editorials

Published on July 14th, 2022 | by Harmonist staff

4

Sincerity in Solitude

A poem by Kishore Krishna dasa

—everyone experiences some solitude in life

Sincerity in solitude
is water’s purity
pouring from the sky,
flowing in the creeks,
and sitting on a leaf.

Sincerity in solitude
is a continual drawing
of dedicated days devoid of rigidity—
and doing that.

Sincerity in solitude
is ongoing deep and intuitive communion
with self, Krsna,
and everything in between.

Sincerity in solitude
is light enough to fall in love,
and heavy enough not to fall out.

Sincerity in solitude
is soft-hearted, familial words
with the cows, trees, and river streams;
and trying to forgive the insects.

Sincerity in solitude
is grounded, honest, and kind,
for loneliness hits hardest
when you show two faces.

Sincerity in solitude
is knowing when to turn off the screen,
and knowing when to not even turn it on,
because everything is meant to be felt.

Sincerity in solitude
is early morning japa,
and shuddering at the thought
of a life without.

Sincerity in solitude
is preparation like a plant,
slowly churning the sun and rain
into a coming bloom.

Sincerity in solitude
is finding identity amidst change,
“at once the fascination of a strange town
and the comfort and honour of being our own town.”1

Sincerity in solitude
is the responsibility of grace,
real commitment welling
not for a gift but a life—
the mercy of Sri Guru.

Sincerity in solitude is
the anticipation of a festival:
sadhu, kirtan, and katha,
O my!

Sincerity in solitude
is learning how to transition
from solitude to sangha,
and from sangha back to solitude.

Sincerity in solitude
is unsettled times,
sitting patiently with oneself—
and finding some solace in being.

Sincerity in solitude
is an art learned
through 108 failures,
and counting.

Sincerity in solitude
is routine like a cow,
because a cow is a friend,
and the mind can be too.

Sincerity in solitude
is the merging of mornings, afternoons, and nights
into one long, eternal day—
and finding rhythm in that.

Sincerity in solitude
is momentum like a slow-rising hum,
building and building,
more and more encompassing.

Sincerity in solitude
is the world standing still
on the next name of Krsna—
and so you chant,
and so you are enchanted.

Sincerity in solitude
is wanting to embrace Baladeva tightly,
his affectionate, outstretched arms
so ready to console your weary heart.

Sincerity in solitude
is empathetic well-wishing
for the friendly and the inimical,
because life is raw, trying, and sweet,
and you feel it all right now.

Sincerity in solitude
is a vivid subconscious
with affective memories,
some not so conducive—
waiting out the attachment,
and humbly carrying on.

Sincerity in solitude
is devastated, ashamed, and prayerful,
because you see patterns
of compartmentalized bhakti.

Sincerity in solitude
is the echo of a bhajan,
permeating every fear and doubt
as it resounds through the forest.

Sincerity in solitude
is momentously dislodged—
forgetting who and where you are,
and the moment just begging for surrender.

Sincerity in solitude
is not putting down the beads
once the daily vow is reached,
yearning to offer something real
to Dauji Gopal today.

Sincerity in solitude
is part of you immersed in gratitude
for the light in this room,
and part of you not remembering
anything before.

Sincerity in solitude
is melodious grace,
and absolutely speechless—
but your tears and eye movements
express something to Krsna.

Sincerity in solitude
is seva,
and truly feeling it is accepted
by Guru and Gauranga.

Sincerity in solitude
I am humbly praying for,
because it is part of the path
that lays before me—
and I can’t walk it alone.

1. G. K. Chesterton, Orthodoxy (London: John Lane Company, 1908), 15. [↩]

About the Author

Harmonist staff

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