The Courage to Change: Hanuman, the Power of Mantra, and the Grace of Remembering
The Courage to Change: Hanuman, the Power of Mantra,
and the Grace of Remembering
There have been times in my life when I have needed courage that I simply did not believe I possessed. Times when fear, uncertainty, and self-doubt seemed stronger than my ability to change my circumstances. During one particularly challenging period, I found that courage in a place I might never have expected: in forty verses of a devotional hymn dedicated to Hanuman.
This month's Jivamukti Yoga Focus of the Month, A Force of Nature, by Tone Haugland, explores the extraordinary strength of Hanuman, the beloved devotee of Lord Ram. Hanuman possesses incredible powers, yet he is often unaware of them until he is called upon to use them in service to Ram. His strength does not come from ego or a desire for recognition. It comes from his unwavering devotion, his faith, and his love.
I have come to understand something of this through my own experience with the Hanuman Chalisa.
Forty Verses That Changed My Life
The Hanuman Chalisa is a devotional hymn composed by the poet-saint Tulsidas in the sixteenth century. Its forty verses praise Hanuman's strength, wisdom, courage, humility, and devotion to Ram. For centuries, devotees have chanted it as a prayer for protection, courage, and the removal of obstacles.
My Guru, Neem Karoli Baba, whom we affectionately call Maharaji, was deeply devoted to Hanuman and Ram. Maharaji was known for his constant repetition of Ram's name, and he encouraged his devotees to recite the Hanuman Chalisa. For many of us who have been drawn into Maharaji's loving presence, the Chalisa has become an essential part of our spiritual practice.
I remember when I first decided that I wanted to memorize it. Forty verses in Awadhi (a dialect of Hindi), a language I did not speak, seemed like a formidable undertaking. I listened to Krishna Das’ recordings of the Chalisa over and over, and everyday I chanted along with him while looking at the words. I repeated verses until they became familiar, then added more. Slowly, what had once seemed impossible began to take shape.
There was something deeply satisfying about the process, but I did not yet understand how important this practice would become in my life.
In about 4 months, I knew the entire Chalisa by heart. But rather than moving on to something else, I found myself drawn more deeply into it.
For almost three years, I listened, literally, to nothing else. While showering, while driving, while cooking, while cleaning, if I could listen, I did. Whenever I had an opportunity to listen to music, I chose the Hanuman Chalisa. Again and again, day after day, those forty verses became the soundtrack of my life.
I was living through an extremely difficult period, and I needed strength. I needed clarity. Most of all, I needed the courage to make a change that was frightening for me.
At the time, I did not fully understand what was happening through this seemingly simple practice of listening and chanting. I only knew that I needed it. The familiar words comforted me, steadied me, and reminded me that I was not alone.
And gradually, something began to change.
My external circumstances did not suddenly improve. The challenges did not magically disappear. But my relationship to them began to shift. I found that I was becoming stronger, more grounded, and less willing to allow fear and self-doubt to determine the course of my life.
Eventually, I found the courage to change my situation.
Looking back, I believe that those years of deep immersion in the Hanuman Chalisa helped make that change possible. The courage I had been seeking was growing within me through the practice of devotion and remembrance.
The Protection of the Divine Name
Recently, I went twice to see Hanuman Ansh, the new film about the life of my Guru, Neem Karoli Baba. One scene in particular touched me deeply because it reminded me so vividly of my own experience.
A man is alone in the woods, frightened and surrounded by darkness. He does not know what to do or how to find his way to safety. In his fear, he begins to chant the Hanuman Chalisa. At first, he keeps making mistakes and forgetting the words because he is caught up in his fear. But as he begins to chant with sincere devotion and remembrance, something extraordinary happens: his fear subsides. The words of the Chalisa are depicted in the film as emerging from his mouth and wrapping themselves around him, surrounding him with a protective presence.
It is a beautiful visual representation of the power of mantra.
Watching that scene, I got goosebumps and immediately recognized something that I had experienced in my own life. During those difficult years, the Hanuman Chalisa had become a kind of spiritual protection for me. I could not necessarily see it, but I could feel it. The words surrounded me, held me, and gave me strength when I felt I had none.
What I especially appreciate about this scene is that the man does not overcome his fear by pretending that he is not afraid. He turns toward the Divine in the midst of his fear. Through remembrance, he discovers that he is not alone.
This is the essence of Bhakti Yoga.
We do not need to become fearless before we can act courageously. We can bring our fear, our uncertainty, and our vulnerability into our spiritual practice. We can offer all of it to God.
And sometimes, through that offering, we discover a strength we did not know we possessed.
Hanuman and the Courage We Forget We Have
One of my favorite aspects of Hanuman's story is that he frequently forgets his own extraordinary powers.
In the Ramayana, when Hanuman must leap across the ocean to find Sita, he initially doubts his ability to accomplish such an enormous task. It is only when he is reminded of his true nature and his tremendous strength that he is able to make the leap.
I think this is such a powerful metaphor for our own lives.
How often do we forget our own strength? How often do we remain in situations that diminish us because we believe we are incapable of making a change? How often do we allow fear to convince us that the obstacles before us are greater than the resources within us?
Hanuman reminds us that our limitations are not always what they appear to be.
In this month's Focus of the Month, Haugland describes Hanuman as an embodiment of devotion, humility, and the courage to move beyond doubt. His extraordinary abilities are not exercised for personal gain, but in service to something greater than himself.
For me, this is one of the most important teachings of Hanuman.
True strength is not about controlling everything around us. It is not about becoming invulnerable or never experiencing fear. It is about remembering our connection to the Divine and allowing that connection to guide our actions.
Hanuman's devotion to Ram is so complete that he is able to accomplish what seems impossible.
Perhaps our own acts of courage begin in the same way, not with absolute certainty about the outcome, but with faith that we are supported as we take the next step.
The Practice of Remembrance
In Bhakti Yoga, we use mantra to turn the mind and heart toward the Divine. Through repetition, we gradually redirect our attention away from the endless stories, worries, and fears that occupy so much of our mental life.
This does not mean that we ignore our problems or escape from our responsibilities. In fact, my experience has been quite the opposite.
The more deeply I immersed myself in the Hanuman Chalisa, the more capable I became of facing the truth of my circumstances. My practice did not encourage me to remain where I was. It gave me the strength to move forward.
I think this distinction is important.
Sometimes we imagine that surrender means passivity, that devotion means simply accepting whatever happens to us. But Hanuman is anything but passive! He leaps across oceans, confronts demons, moves mountains, and acts with tremendous determination.
His surrender to Ram does not diminish his capacity for action. It is the very source of that capacity.
This is what I experienced through my own practice. As I continued to chant and listen, I began to trust that I could do what needed to be done. I did not have to know exactly how everything would unfold. I only had to find the courage to take the next step.
I have often reflected on Maharaji's simple teachings to love everyone, serve everyone, and remember God. These teachings may sound uncomplicated, but living them requires tremendous awareness, faith, and perseverance.
Remembering God is not something we do only when life is peaceful and everything is going well. Perhaps it is most important when we are frightened, confused, or uncertain about the future.
Those are the moments when we most need to remember who we are and where our strength comes from.
Finding Our Own Strength Through Practice
One of the beautiful things about mantra practice is its accessibility. We do not need to be accomplished singers, Sanskrit scholars, or experienced meditators to begin. We simply need a willingness to practice.
I often encourage students to find a mantra that resonates with them and to develop a relationship with it through regular repetition. We may begin by listening, then gradually become comfortable chanting along. Over time, the mantra becomes familiar, and its presence begins to extend beyond our formal practice.
We may find ourselves repeating it while driving, walking, cooking, or moving through the ordinary activities of daily life. Eventually, the mantra can become a steady companion, something we return to instinctively when the mind becomes restless or the heart feels troubled.
This is one reason that chanting and kirtan are such important parts of what we offer at Satsang Yoga. I have experienced firsthand the transformative power of these practices, and I want others to have the opportunity to discover that power for themselves.
You do not need to know the words or understand their meaning before you begin. You do not even need to consider yourself a particularly spiritual person. You can simply come with an open heart and a willingness to participate.
The practice itself will teach you.
Taking the Leap
When I reflect on those nearly three years of listening to the Hanuman Chalisa, I sometimes wonder what my life would look like today if I had not found that practice.
I had known for a long time that I could no longer remain in the circumstances in which I found myself. Deep in my heart, I knew that something had to change. But knowing what needed to be done and finding the courage to actually do it were two very different things.
Fear can be paralyzing, even when we know that remaining where we are is no longer an option. We become attached to what is familiar, even when the familiar is painful. We imagine all the things that might go wrong if we make a change, and we convince ourselves that we are not strong enough to face the uncertainty.
For me, it took the Hanuman Chalisa and Maharaji's Grace to finally summon the courage to act.
And then something extraordinary happened.
Once I made the decision and began putting the wheels in motion, everything started falling into place. One miracle followed another. Doors opened that I could never have opened myself. Obstacles that had seemed insurmountable began to dissolve. People, opportunities, and circumstances came together in ways I could never have anticipated or planned.
What I had feared for so long unfolded quickly and beautifully.
I have no doubt that this was Baba's Grace.
I sometimes think that Maharaji had been patiently waiting for me to find the courage to take that first step. Perhaps the years of listening to the Chalisa were preparing me for precisely that moment. I needed to remember my own strength, just as Hanuman needed to be reminded of his before leaping across the ocean.
And once I took that leap, I discovered that I was not leaping alone.
This is something I have come to understand about grace. We cannot necessarily predict how it will manifest, and we certainly cannot control it. But when we align ourselves with what we know in our hearts to be true, and when we find the courage to act from that place of truth, extraordinary things can happen.
Of course, this does not mean that every difficult decision will be followed by miracles or that every obstacle will simply disappear. Spiritual practice does not guarantee an easy life. But it can give us the faith and courage to do what we know we must do, even when we cannot see what lies ahead.
Hanuman did not know exactly what awaited him on the other side of the ocean. He knew only that his devotion to Ram required him to make the leap. His faith was greater than his fear.
I believe the Hanuman Chalisa helped me discover that same kind of faith.
The difficulties I faced were real. My fears were real. But through the grace of Maharaji, the example of Hanuman, and the steady repetition of those forty verses, I discovered that I was stronger than I had believed myself to be. And I discovered that when I finally surrendered my fear and took action, grace was there to meet me.
Perhaps that is one of the greatest gifts of spiritual practice. It does not necessarily remove the challenges from our lives, but it transforms our capacity to meet them. It reminds us that we are not alone and that the strength we need may already be present, waiting to be awakened through devotion, faith, and remembrance.
As we explore Hanuman's teachings throughout November, I invite you to consider where fear may be limiting your own life. Is there a change you know you need to make but have been afraid to begin? Is there something your heart has been telling you for a long time that you have been reluctant to acknowledge?
Perhaps, like Hanuman standing at the edge of the ocean, you simply need to be reminded of the strength that already exists within you.
And perhaps, like the frightened man in the forest in the film Hanuman Ansh, you can begin by remembering the Divine and allowing that remembrance to give you courage.
I cannot promise that miracles will follow when you take your leap. But I can tell you that they followed mine.
Jai Hanuman! Jai Sri Ram!
--Sharada Devi
Comments