A near-fatal accident helps a devotee to turn his attention to life's ultimate goal.
Born in 1992 and raised in the Swiss countryside, I went to a Waldorf school, which gave more facility to develop creativity than other schools. My father is a metal worker and my mother a fashion designer that later worked as a secretary in a music school. At seven, I developed an ambition to live in Switzerland's biggest city, Zurich, and become a banker. Besides this I had an inclination for collecting all kinds of things like stamps, coins of different currencies, and train tickets. Later, I became interested in science and wanted to become a chemist. I was fascinated to see how material nature worked like magic, and how we humans could control it. Upon entering my teenage years, I developed another interest. My best friend, Mirco, my cousin Simon, and I founded a punk rock band. Naturally we aspired to one day stand on stage in front of thousands of fans. While my friends were determined to become lawyers, eye doctors, gardeners, car salesmen, and so on, I was unsure what to do, having no clear aim in life. Finally I chose what I thought would be best: to go to university and graduate as a professor of chemistry.
The Turning Point
Motorcycles were fashionable amongst boys my age. One day I took a drive on Mirco's motorcycle. At one point I became so excited that I lost control and … bang! I lost my balance in a turn and crashed into a wall, face first. I broke my jawbone, one tooth broke into pieces, another fell out, and a piece of my lower lip was almost cut off. It was a wake-up call. The following year I had so many painful meetings with dentists that the situation became unbearable. That's when I seriously started thinking about my life. Inside I was crying out for guidance about my place in this world.
A month before my accident, Simon's father had died of cancer. Now we both were shook up, which gave us the impulse to ponder about the meaning of life. I delved into conspiracy theories, watching documentaries about all the horrible things that had happened throughout history. I realized that this world is a nasty place full of cheaters. I felt there must be something beyond all these material activities, without which life is just like a very long sleep. Most people, however, remain fixed in materialistic activities, not at all interested in a higher purpose to life. Everyone is busy trying to solve their petty problems and struggling to make a living.
Gradually I started changing habits. Somehow I concluded that meat eating is not really proper, so I gave it up. I stopped reading the morning newspaper and also developed an aversion to television news. More and more I gave up material conceptions and tried to find what was beyond sense gratification. Although from an academic viewpoint my future looked good and my teachers recommended that I plan for university, I was not really satisfied with the idea of getting a good job simply to earn more money. But I didn't have any better option, so I agreed to aspire for that goal.
Rejecting Career for the Better
As I entered tenth class I started to realize that a career is useless if it doesn't give real satisfaction. Everyone is running on this path, trying to come closer to the front of the pack, to be the winner. But actually there is no winner, because the path is a circle, without an end. Then finally the fruit ripened – Simon and I quit our materialistic education to focus fully on finding the solution for the problems of this world, at which point we traveled a lot, especially to Germany, where a community of unsatisfied citizens is still growing rapidly. We had plans to construct villages in the forest, free people from ignorance, set up alternative energy systems and new monetary systems without corruption. We also experimented with meditation, lucid dreaming, astral traveling, and telekinesis. Both of us were reading books about esoteric subjects and new spiritual philosophies. We learned about karma, or the law of attraction, which became a main point of our philosophy.
Around this time, in 2009, there was a project just getting started in Germany: some people wanted to found an independent state without taxes and commercialism, promising a peaceful life for its citizens. The project attracted thousands of people, including me and Simon. It seemed to promise heaven on earth, and we enthusiastically dreamed how we would create the new state, while hundreds of people started signing up as citizens. Everyone was accepted. But after a few months the project ran into problems with the government and our plans failed. To become materially independent is actually not the solution for the problems of this age, as I found out later. Still, this was a time full of helpful experiences.
Experimenting with Meditation
Not long after that, I visited an organic gardener in Berlin. He told me that he was interested in Zen Buddhism but that he would sometimes also visit a Hare Krishna temple in the city. Because a Swami would be giving a lecture there, he invited me to accompany him to an evening program at the Hare Krishna temple. The temple sanctuary was small; there was only enough space for about thirty people to sit. We sang and ate with the devotees. I was especially impressed that the food – sanctified by having been offered to God – was vegetarian, and free. Actually, this visit left a very nice impression, but because I was not interested in personal religion, I didn't have any further contact with the devotees at that time.
Next I took courses in radionics, a new technique that promised me a peaceful mind. I had also heard that some people could survive without eating or drinking. I read a book that prescribed a three-week fasting program, which I immediately attempted. I realized how everything in the material world is dependent on something higher, a supreme source pervading all energies and life forces. Material necessities like eating and sleeping create unlimited disturbances that force one to work simply for maintaining life.
Around that time I started to look like a hippie – for two years, I didn't cut my hair. I also minimized all necessities. To live like an aborigine, maintaining life day by day using one hundred percent natural means, without any modern technology – that was my ideal. I knew some people who went to India around the same time; I was inspired by what I felt after hearing about this country. It seemed that India was a land of freedom where ancient paths of spirituality are still practiced. Something, I felt, was attracting me to India .
I had my own vision of an ideal society: there should be no money, because it brings diversion; people should work in the mood of service to the community and give away their surplus; there should be no meat eating and no intoxication. I visited many communities, searching for this ideal lifestyle, but none matched my standards. I kept trying to record my own philosophy of creation, the unlimited variety of energies and dimensions, and my explanations on everything that seemed essential to me. It seemed it would take a lifetime or more to write everything.
Eventually I read the Bhagavad-gita – an academic edition my mother had given me – and was surprised to find how much similarity it had with my philosophy. I also saw how my philosophy paled in comparison to the all-perfect Vedic philosophy explained in the gita. I had difficulty focusing on my goal of self-realization because I was alone. Often I would find myself in material activities, like watching movies of playing video games. Sometimes I would desperately pray to the universal energy to give me guidance so I could serve all living things. I observed that I felt awkward praying to an impersonal energy, and so I sometimes used the word "god" in my prayers. This made me feel a more personal connection, even though I derided the conception of God as a person.
Destination India
One of my neighbors introduced me to a couple, Charly and Manjari, who were planning to visit India. When I expressed my eagerness to visit India, they allowed me to join them. They said they were devotees of Krishna and were going to spend a week in Vrindavana. Little did I know that this was going to become a significant event in my life.
Upon reaching India on October 20, 2011, we went to Vrindavana. But there I fell sick. No medicine seemed to cure me, so my friends advised me to chant the Hare Krishna mantra as a cure for all ills. I decided to try because I had no other solution. Gradually I started inquiring about Krishna, Although impersonal ism was deeprooted in me, the Krishna philosophy appeared interesting. Twice I managed to visit the ISKCON temple in Vrindavana along with my friends. The kittens was a little bit too energetic, and I was struggling to hold myself up, but I felt good to be there.
From Vrindavana, we went to Gokarna, where Manjari encouraged me to practice vipassana, a Buddhist course on meditation. She said it could help clear my mind. I completed the course and then continued to practice vipassana daily.
Mercy of the Holy Name
Nonetheless, the Hare Krishna mantra fascinated me; I sang it daily. Charly gave me a set of beads on which I chanted japa. Almost every day I would spend several hours discussing with Charly and Manjari Vedic philosophy from the Bhagavad-gita and other books translated by A.C. Bhaktivedanta Swami Prabhupada, Much of the Hindu philosophy that I had heard from my mother – the multitudes of gods and their various forms of worship – made no sense to me. But now, as I heard from the devotees, all my doubts and misunderstandings disappeared and I became more and more serious about Krishna consciousness. Finally I gave up my speculation and accepted the Vedas as supreme knowledge.
After a few days of chanting japa, I realized that the silent vipassana meditation on the different bodily sensations does not match up to the powerful meditation on the pure sound vibration of the Hare Krishna mantra. I immediately replaced vipassana with sixteen rounds of chanting the Hare Krishna mantra on beads. Vipassana, I learned, may liberate one from material distress, but the Hare Krishna mantra can take one far beyond liberation. The happiness I felt while chanting, which left all other material enjoyments behind, was proof of this.
I visited Mayapur for the Gaura-purnima festival, where I met thousands of devotees from all over the world. I consulted His Holiness Janananda Swami; he advised me to take the VEDA course at Bhaktivedanta Manor in London.
I had many questions about Vedic culture and lifestyle, so when I asked Janananda Swami about the need to shave one's head, he said, "It's cleaner. It's a sign of detachment. And hair takes a lot of time to maintain." I knew he was right. I immediately shaved my head, just one day before Gaura-pumima 2012. Fully convinced, I decided to fully surrender to the service of the Lord and His devotees.
Happiness and Fulfillment
I went to London to attend the VEDA course and other forms of spiritual education connected with the Krishna consciousness philosophy. Whenever possible, I took the opportunity to serve leading sannyasis and gurus of ISKCON who visited London.
When I arrived at home again after these life-changing five months I was only interested in talking about Krishna, My family members were quite suspicious about my completely new philosophy, but sometimes they would try to understand what I told them. My father recently came to visit me in London and enthusiastically participated in the morning programs. He has since been chanting japa every day. My mother is also planning to visit the Manor and, by Krishna' s mercy, I am sure she too will become a devotee.
I feel eternally indebted to Srila Prabhupada and all his followers for guiding me on this wonderful and exciting journey of Krishna consciousness.