From the Mind to the Heart

One of the central teachings of this month's Jivamukti Yoga Focus of the Month, Crossing the Abyss, is found in this statement by Sri Nisargadatta Maharaj:

"The mind creates the abyss. The heart crosses it."

Looking back over my life, I can see that many of the greatest struggles I have faced were not caused by external circumstances as much as by the stories my mind created about them—fear, doubt, separation, and the feeling that somehow I was alone, disconnected, or not enough.

Like many people, I spent years searching for fulfillment outside myself. Yet no matter how much I accomplished, acquired, or experienced, there always seemed to be another gap to cross.

Eventually I realized that the abyss was never outside me. It was within. My spiritual practice began to help me cross it. Over the years, yoga, meditation, mantra, and the teachings of my Guru, Neem Karoli Baba Maharaji, have slowly revealed something extraordinary: beneath all of the mental noise, there is already a wholeness that has never been broken.

The mind creates division. It categorizes, judges, compares, and separates. It creates "me" and "you," "us" and "them," "success" and "failure," "worthy" and “unworthy." The heart does something very different. It recognizes connection. These practices help us move from the thinking, divisive mind into the feeling spiritual heart.

The chant associated with this month's Focus is:

Gopāla Gopāla Devakī-Nandana Gopāla

Gopāla is one of the most beloved names of Krishna. Often translated as "protector of the cows," Gopāla represents the Divine as loving caretaker, guide, and friend. Devakī-Nandana means "the beloved son of Devakī," reminding us of Krishna's human birth and his intimate relationship with the world.

What I love about this chant is its simplicity. There is no request, petition, bargaining, or asking for enlightenment, abundance, healing, or success. There is only remembrance.

In the Bhakti tradition, chanting the Divine Name is itself a practice of crossing the abyss. The mind is constantly creating distance—between ourselves and others, between ourselves and God, and between ourselves and our own deepest nature. Through chanting, that perceived distance begins to dissolve.

As the repetition of the Name settles into the heart, we remember something we have always known: We are not separate. We have never been separate.

This understanding echoes one of the teachings that has most profoundly shaped my own path, Maharaji’s oft repeated statement:

"All One."

I understand Maharaji’s words as both a statement of Truth and as a practice. For example, every time I choose compassion over judgment, I am practicing "All One.” Every time I remember that another person's suffering is not separate from my own, I am practicing "All One.” Every time I chant in kirtan and experience dozens of voices merging into a single prayer, I am practicing "All One.” The more I practice, the more I understand that this teaching is not a philosophy to understand but a reality to experience.

Perhaps this is one reason that Bhakti Yoga places such importance on chanting. The heart does not need to be convinced of the truth. It needs only to remember.

The more deeply we engage in sadhana, the more difficult it becomes to maintain the illusion of separation. This does not mean we stop noticing differences. Rather, we begin to see through them.

The June Focus of the Month offers a beautiful image of the spiritual journey as climbing a mountain. We may experience moments of bliss, connection, and insight at the summit, but eventually we must come down and bring what we have discovered into our daily lives and share it with others.

This resonates deeply with my own experience.

Some of the most profound moments of my life have occurred on pilgrimage in India, while chanting in kirtan, praying in temples or on the banks of the Ganga, sitting in meditation, or practicing in the presence of great teachers. In those moments, love feels effortless. Connection feels obvious.

But the real practice begins when I return home. Can I bring that same open heartedness into a difficult conversation? Can I maintain compassion when someone disagrees with me or is unkind to me? Can I remember our shared humanity when fear, anger, or hurt tempts me to retreat into separation?

This, I believe, is where yoga becomes truly transformational. The purpose of spiritual practice is not to escape the world. It is to become more deeply involved with it. Our practice should make us kinder, more compassionate, more willing to serve, and more capable of seeing ourselves in others.

As Sharon Gannon often reminds us, the best way to uplift our own lives is to do all we can to uplift the lives of others. When we begin to recognize the interconnectedness of all beings, service ceases to feel like sacrifice and becomes a natural expression of Love.

The world today offers countless opportunities to fall into division. News feeds, politics, social media, and fear-based narratives constantly invite us to choose sides. Yoga invites something else. Yoga invites us to remember who we are beneath the noise, to move from the head to the heart, and to remember our essential interconnection to one another and to the Divine.

This month, I invite you to reflect on the places in your own life where separation still appears. Where are you holding onto judgment, resentment, fear, or the belief that you are disconnected from others?

And then gently ask yourself:

What would the heart do here?

As we practice together this month, may Gopāla be our guide. Through asana, meditation, self-inquiry, chanting, and acts of service, may we remember what the heart has known all along—that beneath our differences, beneath our stories, beneath all the ways we imagine ourselves to be separate, there is only Love: All One. Perhaps that remembrance is itself the crossing.

With Love & Blessings,

Sharada Devi