Reflections
Five of us went down the trail. One of us was Joyce, a cousin I hadn’t seen in forty-six years. I was walking next to her on this trail leading to Burnaby Lake. It was at a section where the trees were tall and shady. Coming down the trail were five other people and one of them was a monk. It was as if we reflected each other. I’m sure I’m the first monk Joyce had ever spent time with. When she saw the oncoming crew she was stunned, “Oh my God! Did you arrange this?”
I confessed to the truth, “No, I had nothing to do with it.” This was truly uncanny. My brother, sister-in-law, and Gerry, Joyce’s friend, were also surprised. How could this be?
The two groups met—us and them. I took an initiative, stood there and put palms together in what we call pranams. The other group responded. They stopped. We spoke. The monk was from Tibet. The brown person in the group was Sri Lankan. He was well-informed about Hare Krishna. It was a warm exchange. We took pictures of us, the five and five. The monk is younger than I, so it was not a perfect reflection. It made our day.
There’s more. From Burnaby Lake, my need to reconnect with family, since four-and-a-half decades, was fulfilled. Aunt Annie is ninety, and we visited her apartment. At the Naam restaurant, more cousins and I converged. What a great bunch of cousins!
May the Source be with you!
3 km
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