The Garbage Truck
The garbage truck made its clamour consuming his food. The one who fed him was his driver. The truck seemed hungry and it moved along at each block enjoying tasty morsels of plastic and paper goods.
I was there along Yonge Street in the evening when the mechanical monster stopped at every municipal street bin. It was remarkable the timing. The truck would stop and the driver pull out grabbing a full bag to toss in as my walking pace brought me right there. The driver saw me in sync at each interval, but his glance was blank. The truck seemed more animated than him, I’m sorry to say. At least they looked or worked like a team. I don’t consider that the guy has a loathsome job. Being a monk, and a happy one, I like my vocation, and I would say that I’m not really envious of the chap’s good salary. I appreciate it that he’s working.
I made my trek to reach the Sony Centre, 4.5 km from the ashram. My hand was on my beads the whole time. For half of that distance I was connecting with the garbage man. And while I’m doing my dharma, praying for a better world, he was doing his dharma, cleaning up what other people rejected. It’s service in some shape or form. Time was running late, there was only 60 minutes remaining before the last day of the year was to dawn. It was a good day, very full. Krishna sent me great people to work with on our production back at the ashram. Patrick, a sound expert from Vancouver, volunteered his time. Fil, as an actor, is just great as Arjuna, and so was Jagannatha, pulling off his Krishna role in a smooth way. Sagar and Sing are swanky dancers, and Yogendra is the adorable elephant God, Ganesh.
We are all playing parts in a drama. In the late night walking I passed by someone who’s a beggar, someone is a police officer, someone is a garbage collector, and I am the monk. We all play some role.
Somehow if we could rock and role it out in Krishna’s service, there will be some peace.