Servant String
Toronto, Ontario
The sun shone in great glory on the street level. In some way it was the preferential place to be instead of the optional more shady ravine.
Guess what! I decided to touch both levels. Down below the trees in their rich chlorophyll colours of fall couldn’t be looking better.
You know, people ask, “Is there really a God?” I’m someone to say quickly, “How could there not be when you have all this splendour surrounding you?” Okay, maybe you don’t want to buy into the Intelligent Design concept. Reason tells me that where there is intelligence there must be a person involved. Isn’t God a person? If the persistent mind continues to doubt then at least can all sceptic and believers alike at least agree that the sensation is a humbling one when set in the midst of natural wonder? Or even an urban setting; even a three storey manmade house is something that dwarfs us when we stand next to it. Perhaps tallness should invoke a sense of meekness. It does me. Giants tend to spur in me a reverence and put me in the ‘servant’ category.
I am das (a servant). I believe Bob Dylan wrote something like that, about having to serve someone or something.
I had sent an email today to a correspondent about everyone’s natural constitutional position. The plain message was, “We are all servants.” Vedic texts go so for as to say that we are the servant of the servant of the servant… implying that everyone is accountable to someone. It’s a string that we belong to – a string of servants.
In the evening I attended, conducted rather, a talk on pilgrimage for the Tuesday Sanga program at ISKCON Toronto. The message is about becoming a servant to the road, the travelers and the Creator.
10 KM
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