kṛṣṇa-preṣṭhāya bhū-tale
śrīmate bhaktivedānta-svāmin iti nāmine
namas te sārasvate deve gaura-vāṇī-pracāriṇe
nirviśeṣa-śūnyavādi-pāścātya-deśa-tāriṇe
For many years I tried to chant Hare Kṛṣṇa. I knew that it was the main pillar of our purification.
I had heard many classes on improving the quality of chanting. I have even given many classes on
the importance of chanting and why perfection of chanting is so important. However, from the
very day of my joining the temple in Berkeley, and later being initiated, the process of chanting
with attention seemed beyond my grasp.
There is always so much service to do. A true Kṛṣṇa conscious day is at least thirty-six hours
long. Everything has to fit in there somewhere. There are devotees monitoring our progress and
accomplishments. “Did you make it to maṅgala-ārati?” “Are all the dishes washed?” “I didn’t see
you in Bhāgavatam class.” “What was your book score?” “How much lakṣmī did you bring in?” On
and on it goes. “We need volunteers for cut-up in the kitchen.”
We know that to follow the rules that you, Śrīla Prabhupāda, laid down is not easy, and there
seem to be something upward of ten thousand of them. After a while we learn which ones we are
measured by, at least by our authorities. Rarely do they ask, “How is your chanting?” Yes, once
every year or six, some leader may ask about our chanting, but all we have to do is mumble an
“OK” or “Pretty good” and that will be that. Luckily, there is no evidence. Heh, heh. No one can
check your chanting. We are safe there. So much rot underneath the floorboards.
The strange thing is that chanting is said to be an indicator of our spiritual health and to count
for 90 percent of our progress. That idea is always there, and that idea kept bumping around in
the back of my mind like a loose pop can in the back of a traveling van.
It is possible to just read Bhāgavatam and think, One day, I will magically develop an attrac-
tion. Or we can joke about how attraction will come in one million births, and actually, that is
pretty soon, when compared to eternity.
I always seemed to be “trying to get through my rounds.” Just trying to get through them. For
me, success was completing my allotted sixteen. The mind never stays still, never!
When I was a young devotee, I told myself that later, when I get some devotional service under
my belt, when I become advanced, I will surely, by that time, be able to chant better. Someday it
will improve. Someday never comes, as the song goes. When you get into your sixties, or worse
yet, your seventies, you start thinking, “When is this magic moment going to happen?” And then
it dawns on you: Unless you make some change in your life, unless you make it happen, it ain’t
gonna happen.
It is an interesting thing that the process of bringing the consciousness to focus on Kṛṣṇa in
His holy name can be so taxing, so laborious. Why should that be? Will it always be that way?
Here, I am speaking for myself. I have no way of knowing what is going on in other devotees’
minds and hearts. Sometimes it feels as if my head will break open with one more mantra. This is
proof positive that I don’t love Kṛṣṇa, not even a little bit. Yet I am engaged in devotional service
and have “to some percentage” been engaging in that service for more than forty years. There
must be some kind of attraction there.
If I increase the quality of my chanting, no one is going to know, no one is going to ask –
except maybe Ādi Puruṣa and Mithuna. Well, there are two on my team. Well, then how in the
blue blazes can japa be upgraded? How can I really chant with more focus?
Here is what I did. Your mileage may vary.
First, I prayed to the Deities that They would help me to chant better. I tried many small strate-
gies that were recommended by other devotees. I found that some of these strategies didn’t work,
at least for me. I believe that perfecting japa is a personal path. What works for one, might not
work for others. Personally, I never sit down while chanting; it never works for me – I am off to
dreamland in moments. My body is too MOI (mode of ignorance). Heck, I have even struggled
to stop nodding while walking at a good clip, what to speak of being a “Lotus Podder.”
I try to find very, very boring places to chant so I won’t be distracted. Turning down the lights
helps me. I took to waking up early to chant, which seems to give me the spacious feeling that I
won’t be invaded by some imperative in the next second.
I tried to work at getting a good start. If the first few rounds are good, it sets the stage for the
entire sixteen. I have disabled all notifications on my cell phone. I heard a class by Ravīndra
Svarūpa Prabhu about how Śrīla Prabhupāda once said that you should just try to hear yourself
sincerely chanting Hare Kṛṣṇa. Somehow, that simple statement meant something to me. It spoke
to me.
Chanting is like riding an ocean wave. It is easy to fall off and, as surfers say, “Eat the bottom.”
Another statement that speaks to me is, “Imagine you are talking to Kṛṣṇa.” Kṛṣṇa is personally
present on your tongue. I am speaking to Him, asking Him to hear my mantras.
I came across the interesting realization that one of the reasons that my mind was so active and
preoccupied during japa is because I am planning some type of “service,” and I hope, then, that
that “service” will make me outstanding in the society of devotees. Like the Supersoul, my false
ego is also my constant companion.
It is fair to say that my japa is way, way better than it used to be. See? See? You can make your
japa better by just wanting, praying, and working at it. Forty wasted years – well, can’t do any-
thing about that now.
In case you are wondering, no tears come to my eyes, or any of that really Haridāsa Ṭhākura
type stuff, but hey, my japa is way, way better than it was. That means a lot to me. Maybe, even,
one day I will become a real devotee or something. I will love Kṛṣṇa even more than pizza.
Imagine!
Your servant,
Candraśekhara Swami