Documentary filmmaker Kim Churchill’s project Enlighten Up! begins with a promising, but perhaps overly ambitious, plan: find an average guy, subject him to a program of yoga practice, and expose him to world-renowned yoga teachers. This regimen, it is hoped, will yield pro-yoga testimony from a profoundly transformed person, and prompt viewers to take seriously the positive—even spiritual—outcomes of the practice.

In the process of revealing a great metamorphosis, Churchill (who serves as occasional narrator and interlocutor) seemingly intends to separate the yoga charlatans from the yoga saints. She opens her film with a sequence featuring some of the more famous Western yoga teachers. Those teachers’ comments on topics such as the antiquity of yoga, their publishing prowess, and their jumbo-sized studios are spliced together in a way that is unflattering, and perhaps unfair.

Early in Enlighten Up!, we are also introduced to the yoga experiment’s “guinea pig,” a twenty-nine year-old unemployed journalist and self-proclaimed skeptic named Nick Rosen. Churchill, an avid yoga practitioner herself, hopes to prove through Rosen’s example that yoga is much more than physical exercise, boutique clothing, and big-name entrepreneurial teachers. Although the journalist Rosen may be a master of the written word, it becomes clear that elocution is not among his strengths. As such, the viewer may struggle to grasp Rosen’s rationale for appearing in the film and undertaking Churchill’s experiment. He seems not only skeptical of the capacity of yoga to change his life, but also rather uninterested in such a possibility.

Rosen begins his disorganized sixth-month yoga “journey” by crashing a number of New York City yoga studios. He sweats it out in a Bikram Yoga session and sits in on classes with Dharma Mittra and Alan Finger, among others. While the smorgasbord style of practice helps Churchill capture the diversity of instruction in New York, her human subject engages in little more than localized yoga tourism. Arguably such sampling is fine for a novice, but the approach is not one that most yoga teachers would endorse indefinitely. Therefore, when Rosen confesses that dabbling in yoga a few times a week has not upended his worldview, the viewer is unlikely to be surprised.

After New York City’s shooting locations are exhausted, Churchill hauls Rosen to LA where he meets up with a lewd ex-professional wrestler-turned-yogi. The crew travels onward to Hawaii where Rosen’s practice briefly intensifies under the watch of the comically foul-mouthed Norman Allen. While spending time with Allen, Churchill (from off camera) beseeches Rosen to “Ask about moksa.” Rosen responds, “What?”  At this point in the journey, Rosen has apparently not mastered a new vocabulary.

From Hawaii, the crew heads to India in search of greater wisdom and authenticity. In Mysore and Pune respectively, Rosen lands face time with Patabhi Jois and BKS Iyengar, two of the most famous students of the Sri Vaishnava teacher and scholar, Tirumalai Krishnamacharya. While students familiar with the work and influence of Jois and Iyengar may enjoy seeing these well-known personalities on film, Rosen comes across as somewhat unprepared for such meetings—if not unengaged. When Rosen poses questions such as “What is yoga,” he seems to be humoring the director and her interests, rather than pursuing new knowledge with any sense of urgency or necessity. Rosen’s persistent use of the term “enlightenment” (which is far more associated with Buddhism) even several months into the experiment suggests that Churchill’s chosen student remains reluctant to do his homework.

Fortunately, by means of a Western resident of Vrindavan named Syamdas, the film makes a brief but important distinction between bhakti-yoga and the primarily physical practice emphasized in the balance of the film. However, the full significance of that distinction is likely to be grasped only by viewers with prior knowledge, as Churchill changes topics, venues, and scenery with unfortunate haste. Although Syamdas totes Rosen to various teachers in Vrinadavan, curiously (at least on camera) Rosen does not sit before any teachers of theistic, devotional Vedanta. As Vrindavan rose to prominence as a spiritual center on account of the influence of Gaudiya Vaishnavism in particular, such an omission is something of an oversight. Moreover for a film that tries to show something of the diversity of yogic practices, intentions, and ultimate ideals, a more thorough examination of bhakti-yoga (by far the most prevalent spiritual engagement in India) might have been useful.

Unfortunately for Churchill, the transformation narrative that she has in mind for Rosen does not play out. The film’s eclectic sideshow of famous (and not-so-famous) yogis leaves the viewer with little more than an impression of a range of contemporary teachers and their various idiosyncrasies. Such outcomes are not without some value and interest, but neither makes for very good storytelling. Churchill tries to salvage the narrative by suggesting that the project helped Rosen restore his relationship with his mother (a Shamanic healer) and pursue his passion for rock climbing documentaries. Even if that is true, such a “transformation” is unlikely to prompt viewers to unfurl their yoga mats and cheer.

Enlighten Up! is a film of enormous, but ultimately unrealized potential. Issues of authenticity in yoga teaching and yoga philosophy, and connections between physical practice and spiritual life are topics worth exploring. It would be gratifying to see and hear the story of someone who begins a process of physical exercise and ends up going much, much deeper. Indeed, that is a story playing out in yoga studios the world over, where “skeptics” become “converts” every day, taking up practices such as kirtan and study of sacred literature. Unfortunately for Churchill, her test subject never truly immerses himself in practice or introspection. As such, Rosen is ultimately not a vehicle for telling what might have otherwise been a very enlightening story.

A. In my opinion popularized forms of tantra are almost meaningless for spiritual advancement. Tantras are ancient writings that outline religious practices and rituals involving visualization, mantras, meditation, and yoga, among other things. Gaudiya Vaishnavas follow the tantras, but sattvic tantras, such as the Gautamiya Tantra, written for people in the mode of goodness (sattva). What many are fascinated with today is neo-tantra or pop-tantra, names used to describe modern adaptations of the dark or tamasic tantras, which were written for those attracted to the extremes of sexuality, intoxication, the occult, and so forth. In his book Tantra: Path of Ecstasy, the learned Georg Feuerstein writes, “Many are attracted to Neo-Tantrism because it promises sexual excitement or fulfillment while clothing purely genital impulses or neurotic emotional needs in an aura of spirituality. If we knew more about the history of Tantra in India, we would no doubt find a comparable situation for every generation.”

Some tantric literature does encourage overindulging in sensual experience with an aim to create a catharsis that propels one beyond the attraction for sense objects, but this practice itself is dubious, what to speak of modern versions of it. The actual system is quite gruesome and very intense, nothing like that propagated by advocates of today’s neo-tantra.

See also:  Sadhana/Sadhya: The Path and the Goal

Q. Where I live an eclectic style of kirtana has become popular. In these kirtanas the names of a variety of Hindu deities are chanted, and sometimes even Christian, Jewish, and Muslim names for God are sung. I have been attending these events mostly because of a desire to maintain a sense of community with other spiritual seekers. However, my concern is whether participating in these multifaceted kirtanas will adversely effect the development of my devotion to Krishna. Is chanting the names of deities other than Krishna appropriate for those of us trying to be his devotees?

A. If you study the sacred literature, you will find that kirtana is a limb of bhakti and not a limb of other Hindu spiritual paths, such as jnana or yoga. Nowhere in the Hindu canon will you find deities such as Siva or Devi stressing kirtana as Krishna does in the Gita when he characterizes his devotees as those who are always doing kirtana about him (satatam kirtayanto mam). Only Visnu avataras and Krishna in particular make such statements, which has led to a theology of kirtana to be developed around them.

If you study other deities in comparison to Krishna (including Krishna’s avataras), you will understand that worshiping them through kirtana does not apply as readily as it does to Krishna. If you read in the sacred texts what other deities recommend as the means to worship them, kirtana is largely conspicuous by its absence. Meanwhile, Krishna kirtana takes many forms, such as nama and lila kirtana. After all, Krishna is the romantic heart of the Absolute and to sing about him in love is most natural.

It is Krishna who says, “O Narada, I am not in Vaikuntha; nor am I in the hearts of the yogis, but wherever my devotes are chanting my name I am present.” Do Siva or Ganesh say such things? Even Rama does not proclaim this, although as an avatara of Krishna, kirtana is more applicable to him as well. Where is there a liturgy of lila kirtana for any deity other than Krishna? Perhaps to a small degree we find nama kirtana in more obscure and questionable Siva Agamas, but not lila kirtana. The conclusion is that kirtana belongs to Krishna bhakti, where it reaches the zenith of its application and efficacy.

However, even though the scriptures promote Krishna/Visnu kirtana, the kirtana of Krishna nama is so nice that other spiritual paths have adopted the practice of kirtana and begun chanting the names of Siva, Durga, Kali, etc. It appears that Christian, Muslim, and Jewish presence in kirtana is beginning to emerge as well. No harm.

Nonetheless, as faith in one’s personal deity awakens, it is recommended to be single-minded in worship. Love is exclusive while at the same time universal. When one actually loves, one loves One yet all at the same time by way of seeing the multiplicity in relation to the One. In Krishna lila the gopis worshiped Devi, but with the desire to gain Krishna’s hand in marriage. So we worship all divine manifestations by way of seeing them in relation to Krishna. In this sense the names of all Hindu gods can be taken to be names of Krishna, and the names of all goddesses to be names of Radha. Siva means “auspicious,” and Krishna is most auspicious. Durga means difficult (dur) to go (ga) from, like a prison; but durga also means difficult to go to, meaning the service of Radha, being so high, is not easy to attain. This idea represents the ability of advanced devotees to naturally see everything in relation to Krishna, making it possible for them to take part in the kirtana of “om namah sivaya” and think of it in light of Krishna being all-auspicious, and Siva being a manifestation of Krishna.

However, those leading the type of kirtanas you have described are usually promoting something other than suddha-bhakti. Furthermore, it is with devotees like yourself in mind that Bhaktivinoda Thakura wrote, suddha-bhakta anugati kirtana haile sekhana yaya: one should not attend any kirtana unless it is performed under the auspices of a pure devotee (suddha-bhakta). Discrimination characterizes devotees concerned with making steady spiritual progress; for them adhering to these cautionary words from Bhaktivinoda Thakura is essential.

See also:  Professional Performance Kirtana

Q. The Srimad-Bhagavatam relates that Dhruva was a pure devotee who entered the spiritual world (Vaikuntha) in his selfsame body. Why then is Dhruva given as an example of materialistic devotion–karma-misra-bhakti? Does it have something to do with Dhruva’s desire to take his mother with him to Vaikuntha?

A. The Bhagavatam story of Dhruva teaches readers about the nature of pure love of Krishna (prema bhakti), which is possessed by the inhabitants of Vrindavana. These lessons inform us directly and indirectly (anvayad itaratah) what prema bhakti is and what it is not.

With regard to Dhruva, we find that he set out to attain a kingdom of his own, one greater than that of Brahma, the demigod of creation. His strategy was to attain this unparalleled kingdom with the help of the all-pervading Godhead, Visnu. In the course of this pursuit, he was graced with the association of the great sage Narada, who being impressed with Dhruva’s determination to meet Visnu, despite his less than spiritual objective, gave him a Visnu mantra and sent him to the forest of Madhuvan in Vrindavana to chant and perform austerity.

In due course Lord Visnu appeared to Dhruva and bestowed upon him the benediction he had sought. However, upon attaining the darsana of Lord Visnu, Dhruva lost all interest in his material objective, realizing how petty earthly gain was in comparison to love of God. In this state of enlightenment, Dhruva prayed for the salvation of his mother, who was the person who had initially inspired him to seek out Lord Visnu for the fulfillment of his material desires.

This is the gist of the story of Dhruva, one that Sri Caitanya Mahaprabhu loved to hear and recite. Mahaprabhu heard this story from Gadadhara Pandit, and he recited it to his mother Saci Devi. This story is very instructive to us, as it teaches that meditation on Visnu, even for a less than spiritual purpose, will bring about a spiritual result. It also informs us not to approach God for material gain, a lesson that Dhruva fully understood upon seeing God. In this sense the story of Dhruva is an example of how not to approach God, as Dhruva’s devotion was karma-misra-bhakti, or bhakti mixed with material desire. Our goal is to aspire for pure devotion unencumbered by any desire for knowledge or material gain, as only this type of devotion can bestow prema—pure love of Krsna.

Still, the determination of Dhruva is laudable and the power of bhakti is evident from the history. Dhruva’s approach is to be followed only in terms of his determination to tread the path to God. With his kind of single-minded determination, we should follow in the footsteps of the inhabitants of Vrindavana as they appeared in this world: as Sri Caitanya and his associates, headed by Rupa and Sanatana Goswamis.

Regarding Dhruva’s desire to take his mother with him, this can be interpreted in various ways. It may be seen as an example of his material attachment, or better yet, his purified respect for the person who initially showed him the path, his vartma-pradarsaka-guru. Taken in the latter sense, we learn from the example of Dhruva the importance of guru-bhakti, as Dhruva refused to enter Vaikuntha without his guru. In this way he placed service to guru (guru-seva) over service to God.

Finally, we learn from the history of Dhruva that the sadhaka-deha, the body of a spiritual practitioner on the path of bhakti, is not an ordinary material body. The Bhagavatam describes how Dhruva left the material world and entered the spiritual abode of Visnu in his selfsame body. Visvanatha Cakravarti Thakura comments that this pastime of Dhruva was revealed by God just to stress the spiritual position of the devotee’s body. Although this is not the norm, we should nevertheless learn to appreciate that even the bodies of sadhakas take on a spiritual quality in proportion to their absorption in devotional practice. The practitioner’s body is thus both material and spiritual at the same time, and eventually it is completely spiritualized—its apparent death a divine illusion. As such, the form of the departed devotee who has attained prema is itself an eternal object of veneration. According to Visvanatha Cakravarti, other than the devotee, no one—not the jnani, yogi, or any other transcendentalist’s body—is completely free from material qualities. He supports his position with Sri Krishna’s words to Uddhava in Srimad-Bhagavatam (11.25.26). Therein the Lord tells Uddhava that one who is free from attachment (the jnani or yogi) remains influenced by sattva, whereas one has taken shelter of him in devotion is free from all material qualities, nirguno mad-apasrayah.

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Is there life after death? Can human intention change matter? Is there scientific proof for remote healing? Do we have a soul? How can life be sustained in harmony with ecology? These are among the many questions that were asked and answered at the first annual Sages and Scientists Symposium hosted by Deepak Chopra this past weekend. At this groundbreaking weekend topics such as spirituality, consciousness, prayer, reincarnation, miracle healings and time travel usually reserved for more “granola/woo-woo” types, were actually discussed and even explained by Medical Doctors.

Evidence from studies on distant healing suggests that consciousness is infinite in space and time. We are immortal, eternal and boundless. Those who may call themselves seekers understand that life is not about just being in this body — there is something we do not know beyond anything we can explain in rational terms. We take things at face value, finding comfort in that which we can grasp –see, touch, feel, taste, hear — but that is just the beginning of our sensory experience. Our consciousness is far more encompassing than the things we can prove or understand in physical world reality.

The intention of this conference was to merge Sages and Scientist as a modern way to blend ancient insights with modern scientific theory. It’s becoming more and more widely accepted for healers and teachers to discuss transcendent realities and the journey of the soul but usually these folks are labeled as “alternative” healers — kept out of the mainstream medical community. And most M.D.’s who have been witness to miracles that they cannot explain through science do not share these widely with their peers. Why? Well, according to Dr. Larry Dossey, one of the panelists who spoke about Eternal Life, “Frankly most doctors are just too embarrassed to support them.” Deepak Chopra shared with me that he learned from the conference that a “medical mafia” does exist which prevents the public sharing of what most would call supernatural healing into the mainstream.

But we are at a critical point in our civilization where we must bring the magical and mystical into the light. All the scientists, medical doctors and sages on the panel agreed on one key truth: that there is a lot we do not know and cannot explain which can only be characterized as supernatural. The old paradigms that have been built on logic, analysis, reason, and material gain are crumbling. It’s no news to any of us that our economy is a bust, our health care system is terribly unhealthy, and we are slowly killing our planet. Panelist, Dr. Marilyn Schlitz spoke about how we have lost our sense of being connected to the Universe/God/Spirit (whatever word works for you), each other, and the planet. This individualized worldview keeps us stuck in an outdated paradigm that just is not working anymore. Schlitz emphasized that it is imperative to bring more of the archetypical feminine energy, receptivity, compassion, nurture, and creativity back into all aspects of society, especially the medical community.

As we all go through our individual days and live our separate lives, we forget, or never really realize or accept in the first place that we are all one. We are all living as parts of one collective universal energy field, an energy field most of us are out of balance with. Panelist Dr. Ervin Laszlo spoke in depth about entanglement, that all things are connected and therefore in order to create harmony and health in our world, we must be in coherence with it. Years ago the human species lived in coherence with our environment, but as we have been acting with blatant disregard for our surroundings, we have thrown ourselves out of coherence with our biosphere. It is the responsibility of our generation to get back in balance and commune with the world rather than trying to get the most we can from it.

Over the two-day conference, there was continuous thought-provoking and awe-inspiring information presented by various extremely accredited panelists (and I share their highlights below). Perhaps the most striking about the symposium is that these sages and scientists are doing the work to collect the hard data and evidence to support what up until now has been categorized as merely spiritual concepts or mystical phenomenon.

For instance, Dr. Jim Tucker presented data on children who reported memories of previous lives — whose memories have been historically validated. Dr. Larry Dossey spoke about the healing power of intentions, describing clinical studies in which cancer patients had significant healing responses when a loved one in a completely separate room was sending loving thoughts or prayers. And perhaps some of the most stunning data came from a man named Mahendra Kumar Trivedi whose Energy Transmissions or “blessings” (focused intentional consciousness) have created miraculous healing effects in agriculture and human health that have been scientifically demonstrable in a measurable manner.

Read the entire Huffington Post article here.

The Great Recession is not just an economic crisis, it is the result of a loss of values, a moral crisis. And to say that it is a moral crisis is also to say that it is a spiritual crisis. At the center of most religions is the question of who and what we worship? Where is our deepest allegiance?

So the Great Recession bears some “religious” reflection, as the market has gradually become all pervasive–a replacement for religion and even for God. It is the Market now that now seems to have all the godlike qualities–all-knowing, all-present, all-powerful, even eternal–unable to be resisted or even questioned. Performing necessary roles and providing important goods and services are not the same things as commanding ultimate allegiance. Idolatry means that something has taken the place of God. The market can be good thing and even necessary; but it now commands too much, claims ultimate significance, controls too much space in our lives, and has gone far beyond its proper limits.

Idolatry comes in a lot of different forms. Today, it is much more subtle than bowing down to a golden calf. It often takes the form of choosing the wrong priorities, trusting in the wrong things, and putting our confidence where it does not belong.

Today, instead of statues, we now have hedge funds, mortgage-backed securities, 401(k)s, and mutual funds and, for some, bonuses. We place blind faith in the hope that the stock indexes will just keep rising and real estate prices keep climbing. Market mechanisms were supposed to distribute risk so well that even those who were reckless would never see the consequences of their actions. Trust, security, and hope in the future were all as close to us as the nearest financial planner’s office. Life and the world around us could all be explained with just the right market lens. These idols were supposed to make us happy and secure, and provide for all our needs. Those who manage them became the leaders, to whom we looked, not just for financial leadership, but direction for our entire lives. That is indeed idolatry.

Rich and poor alike were sucked into making heroes out of those who seemed to be able to turn everything they touched into gold. Holocaust survivor and Nobel Peace Prize recipient Elie Wiesel lost virtually all of his personal wealth and his foundation’s, up to $37 million, to Bernie Madoff’s Ponzi scheme. “We gave him everything, we thought he was God, we trusted everything in his hands,” Weisel said.

The market even has its priests, pastors, rabbis, imams, and shamans. These money and market commentators translate the often confusing signals of the Dow, international currency exchange rates, or futures indexes and tell us all what they mean and how they should act as a result. Sometimes they preach famine and the retribution of the market for the sins of the people, and other times they praise the market and the feast it provides. Those who question the market “god” are called heretics and lunatics and are burned at the stake on conservative talk radio.

In claiming the power to define what is real and true, and bowing to no limits beyond itself, the market now claims “a comprehensive wisdom that in the past only the gods have known,” according to theologian Harvey Cox. And like a god to be feared and worshipped, we now can even know the market’s moods on a daily basis–moody, angry, restless, or satisfied. And to even question the market’s “high priests” and their declarations is now to commit heresy. The worship of this false god, The Market, has become quite ecumenical. Across denominational and faith persuasions, herds of us are bowing down to the doctrines and dictates of The Market.

Read the entire Huffington post article, here.

Sri Gauranga-avatara has twofold characteristics: the apparent reason for his advent is to deliver the people in general from sin, and to give them the highest attainment of life—to take them towards Vrindavan, vraja-lila, by giving the holy name of Krishna. This is actually the function of the yuga-avatara, the incarnation of Godhead for the age. The Lord comes to distribute divine sound and to show how one can reach the highest position through divine sound. Still, he had another purpose to fulfill. Once in Brahma’s day—in a special Kali-yuga—Krishna himself comes in the mood of Radharani to search himself. He wants to taste the mood of Radharani, to understand the nature of her inner hankering for Krishna, how she can taste the sweetness of Krishna by her mood, and what is the joy she derives.

Krishna wanted to have some experience of why Radharani is so mad for him. He thought, “What is there in me that makes her so immeasurably mad for me? What sweetness can she draw from me? I can’t ascertain it.” He wanted to mold himself in the mood of Sri Radhika and try to taste his own self from that temperament. So He came as Sri Caitanya.

When He conceived of such an incarnation, and pro-posed his idea to Srimati Radharani, we are told that Radharani, on her part, said, “Sometimes you will madly roll on the earth, taking my name, but I won’t be able to tolerate it. I shall cover your body with my golden form. I won’t allow you to roll on the earth. I shall cover you with my embrace.” So it is said by those who know the ontological aspect of Sri Caitanyadeva, “I offer my respects to Sri Caitanya Mahaprabhu, whose mood and color is Radharani’s and whose inner self is Krishna searching for himself, tasting himself, and trying to understand why Radharani is mad to taste him and what sort of sweetness she finds in him (radha bhava dyuti suualitam naumi krsna svarupam).

Sri Caitanya Mahaprabhu remained in this world for forty-eight years. In the last twelve years of his life. He engaged himself with deep attention in tasting himself. Just as everyone is mad to taste sweetness, Krishna, sweetness personified, is also mad to taste himself.

Introspection means to know oneself. Consciousness can know consciousness. And just as one can feel his own body, or consciousness can conceive of itself, ecstasy can also taste ecstasy. This is confirmed by Svarupa Damodara Prabhu, Sri Caitanya Mahaprabhu’s personal secretary, who is considered to be Lalita-sakhi, the nearest friend of Srimati Radharani in the pastimes of Krishna. He has said what Sri Caitanyadeva is:

radha krsna-pranaya-vikrtir hladinisaktir asmad
ekatmanav api bhuvi pura deha-bhedam gatau tau
caitanyakhyam prakatam adhuna tad-dvayam caikyam aptam
radha-bhava-dyuti-suvalitam naumi krsna svarupam

I worship Sri Caitanya Mahaprabhu, who is Krishna Himself, enriched with the emotions and radiance of Srimati Radharani. As the predominating and predominated moieties, Radha and Krishna are eternally one, with separate individual identities. Now they have again united as Sri Krishna Caitanya. This inconceivable transformation of the Lord’s internal pleasure-giving potency has arisen from the loving affairs of Radha and Krishna.

In this verse, Svarupa Damodara says that the pastimes of Radha-Krishna and those of Sri Caitanya Mahaprabhu are parallel and eternal. Whether winter is first and summer follows, or summer is first and winter follows, is difficult to say. Similarly, in the eternal pastimes of the Lord, the movement is rolling in a circle. Therefore, Svarupa Damodara says, “Whether Caitanya avatara is first and Krishna avatara is next, or Krishna avatara is first and Caitanya avatara is next is difficult to say—both are eternal.”

With the dazzling 3D-vortex of colors, actions and emotions, James Cameron’s Avatar seems to have given everyone something to rave about.

But let’s get it straight—Avatar is a downright misnomer for this latest new blockbuster.

No, not because, sadly for Hare Krishna moviegoers, the film’s got nothing to do with Hinduism except its Sanskrit name. And some Hindu activists who habitually frisk all new releases for concealed sacrileges also needn’t worry—there are none in Avatar, or at least not more that in those little digital icons they hide themselves behind on their own e-chats.

It’s because the movie reverses the very concept that the term “avatar” is based on.

Leave aside the fact that Hindu theology reserves the use of avatar, which in Sanskrit literally means descent, almost exclusively for appearances of Vishnu on Earth. The key point here is that an avatar always descends from a higher realm into the lower, restores prosperity, wisdom, and happiness—and moves on unchanged after the mission is accomplished.

However, the “avatar” Jake Sully—and we the viewers along with him—shortly after his descent into the world of Na’vis sees the higher realm of earthlings rapidly grow pallid and repulsive in comparison to the pristine world of supposed savages. The “civilized humans” turn out as primitive, jaded, and increasingly greedy, cynical, and brutal—traits only amplified by their machinery—while the “monkey aliens” emerge as noble, kind, wise, sensitive, and humane.

We, along with the Avatara hero, are now faced with an uncomfortable yet irresistible choice between the two races and the two worldviews. And invariably, along with him we cannot help but lean toward the far more civilized insides within the long-tailed, blue-skinned, and technologically infantile exterior.

So much for a descending avatar. Jake soon admits to himself in his videolog: “I realized that I had it backwards, I wasn’t sure what was the dream and what was real.” Having regained through the avatar body not just his legs, but his dignity, his freedom, and his brethren whose love and trust he struggles to earn, the rescuer becomes the rescued, the benefactor becomes the benefitted. The avatar becomes . . . well . . . a refugee among the aborigines so content inwardly that they wouldn’t trade their tree for whatever the savvy sky people gods have to offer! Contrary to The Matrix’s Neo, Jake plugs into a supposedly illusory world to discover it to be much more tangible, wholesome and true than his own—and wants to stay in.

This makes us ask the question: Why? And what on Earth (or on Pandora) do “culture”, “civilization”, and “human” stand for?

Not succumbing to the stock trifle of sci-fi genre, James Cameron makes this question the fourth dimension of his movie—and answers it most convincingly: it’s the qualities of kindness, gratitude, regard for the elderly, self-sacrifice, respect for all life, and ultimately humble dependence on a higher intelligence behind nature that qualify one as cultured, civilized, and human.

The other alternative is summed up by Jake Sully: “This is how it’s done. When people are sitting on something that you want, you make them your enemy so that you can drive them out.” And “they have already killed their mother.” Here you have it, the savage—give or take his spaceship, touch-screen, and a rifle.

And getting back to the Hindu theology, Bhagavad-gita (16.1-4) echoes this distinction: “Fearlessness; cultivation of wisdom; charity; self-control; austerity; simplicity; refrain from unnecessary violence; truthfulness; freedom from hatred; renunciation; tranquility; aversion to fault-finding; compassion for all living entities; freedom from covetousness; gentleness; modesty; steady determination; vigour; forgiveness; fortitude; cleanliness; and freedom from envy and from the passion for honor—these are qualities befitting real civilized humans.

“Pride, arrogance, conceit, anger, harshness, and ignorance are qualities of barbarians.”

In order to descend—that is, to be an avatar—one first ought to be above. Unfortunately for our civilization, epitomized by the human conquistadors on Pandora, from the place where we are happily getting ourselves into, we can only climb.
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This article originally appeared in the Sydney Morning Herald.

tad esa slokah |
klim ity etad adav adaya krsnaya
govindaya gopijanavallabhayeti |
brhad-bhanavyasakrd uccared yo ’sau
gatis tasyasti manksu nanya gatih syat || iti |

In this connection, the following verse is given: One first utters the seed klim, following it with krsnaya, govindaya, and then gopijana-vallabhaya. One who utters this mantra even once, concluding with the “great daughter of the sun” (i.e., svaha), will attain the supreme destination; he will know no other destination.

One who chants the Gopala mantra preceded by the kama-bija, understanding its meaning as explained by the spiritual preceptor, can directly attain the highest destination. Such a devotee can thus circumvent the usual course of gradual elevation through different planes leading to liberation. This is what Gopala-tapani implies in stating that simply by chanting this mantra once, one will attain the supreme destination and no other.

In Sri Gitopanisad, Krishna informs Arjuna that his devotees need not be concerned with passing from the world through the path of light as opposed to that of darkness.¹ The path of light gradually elevates one by the grace of the presiding ativahika-devas—the deities of fire, light, day, the bright lunar fortnight, and the six months of the sun’s northern solstice. While this is the auspicious yogic path leading to liberation, Krishna’s devotees need not be concerned with it, because their concern for Krishna causes him to personally deliver them. He does so with the help of the daughter of the sun.

In this verse the words “great daughter of the sun” (brhad-bhanavi) tell us something more about the word svaha (previously identified with sacrifice and yogamaya) in terms of its illuminating the path to liberation and love of Krishna.² In Srimad-Bhagavatam (10.58.20), Krishna’s wife Kalindi states that she is the daughter of the sun, aham devasya savitur duhita. This same Kalindi is the goddess of the sacred river Yamuna.

Yamuna-devi is identified microcosmically and macrocosmically with the susumna nadi, the mystic pathway to liberation. Microcosmically, the susumna nadi appears in the subtle body as the channel from the heart to the top of the head through which successful yogis travel when leaving their bodies in the course of attaining liberation. Macrocosmically, the susumna is the path of light passing through the sun that represents the yogic pathway to liberation on leaving the material body. Yamuna-devi thus illumines the yogic path to liberation.

While the daughter of the sun lights the path to the world beyond the material sky in her form as the susumna nadi, she is also present in Krishna’s abode manifest here on earth—Bhauma Vrindavan. As we shall see later in Gopala-tapani, this abode is as much or more about the possibilities of liberated life as it is a potent place from which to perform spiritual practice with a view to attaining liberation. It is the land of lila that lies beyond the microcosmic and macrocosmic sense of existence, even while appearing within the world of the mind and senses. In that sacred mystical terrain, Sri Yamunadevi flows freely in love of Krishna, and Krishna’s devotees who religiously bathe in her water fl oat blissfully if not effortlessly on her devotional current into the heart of liberated life. She is also known by the name Tapati or Tapani, and thus she too sheds light on Gopala Krishna, as does this Upanisad.³ After accepting the sannyasa order, which is considered synonymous with liberation, Sri Krishna Caitanya offered the following prayer to the Yamuna as he desired to enter Vrindavan:

cid-ananda-bhanoh sada nanda-sunoh
para-prema-patri drava-brahma-gatri
aghanaμ lavitri jagat-ksema-dhatri
pavitri-kriyan no vapur mitra-putri

O daughter of the sun, although you have appeared in the form of water, you are most dear to the son of Nanda, who is the spiritual sun. You dispel the sins of all sinners. Please purify this mortal body (Cc. 2.3.28).⁴

Yamuna-devi is a manifestation of Krishna’s sakti-tattva, the fountainhead of which is Sri Radha. Thus the “great daughter of the sun” is ultimately identified with Radharani. It is Sri Radha who more than anyone illumines the path to love of Krishna. Therefore, in the final analysis the words brhadbhanavi (svaha) point to Radharani, who is commonly known as Varsabhanavi-devi. One who gets her favor conquers Krishna, making liberation seem insignificant, if even desirable.

Radha’s father’s name is Vrsabhanu, and the name Varsabhanavi means “daughter of Vrsabhanu.” Radha is also known as Vrsabhanu-nandini, “she who gives joy to Vrsabhanu.” Bhanu indicates the sun, and vrsa means “the greatest” or “best of its kind.” Brahman is the greatest sun, and thus Radha is the joy of the brightest sun (Brahman/Krishna). Vrsa also means “bull.” The bull is the symbol of dharma (righteousness). Thus Radha is the joy (hladini-sakti) of the brightest dharma—the prema-dharma of Sri Caitanya.

Because Radha was born at the rising of the constellation known as Radha, she was also appropriately named after it. Radha appeared in Vrajabhumi in the year that followed Krishna’s birth and under the stellar influence that marks the happiest day in his astrological chart. The name Radha also indicates worship (aradhana). She is the best worshiper of Krishna.⁵

While she is the Supreme Goddess, she is at the same time the supreme example of devotion to God. She personifies the highest expression of self-sacrifice, which is synonymous with svaha. Radha also personifies the hladini-sakti, the potency of Krishna that gives joy. Similarly, true self-sacrifice is joy. Thus Radha is further identified with svaha. Understanding svaha in this way while chanting the Gopala mantra deepens the devotee’s identification with Radharani and the hladini-sakti.

1. See Swami B. V. Tripurari, Bhagavad-gita: Its Feeling and Philosophy (San Rafael, CA: Mandala, 2001), 278–81.
2. The words brhad-bhanavi are unusual as they have no dictionary meaning, only this esoteric meaning, which has not been recorded anywhere else.
3. See SB 6.6.41, 9.22.4. Tap, the verbal root of tapani, means “to illuminate.”
4. Caitanya-candrodaya-nataka 5.35.
5. SB 10.30.28.

The late Dr. Ian Stevenson

By Michael Kaplan

Why, in their past lives, was everybody a princess or mighty warrior? Didn’t anybody dig ditches in the ancient world? Who took out the garbage? Who fed the elephants? Despite these quibbles, reincarnation has many attractions as an idea: it offers us another spin of the wheel; it puts punishment or reward for our deeds into a more credible landscape than the flames or the clouds; it simplifies the question of where all this consciousness goes to or comes from. It’s tidy and sensible, like recycling. And it makes each of us special – if only because we once ruled Egypt.

If you shy away from this seductive principle because it is unscientific, take heart: Professor Ian Stevenson, described by colleagues as “a methodical, careful, even cautious, investigator, whose personality is on the obsessive side,” spent a lifetime documenting instances of “reincarnation-type cases.” A tall, reserved Scots-Canadian, Stevenson had none of the guru about him: kindly but by no means hypnotic eyes peered through functional glasses; tweed, not saffron robes, enveloped his lanky frame. First in his class at McGill medical school, he embraced the self-restrained style of scientific expression: his speeches and papers were the opposite of inflammatory. The only hint of unorthodoxy in his makeup was his mother’s devotion to Theosophy, which he described as “a kind of potted Buddhism for Westerners.” It was in her extensive library on mystical subjects that Stevenson first came across the idea that would occupy his life.

The evidence he presents is this: over 2,500 cases, from cultures around the world, where small children would describe previous lives and deaths they had experienced that turned out to correspond in detail with those of real people whose stories the children could not have known. The most extreme – and therefore most attractive – example was a boy in Beirut who described having been a 25-year-old auto mechanic, killed when he fell from a moving car on a road near the beach. The boy could apparently name the driver of the car and the close relatives of the dead man. Stevenson was as careful of fraud and premature conclusions as a scientist should be; he discounted muddled or clearly self-deluded accounts. Yet some stories simply didn’t submit to a “normal” explanation. Not only stories, in fact: one of Stevenson’s books documents hundreds of cases where the pattern of a child’s birthmarks or birth defects duplicates injuries received in the “past life” that child recalled.

Skeptics naturally shied away from research so redolent of signs and portents, but, to Stevenson’s credit, no one has pointed out obvious blunders in his data collection or reporting methods. It seems scientific – and indeed the problem may actually be with what “scientific” means. Science proposes explanatory hypotheses and then seeks to disprove them by counter-example. A “statistically significant” positive result in experimental science usually means that there is a less than 1-in-20 probability that the results seen were produced by chance alone. A well-conducted experiment isolates a proposed mechanism of causation sufficiently from the surrounding random phenomena to make a statistically-significant result genuinely tell us something about what is going on.

Now, Stevenson never proposed a mechanism; there was nothing here to test – no potential counterexample where a child with the same apparent memories could be shown not to be reincarnated. Stevenson also couldn’t gauge how likely this phenomenon was to appear by chance alone, because the data had selected itself – he only knew about a case because it was unusual. There was no way to isolate these remarkable stories from the other remarkable coincidences that mark life on this numerous earth.

For human life is filled with coincidence; the statistician Warren Weaver mentions hearing a stranger, a German professor at the University of Bogotà, suddenly describe every specimen tree surrounding Weaver’s house in rural Connecticut; he documents two men who, never having met, joined the Army simultaneously, served in the same unit, were the same age, and looked so much alike that they were taken for identical twins; one was named, Baker, the other Cook. There are six billion people on the earth. Even if there is only a one-in-a-million chance that you have a given characteristic, you share it as many others as would fill Carnegie Hall twice over.

Without a proposed mechanism and a method to quantify significance, Stevenson’s observations may have had science’s birthmarks, but not its life. Does that make them bunk? Not at all; but it leaves them, for the moment, outside the province of testable reality. His evidence is about something without explanation – and, unfairly for him, its whiff of the occult is likely to discourage further investigation.

Ian Stevenson died [on February 8] in 2007 – giving him the one chance to attempt an experiment in his otherwise anecdotal field. The combination for the lock on the filing cabinet in his office was set through a mnemonic known only to him. He said that, if he were able, he would attempt to communicate this from beyond the grave to a living consciousness – to prove that human existence is cyclical, and life not merely an arrow shot towards death’s target.

So far, the cabinet remains shut.
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This article originally appeared in Psychology Today.