"Are you the Walking Monk?" asked the woman with her leashed dog, as David and I sat on the Park Bench.
A bit surprised with that question seemingly coming from out of nowhere, I responded, "Yes, I am."
"You met my brother, Gord, who's living on the East Coast. I follow you on Instagram all the time," said the woman who had this joyful face.
From the incident, I came to appreciate the effectiveness of technology, but also to value the power of presence. I didn't really have to make that stretch of a walk to the park. I was still weary in the legs from the trials of the Bruce Trail, and it would have been better to perhaps just have stayed at home. But there's always something that compels me from within to get out of comfort and be with people. When someone sees a monk, at least in North America or most places, it sparks an interest, and perhaps arouses the spirit within them. Mind you, there are such places where people feel threatened by the sight of a monastic, mostly, I have to say, those who are insecure about their own religious leaning. It's quite crazy how it works.
In another park, David and I took to the grass. I played the mrdunga and he pulled out all these gadgets for musical instruments: Caxixi shakers from Bali, locust bean clappers from Cairo, and from Indonesia and Philippines, a balingbing. They too attract some attention. The intent was to draw people to our mantra in as much as my robes may draw people closer to Krishna. https://www.instagram.com/p/B005A3KAoKy/?igshid=1uqpxxqejegcz
May the Source be with you!