Telephones and Cows
The other day I received an email from someone from the Ukraine inviting me to a September spiritual event there. He promised me that it would be colossal. It was proposed I contribute to the entertainment. He had read my itinerary for the trekking days ahead. I was to be in Paris then London. “The flight from England will be easy to access to the Ukraine.” I had to reveal the sad news that I don’t plan a trip to Europe at all. I’ll be busy in Paris and London in Canada that is. In fact, within two days I’ll walk from Paris to London in Ontario.
Well, what about Paris, Ontario? Alexander Graham Bell made the first phone call from Paris to Branford in 1876. That is something disputed by some Boston historians. In any event, the building still stands where this historic event took place. Now just look at all the i-Phones used today. Do we give credit where it’s due every time we make a call?
Devotees from Guelph came to give company for 10 Km. Jaya Gopal, Vyasacharya, and their daughters Krishna and Vaidehi experienced that distance of gravel under their feet. At that time, Larry, a local member of the Cayuga Clan with the Iroquois tribe walked with us for a good stretch. Larry is definitely a spiritualist. He is also a member of AA and kicked the habit of smokes and drinks years ago. We talked “spiritual” for a long time. When I mentioned the expression, ‘aham brahmasmi” that I am spirit, it resonated so well with him.
Ring ring, ring ring, goes Daruka’s cell phone. Media! Media! Daruka and I spent the afternoon with news media interested in the story of The Walking Monk – the Paris Star, The Brant News, The Woodstock Sentinel and the Burlington Post.
The Guelph group had a great time, they departed saying, “We’ll never forget this.” The walking experience for them was unique.
When I reached Woodstock, a common name for a town, there was an effigy of a Holstein that made the record for lacto-production. At 9,062 lbs of butterfat, and milk amounting to 270505 lbs, you are looking at a generous donation for Canadian records. The sacred cow’s name was Snow Countess. Her claim to championship, however, got bumped by another cow from Quebec. Awww! That’s too bad. Nevertheless, she did some great service and some elders here remember the gal.
I hate to report that across the road from the statue of Snow Countess is a McDonalds restaurant. The chain eatery does irk vegetarians like myself. What can be said, some of us do not take kindly to the slaughter of animals. There are better ways to sustain yourself then by killing our mother, the cow, and our father, the bull.