Sheltered by the Supreme Person: Finding Peace Through Japa, Stories, and Simplicity

Sheltered by the Supreme Person: Finding Peace Through Japa, Stories, and Simplicity

Sometimes you just want a pause—the rare kind that slips under the noise, calms the mind, and puts that restless heart at ease. Whether on the green edge of some unknown hill or just at your kitchen table, the first light, or maybe birdsong, or a soft chant can coax you into a kind of peace. This post is a slow walk through one such soft morning: humble chanting, stray stories, shared tea, laughter, the sound of goats, and those small, honest moments where you remember you’re not as alone as you thought.

Peace Signs, Lennon, Basho, and the Simple Power of Pause

It starts, as mornings do, a little rough around the edges. Jokes fumble, greetings overlap, beads get tangled. But underneath all of that, there’s an unmistakable thread—a longing for peace, both within and without.

Remember John and Yoko’s famous “War is Over (If You Want It)” sign? As a kid, seeing it on the news, all bold letters over the city, I didn’t know what to make of it. But now the message feels less naive and more like the heart of meditation: in making a simple cup of tea, or pausing for a moment to breathe, you can stop the war in your own mind. Not a magic fix for the world’s heartbreak, but an end, even fleeting, to the chaos inside.

Basho’s poem rolls in too: “In making a cup of tea I stop the war.” Simple things, ordinary things, taken slow. There’s a kind of transcendence tucked in these moments, something sweet and quiet that just sits there, waiting for you to notice.

The Beads: Japa Meditation for Shelter and Sweetness

So, beads in hand—fingers awkward, voice a little shy, maybe your mind tugging between today’s tasks and last night’s dreams—the chanting starts.

Japa meditation uses a string of beads, usually 108 (give or take), to repeat a mantra again and again. It’s not about performance. It’s about finding a rhythm, almost like rocking yourself to calm. I’ve met people who are decades deep into spiritual practice—kind, humble, sturdy people—and still, each day, they come back to the beads. Beginners chant. Elders chant. Some days it’s mechanical, some days it’s music. But when you keep at it, over weeks, months, years, it turns from effort into pleasure. You don’t even think about “results.” Just the act itself brings comfort. – The mantra for our morning: Gopala Govinda Rama Madana Mohana.

If you’re curious about the background and how to start, Learn Mantra Meditation offers simple step-by-step instructions.

For many, there’s no other practice that quiets the mind so quickly. Even the roughest mornings get scrubbed softer. You can mumble it, sing it, whisper it just loud enough for your own ears, or let it billow out when you need something a little more forceful to break through agitation.

If you want to experience the sound itself, there are some beautiful versions, like this Gopala Govinda Rama Madana Mohana Kirtan Meditation, or you can try a guided session for Japa meditation.

What Does Japa Actually Do?

• Calms the mind. Even a restless, monkey-mind morning softens through repetition.
• Brings shelter. The mantra becomes a little home you carry in your pocket.
• Tunes the senses. Touch, hearing, speech, vision—chanting uses them all.
• Gives pleasure. Not the sugar high of quick, passing fun, but a kind that expands quietly over time.
• Builds humility. Those rare moments of true softness—those are some of the sweetest feelings of all.

For a breakdown of the technique and the rhythm, Introduction to Japa Meditation covers the nuts and bolts.

Chant with Us: The Gopala Govinda Mantra

The practice itself is easy. One mantra per bead, from start to finish, without rush or pressure. You can chant slow or fast, alone or with friends. This is the actual chant we used, repeated for a set of beads:

Gopala Govinda Rama Madana Mohana

Try saying it with your breath, letting the sound fill your ears. If you want, put on headphones or find a corner for yourself. Some mornings, the sun rises through the window and the mantra rises too—warmth spreading, not just across the skin but right through the chest.

When you let go into it, joy begins to bubble up. Sometimes it feels giddy, a kind of silly happiness, lifting your feet right off the ground. Music helps, too, when you can’t chant out loud, like this version of Govinda Gopala Madana Mohana.

Chanting is not limited to people. If you’ve tried sending out a “haribol” or “gauranga” out the window of a car to a stray cat or a goat on the hillside, you’ll know animals notice too.

Life on the Road: Letting Go and Redefining Wealth

Sun’s up, the road is rumbling (maybe goats in the background). When you live out of a van, everything you own has to fit into a tight little box—literal and otherwise. There is a slow, ongoing process of letting go: clothes that don’t fit, gadgets that no longer hold their charm, sentimental things you thought you needed. Each piece shed feels like a layer of static peeled off, and a little more quiet seeps in.

This process opens up a question: what is wealth, really? Strip back the clutter and the stockpiled things, what are you left with?

Here’s a table to make it easier to spot the changes:

We’re planning a two-week stretch reflecting on wealth—in every sense—inside and out. Across traditions, scriptures speak of “equal weights and measures,” fair trade and honest money, but also about the kind of wealth that lives in the heart. We want to bring these talks to life, threading them together with ongoing adventures through technology (yes, even Bitcoin and new money practices), reflection, and spiritual community.

Surrender, Shelter, and That Old “Footsteps in the Sand” Story

The need for shelter runs deep, from anxious nights to roaring days. There’s an old card, you’ve probably seen it: footprints walking along the sand, two sets, but sometimes it’s just one, and the question, “Why did you leave me in my hardest times?” The answer is soft but strong, “My child, that’s when I carried you.”

That card landed in my mailbox while I was a 17-year-old exchange student in Japan—far from family, swept up in a new language and crisp mountain mornings, trying to meditate with the tools I’d absorbed from a kind neighbor (my godfather, since birth, who shared his tradition of silent practice). Living in a culture that prized judo, rock gardens, and deep respect for nature and elders, I felt a fullness I couldn’t name—but also loneliness.

It was only when that image and story came in the mail (along with loving, silly postcards from my best childhood friend) that the idea really sank in: no matter how foreign the place, how sharp the ache, I was never truly alone. In every heartbreak, there was a presence carrying me, even if I couldn’t see it.

Why It Matters: Shelter, Humility, and Love for All

The core of it is this: you don’t have to do it all on your own. Humility isn’t weakness, it’s a relief—a gentle place to rest your tired heart. Whether you call out to God, the Supreme Person, or just pause long enough to listen—something good moves closer.

This is real wealth: love for the divine, love for others, a deepening sense of who you are and how you belong to the world. The more you rest in that, the easier it feels to share kindness, gratitude, and warm shelter with those around you—furry, feathered, or human.

Everyday Practice: Small Steps Toward Gratitude

Maybe it’s too easy to let worries get loud. Here are a few simple things that help bring you back:

• Chanting Japa (alone or in good company)
• Deep breathing before meals
• Lighting some incense as the day starts or ends
• A walk in nature, watching birds or listening to goats with their bells (yes, really)
• Pausing to remember you’re never alone

If you want to explore more or join in future discussions, sessions, or support the work, the Juicy MagiK community is always welcoming. Find out more about connecting, sharing experiences, or supporting ongoing projects at the Juicy MagiK Agora community portal.

Never Alone: Singing with Goats and Finding Family

Life can be absurd—sometimes you’re chanting for a tree, sometimes for goats jangling their bells on a mountainside. Even the animals perk up when they hear the sound. Mercy, kindness, and shelter aren’t just for us, but radiate out to all living beings.

If you spot a suffering cat, a lonely bird, even a tired stranger: a kind word, a gentle chant, or just some acknowledgment is often more than enough.

“Peace be with you, and upon you.” Thanks for sitting in the mess and sweetness of this morning with us. If this helped you at all, if it brought a slice of softness, pass it on—there’s enough for everyone.

Haribol. Namaste. Peace be with you and upon you.