June 2026 - Jivamukti Focus of the Month reflections
A comedian, Pete Holmes, has a bit. He says that if you're angry with someone, it helps to imagine them asleep. Think of the scariest person you know. The person who intimidates you. The person who's driving you crazy. Now imagine them asleep. Maybe they're snoring. Maybe they've got their mouth hanging open.
Something about it instantly softens you. The person hasn't changed. But your relationship to them has.
A variation of this practice is to imagine the person you’re having difficulty with as a child. Whenever I'm just midly annoyed with someone, (usually its my own problem anyway - I’m hungry, tired, distracted) it helps me to imagine them as a child. The person who's being difficult. The person who I percieve is acting selfishly. Or even if its just my OWN impatience inserting itself, if I can picture the person as a child it awakens something in me that’s a little more careful about how I respond, a little more patient, tolerant. I can slow myself down from reacting out of annoyance. I can almost trick my brain into replacing compassion where judgment lived a moment ago.
They do this too in like therapy, Right? Talk to your “inner child” - and dammit, it kind of works?!?!
My inner voice is pretty harsh most of the time But if I picture little Jessica standing in front of me, trying her best, suddenly that harsh voice sounds a little ridiculous. You wouldn't talk to a child that way.
And this is one of the things I find so beautiful about Krishna bhakti. Krishna appears in so many forms, and different devotees are drawn to different relationships.
Some are drawn to Krishna as friend. Some as beloved. Some as teacher. And some are irresistibly drawn to Gopala—the baby Krishna.
I've always found that fascinating. Because baby Krishna is objectively a terrible babysitting assignment. He's stealing butter. He's eating dirt. He's breaking things. He's causing cosmic disturbances. Yet devotees look at Gopala and their hearts melt.
There's a tenderness there. A protectiveness. A love that comes naturally.
And I've begun to wonder whether part of the genius of these forms is that they train our hearts.
They awaken certain qualities that are already there. It's about cultivating a way of seeing. A way of seeing that notices innocence before offense. That notices vulnerability before irritation.
That remembers that beneath all the layers of conditioning and ego and confusion, there is something sacred. The form that awakens devotion, affection, delight.
And sometimes I think the spiritual question is: what would happen if I related to other people with even a fraction of the regard I naturally have for Krishna?
The idea is, whatever captures that little spark of a feeling of care and love inside - can you hold that feeling and expand on it. Can you bring that feeling back, that feeling you had singing to baby krishan while you are toe to toe with your co-worker, travelling with your mother, annoyed at your partner, child, a stranger?
Can I find ways to soften in all of these harsh circumstances, can I change my way of seeing and relating and being just by creating access to that small feeling in the heart.