Don't try to squeeze a special feeling out of the Name by your own effort — that straining decides nothing. Take a musician with a flute: the breath in his own body is ordinary, it just gives him ease. But once it enters the bamboo flute, it breaks into a myriad of melodies — sometimes crying, sometimes laughing, sometimes dancing. So it is with Krishna's own bliss: in himself it stays one and even. But when that same power flows out as bhakti through a devotee, it blossoms into so many shades that Krishna himself becomes eager for that service and cannot live without it. On your rounds you are not the musician inventing a melody — you are the flute: a hollow stem another's breath must pass through.