By chanting Om namo bhagavate vāsudevāya, we use the vibrational energy to bow to the divine within, not necessarily to a particular form of God, but to a higher Self. Vāsudeva is a symbol for the indwelling consciousness present in every form of life. It suggests that the divine is not outside of us, but always present in everyone and everything. Vāsudeva is another name for Kṛṣṇa, represented as the Supreme Being, as God. In the scriptures, Kṛṣṇa is often described as saccidānanda: truth (sat), consciousness (cit), bliss (ānanda). Consciousness or knowledge here means remembering who we really are at the core of our being, understanding that we are part of a shared cosmic mind, not separate from the Other. As Sharon Gannon writes: “The purpose of our lives is to remember who we really are – to remember our eternal connection to the supreme source – to God. This remembrance is called Self-realization, awakening, enlightenment, or Yoga.” (Essay: “The meaning of Life” in Eternity is Happening now Volume 1, p.14).
Very often, the search for a purpose in our lives comes in a moment when something happens to us, when our lives are shaken and we want to understand why we are suffering or why things happen to us. Ultimately, this is the content of all the yogic scriptures. The Bhagavad Gita, for example, starts with an epic scene where Arjuna (the lower Self) is in despair, we could also say in a mental crisis, and asks Kṛṣṇa (the Higher Self ) for guidance. This inner dialogue about who we are, what we should do, and why we are here, constantly runs through us. It is often the fear of losing that causes us suffering. The answers ultimately come when we remember that there is something unchanging in us, something beyond our body and mind, something described as unconditional love – love that is purified from all egoic needs and from the need to be needed. It is the central radiance of our being, what shines through from our core, our ātman (the eternal Self within). The benefit, or consequence, of bringing unconditional love fully to the surface is that compassion becomes our natural state, and harming anyone or anything becomes impossible. We would be able to see ourselves in all beings, and the illusion of separateness would dissolve. We would be able to cultivate śraddhā, a deep faith in life, a trust in the process of life.
How can we move closer to that state, and how can we embody and cultivate it in our everyday lives?
The Bhagavad Gita suggests that we practice on mainly three different levels: purifying our actions through Karma Yoga, purifying our intellect through Jñāna Yoga and purifying our emotions through Bhakti Yoga.
One practice of Karma Yoga that Kṛṣṇa suggests to Arjuna is offering every action as a service to the divine: “Remember Me in everything you do. Call My name. Before you eat or drink anything, offer it to Me first. Make every action an offering to Me, then I will be present in your life.” (BG 9.27 – commentary Sharon Gannon) When we dedicate every action to a higher consciousness, the seemingly mundane acts of daily life, cooking, eating, walking, are transformed into an opportunity to transform our mind.
Through Jñāna Yoga (the Yoga of knowledge) we have the ability to find our own personal path, aligned with our innate nature, talents and station in life, our svadharma. The continuous practice of Self inquiry brings us closer to an understanding of our place in the cosmos, an understanding that Gregor Maehle describes as follows in his book about Bhakti: The Yoga of Love: “all of us are permutations of the one Divine, through which it embodies Its unlimited creativity.” (p. 6) It means that on one hand God is the creator of everything and on the other it needs the living beings to express itself in some ways through them. One task in our life, then, is to discover how the divine might express itself through us. This not only through our svadharma, but through our attitude behind every action we take.
One big part of Bhakti Yoga is Nāda, sound, vibration. Japa mantra (mantra repetition) is one direct way of practicing this: repeating divine names in moments of distraction, anger or sadness, gently turning them toward love. This vibrational energy can lead to transformation and healing. A few years ago, Alexandra and I went on a pilgrimage to Vrindavan, the sacred birthplace of Kṛṣṇa, with our dear friends Petros Haffenrichter and Visvambhar Sheth. We were completely immersed in the vibrational energy by chanting mantras every day, whilst visiting the holy temples and sacred places. When we returned to Luxembourg, friends and family asked if we had been on a wellness retreat, based on how we looked. We had simply been chanting, the vibrational energy flowing through us. The transformation was visible, a radiance or deep nourishment from the inside that is difficult to describe, yet somehow entirely visible from the outside.
We can search for many definitions of the divine, but we always encounter the same challenge: it cannot be fully grasped by the mind as it is difficult to imagine a formless, all-pervading consciousness. That’s why Patañjali advises in sutra 1.23. Īśvara-praṇidhānād vā (ईश्वरप्रणिधानाद्वा – By giving your life and identity to God you attain the identity of God) that we chose our own form of the divine, one we can speak with, surrender to, walk beside. In that way, the divine is not seen as a distant perfection to be reached, but as a companion walking with us through our limitations and joys alike. As Sharon Gannon reminds us: We have two jobs in life – to remember God and to be kind to others – and they go hand in hand.
I would like to conclude with a beautiful saying: the bird sitting on the branch is never afraid of it breaking, its trust is not in the branch, but in its own wings. This is the heart of Bhakti: not blind belief, but a living faith in one’s own deepest nature. It is exactly what the mantra Oṁ namo bhagavate vāsudevāya expresses. Vāsudeva, the divine who removes suffering and delights all, does not do so by making life easier or safer. He does it by reminding us what we are made of. The suffering is released not when the danger disappears, but when we remember the divine within ourselves. To chant this mantra is to practice that remembrance: to bow, again and again, to the wings we already have.
