I Was Chanting, the Dog Started Twitching (and I Kinda Lost It)

It starts with a little teasing, the kind that happens when you’re with someone you like and you’re both relaxed. “Say that again.” “Again?” Laughing, resetting, warming up. And then the mood turns soft, almost without warning, into something tender and serious: love for animals, regret about harm, and that strange, beautiful feeling of saying God’s names out loud while a dog naps nearby.

A playful moment that turns into something real

The shift is quick, and it feels familiar. One second it’s jokes, the next it’s a heart opening.

There’s this thought that comes through clearly: “I love all of God’s creatures.” Not as a slogan, not as a social media caption, but as a lived feeling that has weight behind it.

And with that comes the other side of love, the part that can sting a little. When you start caring, you start remembering. You start noticing what you used to ignore.

Seeing every living being as a soul (not just a body)

A core idea here is karmic: every living entity has a different body right now because of past karma, because of where they are in the long journey of the soul. That’s the frame.

In that view, a dog is not “just a dog.” A cow is not “just livestock.” A bird is not “just background noise.” There’s a living being in there, a personhood in there, a soul moving through time, learning, forgetting, remembering.

This is the kind of perspective that changes how you walk through a normal day.

• A body becomes a temporary outfit.
• A species becomes a chapter, not the whole story.
• A chance encounter becomes a moment of connection, even if no words are exchanged.

And that’s why a sleepy dog in the middle of the day can suddenly feel like someone you want to bless.

The grief of growing up eating meat (and waking up to what it meant)

There’s an honest confession in this story: growing up in a culture where eating meat was normal, daily, automatic. Not a big moral debate every time, just a habit. A default.

And later, looking back, the speaker feels sad about it. Not in a dramatic, self-punishing way, but in a clear-eyed way that says: I did not understand what I was participating in.

The phrasing is intense and vivid: “the remnants of the dead flesh of creatures that were being slaughtered.” It’s blunt, because that’s what it is when the mind stops dressing it up.

And then there’s this point about time, the “designated allotment.” The idea is that when a life is cut short, something is taken. Not just the body, but the remaining time that being was meant to live in that form.

If you’ve ever had a moment where your food stops being “food” for a second and becomes a life, you know how sobering that can feel.

“Thou shalt not kill” and what it’s pointing to

The speaker brings in a commandment many people know: “Thou shalt not kill.” And then they widen it.

It’s not only about murder between humans (though that matters too). It’s about killing as a general act, especially when it’s unnecessary, casual, or done on a massive scale.

There’s also a careful note that in some contexts there are “sanctions for killing,” but that “in this age” (meaning the current time, the current moral climate, the current condition of people) the emphasis lands on restraint, mercy, and nonviolence.

It’s not presented like a debate to win. It’s presented like a wound you don’t want to keep causing.

“I meant the dog over there.” (The sweetest interruption)

Right when the speaker is deep in this heartfelt reflection, the other person interrupts, gently and kind of hilariously:

“I meant the dog over there.”

It’s such a human moment. One person is talking cosmic law and compassion for all beings, and the other is just pointing out a literal dog in the scene.

And it doesn’t ruin the mood. It grounds it. It turns the big idea into something you can actually do right now, in front of you, without a stage or a plan.

Chanting to a sleeping dog (and the dog starts twitching)

Now we’re back to the title moment.

The dog is lying there, fast asleep, middle of the day kind of nap. And as the chanting happens, the dog’s face twitches. The legs twitch too. That familiar dream-twitch that makes you wonder what they’re chasing in their sleep.

The speaker’s response is simple and full of awe: the living entity could hear that.

Maybe not with the mind the way humans do, not with language and concepts, but as sound, as presence, as vibration. Something received.

And there’s something quietly radical about that. It says: you don’t have to wait until someone can “understand” you in an intellectual way to offer them something sacred.

You just offer it.

Why chanting God’s names feels like a gift (for everyone nearby)

This is where the reflection becomes really practical. The speaker talks about the beauty of transcendental meditation using God’s names, especially Hare Krishna chanting, because it’s not a zero-sum thing.

“I get the benefit. Everybody around me gets the benefit. Everyone wins.”

That’s the felt sense: no loss, no diminishment. It’s not like handing out a limited supply. It’s more like lighting candles from one flame. The light doesn’t get used up.

Chanting out loud also becomes an act of generosity that doesn’t require permission slips or perfect conditions. You can chant walking, sitting, cooking, driving, while a dog naps. You can chant when you’re clear, and you can chant when you’re messy.

And the sound goes where it goes.

If you want some background on Hare Krishna kirtan as a devotional practice (and why communities treat it as transformative), this guide from ISKCON Silicon Valley lays out the basics in a grounded way: The Transformative Power of Hare Krishna Kirtan.

“Only the demons say no.” What’s meant by that?

The line is sharp, but in context it’s not about hating people. It’s more like describing a posture of refusal.

There’s a certain kind of “no” that’s not thoughtful or careful, it’s just stubborn. The kind that turns away from unity because unity asks for humility. The kind that rejects something good simply because it didn’t come from “my side.”

So when the speaker says, “Only the demons say no, I won’t accept them,” the point isn’t to label your neighbor as evil. It’s to name the inner resistance that can show up in anyone.

That part of us that hears “God’s names” and flinches, not because it’s harmful, but because surrender is uncomfortable.

In the moment, the response to that resistance is not an argument. It’s a chant.

“Hare Krishna.”

A blessing, a shared sound, an offering.

Karma, compassion, and what you do with regret

What’s moving in this story is how regret gets handled.

It’s easy to get stuck in guilt. It’s also easy to get defensive. This reflection does neither. It names the pain of having participated in harm, then turns that pain into a motivation to do good now.

That’s a useful model for anyone trying to live with more compassion:

Regret can become a door, not a prison.

And compassion here isn’t abstract. It’s specific.

• Compassion looks like noticing the animal near you.
• Compassion looks like remembering that a “creature” is a living being with a path.
• Compassion looks like choosing not to cause harm when you don’t have to.
• Compassion looks like offering something holy through sound, even if the receiver is asleep.

The simple practice hiding in plain sight: give the name, gently

There’s also a quiet everyday takeaway that doesn’t need a big spiritual identity to work with: say something sacred out loud.

Not as a performance. Not to prove you’re spiritual. Just as a gift.

If you already chant Hare Krishna, you know the feeling of it changing the air in a room. If you don’t, you might still recognize how certain words, prayers, or hymns shift your mood in a way normal talk doesn’t.

And for readers who like seeing research themes around chanting and well-being, there’s ongoing academic interest in mantra practices. One example is this paper on EEG rhythm analysis connected to Mahā Mantra chanting: Investigating the impact of Mahā Mantra chanting on anxiety and depression. (It’s an abstract page, so access may depend on your institution.)

Another perspective, written for a general audience from within the tradition, is this overview on effects related to stress and mood: The Hare Krishna Maha Mantra, effects on stress, depression, and the three gunas.

None of that replaces lived experience, but it can be reassuring to see that people are paying attention to what sound practices do to the mind and body.

Stay close to community if you want to go deeper

One sweet thing about the vibe around this channel is that it doesn’t feel like a broadcast. It feels like an open room.

If you’ve got a genuine question, or you just want to share something that happened to you in your own practice, there’s a community space connected to the project: Juicy Magik Agora community portal.

And if you’re the type who likes supporting the kind of work that puts more prayer, more chanting, and more softness into the world, there’s also a page for that: Juicy Magik projects and support options.

Conclusion

A sleeping dog twitching during chanting is a small scene, almost nothing, and that’s what makes it so powerful. It takes big ideas like karma, nonviolence, and devotion, and puts them right on the floor with you, right in the middle of an ordinary day. The heart of it is simple: offer something good, and trust that it lands where it lands. If you want a gentle practice that doesn’t take anything from anyone, try giving God’s names a little more space in your day, even if the only witness is a dreaming dog.

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.

See Full Bio