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Food Independence (Part 1): Growing, Processing and Marketing Lettuce

The Food Independence Series is dedicated to gardeners and farmers worldwide who take up the responsibility of growing healthy organic food as a sacred duty for the pleasure of the Supreme Personality of Godhead, Lord Sri Krishna.

As the Age of Kali descends, food security will become the defining principle for reshaping and re-spiritualizing human society around the principles of love and trust. Kindness to animals—especially the cows and bulls—will herald in an agrarian golden age in which brahminical culture will flourish because the agricultural landscape will be alive with human activity.

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Cow Chauvinism: The Case for More Kale and Less Bull

ABOVE PHOTO: New Vrindaban pepper harvest in the Garden of Seven Gates, a 6.5 acre parcel dedicated to growing organic veggies for the Deities, ashram residents and local householder families. Surplus produce is donated to congregate meal sites and food pantries in the Upper Ohio Valley region.

Don’t let the title fool you. Cow chauvinism is not a hyperbolic takedown of cavalier cows nor a criticism of the devotees who care for the cows. Nor is it a wrecking ball aimed at the institution—ISKCON—which connects the philosophical dots between human and bovine welfare. It is, however, a reminder that caring for cows must not be isolated from farming as  expressed by Srila Prabhupada when he said, “The purpose of our Hare Krishna farms is to grow food.”

A nutshell rendition of New Vrindaban history—as I personally witnessed it—illustrates what happens when the interplay of cows, farming, preaching and fund raising goes wacky.

Once upon a time, in a village called New Vrindaban, a group of young villagers experienced how service to the cows, coupled with worship of Sri Sri Radha Vrindaban Chandra, defined their daily routine and consecrated their love for Srila Prabhupada’s first farm mission.

With the cows and Deities in the center of the community—it was a one minute walk from the temple to the barn–the villagers saw fresh milk—liquid religiosity—travel from milk bucket to Deity kitchen to pujari room to altar and then back to the villagers as Maha Prasadam.

They saw ox teams hauling in logs, horses and men mowing the hay, and the flourishing of vegetable, herb and flower gardens. As the village grew in size, many guests became attracted to the pure devotional atmosphere. Accommodations were needed. The villagers turned their attention towards expanding their preaching outreach. Prabhupada’s Palace bloomed. Guest houses were erected, pastures were dozed into parking lots, and the villagers were asked to travel in pursuit of seeking donations.

Life in the village was forever changed. The cows and oxen were moved out of site to a new barn. To the astonishment of the villagers, the herd size zoomed from eleven hand-milked heifers in 1974 to 150 machine-milked cows by 1982.

The transformation of the village seemed logical because hundreds and thousands of pilgrims were exposed to Srila Prabhupada’s teachings, but the runaway expansion eventually imploded, as do all things born of passion.  There is a happy ending, Thanks to the guiding hand of greater ISKCON, the project called New Vrindaban was saved from the dustbin of history.

That said, I will draw back my arched bow and take aim at an embarrassing enigma: We’re eager to defend the thing we think is sustaining us—cow revenue from donors—but whimsical about where our food comes from. The rationalization that “food is just food” as long as it’s offered to Krishna is a death blow to farm community development. The origin of our food is the problem and that’s why Srila Prabhupada once remarked, “At our Pennsylvania farm, they have solved the number one problem: food.”

In a perfect Vedic world, cow care and agriculture are natural partners. How could they not be? In fact, unless the cows are joyful, human society, guided by brahminical culture, cannot flourish. Cows make milk for finer brain tissue. Cows exude manure for renewable crop production. Cows are the cornerstone of ecological harmony. What’s the problem?

The problem is image. If we want to successfully reach out beyond the comfort zone of Hindu congregational support, if our North American neighbors are deemed a valued part of the preaching landscape, beating the drum for cows is like teaching a kid to ride a bike by starting him out on a Harley Davidson motorcycle. Cows are not the lead card for beginners. We don’t have the street cred. We are not a vegetarian version of the Amish, backed up by seven generations of successful farming.

The Amish grow, store and sell most of their own vegetables and grains. We grow very little of what sustains us. The Amish economy is land-based. They boomerang their earning by spending their money mostly within the Amish community.  Amish cow operations function due to a complex web of interdependent relationships within the Amish community. ISKCON’s sizable cow operations are generally ultra-mechanized and require only a few highly specialized employees.

Here’s the point: ISKCON North American farm projects are not relevant to the needs of our Western peers. We are not mobilized to produce food from the hands of the devotees. We are mobilized to produce donations via the appeal of cow protection, Deity worship and the whirlwind cycle of festivals and Vaisnava holy days. Growing and distributing organic foods—an occupation that could make us totally relevant to our neighbors—is an underfunded, understaffed side show.

As a small scale organic farmer who has exclusively farmed on ISKCON owned farmland for 25 years—I emphatically understand why food production sputters along. Simply stated, farming—especially organic farming—is a weather dependent, labor intensive gamble. It’s easier to pick up the phone, dial in your veggie order and help unload the truck when it rolls up to the temple doors.

As Kali-yuga descends, however, into a morass of environmental, political and economic catastrophes, the “cow protection minus food production” formula will not prevail. Right now, food is deceptively cheap. Right now, management’s ingrained partiality towards cows makes management sense. For the time being, there’s no need to become food relevant to the housewives we shuffle past in Walmart’s grocery section.

On the eve of the 3rd Annual North American Farm Conference, the agenda is set. And you guessed it, it’s mostly about cows, cow policy, cow standards, cow trophies, cow decorum, and cow katha. If for no other reason than pleasing Lord Krishna, let the band play on… but some barnyard common sense is in order.

Pigs don’t fly, horses don’t grow feathers and most Westerners don’t give a hoot about whether or not a few cows on a few Hare Krishna farms are protected by a few devotees who, by and large, are supported by a few Hindu donors. I can make that assertion because I’ve mentored a few hundred young farm apprentices, most of whom arrive as kale-chomping vegetarians, eager to learn how to grow kale, cook kale, offer kale and market kale.

For these farm bhaktas, the logic and urgency of protecting cows will remain a quaint artifact of Hindu mythology until the reason we love cows chimes with the reason we grow what we eat and eat what we grow. They want to see magic, just as I did as a New Vrindaban bhakta in 1974. They want to see bhoga transformed into prasadam, not as passive observers, but as contributors in a chain of spiritual connections from their soiled hands to the cook to the pujari.

A closing prediction is in order: As Kali-yuga tightens its stranglehold—no rain means no grain—the tawny issue of food security will redefine our heady, brahminical misconceptions about how the second half of Srila Prabhupada’s movement will arise. Shaven headed brahmanas, be advised! Growing food is the incubator for varnashrama. Varnashrama, as it turns out, will not be voted on at the annual Mayapura meetings. Varnashrama will be driven by blue collar locals and kale-eating kids seeking shelter from the storm. And just as Srila Prabhupada predicted, the place of action will be our food producing farms.

Seeding ISKCON’S Rural Future

Foreword

I cannot think of any devotee whom I know, or have heard of, who is not contributing in some way to the destruction of the environment–myself included. I own two farm trucks, three tractors and a small flotilla of oil gulping farm-related equipment–all of it in pursuit of chasing the dream of plain living and high thinking.

I’ve often considered that living undestructively in an economy that is overwhelmingly destructive might mean morphing into a vegetarian version of the Amish. We would have to divorce ourselves completely, and yet responsibly, from the technologies and powers that are destroying the planet.  Easier said than done, Prabhus.

In the formative years of ISKCON, those of us privileged to spend most of our young adult years living in the ashram never thought much about these taxing issues. We cruised through our daily service as book distributors, fundraisers, preachers and temple functionaries under the protection of a comprehensive insurance policy called the yukta-vairagya principle, the idea that everything–cars, computers, etc.–can and should be used in Lord Krishna’s service. At least that’s how we explained our embrace of modern conveniences to new people.

Well, times have changed. Young people are circumspect about adopting any philosophy whose followers fail to “walk the talk.” They want to see plain living in motion. They want proof that plain living leads to higher thinking. Do ISKCON farm projects provide that example? Do we offer an alternative approach to cut throat capitalism? Do we honor and care for our senior devotees? Do we supply most of our own food calories? Do young people see a future?

Central to all these queries is whether or not ISKCON’s current organizational structure as a 501(c)3 non-profit church is capable of providing real life answers to these questions.

And that, dear readers, is precisely why Danakeli Dasi’s second installment of Community by Design is a must read. Her research and analytical breakdown of these issues deserves our attention. She puts the options on the table for all–beginner and seasoned veteran–to contemplate and act on. Please read on.

Tapahpunja Dasa

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Rural KC Communities: The Need, the Purpose and What Srila Prabhupada Asked For

Foreword

The above photo of Manonath and Tejomaya clutching bushel baskets of New Vrindaban fall produce has a lot of personal meaning for me. The three of us received Harinama initiation on a bitter cold November morning–Govardhana Puja Day 1974. They were New York street kids from Harlem. I was in charge of the organic gardens. What we had in common was hope–the hope that by learning to live, work and worship together, we could change the world. As Danakeli Dasi’s essay, Community by Design, masterfully points out, developing rural KC communities begins by recognizing where we’ve failed, what our options are and what Srila Prabhupada envisioned. It is in a spirit of gratitude for Danakeli’s timely research and analysis that we herein present Community by Design as a series of bite-sized forays into the future. We’ve taken the liberty of adding some graphics and an audacious foreword of our own.

Tapahpunja Dasa

Community by Design (Part One — Preface)

In the spring of 2014 a discussion amongst friends centered on how we would go about starting a rural community in the United States if a large sum of money happened to fall into our laps. We thought about the need for intentional design and considered the logistical reasons as to why community development has not yet happened successfully for ISKCON in America. Continue reading “Rural KC Communities: The Need, the Purpose and What Srila Prabhupada Asked For”

Eggplant Dharma Refuted: A Bunch of Kids Build a Palace for Srila Prabhupada

Bhakta John (left) and Bhakta Steve (right) standing before a wagon full of uprooted Japanese eggplants at the Small Farm Training Center’s farm site. We plucked the plants out of the field before freezing weather set it. Another sober reminder that the whole show is temporary…

The Venue: Srimad Bhagavatam class, 1975, in New Vrindaban Farm Community. It’s 5:30 AM on a chilly morning. The temple room is packed with curious New Vrindaban residents — hardly anyone over 25 years old — eager to hear the visiting American sannyasi who has been successfully preaching in India.

Acyutananda Swami wasted no time. His fiery takedown of Mayavada philosophy was highlighted by his experiences in India with wit, candor and righteous indignation. Acyutananda roasted the heralded 19th century Indian monk, Swami Vivekananda, who reportedly said, ”Why worship the Tulasi plant? Better to worship the eggplant! At least you get an edible fruit from the eggplant!”

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Edible Seed Oil Breakthrough

One of Srila Prabhupada’s direct instructions to the pioneer residents of New Talavan Community in 1975 was to grow castor beans. Traditionally. in India, castor is grown for its multiple medicinal values as well as for lamp oil and that’s specifically why Prabhupada wanted it grown: to harness a renewable source of lighting. Finally, in 2014 Radha Maha Laksmi Devi Dasi donated the funds to purchase a Swedish designed state-of-the-art seed oil press capable of extracting fine oil out of any seed. The press was so expertly engineered that the initial efforts to master its use all failed. Finally, Croatian born Nanda-suta Dasa tinkered with the machine and made it function properly. He and Dvi Bhuja Dasa, the founder of Blue Boy Herb Co., immediately pressed a batch of okra seeds only to yield a beautiful flow of golden green okra oil. Okra oil is known as the ghee of Africa. In 2018, New talavan residents are teaming up to plant a one acre plot of castor beans in pursuit of Srila Prabhupada’s 1975 order. Better late than never.

Vegan Reality Check

We composed ‘Vegan Reality Check’ spontaneously after viewing the documentary ‘Cowspiracy’ in our mini-movie theatre. In fact, showing ‘Cowspiracy’ to new farm apprentices is part of the curriculum. Kip Anderson and Keegan Kuhn, the producers and directors of ‘Cowspiracy,’ did a great job exposing the hypocrisy of the well healed, well funded green organizations who deliberately go mum on the impact of animal agriculture on the environment. But (there’s always a but), the film’s demonization of cows and milk products was a real shocker, an indicator that neither Anderson nor Kuhn understand or respect the historical and traditional import of cows and bulls in human society. So, we slapped together a quick script and the rest is history. Sorry, PETA, but there’s another side to the story.