Flashback on the Ferry
Victoria, British Columbia
The day looked to be long. The air was moist. The ocean breeze gave a chill as we crossed on the ferry back to the mainland. A flashback hit me. It was on the ferry, the same route, in ' 72 when I read my first piece of literature considered Vedic. Yes, there they were; three tall baldies, aggressive as hell, standing at a street corner in downtown Victoria. Their devotional pressure tactics, however, worked on my buddy, Robert. He acquired the magazine, Back to Godhead for a quarter.
I however, got curious about the journal. Never would I have dreamed to be one of these monks at this stage in my life. I was enjoying my freedom. And it was summertime. How could a monastic program capture me at this time of year?
Lo and behold! The true enticement of the Krishna culture captivated me just six months later when five monks came to squeeze into my apartment in the nickel city of Sudbury. It was on this day if I recall -- December 23rd. It was at my invitation and just an overnight stay for them. Was it ever impactful! They were on a cross country journey in a blue bus. Little did I know then that I would catch the bug they carried; the gypsy itch or just cabin fever.
Some people are meant to move like a rolling stone. Others are like Stone Henge, firm and solid in one place. I gladly accept the curse of travel. Every day is a fresh new one because the location changes or at least every three days or so. Much of this freedom comes from the mendicant's lifestyle.
Yes, monk and path go together. There is no greater compatibility. I'm grateful.