I tried to get some walking in Concourse E in Schipoel Airport, Amsterdam was the best place to do so - up and down, then maybe go for Concourse F as well. It’s not totally practical with luggage to drag along.
At the end of E I was approaching a glass wall. Perhaps at a left or right of it, I could explore another hall. But “No.” A security person came towards me. Maybe I walked beyond a barrier I shouldn’t have? It was a young woman, looking quite fair, looking rather Dutch. In her uniform she came rather unofficial. In fact she put her palms together and affixed “Namaste” as a salutation. It turns out she’s taking yoga and aspires to become a teacher of the art. We conversed about ego and its tendency to get in the way, of many things, just about everything. I told her of my being a teacher of kirtan.
“Doing mantras?” she asked.
“Exactly! If you open a yoga studio, I’ll be glad to come and give lessons on bhakti-yoga.”
I told her my name. “Bhaktimarga” means path of devotion. This was intriguing to her and that I have a reputation for doing pilgrimage. She was floored when I told her I’m known as “The Walking Monk.”
“I don’t believe it. I just read about you on the internet.”
“Ah, yes the internet, a blessing and a curse at the same time,” I thought.
We had to part and I had to leave to catch my flight to India. Yes, India. Before long I would get hit with a wave of heat and musty smells. Traffic would be busy and roads very dusty. But I love the people. I love them. I can’t wait to be, in a sense back home.
May the Source be with you!