Mondays have always been a little gentler for me because of Monday Night Kirtan.  The little weekly community kirtan* in my home ‘hood of Burlington, Vt., has been a welcome ritual for several years.  But this past Monday night it was the last place I (Vrinda) wanted to be.

(Wondering who the hell Vrinda is? Read to the end.)

A series of incidents — small and large, local and global, personal and collective — had left me in a funk: discouraged, disillusioned, disgruntled…generally feeling “dis”ed on many levels and definitely not feeling social. The introvert in me wanted to hole up in my woman-cave and try drowning out the dis-es with a very dry vodka martini.

Plus, it was snowing.

Winter had descended on Northern Vermont in the 48 hours since I had been kayaking on the lake in 60 degrees at sunset.  One more reason to sulk inside.

Alas, I had an obligation to be there.  So I forced myself off the laptop and away from the sickening newsfeeds of Standing Rock protestors being blasted with tear gas and water cannons in subfreezing temperatures, of a new tsunami warning at Fukushima, of the latest xenophobic cabinet pick by Trump, and 10,000 other bits and fragments that suck your energy straight through your eyeballs and into the World Wide Web of Propaganda, Manipulation and Fear.  I dragged a comb through my hair (not really), dabbed on some Javadhu powder in a lame attempt to mask the fact that I hadn’t showered all day, packed my to-go altar with extra sage and raced out the door, last-minute as usual.

But, it was snowing.

I spent the next 10 minutes scraping snow-covered ice off my car. Now I was late AND agitated. I got to Sacred Mountain Studio barely in time to throw some blankets and cushions in a semi-circle before the room filled in for the kirtan. I was all business, head down, task-focused, fairly daring anyone to engage me in conversation.

Nonetheless, this being kirtan, I was hugged. More than once.

As the room settled down and the night’s guest wallah, Heidi Champney, started to Om in, I assumed the cross-legged position on my purple cushion, scarf over splayed knees, spine straight, eyes closed, ready for lift-off from this hate-filled mundane material world. Take me away Calgon…I mean, kirtan.

Ha!

It happens during kirtan too…

My mind refused to catch up to the present. It was still racing back and forth from one situation to the next, replaying each interaction like a stuck tape,  re-creating each perceived slight or awkward confrontation, playing its slide show loop of Images One Can’t Forget.  The group was on the third Om by the time I dropped the mental mind-f*ck long enough to tone in to the sound frequency.

The chanting started with praise to Ganesha, remover of obstacles. Immediately, up welled another round of bogus inner chit/chat about this/that followed predictably by self-flagellating loathsomeness for not dropping my over-analzying, self-conscious judgmentalist ego at the door and just sinking into the mantra. And on we went…me and my monkey mind, dancing our silly dance, while the mantras played on.

Then I noticed something.  I noticed myself noticing the mantra.

Hari Ommmmm… Hari Om.

You know how a radio station fades in and out if you’re not quite in full range of the signal? The mantra was coming through in fits and starts amidst the background static in my brain of everything that was not mantra.  It was breaking through the mental orgy. I wasn’t even singing it — that’s how distracted I was — but it was breaking through. This is the power of mantra.

I felt a little inner smile for the observation, for the noticing. Then quickly as it came, I lost myself back into the static.  And I noticed that….with an inner roll of the eyes.

Then came Kali.

Oh boy, I thought with a bit of trepidation, here we go. Kali, with her bloody sword drawn and severed head in hand, poised to cut through the ego’s bottomless pit of judgment and self-conscious blather.  The head-talk flooded in:  Do people even know how powerful Kali is? Do they have any clue what they are invoking when they start calling out to Kali? Are they even remotely prepared for the kind of energy this formidable warrior goddess can whip up?  And then I was chanting it.

Kali Ma, Kali Ma, Kali Maaaaa.

Chant by chant, the layers fell away. I noticed the mind chatter subsiding as my chanting became steadier, less intermittent. The monkey mind was gradually but inevitably losing ground to the mantra. The inner chanter was displacing the inner chatter.

By the time we got to Radhe, I was all in.

It was the trio of Krishna-Radha chants that got me up on my feet and spinning in the corner of the room, inhibitions shed. Not caring about anything or what anyone thinks for at least one blessed moment in time. Letting my freak flag fly. Feeling the world fall away with each repetition of the Name, each spin of the feet. This is the power of mantra.

It was Tara, the Bodhisattva of compassion, who brought me back to Earth, her mantra like warm milk taken before bed. Cradled in the current of Om Tare Tuttare Ture Soha, I felt at home, at peace, aware, present, content, unafraid. The monkey mind quiet at last.

This is the power of mantra.

After the kirtan ended, after the goodbye hugs, after re-folding the blankets and repacking the altar and taking out the garbage, I was dropping off a young man who lived near me, Kyle, who was fairly new to the Monday Night crew. Unprompted, he confides to me that when he had arrived at kirtan this evening he was not in a good headspace, that he wasn’t sure he even should have come.  Over the course of the night, he said, he felt his emotional state shift, leading to what he called a “huge release” toward the end.  He said he felt sure that “spirit” was in the room healing people.

I just stared at him. I felt like I was looking in the mirror…except the face looking back was a 20-something hipster dude with old-soul sapphire eyes and a beard twisted into dreadlocks, which stuck out of his chin like little goat horns.

That is the power of mantra.

Here’s a peek at the last chant of the night, a mashup of the Maha-Mantra and an old Gospel hymn called “Sanctuary.” The perfect cap to Thanksgiving week kirtan. Heidi Champney on harmonium and lead vocals; Jesse Taylor on acoustic guitar.

*Monday Night Kirtan in Burlington, Vt., is currently funded by the Call and Response Foundation as part of their initiative to kickstart recurring community-based gatherings that make the practice of kirtan accessible to all.  Contact them if you’d like to start your own community kirtan.

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Editor’s Note: “I, Vrinda” is an occasional first-person series on TheBhaktiBeat.com in which I, Vrinda (aka Brenda Patoine) say what I’m thinking, whether you want to hear it or not.  Call it op-ed, editorialism, commentary, satire — hell, call it whatever you want.  Vrinda is opinionated but open, largely unfiltered, at times irreverent, and sometimes downright sassy (don’t say I didn’t warn you).  She’s pure Gemini, part wise, part wise-ass; the good the bad and the naughty all rolled up into one messy, messed-up, hopelessly imperfect, doing-the-best-she-can kinda’ gal, er, woman. She — I mean, I — may offer two cents or more on subjects from the ironies of the yoga world to the injustices of the corporatocracy,  the ins and outs of the bhakti community, or the ups and downs of internet dating. She/I may even occasionally try to be funny, undoubtedly with mixed results. Vrinda really just wants everyone to wake the f**k up (I warned you).   For more on Vrinda, including why she uses that name, click here on this link…oops, you’ll have to wait until I get that piece written. *sigh*

There are regional chant fests, and then there are Regional Chant Fests.  Chantlanta proved once again how to “do” a Regional Chant Fest in the best possible way that we’ve seen. Anywhere.  So far.

How’d they do it?  Well, perhaps not how you might have thought…

‘Unknown’ Bhakti Bands Take the Spotlight

For starters, there were no “big names” at all.  There was no Krishna Das headlining, in contrast to last year.  Nor were David Newman or Wah, or even the South’s favorite bhakta, Sean Johnson, on the bill, as they were two years ago.  In fact, if you didn’t live in the Southeast, you probably wouldn’t recognize any of the 7 bands who played this festival.  All home-grown, all from the region, all up-and-coming and deserving to be more widely known. The Unknown Bhakti Bands of the South, you might say.

Secondly, it wasn’t held in a typical chant fest location (if there is such a thing). It was held at a big ole Baptist church, one built early in the last century in a traditional style: big soaring sanctuary, tall stained-glass windows, wooden pews fanning out from the altar, balcony full of benches hovering overhead.  It must be said that little else about this congregation, the Druid Hills Baptist Church,  is traditional — the church was kicked out of the Southern Baptist Convention a few years ago for having a woman as a co-pastor.  There’s an experimental theatre in the basement.  Oh yeah, and kirtan.  They host kirtans regularly.  That’s kind of unconventional for a Baptist church in the South.

Then there’s the cost.  Nothing.  As in, zero, zip, zed.  FREE.  That’s right, one full day plus two half-days of mantra music and sound-healing magic for free.  We’re talking non-stop kirtan on a main stage, plus ongoing workshops and classes in two other rooms.  Plus a Friday night kirtan jam and drum circle.  Plus a Sunday afternoon mantra marathon and pot-luck.  All for free.  How often can you say that?

Did we mention the seva?  Chantlanta raised more than $7,000 for two locally based charities.  Seven thousand dollars.  That’s no small potatoes, and can make a real difference if channeled to the right charity — in this case two that will make that money go a long way to helping 1) impoverished girls in India (through The Learning Tea) and 2) rescued cows outside Atlanta (through the Sacred Cows Sanctuary).

A Leap of Faith

So, let’s review.  A group of local bhaktas in a city that’s not exactly known as a kirtan hot spot puts on a 3-day chant fest with no “headliner” — just a bunch of unknown local bhakti bands, charges NOTHING to get in, and walks away with seven thousand bucks for good local charities.  How’d they do that again?

Chantlanta founder Ian Boccio, at the center of the community kirtan jam.

Ian Boccio, who co-founded the first Chantlanta five years ago and continues to be the lead organizer (he also co-leads the mantra band Blue Spirit Wheel, with Stephanie Kohler), readily admits that they took a Hanuman-sized leap this year.  They let go of having a “big name” after having the big name to end all big names (Krishna Das) front and center last year.  The approach caused more than a little hand-wringing, Boccio said, but the Chantlanta organizing committee members were all in agreement.  Boccio is convinced the leap of faith paid off: the event raised more than twice the money for charity that last year’s event did.  He figures it’s because people didn’t have to shell out 35 bucks for KD, so they were more generous at the donation box.  Makes sense to us.

The other key to this event’s success was the Program Guide.  A simple, black and white booklet that Boccio had copied at Kinko’s.  It included not only a schedule of events and descriptions of the workshops and bands (complete with Sanskrit words for novices to follow along), but — and this is key — advertisements from a slew of local businesses interested in reaching a sharply targeted, conscious-living, yoga-oriented community.  The ads are primarily for local yoga studios, upcoming kirtan events, and healers like Jaguar Healing Arts and Louise Northcutt Hypnotherapy.  Between the ad sales in the program and table fees for vendors exhibiting in the Conscious Living Marketplace, Chantlanta could meet its expenses and devote all donations to its charity partners.

Building a Kirtan Nation

But really, what we love more than anything about this festival is that its primary goal is simple:  expand the local kirtan community.  It gives local chantaholics a fest of their own to gather at; it gives local bhakti bands a much bigger audience for their practice than they would ever have at a one-band show, AND it gives kirtan newbies no excuse not to come check out the scene — it’s free!  The strategy is working — Chantlanta is attracting more people each year, more national kirtan bands are putting Atlanta and the Southeast on their tour schedules, and local bands are getting bigger crowds at their regular jams throughout the year.  What’s not to love?

The event officially started Friday night, with a community kirtan jam where everyone was in the band and anyone who wanted to lead a chant did — there had to be 200 people there!  The jam was followed by a full-on drum circle that had the natives dancing and grooving.  Saturday’s kirtan line-up included Mantra Ma, LoveShine, Cat Matlock & Japa (from Asheville, N.C.), Kirtan Bandits, and a three-band “headline” evening that featured Phil McWilliams, Blue Spirit Wheel and Rahasya, three of the best regional bhakti bands we’ve experienced anywhere.  Workshops went on throughout the day, everything from Sufi chanting to sacred harp singing to an hour-long gong bath that pretty much sent us straight to the moon after a day of chanting the names.  But wait, there’s more.  On Sunday, Ian Boccio closed out the festival with 1,008 (no, that’s not a typo, it’s 1,008, not 108) repetitions of the Hanuman Mula Mantra.  More on all that and each of these bands in a follow-up post with videos, so stay tuned to this space!

Do it Yourself

Can anyone adopt this formula for their own festival?

Well sure, why not? With caveats. Atlanta is a big city, 5 million or so strong. That’s a big population to draw upon. The Chantlanta organizing committee of 11 people, along with a cast of dozens more or so, were all unpaid volunteers offering their time as seva to the cause of building the local kirtan community. The Druid Hills Baptist Church offered their space — a labyrinthine layout with places for a main stage, two workshop rooms, a vendor’s hall and a kitchen where food was served — at a cut rate, because the event was a charity fundraiser. Dozens of local businesses also donated wares or services to a Silent Auction, which boosted the money raised for charity. Expenses were kept to a minimum, but important corners were NOT cut. For example, an expert sound guy (Matthew Hufschmidt) made sure the bands sounded just right and the lighting was favorable for video and photos. This is important stuff.

So, what do you think of the Chantlanta formula?  Could this work for a kirtan fest in your home town?  How might you change things up?  We’d love to hear about other regional fests: what works, what doesn’t, what’s needed…?  Please share your thoughts in the comments!

Get the Bhav!