Initiation By Fire
I was persuaded I needed to get initiated by the spiritual master in order to be fully surrendered and blessed. There needed to be a direct connection with a bonafide representative of Radha and Krishna. If the Spiritual Master is connected to Radha and Krishna, then he could guide me in how I could connect to the Divine Couple. There were scriptural references provided throughout the vedic literatures. And, it made sense. Initiation meant taking a mantra to free oneself from the desires of the material world in a gradual process of meditation. So it was necessary. Sound vibration creates the material universe and we can also transcend the material world by sound vibration. Everything was coming together in my mind to convince me I needed the commitment. And besides, when I looked at my Spiritual Master, he was so humble. He was so real. He was a man who was free from false ego who only wanted to help me attain God. And he emphatically expressed to us that Krishna was non-different from His name. If we chanted the names of the lord, without offense, we would become free from material desires and could enter into the spiritual realm where everything was eternal, full of bliss and knowledge. I wanted it! There was nothing higher!
So, I knew I had to become his disciple. He first lived as a renunciate in Vrindavan, India and translated the Bhagavad Gita and the 1st Canto of the Srimad Bhagavatam into English from Hindi. He published a magazine called “Back to Godhead” and traveled to Delhi to sell the magazine on the streets. His spiritual master told him to take Krishna Consciousness to the West. He took his spiritual master’s order to heart and finally, at the age of 70, in 1965, he begged passage on a steamship from India to the US to fulfill that desire. On the passage, he suffered a heart attack, but managed to come through. He stayed with an Indian family in Boston for whom he was referenced after first arriving in America. He cooked his own food, did his daily meditations and began his journey to deliver the message of Godhead to the entire world.
He moved to New York City and started chanting with some small cymbals in Tompkins Square Park. In that park, many hippies found him out and joined him. Gradually, with the help of his new disciples, he opened a small store front temple, previously known as “Matchless Gifts,”and both my spiritual master and all the devotees adored the name. It was perfect! Hippies came by the dozens to hear from the strange sadhu and he began to initiate them with joy.
He was fondly known as Srila Prabhupada. Srila means beautiful, prabhu means master and pada means feet. Therefore Prabhupada meant master whom all other masters fall at his feet. He desired nothing for himself. No car, no house, no boat, no special clothing, no fancy cuisine, no fame, no good looks, no vacations, nothing. Is this the definition of renunciation and purity? Yes, but there was more. A person can renounce, ok, but when one dedicates their life to God and the wish of their spiritual master, then it goes beyond renunciation. Prabhupada’s deeds were transcendental. There was no violence and no pressure and he told us, “Krishna Consciousness is not an imposition on the soul”. If someone wanted to take to the process of self realization prescribed in the Vedas, then he was simply laying it out for them to take. He was not attached to the results, a symptom of his surrender. A symptom of his love. He was attached to following the instructions of his spiritual master.
So, there I was, in the midst of a group of people who thought they could lie, cheat and steal for Krishna on one side and my gentle-minded and kind spiritual master on the other. What the hell was going on? Was this a real spiritual process or was it something made up like many religious cults? And what about all the rumored criminals who sheltered there? Were they serious seekers who just developed bad habits?
“Prabhupada said,” a term devotees misused and misinterpreted often, bring them to Krishna, by hook or by crook”. Does anybody know what that means? Those scoundrels took it to mean they could be ‘crooks’ for Krishna. Oh my God! Really? Do you know what that means? It comes from the Egyptian times when the Pharaohs ruled. They held a ‘Crook and a Flail’ in ceremonious rituals. They were symbolically crossed upon their chests. The British interpreted the crook (or hook) to be used to bring the subject in. The fail was to punish. There are other esoteric meanings to the crook and the flail discovered in time, but these were the definitions most commonly used in the period when Europeans were hungry for Pyramid knowledge. So Srila Prabhupada’s instructions were to bring devotees home to Krishna by Hook or by Crook. He did not mean that in order to serve Krishna, you could be a crook! Am I the only person who saw that? Later, however, it did appear that he simply turned his head when fraud was going on in the name of spreading love of god, but we all felt that he would ‘bend the rules’ for the opportunity to give Krishna to the whole world.
Anyway, in the midst of all these misconceptions, I realized I had to wade through the swamp to get to the beach. I needed to be content with my own integrity and deal with those whom I felt were deluded. It was very confusing because I was also seeking approval from these crooks and deceivers in order to get initiated by my spiritual master. I had to get to the core truth, in order to transcend this material world and not take birth again and I would have to do it through this imperfect vehicle, this body and mind and this imperfect society where I was learning a perfect truth. So I stayed and sought out initiation from the saint I saw only five times.
A Fire Sacrifice
After six months of following all the rules and regulations set down by our guru, we were allowed to get initiation. The ceremony began with a Fire Sacrifice. Humans were not sacrificed. A beautiful arena was designed with dyed rice flour mandalas made with yellow, red, green and blues. Coconut shells cradled mango leaves and bananas, while flowers were arranged symmetrically around the arena. Incense filled the air and bowls of uncooked rice, sesame seeds and ghee (clarified butter) were given to participants to offer to the fire. The purpose of the sacrifice was to offer oblations to the Gods through Agni, the Fire God, to purify our minds We were given a new set of Tulasi beads to chant on with 108 beads, one for each primary Gopi and one head bead representing Radha and Krishna. We offered rice and sesame seeds into the fire as the acting brahmin poured ghee over the wood and chanted the appropriate mantras. The fire exploded while we responded with the word ‘Svaha’ (The wife of the Fire God, Agni, and the only way to approach Agni). At the end of the ceremony, we were given a spiritual name and we were in bliss!
Here I need to say that the ‘fire sacrifice’ now revealed itself to me as a symbol, looking back. I was definitely going through a sacrifice much more engaging than the fire before me. It was the ‘fire of ordeal’. And believe me, this fire was burning me up, burning my heart and forcing me to forgive others and look inward. At one point, I came to the realization that initiation was a process that takes many years and I still was not fully surrendered in the ‘fire of love of god.’ I was simply playing or toying with actually following the complete orders of my spiritual master. This process is very hard when you are attached to the pleasures of the material world, and let’s face it, our desire to enjoy the material world is why we were here! It was normal. If we weren’t here to enjoy, then we wouldn’t have been on this planet at all. So, there should be no guilt, darling. No bullshit, indicating you that you’re going to hell for having great sex! We just needed to evolve if we wanted to stop the process of continued birth and death called ‘the wheel of samsara.’ I felt like screaming, Stop the bus and let me off! Take me out of this illusion! It didn’t happen overnight.
The process, as many did not understand then and do not understand now, is a gradual process of simply losing attraction to those things you once so much adored, because the pleasure derived from them was temporary. I was looking for eternal pleasure. Easy, if you look at it this way. For instance, I once loved water skiing. Every weekend I was out on the water. Every summer, I was tanned and oiled with my own set of skis meant just for me and that’s all I wanted to do. I enjoyed it for some time and later, I was on to something else. I got over it. Real initiation is like that. While living in the material world and enjoying it’s pleasures, you learn from a spiritual master and chant or meditate and focus on the truth. As the truth becomes more realistic, the material pleasures simply don’t mean much any more. They dissolve away! My spiritual master used to say, “When the full moon rises, the stars will seem insignificant.” So, as truth rises in our hearts, the illusion becomes second class. Once enjoyed pleasures become lesser pleasures, now ignored for a higher taste.
Puerto Rico
Strangely enough, Rusty and I took our first initiation in San Juan, Puerto Rico. How we got there was a little unusual. Rusty was a navigator for the coast guard, as I mentioned earlier, a Quartermaster. Certain leaders in the Krishna movement wanted to take Krishna Consciousness to the islands, at least that’s what we were told. Maybe they simply wanted to sail in the southern seas. And who wouldn’t like to go to the caribbean? I really didn’t know anything about the island, but the opportunity seemed interesting. We were therefore sent to San Juan to wait for the boat to manifest. It never came. Poor planning would be my guess. Why didn’t they have us out looking for boats instead of selling books? Rusty was not the type of person who was innovative enough to take charge and find a boat. So we waited. And the island was nice! Who would complain about being sent to a tropical island?
Many years later I realized my first initiation was a joke. The person who preformed our fire sacrifice had issues of his own, was definitely not a brahmin, and was not qualified to perform a bonafide fire sacrifice. No problem. First initiation was just a formal ceremony where you vowed to follow principles and received beads from the spiritual master. I think my beads came from a shop.
Spiritual names were given to us at the end of the ceremony. The names were given by someone other than Srila Prabhupada at that time, because he was so busy translating books. That person was confused! No problem. I lived with the name of a boy, Sanandananda, for years and never knew the difference. Rusty’s new name was Maha Shakti or Great Energy. It fit him well.
Things were pretty much unexplainable in a lot of areas at the time. But when I met Srila Narayana Majaraja, regarding my name he said,“There’s a little something wrong with your name.” It didn’t really matter to me, but he offered to change my name. I accepted his offer so I could establish a connection with him.
Anyway, as new devotees, we all desired to know the truth and Srila Prabhupada gave us the truth we sought and reeled us in to the beginning of a magical transformation. And what a magical transformation it was!
We were changing and everyone we touched changed. We were on fire! What does that mean? Oh My God, We were on fire! We were on fire with love of our guru. Really? Yes, it was true! But who was this Krishna? We were starting to find some attraction to him, too, though mostly it was just amazement as we heard powerful stories of truth, love, beauty, knowledge, magic and unlimited power. I realized I was at the doorway of finding out Who was the Love of my Life and I wanted to know more. The difficult thing was that this Krishna guy was obscure and I wanted a love that I could touch, someone right in front of me, not someone with an unearthly type of body. It was confusing, but I knew truth was there, so I persevered.
The caribbean was beautiful. That was long before my sailing days. Later I wished I could return, but to sail boats not sell books. We sold books in parking lots mostly, strip malls, vacation spots, Jewelry Row in Old San Juan and at the University of San Juan. It was interesting being in a tropical climate with avocados, champa flowers and fruit growing everywhere. In the early morning, the air would be filled with night-blooming jasmine so when we woke for our morning meditations, the fragrance would be permeating the atmosphere. The rains would come down strong and then disappear as they passed over the island. Once we went swimming in the ocean at a place called Condado. And get this. I was required to swim in those seven yards of fabric wrapped around me instead of being seen in a bathing suit! Insane, right? I got tossed around by the waves and dashed to the bottom of the ocean with such fierceness that I swore never to wear a sari again. But I did, just not in the water! Fuck that!
The island people were certainly a different culture that we were not used to being around. Some were fascinated by us and others hated our presence. We were fire-bombed by a group of students, throwing small explosives at us in the middle of the night. There were flashers around everywhere you looked. Men, just dying to show you their dicks!
The temple president was a lusty little guy himself, desperately seeking sex, but the problem was that the men were supposed to be celibate unless they were married and the tradition followed from India that an arranged marriage would be more lasting and spiritual than a marriage we would choose for ourselves. Therefore, this guy pleaded with the leaders of the society to give him a wife. And they did. But when she arrived, she was so homely and I am sorry to say, not very attractive, that he rejected her, putting off the wedding time and again. Poor thing was devastated. She was so sweet and devoted to our guru. One morning there was chaos all around the temple. Everyone was refusing to talk, but yet everyone was whispering! I walked into the kitchen to cut some fruit just in time to overhear the sweet and innocent devotee had been raped. Some Puerto Rican man climbed up over the railing to the balcony where she lay in her room asleep and brutally raped her. He beat her till her face was purple with bruises and she would not leave her room for over a week.
This was the temple president’s out. He could not marry a woman when rape was now a part of her persona. He began to treat her with disrespect as she gradually emerged from hiding until she finally flew back to the states, ashamed and jilted. My heart was breaking for her. What could she do? On one hand she was given an unattractive material body and then she was refused a husband because of rape. Rusty and I were in so much shock there were no words. We honestly did not know what to say to each other, and what to speak of every one else.
Unfortunately, cruel words like karma were being tossed around in a condescending way making me sick to my stomach. Is that your solution to everything that happens in this world? I thought, to place the blame on karma without any affection or compassion? What was this society I was involved in? Every day I found more truth and knowledge and love, I found more stupidity.
We continued to stay but no boat was ever produced. I learned to cook from an amazing chef who was living in the temple. Daily I sold lots of books. Since I spoke Spanish, it was fun interacting with the different culture. Puerto Rico was quite charming in many ways. Old men would sit in groups playing cards or chess in the main square of town. They joked with us as we passed, chanting in ecstasy. Children were playing everywhere. The old women were dressed in colorful full skirts and ruffly blouses while the young girls were strutting in tight pants and short skirts. There were singers in the Square in groups of men or men with a beautiful woman to attract attention.
In the shopping centers we would find very rich women with huge diamonds and rubies and emeralds decorating their necks, arms and hands. They were very proud of their wealth and it showed. In the neighborhoods people would sit on their porches in the afternoon and rock or swing in chairs as others walked past. It was an outside lifestyle I came to adore as time went on. But the temple situation was not good, to say the least, so that over-ruled the charming atmosphere.
There was one thing I would never forget. A number of new devotees were made while I was in Puerto Rico. Two older women were living in the temple and one couple with a young child moved in to live with us. We were taught the mouth was the dirtiest part of the body. We therefore always washed our mouths after eating and were careful not to touch our mouths to anything clean, like things for the altar. Therefore, it followed that we should not kiss our children! At the time, I was childless, so I didn’t think about it at all when one of the older women came to me and said, “Are you crazy? You think you should not kiss your children? Your children are the most precious thing in your life and a kiss is the way we show affection!” I was flattened! My heart must have stopped for a few beats, because I knew she was right and I began to doubt all these rules and regulations imposed upon me, not out of cruelty, but out of stupidity. I am quite sure my spiritual master’s mother kissed him, very lovingly. It was the most natural thing in the world. So what was this insane fanatical cult perversion that was happening around me?
The jilted lady left the island and the temple president became more angry daily as he yelled at devotees in the community and snapped at us for the smallest things. The residents in our community were embarrassed to have us around, so we were being treated cruelly in the neighborhood. I wanted to get the hell out of there and go back to the states! One day, when tension was high, I asked Rusty if we could leave. He refused to go saying we should follow the temple authorities and simply wait on the boat to manifest. I argued that for six months we waited and nothing happened. I wanted to go back to Atlanta. What were they doing anyway? There was no evidence of any effort being made to find a boat. And why should we follow this temple president who was definitely messed up? Maybe Rusty’s training in the military allowed him to accept instructions without question, but I was not of the same mentality. I made up my mind. I was getting out, Rusty or not.
In those days, flying was different. Reservations were easy to get. You didn’t have to book three weeks in advance, and I knew I could arrange it. I started keeping some money aside I got from selling the books, lying to the authorities about a bad day in sales without much income. I made a reservation to go back to Atlanta, but was short around $50 for the trip. So, cunningly, I borrowed some money from a brahmachari saying I needed money to buy some things for the altar and I would pay him back next week. (never did, sorry to say) The night before I left, I stashed some things in a bag in the bushes outside of my apartment and very early the next morning when Rusty went to Mongal Arotik, I grabbed the bag and walked to the nearest bus station where there were taxis or community cars. I got a car to the airport and I was gone! That was my first Escape.
Yeah, that’s my first solution to a bad situation, I escape! Rusty was shocked, I found out later, but he knew where I was. There was no question. I was not willing to live in a place where I was disrespected and treated cruelly for any reason, as women were in those days, and I was willing to deal with the consequences to get out. If my husband was pissed, so be it. If the temple president in Atlanta was angry, so be it. He would not be able to send me back, no matter what he said. I made up my mind and I left.
After arriving back in Atlanta, Rusty called to find out if I was there. Of course he was worried, especially after the young woman was raped, but he suspected my plot because I had expressed my desire to leave. Really, I think he was embarrassed he did not support me and he was definitely embarrassed that his wife left without him. It seemed a type of insult to him, although my leaving had nothing to do with my love for him. I simply needed to respect myself.
Two weeks later, after the temple president in San Juan and the temple president in Atlanta reconciled the situation, Rusty returned to Atlanta as well. There was never a boat and God knows what went on after we left. There were such weird things going on while we were there! I felt bad for the devotees who stayed, but I needed to save myself and what could I do about others? No one was mad. They were only shocked. And I think I actually liked the shock value.