Friday, 3 November 2017

Tuesday, October 31st, 2017

Oakville, Ontario

On Halloween

I picked up a pair of new shoes, Ky boots, compliments of Jagannatha Misra.  To acquire them, I took to the GO commuter train.  When going to the ticket wicket, I asked for a Senior’s Day Pass, my first time at taking advantage of reaching 65.  There was some disbelief that I was that age.  The ticket seller doubted.  I reached for my passport, but before I was able to pull it out, she said, “No! No! It’s okay!”

Thanks for the compliment, I thought.

There was also uncertainty in the looks of the passengers on the train, whether I was in Hallowe’en costume or not.  Half of them were in some kind of unique apparel.  When exiting the train, I asked a young man for directions.  I don’t normally use the train, and Union Station, to me, is a big and crazy network of people going every which way.

I received good pointers on where to go, and after that, the fellow asked, “By the way, are you an actual…?”

“Yes, I’m the real thing—a Hare Krishna monk.”

“Cause I was just in Tibet.”

“Our order is rooted in India where it all started–the notion of devotion.”

Grateful, he was happy to have met a monastic person.  I was happy to meet him, a new person, a new contact, perhaps, a new spiritual seeker, perhaps, otherwise why would he go to Tibet and widen his eyes at the mere appearance of a monk.  Well, let’s say I’m trying to be.  I feel as long as I’m regulating my life in abstinence with no meat diet, no gambling, and no substance abuse, while trying to do a meagre service, I’m in, somehow.

May the Source be with you!

6 km

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