My Initation

I think these are the oldest picture I have of myself as a Hare Krishna. These photos are from the date of my initiation ceremony, sometime in the last few days of December 2004, when I officially took the vows of a Hare Krishna, which were that I vowed to abstain from illicit sex, intoxication, meat eating and gambling, and I promised to chant the Hare Krishna mantra on my beads 16 times around each day, a task that generally took me personally two hours to complete. Initiation also means that one is taking a vow to obey and follow the guidance of a Guru. During initiation one is also given a Sanskrit, or sometimes Bengali, name, which is chosen by the Guru. At this ceremony my name became Vidyapati dasa. Vidyapati was a poet, so I was named as his served, Dasa meaning slave or servant of.

On a practical level, receiving a new name is a confusing thing. For starters, it actually took me at least a day to remember my own name, and then longer to remember to respond when people used it! And it took others a while to get used to referring to me as Vidyapati instead of Mikey.

This occasion was a very serious event, as you may be able to tell from the photograph. The acceptance of a Guru, and the taking of vows is something that I have always considered to be on the level of a marriage situation. You take vows essentially to promise to be loyal to one person for the rest of your life. It is a point that is often stressed in the Krishna community that one should not approach these vows whimsically, and then change one's mind at a later date, saying "I was different then, I've changed now."

I think that is fair enough, and I think I entered into my initiation with the intention of sticking with it. At the same time, obviously I did not continue to be faithful to my vows, and I am no longer following the guidance of my Guru. Obviously, my goals and desires did change over time, and that lead me to a point where I felt I could not longer continue my relationship as a disciple in any way.

I will be honest to say that this was the hardest part of my decision to leave this community. At first, there was a definite sense of failure, even though I had already completely lost faith in the process and philosophy of this movement. There was definitely a fear of letting down the Guru, to whom I had made my vows to begin with.

I will say that there is a certain issue of prestige within the Krishna community, which I think is difficult to avoid for a lot of people, and which draws them to make big decisions perhaps partly out of social pressure more than through their own well thought out opinions. Having a Sanskrit name does give a feeling of belonging to the community, and it provides a recognition that a certain standing has been achieved, almost like receiving the next colour belt in a martial arts style. This is not the purest of motives by any means, but it is definitely a motive that happens. There is a feeling of disappointment in the hearts of an aspiring disciple if they have to watch others getting initiated before you, as if it is a sign of your inferiority. And within this community, status actually does mean a lot. Seniority is respected, and a Sanskrit name gives the receiver a certain sense of seniority. They are above those without a Sanskrit name. At least, I can say with honesty, this is how I felt about the situation, and I acknowledge that perhaps it was not the best motive for taking vows that are, strictly speaking, rather serious.

My initiation took place at the temple in Christchurch, while all of the young devotees from around the country spent a week or so together having a festival, between Christmas and sometime after New Years. This festival happened pretty much every year that I was involved with this community, though in subsequent years it was held at different locations. Having a festival at this time meant something very tuff for those of us who came from strong family backgrounds. It meant not being able to go home to see our families during the holiday periods, especially Xmas. I remember having to tell my mother before this festival that I was not going to be able to come home for Christmas. She started crying on the phone. My reaction at the time was one of anger, that my family was not respecting the lifestyle choice and goals I had set for myself. To be honest, I was also still feeling a bit bitter about the fact that the previous Xmas my family had all taken a trip to Canada without me.

But not being present to take part in Xmas with my family for so many years is something that I am very sorry about now. In truth, I missed watching my little brothers grow up because of the fact that family attachments are frowned upon within the Krishna community as being illusory distractions. You are not your body, you are the soul, so your family are only bodily relations, of limited importance in comparison to your spiritual progress. So I missed watching my brother grow up, and I missed seeing their bands perform, I missed hearing about how life was for them. I don't really know how they ended up the way they are now, and I definitely feel sorry that I wasn't able to be there for them as an older brother during any rough patches they may have had. I don't even know if they HAD rough patches. And to me, now, that is heart breaking to think about.

I think I am going to cry regularly while updating this blog.

EDIT:

Just found another picture of this day.