From Jackhammers to the Maha Mantra: Finding Deeper Quiet in God’s Names

Have you noticed how “quiet” can feel like a myth sometimes? Like you can travel to the sweetest little town, climb up to a rooftop at sunset, look out over old streets and soft light, and still, somewhere, a hammer is hammering. A leaf blower is leaf blowing. Somebody is doing major construction at 6:00 a.m. because of course they are.

On this evening in San Miguel de Allende, we’re sitting up high with that wide sky feeling, watching the sun go down, and doing the simplest thing we know to do when the world is loud. We chant the Maha Mantra, together, out loud, as a way to turn noise into prayer, and to let the mind rest for a few minutes in Hari Nam.

Rooftop sunset in San Miguel de Allende (and all the noise that comes with it)

The first thing you notice up on a rooftop is the view. San Miguel de Allende has that storybook feel, the kind that makes you want to slow down. The second thing you notice is the sound.

It’s funny, in a way. People talk about small towns like they’re automatically peaceful, like quiet comes free with cobblestone streets. But everywhere has its soundtrack. In one place it’s traffic. In another, it’s music thumping through a wall. Here, it’s the steady rhythm of work: hammers, jackhammers, pounding, leaf blowers, lawnmowers.

And it’s not just daytime noise. The kind that makes you shrug and say, “Well, it’s a city.”

It’s early. It’s 6:00 in the morning. And the machinery is already alive.

So you start asking a real question, not a poetic one. Where do you go when you actually want quiet?

Not the kind where there are no sounds, that’s almost impossible, but the kind where your insides stop clenching.

That’s where chanting comes in.

Why chant the Maha Mantra when life gets loud?

Chanting is a simple move, but it has a big effect. When everything around you feels scattered, sound can be the thing that gathers you back up.

That’s part of why the Maha Mantra is such a comfort. It’s steady. It’s repeatable. It doesn’t ask you to be in a perfect mood first. You can show up tired, annoyed, overstimulated, kind of cranky about the jackhammers, and still chant.

In this video, the feeling is very practical: the world is noisy, so we chant. Not as a performance, not to prove anything, but as a remedy.

There’s a line in the vibe of the moment that’s worth holding onto: chanting gives peace of mind, along with so many other things.

If you’re newer to it and want a straightforward explainer of what the mantra is, this overview from Krishna.com is a helpful starting point: Hare Krishna Maha Mantra (Krishna.com).

“Blast them back”: a Srila Prabhupada story about sound and devotion

One of the sweetest little moments here is remembering a story about Srila Prabhupada (A. C. Bhaktivedanta Swami Prabhupada). The memory goes like this:

They were in Mayapur, across from Navadvipa, and there were bars playing loud music. So the devotees set up speakers, and Prabhupada’s instruction was simple and kind of hilarious.

Blast them back.

Not with anger, not with a fight, but with kirtan. With Krishna’s names.

It’s such a human moment because it admits something we all feel: sound can be invasive. It can push into your space. So the response is not always to run away and hope the world becomes polite. Sometimes the response is to fill your space with something you choose, something prayerful, something that brings you back to yourself.

If you want more background on Prabhupada as a person and teacher, this is a solid reference: A. C. Bhaktivedanta Swami Prabhupada (Wikipedia). And for a taste of the movement’s early energy around public chanting, this history piece is a good read: The Hare Krishna Explosion (Back to Godhead).

A soft rooftop kirtan (call-and-response, mellow and real)

Then we do the thing. We chant.

It’s not rigid. It’s not formal. It’s mellow, more like rocking the mind to sleep than hyping up a crowd. One person leads, the other follows, and it turns into that familiar call-and-response flow:

Hare Krishna, Hare Krishna, Krishna Krishna, Hare Hare
Hare Rama, Hare Rama, Rama Rama, Hare Hare

And there’s laughter in it too, because it’s life. Somebody says, “You lead today.” Somebody else says, “No, you had such a nice one this morning.” It’s sweet, it’s ordinary, it’s devotional without being heavy.

That’s one of the underrated gifts of kirtan. It can hold both reverence and playfulness at the same time. You’re saying holy names, and you’re also a human being on a rooftop, dealing with your day, sharing the moment with a friend.

If you’ve never tried chanting out loud, it can feel awkward for about thirty seconds. Then something often shifts. The breath gets slower. The attention gets cleaner. The nervous system stops scanning the horizon for the next annoyance.

Not because the world got quiet, but because something inside you did.

What “Hari Nam” and “Shanam kirtan Vishnu” point to

After the chant, there’s a brief unpacking of what’s happening, and it lands on a classic bhakti practice in plain terms:

Chanting is hearing, repeating, and remembering God’s names.

In the tradition, this is tied to the practice of glorifying Vishnu (or Krishna) through sound. Sometimes people describe it as kirtan, sometimes as sankirtan (congregational chanting), but the heart of it is simple: name, attention, love.

And the words “Hari Nam” come through as a reminder too. The holy names. Not as an idea, but as a lived experience. A few minutes where you stop feeding the mental noise and feed something else.

The meaning of the Maha Mantra (in simple language)

The meaning shared here is the one many devotees return to again and again because it’s direct and personal:

“O energy of the Lord, O Lord, please engage me in loving service to You.”

And then there’s this added layer, which feels important: the highest service is to sing God’s names with love.

That’s such a different kind of “to-do list,” isn’t it? Not grind harder, not optimize your personality, not become some spiritually impressive person. Just sing with love.

At the same time, it’s acknowledged that the mantra has deeper and deeper meanings, more mystical and more esoteric, the kind of meaning you grow into over time.

If you want another simple summary of common translations and how people talk about the mantra’s meaning, this overview is easy to follow: What is the Hare Krishna Mahamantra? (ISKCON Berkeley). (It lines up closely with the “O Lord, O energy of the Lord…” translation shared in the video.)

A place to go deeper: Sacred Vedic Arts (Miami) and Syamarani Didi

There’s an invitation here for anyone who wants to go deeper into Vedic literature, mantras, and bhakti teachings: Sacred Vedic Arts, based in Miami, with online offerings and livestreams.

The feeling is very personal, like, “If you want more, here’s where we’re being nourished.”

Sacred Vedic Arts is described as a place where Her Grace Srimati Syamarani Didi (Syamarani Dasi) shares teachings that have been handed down teacher to student, through her spiritual master, and onward in the line.

If you want to explore their programs and resources, start here: Sacred Vedic Arts (official site). And for a glimpse of Syamarani Dasi’s devotional art and community events connected to that world, this event page gives helpful context: Mantra and Melody: The Devotional Art of Syamarani Dasi.

Following the journey: JuicyMagiK, community, and travel plans

After the chant and the meaning, the energy shifts into that friendly, end-of-day wrap-up. The kind where you’re still on the rooftop, still in the afterglow, and you remember, oh yeah, we’re also out here traveling and sharing pieces of the road.

A few places are mentioned to connect:

• The main site: JuicyMagiK
• A community portal, described as an agora for genuine questions and appreciation: Juicy MagiK Agora registration
• A projects page where people can support: Juicy MagiK projects and support

There’s also a mention of hearing about a Bitcoin conference in Mérida, Yucatán, possibly December 2nd to the 4th, and the hope of making it there.

Since event details change fast, it’s worth checking official event pages for anything you’re tracking in the region. One well-known Mexico crypto gathering with December dates is Tulum Crypto Fest, which can at least give you a sense of what’s happening seasonally in that part of the world.

Consistency beats intensity (the daily practice part)

One of the most grounded lines in the whole video is about time and expectations:

You can probably accomplish more in 10 years than you expect, but less than you think you can in two to three years.

That’s the voice of someone who’s tried to do big things fast, realized life is life, and decided to keep going anyway.

So the approach becomes simple:

Do a little more each day.
Be consistent.
Keep showing up.

And honestly, this is where chanting fits so well. It’s small. It’s repeatable. It’s portable. You can do it on a rooftop in San Miguel de Allende, in a noisy neighborhood, in a quiet room, in a car, on a walk.

You don’t need perfect conditions. You just need the next breath.

Closing blessing: “Chant and sing”

The ending is full of those interfaith touches that make the space feel open and welcoming: “Hari bol,” “hallelujah,” “amen,” and “peace be with you and upon you.”

And then the “transcendental knowledge of today,” offered with laughter and zero drama:

Chant and sing.

Sing and chant.

It’s almost comically simple, and that’s why it works. When life feels too big, the next right step often looks small.

Conclusion: when you can’t find quiet, make it

San Miguel de Allende is beautiful, and it’s still loud sometimes. So the practice here isn’t escaping sound, it’s choosing a sound that brings you home. The Maha Mantra becomes a way to “blast back” at the chaos, not with aggression, but with devotion, breath, and holy names. If you want to sit in this for a few minutes, play the video, chant along, and let your mind soften. And if you’re carrying noise right now (outside or inside), try the simplest experiment: chant and sing, even once, and see what changes.

mariakerwin

As a former serial entrepreneur, she turned from a workaholic in the business world to freedom and creativity, living now as a writer, creator and world traveller. Since an early age Maria is close to death and what exists beyond, courageously exploring the dimensions of existence. A Kundalini Awakening guided her into the abyss of fully surrendering to the life force itself, crushing all known aspects of her old life. Finally, it led her to her purpose of bridging both worlds, connecting to what goes beyond the ordinary.

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