Yesterday I had the pleasure of attending a workshop on Bhakti Yoga hosted by Saul David Raye and featuring Shyam Das. Shyam Das, a devotional teacher, translator and author, specializes in classical temple singing and the mystic poets of North India. Through his music, his reciting of poetry, his interpretation of ancient texts, infused with the contagious energy of his passionate kirtan performances and very own ecstatic nature, he offered many wonderful bit of insight and wisdom.
Although it would be impractical to try to share in this short blog what he already condensed from his 40 years of study in India and his translation of more than 20 books on the subject of Bhakti Yoga and the Pathh of Grace, I would like to share one lesson that I brought away from the day:
On one of the breaks, I took time to talk to Shyam Das about a subject that has been present for me lately - the concept of doubt. I had shared a long discussion on the same subject with my teacher Jeffrey Armstrong in Vancouver last week and wanted to get Shyam Das’s take on it. Shyam Das and I started to both delve deeply into the subject, contemplating where doubt comes from and how it undermines our energy, focus and faith. Our fascinating discussion was cut short when we had to return to the workshop, but he promised he would go into the subject further in the remaining time left in the program.
When we returned to the room and the group to wrap up the last 45 minutes of the day’s event, I sat with great anticipation for Shyam Das to provide me with more fruits of wisdom and deeper knowledge on the Bhakti teachings related to the concept of doubt. He sat in front of the circle and his harmonium. We all launched into a round of kirtan lead by an emotionally playful and ecstatic Shyam Das, singing and playing, while interjecting, over the music, explanations of the meaning behind the mantras and many humorous antidotes. Rather than simply being fully present to the Bhakti experience, I kept wondering when he would return to his discourse and reveal more knowledge about the teachings and the subject we had touched upon in our break.
Well, needless to say, the joyful singing of mantra and the sharing of collective devotion with deeply felt emotion continued to build and took us right up to the end of the workshop. There was no more discourse, no more lecture, no more answers for my small mind needing to know the meaning of life.
The lesson, like the practice itself, of Bhakti Yoga, is not one of knowledge as information but one of knowing through experience, the deeply felt emotional love and desire to unite with the divine source of all things joyful and beautiful, and actual expression of that desire with our entire being, not simply with the contemplation of our mind.
When the light lit in my own head, I was able to let go of my expectation and truly embrace the experience, as well be reminded again of one of the key teachings of Bhakti.
I had a similar experience (meaning that I had learned this lesson once, if not many times, before) in India a couple years earlier. I was at the Parmarth Niketan Ashram in Rishikesh, India with Saul and a group, attending the Internaional Yoga Festival. We were also exploring the teachings of Bhakti, the subject of the festival and of our immersion for the week. One of our esteemed guests was Sri Swami Vishwananda, who had promised us he would take time with our group to give his insights into the teachings and path of Bhakti Yoga. Days went by with Saul trying to coordinate a time for us to hold our private class with Vishwananda, until it was late on the next to last night of the Festival. Walking back from the evening’s homa and festivities, we ran into Vishwanada. When Saul inquired about time with the group, Vishwananda simply answered “let’s go now”.
So we followed the guru and his followers out into the dark night, toward the bank of the Ganges. There, with the moonlight and sound of the flowing river in the background, we all sat and awaited to hear some great words of wisdom. Vishwananda, and his men, said nothing. They simply pulled out their instruments and started to sing and dance. It wasn’t long before we all joined in and were swallowed into the celebratory experience of kirtan and dance that filled the next couple hours of the evening, re-tuned our inner vibrations and filled our longing hearts with joy and gratitude.
There are many books on the subject of Bhakti Yoga that offer us incredible knowledge, but the lesson that I keep learning is that the true knowing of the bhav comes through the deep emotional and joyful experience of devotion we only feel by participating in the celebration of that connection through music, singing, dancing and full expressions of our love and soul’s desires.