Dallas, Texas
The Mode of a Monk
At the end of the fifth day of sanga (spiritual gathering) we entertained the group with our drama, “Blue Mystic”. Now it was my time to unwind and do due diligences to my physical self. I hit the usual trail, the Santa Fe Trail.
By nightfall you are seemingly alone. There’s the very irregular pedestrian, mostly male. If I were in a female body I wouldn’t trust the area.
With the old growth of trees running along this former railway line, it attracts the usual wilderness. Rabbits I see. Raccoons I hear. There’s the owl from the other day. And the partial moon lies on its back set as a punctuation in a vast sky, a sky you would expect over Texas, a glare of utter openness.
“Hare Krishna….” I’m chanting with right thumb and mid-finger rolling over bead-by-bead. I contemplated, “Yes, I left behind, decades behind, a world of rock ‘n’ roll for a world of mantra ‘n’ roll, with no regrets. With only rewords like abstinence of the standard Saturday night mish-mash of a karmic world, I can boast that I’m getting my satisfaction from a social/spiritual life (I just entertained). I am so content to submit to mantra and to the oxygen that projects from the trees and coolness from the moon.
Life can’t be better in the mode of a monk.
May the Source be with you!
7 KM
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