After finally attending a jiu-jitsu class I’d been putting off for over three years, I found myself unexpectedly knocked to the floor—literally and figuratively. That moment sparked some deep realizations about life, struggle, and Krishna consciousness that I felt inspired to share.
Growing up, I always thought jiu-jitsu was useless. Where I’m from (Australia), if someone hits the ground, it’s usually over—you don’t fight on the deck (floor). However, life doesn’t always go how we expect, and neither does a fight.
So there I was, rolling around on the mats, my face pressed into a thin layer of Mayapur dust, the smell of sweat all around. In that moment, my mind unexpectedly shifted to global conflicts—the very real fight for survival happening around the world. It was raw, intense, humbling... and oddly enlightening.
This experience wasn’t just physical—it was almost spiritual. I realized that my spiritual practice, which aims for deep states of meditation, absorption and prayer , mirrors what I experienced on the mat.
Let me explain.
In jiu-jitsu practice, we set up scenarios with rules—conditions for winning and losing—based on our bodies, which we’ve received from nature, (or God). Though these are just drills, they simulate the chaos and unpredictability of life. It becomes a kind of training for survival.
As the Vedic text says:
“Jiva jivasya jivanam” – One living being is food for another.
Jiu-jitsu mimics the struggle of the material world. Each session is like a mini-battle—a practice in resilience. In the same way, spiritual texts like the Srimad-Bhagavatam offer timeless wisdom that helps us face real-life challenges. Though they speak of distant places or other dimensions, their messages are practical. They prepare us for the inner battle—the fight for spiritual growth.
Now, jiu-jitsu isn’t really about life-or-death, but when you're giving 100% just to avoid defeat, it starts to feel pretty real. For me, it was a shadow of a near-death experience. I refused to be submitted. Whatever it took, I kept going.
Then came the aftermath—I was outside, retching, completely exhausted. Nevertheless, even that felt like a kind of purification, maybe even an initiation into something bigger: a broader awareness or state of consciousness.
It struck me how these controlled, artificial scenarios gave me real-world insights. In the same way, years of practicing bhakti yoga—hearing and chanting about Krishna—has helped shape how I navigate life. It’s not just philosophy. It’s training for reality.
Devotees of Krishna believe that the stories in scripture are not just metaphors—they are real. As Srila Prabhupada explains in his commentary (SB 1.9.28):
“Such historical facts, being instructive for ordinary men, were assorted without chronological reference. Besides that, they happen on different planets, nay, in different universes... We are simply concerned with the instructive lessons of such incidents.”
And suddenly, it all made sense. The stories of Krishna, other worlds, divine beings—though beyond our everyday experience—are actually shaping my consciousness in very practical ways. They help me understand how to live, how to struggle, how to grow.
One jiu-jitsu class opened the door to a deeper world. It showed me how training in artificial scenarios can prepare us for real challenges. And in a similar way, years of spiritual practice have transformed my inner world—my perceptions, my relationships, my reactions.
That’s why I call this "Jiu-jitsu for your consciousness."
It’s about inner cleaning—polishing the mirror of the mind so we can see reality clearly. Krishna helps with this, but the first step… that’s on you. No one can drag you to that jiu-jitsu class (shoutout to the friends who tried for years!).
As Krishna says in the Bhagavad-gita (4.11):
“As they approach Me, I reciprocate accordingly.”
We act first, and the inspiration follows. Not the other way around. We have to expand our ability to receive grace.
It’s all about increasing our capacity—to give, to receive, to grow. We try to act as instruments of grace, and in doing so, more grace flows through us.
Imagine you're serving out a pot of nectar. You feed a few spoonful’s to others, but in between, you get to sip it too. The more you serve, the more you get. The more pots you have, the more you can give—and the more you can receive until you’re overflowing.
That’s what we’re doing at Th3 Lot—trying to expand our capacity to give and receive grace. Through prasadam (sacred food), sankirtan (devotional music in public), and study of bhakti texts, we are building something meaningful.
And you’re invited to be part of it.
We’re always looking for:
→ Volunteers
→ Servers
→ Sponsors
→ Kirtaneers
Write to us. Get in on the nectar.
Let’s roll—on the mat, in the kitchen, in the villages and in consciousness.
- Urugaya dasa