Diary of a Traveling Preacher
Charlotte Bhakti Yoga
July 23 - 26, 2006
By Indradyumna Swami
"The New Site"
Our festivals continued, unaffected by the deceitful anti-cult
campaign of the government. At least for the time being, we had the
upper hand: our programs were entertaining tens of thousands of people
every week, giving us good publicity. Still, I had learned long ago
never to underestimate the enemy.
"If you know the enemy and know yourself, your victory will not stand
in doubt."
[The Art of War, Sun Tzu, Chapter 10, Text 31]
So it came as no surprise when we received what appeared to be a blow
to our plans for the upcoming Woodstock festival. One morning Nandini
dasi had a call from the organizer of the event, our good friend Jurek
Owsiak.
"I'm getting pressure from higher up," Jurek said, "so I'm going to
have to ask you to decrease the size of your village at Woodstock this
year. You'll also have to move from the hill overlooking the festival
where you were last year to a corner of the site."
Nandini was struck. "What happened?" she said. "Why such a big
change?"
"You know the present political climate, as well as I do," he said. "A
big site like you had in previous years attracts too much attention
and puts the whole Woodstock festival in jeopardy. Don't forget, we
have a common enemy."
Nandini came to me and told me about the call.
"Do what he says," I told her. "When selling an elephant one shouldn't
haggle over the price of the trident for controlling it."
The next day Nandini, Jayatam das, and Bhakta Dominique drove 300
kilometers to Kostrzyn, the town where Woodstock would be held.
Jurek's secretary showed them a small spot near the entrance to the
festival.
"You have 50 meters by 50 meters," he said.
The devotees stood dumbfounded, looking at the tiny area.
Nandini, with her usual sharp intelligence, came up with an idea.
"It's not practical from the point of security," she said. "You know
how much the kids love our village, especially the food distribution.
Last year we distributed more than 110,000 plates. There's not enough
room here. There will be a riot for the food."
"Hmm," said the secretary, "that's true. All right, 100 meters by 100
meters, but not a centimeter more."
Nandini called me as they drove back to our summer base.
"Guru Maharaja," she said, "I know we like to do our festivals in a
big way, but we'll have to resign ourselves to something smaller this
year.
Nevertheless, Jayatam, Dominique, and I think the location and size of
the new site are not so bad. All the kids will see us as they come
into Woodstock. What's more, our site will be packed. It will be an
intimate mood."
Two weeks later, we finished the first half of our program along the
Baltic Coast. We packed up everything, and with all 250 devotees,
drove to Kostrzyn. I went straight to the new site. Dominique had
already set up the main tent, one-third the size of last year's.
I was impressed, and I could not help smiling. "Actually," I said to
Dominique, "I think this spot is better. We're right in the thick of
things with the kids."
As I walked around inspecting the site and the preparations, Jayatam
came up to me.
"Guru Maharaja," he said, "the elderly man over there is asking if he
can buy the large painting of Radha and Krsna, the centerpiece in the
backdrop behind the stage."
"It's huge," I replied.
"He doesn't mind," Jayatam said. "He wants to put it in his home. He
said we come once a year and then go away. He misses us all year, but
if he has the painting, he'll always feel close to God."
"Tell him he can pick it up it the day after Woodstock," I said.
"What's the price?" Jayatam asked.
"Give it to him," I said. "Who can put a price on love of God?"
As we drove away from the site, I saw a young man in his 20s with long
hair walking in with a backpack.
"He's arriving early," I said to Amritananda das.
Then I noticed he had a japa bag in his hand and was chanting.
"Look," I said to Amritananda, "he's chanting. Is he one of our men?"
Amritananda looked closer. "I don't think so," he said. "I've never
seen him before."
"Call him over," I said.
The young man came up to the car. "Are you a Hare Krsna devotee?" I
asked him.
He looked puzzled. "I ...uh ... like to read Bhagavad-gita," he said.
"Do you live in a temple?" I asked.
"A temple?" he said.
"Well," I said, "where did you learn to chant on beads?"
"From Bhaktivedanta," he said.
Amritananda and I looked at each other.
"Some time ago," he said, "I went on the internet looking for
spiritual knowledge and came across the Bhagavad-gita As It is. I
ordered it and began reading. Several times Bhaktivedanta mentioned
the importance of chanting Hare Krsna. I eventually discovered that
chanting means chanting on beads.
So that's what I do."
"And you've never met devotees?" I said.
"Devotees?" he said.
"Yes," I said. "You see over there? There's a whole village being
erected called Krsna's Village of Peace. For the next week you can
meet devotees of Krsna and learn more about chanting Hare Krsna."
"Well ... Okay," he said.
"We'll speak more over the next week," I said as we drove off.
For the next few days we worked feverishly to construct the village. I
was tired from a month of festivals along the coast, but the fatigue
soon vanished as I thought about the prospects ahead.
"Three hundred thousand people will get a strong dose of Krsna
consciousness," I said excitedly to Amritananda as we helped unload 22
tons of foodstuffs from a truck into a kitchen. "One may have to wait
many lifetimes for such an opportunity."
Nandini saw a hint of the success ahead when she went to a public
school where we wanted to board our devotees and to cook for the
festival. Nandini was apprehensive. Last year she had received a cold
reception from the headmistress of the school.
But this time the headmistress greeted her warmly. "I am so happy you
have come back to Kostrzyn," she said to Nandini. "You are welcome to
use the school facilities during the Woodstock festival."
"Thank you," Nandini said. "But you are very different from last year.
What made you change?"
The headmistress smiled. "I visited your village at Woodstock last
year,"
she said. "When I came, one of your leaders was speaking on the stage.
After listening to his talk, I understood that the values you uphold
are everything we try to impress on the children we teach. But the
real change came when I walked through the whole Woodstock festival. I
quickly went back to your village, grateful for the atmosphere of
peace, tranquility, and cleanliness.
"The next day I returned to your village, but for a different reason.
My father had recently died, and I was deeply affected. I was looking
for answers to many questions about life. I ended up in the yoga tent,
and the instructor taught us about asanas as well as philosophy. I
found much relief from my difficulties. Since then I practice yoga
three times a week and have introduced yoga classes in the school."
"That's wonderful," Nandini said. "I'm glad to hear we made such a
difference in your life."
"Can I ask one more favor?" the headmistress said. "I am looking for
an English teacher for the school, but I want someone high-class, with
spiritual values. Out of love for the children, I can't imagine
employing anyone with lower standards. I'll provide a good salary, a
nice house, insurance - everything. Just get me a Hare Krsna to teach
the children."
Nandini laughed with pleasure. "I'll try my best," she said.
The headmistress walked Nandini to the door. "I'm looking forward to
this year's festival," she said, "and I'd like to compliment you on
your new site. It's perfect, right at the entrance of the festival, a
good place for spreading your message. From what I've heard, the whole
town of Kostrzyn will be visiting Woodstock, or better yet, Krsna's
Village of Peace."
Nandini could not help smiling and laughing the whole way as she drove
back to the festival.
"People are praising our activities," Srila Prabhupada once said. "If
we keep our standard, then they will appreciate. They'll say, 'Oh, it
is very nice, these people are good.' Sometimes in [news]papers they
say, 'These Hare Krsna people are nice. We want more of them.'"
[Srimad-Bhagavatam class, Los Angeles, December 7, 1975]
www.traveling-preacher.com
Official website for Diary of a Traveling Preacher
Charlotte Bhakti Yoga
By Indradyumna Swami
July 27 - August 1, 2006
"Modern-Day Pastimes"
Devotees worked day and night for a week to get Krsna's Village of
Peace up and running in time for the Woodstock Festival. In the
evenings, people from the nearby town of Kostrzyn would drive out to
the site and sit on the grass watching devotees set up the tents.
Whenever a piece of framework for the large tent was raised or a
lamppost installed, they would clap and cheer.
"The first year we came, the townspeople stayed away from our village
out of fear," said Jayatam das one evening. "The second year they
came out of curiosity. But this year they seem to be coming because
they really like us."
At that moment a group of young priests walked by without acknowledging
us.
"I wish that were true for everyone," I said.
Two days before the festival began, I went with Jayatam and Nandini
dasi to the main stage to meet the organizer, Jurek Owsiak. I hadn't
seen Jurek since last year's festival, so I asked Jayatam if he was
in good health.
"He's fine," Jayatam replied. "He was concerned about getting
enough security, but it's been resolved. Good weather is predicted,
so he's in good spirits. But there is one thing that's bothering
him. It comes up every year."
"What's that?" I asked.
"A certain Christian group," he said. "Every year they come with
a heavy proselytizing mood, creating an atmosphere of animosity.
Although he welcomes everyone, he's thinking to refuse them this
year."
As we came around the back of the big stage we ran into Jurek.
Immediately, he and I hugged each other. "Maharaja," he said,
"we've built this event up together for the past 11 years. It's
been a success every year because of our cooperation. Leaders of the
Christian group that was antagonistic the last few years visited me
this morning. You'll be pleased to know that this year they've
agreed to work with us in a spirit of reconciliation. I'm leaving it
to both of you."
My eyebrows went up. "Really?" I said, "Last year they were
openly critical of you and us."
"Yes," he replied, "but this year they want to share their
message of love."
"I hope it happens," I said.
On the way back to our village, Jayatam updated me on the activities
planned for our village at Woodstock.
"In our tents we'll have yoga classes, bhajans,
questions-and-answers, face painting, astrology, books and various
exhibits. In the big tent we'll have a stage program continuously for
15 hours a day. And we'll be distributing prasadam non-stop, 24 hours
a day, for 3 days from the food distribution tent. On top of that,
Harinama samkirtan will be going out daily."
"And six Ratha-yatras!" Nandini piped up.
"What?" I said. "Six Rathayatras? Really?"
"You weren't at the meeting last night, Guru Maharaja," Nandini
said. "We decided to put more energy into taking our message to the
kids with Ratha-yatra. We'll have the parade twice a day through the
main areas of Woodstock."
Black Summer Crush, a rock band from America, arrived that night. I had
met the band's leader, a devotee named Bhakta Scott, during a visit
to the Laguna Beach temple in April. When I sent a CD by the band to
Jurek, he asked that they play on the main stage at Woodstock and gave
them prime time.
The other band members were also favorable to Krsna consciousness, but
when we took them to their Spartan quarters in one of the schools we
were renting, they balked. Nandini decided to find a hotel for them,
even though it was late at night. But as she called around it became
apparent that because of Woodstock, all hotel facilities had been
booked months in advance. On her last try, by Krsna's grace, she
found something more than adequate.
She called a hotel 120 kilometers away. "Sorry," said the woman at
the hotel, "all the rooms have been booked for months. Wait! I
recognize your voice. You phoned me two years ago looking for a spring
base for the members of your Festival of India. Do you remember?"
"Let me think," said Nandini. "Yes, I do remember now."
Nandini laughed. "At that time you also said there was no room,"
she said.
"But we had such a nice discussion about life," the woman replied.
"Many things you said have helped me since then. And I'd like to
help you now. I own a special facility for conferences and banquets
that I rent only to VIPs. The last people to rent it were a group of
politicians from Germany three months ago. I would be more than happy
to rent several rooms for your band."
"Where is it?" said Nandini.
"Fifteen minutes' drive from Woodstock," the woman said.
We opened our village early the next morning, a day before the festival
- a tradition we have maintained for years. Within minutes, long lines
of young people formed in front of our food-distribution tent. I joined
the servers, and the first person who came forward greeted me with a
smile. "I've been waiting a whole year for this meal," he said.
Later in the morning 100 devotees gathered in front of our huge
Ratha-yatra cart on the field. I gave a short talk about the meaning of
Ratha-yatra and brought out 20,000 colorful invitations for devotees to
distribute. As we pulled the cart along the main road of the festival
grounds, many young people joined the parade, chanting and dancing with
us. I noticed that very few of our invitations ended up on the ground.
I made a mental note: "It means many people will come to our village
over the next three days."
Sure enough, that evening our village was packed as the kids enjoyed
prasadam along with our stage show and the activities in our tents.
The next day was the first official day of Woodstock. Out of curiosity,
I sent Nandini and Jayatam to the hill where our village had been
situated last year. Two circus tents stood on the spot, and a number of
well-known writers, poets, and entertainers were scheduled to speak
during the festival.
When Jayatam and Nandini arrived a film crew was interviewing one of
the speakers. Jayatam and Nandini immediately recognized the woman
conducting the interview as a reporter for Channel One, the main
television station in Poland. For the first time, Jurek was allowing
national television to film Woodstock.
Jayatam and Nandini waited patiently and when the interview was
finished, they stepped forward and introduced themselves. After a few
minutes of discussion, the woman accepted their invitation to visit our
village below.
As Jayatam and Nandini walked back down the hill, Jayatam called to me.
When he came up to me, he whispered that national television was coming
to film the food distribution. I couldn't believe what I was hearing.
Within minutes the television crew was filming the distribution and
interviewing the kids.
"I come to Woodstock for three things," said a boy with a Mohawk
haircut into the camera. "Music, beer, and Hare Krsna food."
The woman interviewed one of our cooks, Krsna Sambandha dasa. The woman
kept the camera rolling as he methodically listed the amount of bhoga
we were cooking. "Four tons of rice," he said, "two tons of
semolina, two tons of sugar, two tons of frozen vegetables, and two
tons of dhal."
"And it's all offered to God, to Krsna," he concluded with a
smile.
After filming, the reporter accepted prasadam. She looked around at our
colorful village, buzzing with activity. "There's so much to write
about here," she said to her cameraman.
That night the story was on prime-time evening news, with an audience
of millions.
Jayatam told me about the newscast. "You know," he said, "Jurek
moved us down here to avoid publicity, but in the end we got more
publicity than we could ever have imagined."
"You and Nandini get the credit for that one," I said with a smile.
"You went up the hill and found the television crew. There's a
saying: If the mountain will not come to Muhammad, then Muhammad will
go to the mountain."
Jayatam looked puzzled. "Mountain? Muhammed?" he said.
I laughed. "I'll explain after the festival," I said.
That night Black Summer Crush played on the main stage to a crowd of
150,000. They enthralled the kids with their unique style of rock
'n' roll and then thrilled the audience by chanting Hare Krsna as
their last song. As Bhakta Scott's wife, Carmen, led the kirtan, many
in the audience stood transfixed by the transcendental sound vibration.
On the second and last day of Woodstock, we took our Ratha-yatra cart
out early for the first parade of the day. As we started pulling it
down the crowded road, suddenly another camera crew appeared, and after
panning the large crowd chanting and dancing, started filming the arati
being offering to the Jagannatha Deities on the cart.
"Who are they?" I shouted to a Polish devotee.
"Channel Two," he shouted back, "the second biggest station in
Poland!"
I looked up at the cart and saw a mountain of fruit on the platform
near the Deities. "Haribol!" I shouted to the pujaris. "Start
throwing the fruit to the crowd!"
"But the arotika is going on," one called back.
"It doesn't matter!" I yelled. "National television is
filming!"
They all stood staring at me, looking puzzled.
I ran to the cart, jumped up on one of the big wheels, pulled myself
over the railing, and grabbed some fruit. I turned around and began
throwing apples, bananas, and oranges to the crowd. The people roared
with pleasure and raised their arms to catch the fruit as it sailed
through the air. Some people made fantastic catches. Others, less
coordinated, fumbled with the fruit as it fell. One boy, in his
eagerness to catch a banana flying by, put up both hands and the banana
exploded into mush all over him.
A number of kids were simultaneously chanting and dancing . . . and
eating fruit.
That evening the blissful scene was aired on Channel Two news. The loud
chanting of Krsna's holy names resounded in the background.
Later that day Rasikendra dasa, our head cook, assured me that we would
distribute more plates of prasadam than last year. "We'll do more
than
115,000 plates this year," he said, exhausted but blissful.
As I passed the Question-and-Answer tent in the afternoon, Trisama das,
the devotee who was speaking at the time, came outside briefly to talk
with me.
"The quality of the kids at Woodstock is better than ever," he
said. "The Yoga tent has been packed since the day it opened. These
kids are eager for Krsna consciousness like never before."
Late in the afternoon the Ratha-yatra parade pulled out for its sixth
and final procession. The majestic cart with its canopy of red, yellow,
and white billowing in the soft breeze seemed to be sailing through an
ocean of people.
It seemed to me that this Ratha-yatra was even more blissful than the
one I had seen in the holy dham of Jagannatha Puri because now Lord
Jagannatha was giving His blessings to these Western boys and girls who
are so conditioned by material life.
"Srila Visvanatha Cakravarti Thakura points out that just as a lamp
does not seem to shine as brightly in sunlight as it does in the shade,
or as a diamond does not seem as brilliant on a silver platter as it
does on a plate of blue glass, the Lord's pastimes as Govinda do not
seem as amazing in the transcendental abode of Vaikuntha as they do
within the material realm of Maya. Lord Krsna comes to the earth and
within the darkness of material existence these brilliant, liberated
pastimes give unlimited ecstasy to the surrendered devotees of the
Lord."
[Srimad-Bhagavatam 10.14.37, purport]
As we chanted down the road for the last time through the thousands of
kids, many called out to us:
"Hare Krsna!"
"Great food!"
"We love your village!"
At one point I stopped the cart and took the microphone. I started
leading the kirtan, quickly building it up to a peak. Suddenly a young
man in a drunken stupor came stumbling into the kirtan. He was a
fearful sight with his disheveled hair and his body covered with dirt.
His clothes were torn, one arm was in a cast, and a knife was tucked
into his waist. He stood before me, mumbling incoherently with a wild
look in his eyes.
My first reaction was one of fear and then shock. Then I calmed down.
"Let's see the power of the holy names," I thought.
I took the young man's hand and began to dance with him. His
half-closed eyes opened in astonishment as we danced together in front
of Jagannatha, Lord of the Universe. Seeing us, the devotees became
more enthusiastic and the pace of the kirtan increased. Suddenly my new
friend and I were dancing wildly. A big smile appeared on his face as
he tried his best to utter the words of the mahamantra.
Because of his drunken state, he was soon exhausted. I started
chanting, "Nitai Gaura Hari Bol!"
Suddenly the young man opened his arms, rushed forward, and hugged me.
Then as the devotees wildly applauded, he kissed me on the cheek,
grabbed the microphone, and began singing in a sweet voice: "Nitai!
Nitai! Nitai!"
Then he grabbed a ceremonial broom hanging in front of the chariot and
began to sweep the road in front of Lord Jagannatha. Taking it as a
sign from the Lord, I signaled to the devotees to start pulling the
ropes and we started down the road again, our friend sweeping the road
all the way. We were all mesmerized, witnessing the modern-day pastimes
of Sri Caitanya Mahaprabhu.
Suddenly, as we rounded a corner I was surprised to see a group of some
400 Christians led by several priests, chanting, dancing, and waving
flags down a road that would intersect ours 50 meters ahead.
"What should we do?" I thought. "Turn around and avoid a
confrontation or slow down and let them go ahead of us?"
The other devotees looked at me for a sign. I smiled. "The moment of
reconciliation," I said to myself. I motioned to proceed forward.
Within minutes the two chanting parties converged. Moving together down
the broad avenue packed with festival-goers we continued chanting our
praises of God. The mood was amicable and respectful. As we walked
along together I exchanged several smiles with the priests. Many of the
young people walking by noticed the friendly interaction and gave the
thumbs up. After 15 minutes, the Christian group branched off on
another side road.
It was such a change from the past that I wished Jurek and many more
could have seen it.
I suppose the Lord did, however, because that night an article appeared
in the Gazeta Wyborcza, the biggest newspaper in Poland. It was
headlined, "Hare Krsna and Jesus - Tolerance at the Woodstock
Festival."
The last paragraph summed up the encounter:
"On Wednesday, Lord Krsna's chariot was being pulled down the main
avenue of Woodstock by his devotees, when it met a parade of
Christians. 'Hare Krsna!' sang one group as the two approached.
'Lord Jesus!' called out the other. When they met, two happy
dancers - one a Catholic priest and the other a devotee of Krsna - came
forward. To the amazement of all present they stood face to face
smiling and swinging to the rhythm of their own melodies. It lasted 20
minutes, though we hoped it would last forever."
As we chanted on our way back to the festival site and the remaining
hours of Woodstock, I remembered Jurek's words of assurance just
before the festival began: "They've agreed to work with us in a
spirit of reconciliation. I'm leaving it to both of you."
Whether it was the cowherd boy Lord Krsna or the young shepherd Jesus
Christ, it appeared the great Woodstock Festival had been purified of
all animosity and both groups were now free to peacefully share their
message of love.
"The wolf also shall dwell with the lamb; and the leopard shall lie
down with the kid; and the calf and the young lion and the fatling
together; and a little child shall lead them."
[Holy Bible, Isaiah 11.6]