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Mastering Freedom

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ancient_paztriot

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Hridy: There's one statement ???, that any work which is not devartha, which is not meant as a sacrifice to God, it is karma-banda. Banda, the Sanskrit word from which comes our English word bondage… Bondage-banda… to bind, bondage. So karma-banda means the bondage of karma… is being bound by karma.

 

So Krsna says ???, anything else which is not meant for God, it will…

 

It's ironic because we try to avoid surrendering to God because we have an urge for freedom…somehow we don't want God to close in on us too much.

Guest: ??? exploit. It's a matter of choice.

Hridy: Yes, but still I think people avoid God's service thinking they want their freedom. They don't want to be… uh they don't want to be forced or they don't want to have to serve God.

 

But you see, Krsna says by not serving God, then you loose your freedom actually.

 

It's just like let's say - to give an example - that you dance… So let's say someone that is involved in dance. Now if you practice very strenuously, very seriously, and actually achieve mastery of dance, then you become free. Isn't it? When you achieve that mastery of the arts, then you're free. Then you can do anything freely. But if you have not mastered it, then you're restricted. You may want to move in a certain way, but you can't move like that. You see?

 

Or just like if you're a pianist, you may want to move in a certain way… you cannot achieve it because you haven't got that mastery.

 

So in the same way, it is by that surrender to God… If we master the art of serving God, then we become free. That's the freedom of the soul.

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While My Guitar Gentle Weeps - George Harrison

 

Now look at you walk, see the love, love that's sleeping

While my guitar gentle weeps

I look at the floor and I see it needs sweeping

Still my guitar gentle weeps

 

I don't know why nobody told you

How to unfold your love

I don't how someone controlled you

They bought and sold you

 

I look at the world and I notice it's turning

While my guitar gently weeps

There we mistake we must surely be learning

Still my guitar gentle weeps

 

(Instrumental)

 

I don't know how you were diverted

You were perverted too

I don't know how you were inverted

No one alerted you

 

Now look at you walk, see the love, love that's sleeping

While my guitar gentle weeps

 

There look at you walk

Still my guitar gentle weeps

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Govindaram, "Hridy:" is an acromym I gave to Hridyananda das Gosvami, one of the original Prabhupada inheritors. (No, I don't want to get into that.) He finnished the Srimad-Bhagavatam translations and purports that Prabhupada left incomplete.

 

In my opinion, he is a brilliant speaker and KC advocate. Definately one of the strongest soldiers against Maya on record. I advocate nothing beyond this.

 

He preached around the world for many years. His arthritus became a big problem. He is now retired from formal preaching near the L.A. temple. He still participates in ISKCON management.

 

SONG FOR ADAM by Jackson Browne

Though Adam was a friend of mine, I did not know him well

He was alone into his distance

He was deep into his well

I could guess what he was laughing at, but I couldn't really tell

Now the story's told that Adam jumped, but I've been thinking that he fell

Together we went traveling, as we received the call

His destination India, and I had none at all

Well, I still remember laughing with our backs against the wall

So free of fear, we never thought that one of us might fall

I sit before my only candle, but it's so little light to find my way

Now this story unfolds before my candle

Which is shorter every hour as it reaches for the day

But I feel just like a candle in the way

I guess I'll get there, but I wouldn't say for sure

When we parted we were laughing still, as our goodbyes were said

And I never heard from him again as each our lives we led

Except for once in someone else's letter that I read

Until I heard the sudden word that a friend of mine was dead

I sit before my only candle, like a pilgrim sits beside the way

Now this journey appears before my candle

As a song that's growing fainter the harder that I play

But I fear before I end I'll fade away

But I guess I'll get there, though I wouldn't say for sure

Though Adam was a friend of mine, I did not know him long

And when I stood myself beside him, I never though I was as strong

Still it seems he stopped his singing in the middle of his song

Well I'm not the one to say I know, but I'm hoping he was wrong

I'm holding out my only candle, though it's so little light to find my way

Now this story's been laid beneath my candle

And it's shorter every hour as it reaches for the day

Yes, I feel just like a candle in the way

I hope I'll get there, but I never pray

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Wish You Were Here

 

So, so you think you can tell Heaven from Hell, blueskies from pain.

Can you tell a green field from a cold steel rail? A smile from a veil?

Do you think you can tell?

 

And did they get you to trade your heroes for ghosts? Hot ashes for trees?

Hot air for a cool breeze? Cold comfort for change?

And did you exchange a walk on part in the war for a lead role in a cage?

 

How I wish, how I wish you were here.

We're just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl, year after year,

Running over the same old ground. What have you found? The same old fears.

Wish you were here.

 

Shine on You Crazy Diamond VI-IX

 

Nobody knows where you are, how near or how far.

Shine on you crazy diamond.

Pile on many more layers and I'll be joining you there.

Shine on you crazy diamond.

And we'll bask in the shadow of yesterday's triumph, and sail on the steel breeze.

Come on you boy child, you winner and loser, come on you miner for truth and delusion,

and shine!

.....................................

 

Oh, I've gotta stop!

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Call It Love - by Poco

 

We've got all night, let's take our time

Tell me your secrets, I'll tell you mine

When makes us feel better, call it love

 

You say you won't, I say you will.

You make me crazy, but I want you still

When it makes us feel better… call it love.

 

Do we tell the truth or do we live a lie?

Is the feeling good? Is that what makes you cry?

When you say those words, look me in the eye

Tell me why you call it love

 

I play my hand, you call my bluff

We push each other till we've had enough

When it's all you've got… call it love

 

If I didn't have money would you want me still?

When you look real close, do we fit the bill?

Call it what you want, honey time will tell.

 

(Instrumental)

 

Do we tell the truth or do we live a lie?

Is the feeliing good? Is that what makes you cry?

When you say those words, look me in the eye

Tell me why you call it love

 

We got all night, let's take our time

Tell me your secrets, I'll tell you mine

When it makes us feel better, call it love.

 

Chorus…

 

Call it love

When it's all you've got, call it love.

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Haribol, heres a freedom song, sad, but factual

 

chimes of freedom, bob dylan

 

Far between sundown's finish an' midnight's broken toll

We ducked inside the doorway as thunder went crashing

As majestic bells of bolts struck shadows in the sounds

Seeming to be the chimes of freedom flashing

Flashing for the warriors whose strength is not to fight

Flashing for the refugees on the unarmed road of flight

An' for each an' ev'ry underdog soldier in the night

An' we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing.

 

 

Through the city's melted furnace, unexpectedly we watched

With faces hidden as the walls were tightening

As the echo of the wedding bells before the blowin' rain

Dissolved into the bells of the lightning

Tolling for the rebel, tolling for the rake

Tolling for the luckless, the abandoned an' forsaked

Tolling for the outcast, burnin' constantly at stake

An' we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing.

 

Through the mad mystic hammering of the wild ripping hail

The sky cracked its poems in naked wonder

That the clinging of the church bells blew far into the breeze

Leaving only bells of lightning and its thunder

Striking for the gentle, striking for the kind

Striking for the guardians and protectors of the mind

An' for the poet and the painter far behind his rightful time

An' we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing.

 

 

Through the wild cathedral evening the rain unraveled tales

For the disrobed faceless forms of no position

Tolling for the tongues with no place to bring their thoughts

All down in taken-for-granted situations

Tolling for the deaf an' blind, tolling for the mute

For the mistreated, mateless mother, the mistitled prostitute

For the misdemeanor outlaw, chained an' cheated by pursuit

An' we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing.

 

Even though a cloud's white curtain in a far-off corner flared

An' the hypnotic splattered mist was slowly lifting

Electric light still struck like arrows, fired but for the ones

Condemned to drift or else be kept from drifting

Tolling for the searching ones, on their speechless, seeking trail

For the lonesome-hearted lovers with too personal a tale

An' for each unharmful, gentle soul misplaced inside a jail

An' we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing.

 

Starry-eyed an' laughing as I recall when we were caught

Trapped by no track of hours for they hanged suspended

As we listened one last time an' we watched with one last look

Spellbound an' swallowed 'til the tolling ended

Tolling for the aching, whose wounds cannot be nursed

For the countless confused, accused, misused, strung-out ones an' worse

An' for every hung-up person in the whole wide universe

An' we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing.

 

 

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