Definition of Hell
I would never make a good prisoner because if I was ever to become a jailbird, I would be confined to a small space where moving around is practically impossible. That’s how I’ve felt these last two days when the weather has made getting around super challenging.
Every year, just after New Year’s, harsh winter sets in. Normally I’m not intimidated, but when rain and snow come down on a sheer ice surface where you drive or walk, you become very vulnerable.
“Where is there a walking track—indoors, of course?” I asked Krishna Dulal.
“I don’t know of any. Will a treadmill do?”
“I was on a treadmill for a stress test the other day. It was my second time on one of them. It’s not my cup of tea. I did well on the stress test, though.”
Well, the treadmill concept remained a concept. The weather didn’t let up either. I also got busy with people issues. Walking, of any kind, when straight out the window and not the door.
Jail? Well I do have some experience. Before being a monk, I tried hitching a ride on a train in Calgary. I didn’t know it was wrong. I was naïve and a teen. Got arrested. Prayed to God right in jail.
After I became a monk, I was put in prison in North Carolina and Illinois with other brahmacaris (monks), for the distribution of our literature without a license. It was okay. We had each other. Solitary confinement would have been torture. Any place where you can’t stretch your legs is like hell.
May the Source be with you!