El Canto Devocional de Ananda

THOUGHTS ON CHANTING

by Swami Kriyananda

August 2, 298 Dwapara

When I first encouraged chanting with guitars—it was over fifteen years ago—I did it because much of our chanting lacked the energy that rhythm gives to a chant. Rhythm is not so important for personal chanting (Master would hold a single note for a long time, sometimes, when chanting with only two or three of us), but it IS important when chanting in a larger group. Lacking this sense of rhythm, I found that the chants were getting slower and slower, until by the end they sometimes sounded positively funereal. Maybe it was simply the time it takes for sound to travel between the front and the back of the room, but in fact I think it was more than that. When leading the chanting, my own playing would get dragged slower and slower. The only alternative would have been to accept a battle of wills between my playing and what came back to me from the audience.

We had few Indian drums, that people tended to thump, rather like Indian tom-toms; the sound lowered the vibration of the chanting instead of raising it. The inability of Americans to tune in to the subtlety of Indian chanting became especially evident to me at gatherings in Hare Krishna temples, where I found the beat was sometimes of a lower chakra variety, affecting even the movements people would make in their dancing. Again, in those temples, I was sometimes reminded of war dances around a tribal fire. So it occurred to me that guitar playing could help solve our problem. I’d heard this at Peki, and realized that guitar playing was something Westerners were better at. At Peki it gave a more uplifting power to the chanting. The same thing, I thought, could influence our own chanting, and rescue it from becoming a sort of “hymn sing.” In fact, the guitars gave a certain power to the rhythm. I think they’ve added a lot to our chanting, over all.

Then there was also the element of chords. Up to a point, chords were helpful, for they stirred up feeling in the heart. I remember Master, during the chanting at one Christmas meditation, encouraging us, “Whip up feeling in your hearts!”

But I’ve worried also about these changes. For one thing, to stir the emotions at the beginning of a chanting session can be helpful, but later on the emotions must be transformed into intuitive feeling, which is always calm and interiorized. How to effect this transformation?

Another point, which I think will not be very well received but needs to be said: Master NEVER played Indian chants for group singing. He could easily have sung Maha Mantra (“Hare Krishna, Hare Krishna, Krishna Krishna Hare Hare!”, etc.), or one of the other simple chants we all do. I do know that in recounting the life of Sri Chaitanya he once sang “Radhe, Radhe, Radhe Govinda Jai! Spirit and Nature dancing together.” But it was usually in the context of that story, and by his translation he gave it a spiritual meaning. Even in India, the only story I heard of his chanting in a group was of one night when he sang and danced all night. It was in Calcutta. A huge crowd joined him. They filled the house, then the street outside the house, then covered the surrounding roofs. They all danced joyfully the whole night. And the chant he sang on that occasion—in Bengali—was “Door of My Heart.” In fact, he brought to the world a whole new style of singing to God. His chants are NOT like traditional Indian chanting.

So there are several factors I’d like to consider. Let’s begin with the last of them. Master’s mission was to spiritualize America and the West, not to Indianize us. He himself loved Indian music, and was exceptionally well versed in the Indian style of playing and singing. Even so, he didn’t involve Western audiences in it, and from all I can tell he even

sought to inspire the audiences in INDIA with his new style of chanting.

So: Does this mean we should give up the Indian chants altogether?

No, I don’t think so. There is much more exposure to Indian culture nowadays than there was in his time. He himself would sometimes sing Indian songs for us, in the Indian manner—Tagore’s songs, and others. I have a CD Agni made for me from Indian records that Master loved. But Master didn’t sing those chants that recite all those names of deities. Even when singing to Radha and Krishna, he universalized the concept by his translation: “Spirit and Nature dancing together!” Still, some of the Indian chants ARE beautiful. I’d be sorry to give them all up, and I don’t think I’m intruding a merely personal preference in saying so. I simply don’t think this is what we either want or need.

At the same time, I don’t think the mere fact that a chant is Indian is sufficient reason for singing it. Many of those Indian chants are neither beautiful nor inspiring. They haven’t a good melody. They produce a lot of noise, but not deep feeling. I think we need to be more selective in the chants we use, and especially to sing those with real beauty rather than select them merely for their Indian-ness. And I really think we shouldn’t sing so many of them. We are disciples of a new ray, and within that ray a new kind of music has been produced. I think we should honor this fact, and emphasize it more.

The next point has to do with emotionalism. Most Ananda members were raised on emotional music, so it comes naturally. I had my own share of this exposure, too, though later in my boyhood, and it never really sank in because I didn’t particularly enjoy it. Nevertheless, there is bound to be a tendency to LIKE sounds that remind us of the music we grew up with. And this means liking, and then WANTING, the emotional side of chanting and singing. I worry about this fact, because music is so much more than entertainment. It doesn’t merely REFLECT a state of consciousness: It also GENERATES it. A taste for emotional music, if it is too much encouraged, will almost certainly change Ananda’s very state of consciousness, in time—its underlying vibration.

There are three ways of expressing emotions musically: through melody, chords, and rhythm. Even an uplifting melody can be dragged down by chords that are too emotional, and by a heavy rhythm. Chords, if too heavily emphasized, can keep the music on an emotional level. And too heavy a downbeat in the strumming of the guitars will also emphasize the emotions, and feelings that strengthen the ego with their implied affirmation, “I WANT! I LIKE! I DON’T like!”

Another aspect of the chords as many people play them has, I confess, distressed me. For there are right chords, and wrong ones. Too often I’ve found myself cringing every time a wrong chord is repeated in a chant. If this musical “outrage” doesn’t disturb everyone, I still don’t think it can really inspire ANYONE. There’s a reason certain chords are right, and certain others, wrong. Music is a language; it isn’t simply a production of sounds.

In our new chant book, I’ve worked on the chords of my own chants, at least. I didn’t feel equal to tackling the chords that have been suggested for all of Master’s chants, and I confess I feel slightly guilty about this omission. But I’ve been trying to do another job, and have had to take time out to do even this much work on the chant book. I hope you’ll study these new chords, to the extent that they are new.

How much should we use chords? You’ll notice that in my album, “Kriyananda Sings Yogananda,” I hardly use them at all. I chant much more in the style Master used. At the same time, this album is more for individual singing than for large groups, and therefore doesn’t even try to be rhythmic. Back to the question of chords, then: I’d say, don’t feel that chords are essential to our chanting. MELODY is what’s essential. People who find chords easier to play, and who therefore skimp on playing the melody or omit it altogether, ought to try to learn to play the melodies, and to play them correctly. It isn’t enough only to sing them. The practice of playing chords without melody is getting too far away from Master’s style of chanting.

Secondly, it would help, as you get deeper into a chant, to get away from playing the chords altogether and concentrate entirely on the melody. Through the melody you’ll find it easier to attune yourself to AUM than you will by continuing to emphasize the emotional feelings awakened by chords. Go from outer exuberance to quiet absorption within.

It would be nice to have the Indian drums that are played from the sides, rather than from above like the Indian tablas. The tablas require considerable sophistication to sound good, and even with sophistication they often sound as if they were in competition with the singing. In my album called (I think) “Songs of the Soul,” Keshavadas’s son Murali played the tabla accompaniment, and played it exceedingly well. He played it, however, in competition with the singing, and not in support of it. In fact, someone asked him, later, how the chanting session had gone, and he replied, “Very well. I played such-and-such a tala.” Lewis plays the tabla sensitively and also well, but we can’t have him for every chant session, and I think the tabla is, in any case, right only for certain chants, not for all even of the rhythmic ones. The mridanga, dholak, and other similar instruments, played from their sides, are easier to play, and are in most cases more natural for chanting than the tabla.

But guitars can be great also, if not over-emphasized. Stronger strumming at the beginning of a chant session can yield to gentle fingerpicking as the chanting gets deeper. Outer exuberance should be replaced gradually by inward depth.

Sankirtans should include short, then long and then gradually longer periods of meditation. The purpose of all chanting is to take us inside, not to keep us shouting out loud to God.

Most Indian chanting is a recitation of names of God, with an occasional “namo” thrown in. Are all those names really meaningful to any of us? We haven’t grown up with them. They aren’t a part of our culture or of the way we think. I was asked recently in an interview, “To which Hindu symbols do you feel most attracted?” I had to answer, “To none of them, particularly! I’m a yogi. Symbols are for people who feel more drawn to the outward aspects of religion.” Master, too, placed minimal importance on deities, symbols, etc. As his disciples, I think we ought to recognize that many of those Indian chants, most of the names which aren’t even recognizable to us, are more a means of letting off emotional steam than of really deepening our devotion. Forgive me if I offend. I don’t at all mean to.

I want also to say, let’s be careful that we select chants that uplift us, not those merely that stir us with sweet sentiments. Let us try to use them as a means of internalizing our consciousness—in other words, as a path to God. Let us realize that even in India, much of the chanting is not inspiring, but mostly just makes a lot of noise. I remember a story about a time Sri Ramakrishna and some of his disciples attended a Vaishnava festival, and found the music dispiriting. Let’s try our best to follow Master’s way, and to tune in to the divine ray he has brought into our lives. The more we do so, the faster we’ll all grow spiritually.

In Master’s love,

Swami

Swami’s answer to questions from someone on Indian chanting.

September 23, 298 Dwapara

…of course there are things Indian that we will want to continue to incorporate into our activities at Ananda; I mentioned a few of the Indian chants as an example. I have felt for some time, though, that we’ve gone off decidedly too far in that direction already, and have been doing so progressively more as time goes on. Those statements you mentioned as having been attributed to me were accurate, in their essentials at least. That doesn’t mean I was calling for a 180-degree change in course. Naturally it takes time for people to consider any new proposal. It would be a shame, certainly, to throw many things away wholesale, before we’ve had a chance to consider what might take their place, and which aspects of them we’d do well to hold onto. I wanted only to suggest a new direction, one that I think is important, but which will require considered thought.

When we wanted to start a school at Ananda, people didn’t know quite where to begin. As you know, although Master said some important things about education, there was a lot more that he left unsaid. And so there was a natural temptation to begin by studying up on Montessori schools, Waldorf schools, and others. It was a serious mistake to do so, however. Especially at that point, when we hadn’t already developed a deep understanding of how Master would have wanted us to manifest schools, we would inevitably have assimilated unwittingly assumptions and approaches that had no place in our own schools. It would have been a matter of putting new wine into old bottles.

The situation may at first glance appear different in the days of Indian traditions: Master did come from India, after all, as has yoga; and India, of all countries, has much the most spiritual tradition. You may not appreciate, though, how very far Master’s expression departed from anything to be found in India. It was precisely in the area of ritual that his departure was most pronounced. Master introduced almost none of the Indian customs: the pujas, all the different Gods and Goddesses, etc. Nor did he give us Indian names: At SRF we began to take those on only after his passing.

God has sent us a special dispensation for the dawning of a new yuga. We’ve scarcely begun to imagine, even at Ananda, how thoroughgoing a revolution Master actually brought. It’s hardly surprising that the forms appropriate to it are quite distinct form those of Kali Yuga.

…we want our activities at Ananda to be creative, full of joy and inspiration, and ever new: alive, in short! Do you suppose that ancient India had a monopoly on all this? What creative people we have at Ananda! If we didn’t, we wouldn’t be very good disciples of Master. Creativity was his hallmark. Everything he did he approached in a fresh way, unencumbered by precedent. In his poem he urged us to “Sing songs that none have sung; think thoughts that ne’er in brain have rung!:

The true secret of creativity, of course, is to understand that it isn’t we who create anything. Master is just as alive now as he was fifty years ago. If we draw on him nothing we do will be creative. Whatever I’ve accomplished these fifty years as a disciple, none of it was my doing. I’ve prayed to master, and he’s done it all through me. It’s been a great help, of course, to have  been his direct disciple. I’ve always asked myself what he would have done it he were in my situation, and so often things that he did or said would come instantly to mind, and show me the way. That’s not something the rest of you can do so easily, not having lived with him. You may find some of the same benefit, though, by drawing on your experience of my life as I drew on Master’s. Since Master was a perfect channel for God, attuning myself to him was liberating for me rather than in anyway limiting. Just how helpful you’ll find it to draw on your experience of my life will depend on how successful I’ve been in my discipleship, that is, on the extent to which I’ve kept myself out of the way, and made of my life a window through which Master could shine unobstructed. I hope I’ve done well enough to be of at least some help that way….