Monday, 26 September 2022

Monday, September 19, 2022

Cleveland, Ohio

The Storm and After

Just as the sun was to greet us for the morning, Kaustubha and I could see clear over the horizon a mess of black coming our way. It was menacing in appearance though a regular stunt of nature. We were simply on a walkway by the lake when I felt cold drops from the sky strike my neck. Then polkadots appeared on the white cement surface; more and more came until it became a solid mass of wet.

Kaustubha and I darted for the Kiwanis’ Pavilion, a shelter. It became a hard rain and then seventy-three-year-old Mr. Patel joined us and shared his breakfast things with us. He became our new friend. And for a good while K and I paced back-and-forth chanting on our beads.

The rain subsided. K pointed to a bird, “There’s an American bald eagle.” And indeed the massive bird soared along to reach the peak of a tree. No longer than a minute later K pointed to a family of associates. “There are his buddies, the Canadian geese.” They had just landed now in the freshness of air.

These are some of my last impressions in Cleveland before taking the flight back to Canada.

Actually, it was with great joy that in these last days that I felt strongly the play of rhythm; whether through the waves of water lapping on the beach, the movement of clouds and, of course, walking, but most definitely the movement of warmth emanating from the devotees at the gatherings with kirtan.

May the Source be with you!

4 km



 

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