Through his Books: A True Story
BY: GEORGE A. SMITH
Sep 29, USA (SUN) —
tenaa satata-yuktanaa
Bhajataa preti-purvakam
Dadami buddhi-yogaa taa
Yena mam upayanti te
"To those who are constantly devoted and worship Me with love, I give the understanding by which they can come to Me."
Srila Prabhupada's Bhagavad Gita As It Is, 10.10
And it seems that at some other times, Krsna awards such knowledge just to those who seek for life's ultimate goal. Following my awakening to the transcendental reality of Krsna Consciousness by Vishnujana Swami and his chanting party along Hollywood Blvd in the late 1960’s, (as recounted in "What I Think of Narayana Maharaja Part 2"), the normal consciousness of the fourteen-year old boy quickly reasserted itself; in other words I went back to sleep.
But something inside of me did not sleep, nor did it seem to measure time as I did, as the slow passing of hours, weeks and years. It waited patiently, as if it had all of eternity to wait for me, and would, waiting for that curious combination of desire and willingness upon my part, to seek again for it, life’s ultimate goal, and to be again amenable to its direction as I had been that day when I had encountered the chanters on Hollywood Blvd. On that day it had given me the understanding of how to verify for myself the actual spiritual bona fides of the Krsna Consciousness movement and I had applied that understanding with the result that I came to know with soulful surety beyond the shadow of a doubt that what I had stumbled into was, to use an expression of the times “Out of this World.”
At the time I had encountered the chanters, after they had passed me by, I had had just a few moments before drowsiness overcame me again, just long enough to formulate an intention that I would one day act upon. By Krsna’s mercy in response to my sincere enquiry that day I had been given proof positive, beyond the understanding of either my mind or my senses, that the Krsna consciousness movement was in fact a bona-fide spiritual tradition.
The chanters were clearly empowered, but by what? I did not know but was curious to find out, and so the intention was formed in my mind that day to investigate them further to find out from where that power came.
That opportunity did not manifest itself for quite a number of years, until I found myself, a young soldier on leave waiting for a plane at the Seattle airport with nothing much to do except watch the clock and pass the time.
It was then that I saw her, a young woman, walking round and up to different people, mostly gentlemen, pinning a carnation to their lapels. She wasn’t dressed like a devotee, instead she was wearing a nice gray feminine business suite, gray skirt and jacket with a white blouse, nothing at all suggestive or alluring. Because of the way that she was dressed and also because I was to far away to hear her and could not make out exactly what she was handing people, I did not know what she was, nor did I even suspect, not after all even being curious. But as the moments passed and she continued to conduct her activities within my view I began to take interest and then became fascinated by how deftly she was performing her activities.
None of the people that she was going up to and stopping were standing around like I was, they were all of them moving, walking, and mostly at a brisk pace and some of them were even running, in a hurry to either get to a plane or to a bar for a drink to steady their nerves before their flight went off, and all of them were walking or running towards wherever they were going to very purposefully. I think that a 49 ers tackle would have had a difficult time stopping some of the people that this young diminutive woman was stopping, but yet she was doing it, smoothly, expertly. I focused my attention upon her and her activities.
As soon as she would stop some gentleman, before he had even a chance to speak she was in control of the situation. Although the person that she had stopped still may have thought that they had the initiative, that would have only have been their self comforting conceit. Her hands were already fixing a carnation to their lapel, she already had them pinned, so to speak and although whoever she had stopped did not realize it, for at least a few moments they were in her power completely, and escape was not possible, at least not easily. As her hands busied about the lapel and her voice spoke to soothingly, as if hypnotized, he would reach into a pocket to pull out some change or a bill which he would then hand over to her. Then before the open hand could even close she had placed either a magazine or book into it, and again she was in complete control, determining based upon some criteria whether to let go of her own hold upon the book or no. In most cases another donation was given before the book or magazine became the sole possession of the person she had given it to, and even when, after that, after she’d released them from her control, and a person would thrust the book or magazine back at her, the fact that he had already given her a donation for it, or paid for it, in his mind, was most times completely forgotten in his hurry to just escape from her.
After watching this for several minutes I began to wonder how come she wasn’t coming up to me? It wasn’t like there were that many people walking by at the time, and I was the easiest target being that I was stationary, standing in plain view of her within 20 or 30 feet, but for some strange reason she didn’t even seem to see me. It was very puzzling, I continued to study her.
Within her field of activity and vision she was cognizant of everyone, everyone that was moving. Everyone that she was appraising also seemed to be oblivious of her, or when they were not, had only just become conscious of her but had no real time enough to elude her without jumping over the rail or running backwards. And with everyone she had the initiative, but with me, the only person who was stationary and appraising her, she did not even apparently see, or perhaps she did and just thought that I was airport undercover security, either way it was I who was being given the initiative. In every other encounter it was left up to her, but in this case it was being left up to me. I stood around for another few minutes, and then walked off from the railing that I had been leaning against to within fifteen feet of her, hoping that she’d notice and come to me. Still she did not see me. I waited patiently through two more of her encounters and then finally despairing that she would ever come to me I began to walk up to her. Finally, as she finished with her last encounter and as I walked towards her, she saw me and immediately went into her routine, pulling out a carnation as she moved towards me. I stopped, she stopped before me, her hands reached up, her moth opened.
“Good morning. We are with a young Chis……”
She struggled to get the word out, she strained. She went up several octaves and up and down the scale but still she couldn’t manage to get the word out that she was trying to say which was of course “Christian” and also a lie. This was happening so fast that I had neither time to be amazed or to realize what was happening but compassion for, I said:
“You’re a Hare Krsna.” Her eyes widened… in fear. “I’m a friend.” I said, and then she was happy. She gave me a magazine, she didn’t ask for a donation, I gave her one anyway and then I walked into one of the gift shops and came out with a stuffed animal, a polar bear which I gave to her and which she accepted, perplexed, eyes wide and uncomprehending.
I was just another conditioned soul to her that day, just another one of the lost and fallen that on her masters behalf she was trying to save. I doubt that she would have remembered me for three minutes if I hadn’t given her something that would have marked in her mind something out of the ordinary, the polar bear was just something that might distinguish me and fix the exchange in her memory so that forty or fifty years later if she ever read this she might remember how remarkable it was that when I went up up to her, a disciple of Srila Prabhupada, seeking for the absolute truth, that despite her thinking that she had to, and despite her trying to, that through the arrangement of the Absolute Truth she never lied to me but told to me instead the absolute truth. All glories to Lalita devi dasi.
It was time for my flight, I walked away with a magazine and a card, an invitation to a free Sunday Love Feast. I formed an intention to go to it after I returned from leave.
After several weeks I found myself back in the Seattle airport, returning from my leave. It was strange, a lot had happened, a lot had been going on, but upon finding myself again at the airport I found myself feeling like all the time that something inside of me had just been waiting, just marking time between my experience with Lalita d.d. a month before and my returning to the same place where I had last had an experience with a Hare Krsna devotee, eager for more. I wondered if it was about the girl, but it wasn’t. Despite being a normal man I had never once though of her in a lustful way, but here I was, back at the airport, feeling all forlorn that she was not there to greet me. What was my realization of my impatience and enthusiasm about, I wondered, I didn’t know at the time, but in retrospect I think I know, there was something else inside me, something that had been waiting but which was far less patient than the other one. Years ago when I had encountered Vishnujana and then later just a month before when I had encountered another devotee, after many lives of tasting only bitterness, it had tasted sweet and it hungered for more.
I was not really familiar with the airport, but it seemed that in response to my desire that something took control and moved my feet and took me directly to a storage room that I had never known to be there and there I found her, sitting on a box of books, taking lunch and reading. I said Hare Krsna and then she looked up and saw me. I apologized for my interruption and she respectfully rose to her feet. “Magnificent.” I thought to myself and it wouldn’t be the last time that I ever thought so of one of these matajis. She still was wearing the same gray business suit, as if a small gray cloud could hide the brightness of the sun. She remembered me and repeated her invitation to the free Sunday feast, I promised that I would come the next week and although we would live together in the exact same house, the two story temple of Lord Jagannatha on Capitol Hill for the better part of a year that was that last time I ever spoke with her, for she along with all of the others were trying to be chaste and I did not want to be the cause of their fall down or take anyone of them away with me. She was already on her way back home to Godhead, an initiated disciple of Srila Prabhupada, and in the arms of a movement that would provide for her all of her needs, at least that is what we all believed then, so I didn’t mess with her or any of the other brahmacarinis as I knew that one day I would have to leave, but I am indebted to her and will always be.
The week following I went in to Seattle and arrived at the address on the card I had been given a full day early, after calling the night before and being invited to come over on Saturday.
I was greeted at the door by the young woman I had talked to on the phone who welcomed me to Lord Jagannatha's temple and then ushered me into a side room. There she d a young male devotee, a brother of one of the girls in the brahmacarini, gave me a brief presentation of the philosophy, she all the time smiling and he all the time distracted and upset about something, not really attached at all to what he was preaching. I focused on the woman, her attachment wasn’t just circumstantial or happenstance, just like Lalita d.d., she was shining. After a short while she left and then returned bearing with her a plate of strange looking food which she offered to me. I tasted and something inside me that had been starving all of its life was satisfied. The name of that young woman who offered me my first plate of prasadam was Karla Pati, another devotee to whom I am eternally indebted.
After some few minutes the young man excused himself and the Karla Pati, having some other duties offered me the privilege of strolling around unaccompanied, inviting me to go into the Temple Room all by myself, to “see” Srila Prabhupada, something that I had been waiting to do for eight years, since I first formulated the intention to discover whether the source of the Krsna consciousness movements empowerment was a “Secret Adept” or “Hidden Master” or “Inner Plane contact” as they were often referred to by such Western groups as the Theosophists, the O.T.O., Argentium Astrum, etc., or whether it was localized in an apparent gross physical body.
It made no difference to me that the Srila Prabhupada that I found myself facing in the temple room was a picture on the Vyasasan, for as I suspected and as he himself confirmed to Jadurani in a letter, he was no different than his picture.
It was my consideration that if the source of the empowerment of the devotees was now before me that although by material designation those eyes were only ink and paper that his consciousness would not be localized in the material universe except apparently, that those eyes that looked out at me from the photograph could actually see. It was actually better for what I then intended that his physical presence wasn’t before me then, why? You will see.
Now please bear in mind I was simply responding to an intention formulated long ago and acting under the direction of something that was, well, it wasn’t the me that I put my hat on or combed the hair of every morning. As I stood there in front of Srila Prabhupada, the eyes that could see, I needed the voice that could answer my inquiry. I looked around and there it was, the large McMillan edition of Bhagavad Gita As It Is. I picked it up, returned to stand before the vyasanan and then silently asked my question. I then employed a technique of divination referred to as Bibliomancy from frequent usage of the Bible by those who practice it. As I finished my question I closed my eyes, opened the Gita to a random page, placed my index finger on a random spot on the page and then opened my eyes. There the answer was. My question was quite specific and could be answered satisfactorily with only that one quite specific answer that was there now before me, but there was more, immediately following, that which promised victory out of that which would otherwise be only life’s defeat. I had tested Srila Prabhupada, with his consent and he had proven to me that he was a transparent via medium between myself and that which could only be God, he had proven this through his activities, through his writings.
Devotee reads (from Srila Prabhupada’s Nectar of Instruction):
Yes, it was so.
All glories to Srila Prabhupada
Haribol
George A. Smith
