Monday, December 9th, 2019

Toronto, Ontario

Me and Beer

Every day of a monk's life can be very interesting and unique.  For instance, because I hold a passion for drama, in preparation for an upcoming play, "Grandsire," about the life of warrior Bhisma, I spent some time shopping (or looking) for a long grayish beard and wig.  I'm still searching.

Of all things, my evening, during my walk, became something to cherish.  I had also been doing some cleaning earlier on.  Because of the inhalation of some dust, I got thirsty.  At the 7-11 convenience store, I picked up a bottle of ginger beer to quench that thirst.  I offered it to Krishna with mantra, and consumed.  It was good—less sweet, more ginger. 

After I emptied the bottle, I was left with nowhere to deposit it as recycling.  I kept walking and chanting with the amber-coloured empty under my arm.  At the corner of Bloor and Bathurst, Phil sat there.  I could not discern whether he was homeless or not, but he was keen on my bottle.  But first introductions.  

"I'm Phil."

"I'm Swami."

"Whatcha got there?"

"Ginger beer.  It's empty."

He gestured to see it.  He smelled it.  He was disappointed.  "No alcohol!" he confirmed.

"True, but it's good.  Less sugar.”

Then Phil sniffed it through his left nostril.  I guess he's likely hooked on something.  In any event, he learned something about Krishna from me.  

Further down on Bloor Street, I met Dhiraj from India.  He asked, "Aren't you that saintly walker?"

"Saintly, I don't know."  But I let him know I'm clean.  No regular beer goes down my pipe.

May the Source be with you!

5 km