A Trail of Life
Toronto, Ontario
Lorne Vineberg is a personal friend who dines at the temple ashram's dining room from time to time. He handed me a CD of violinist Oliver Schroer, a friend of his who like me is also a walking pilgrim. I was delighted to receive the music (very spiritual). It's exquisite!
Perhaps the most talked about pilgrim trail in the world is the "Camino de Santiago", an eleven hundred year old pilgrim trail which makes its mark through the landscape of France and Spain. Oliver trekked between May and June of 2004 a thousand kilometres. The history in short of Santiago de compostela is the legendary burial place of St. James the Apostle and in the year 815, a hermit was led to the grave by shimmering, miraculous lights. The bones were identified by the gourd and the scallop the apostle always carried. A church was built over the tomb. Oliver, who trekked with friends, wrote, "El Camino, the road, a metaphor for a spiritual voyage, is also a very real physical path. It is a muddy trail through a forest. It is continuously changing in shape, colour, texture, mood... the one constant is the sound of footsteps. We crossed physical landscapes of mountains, fields, valleys and forests. Fellow pilgrims are from every continent."
On my walk, pilgrimages of a similar sort, I've met people who had the pleasure of being part of the walk at Santiago de Compostela. People testify that it's life-changing which to my ear hits a sensitive chord. I would like to see caminos everywhere. One acquaintance, Karnamrta, a gifted musician herself like Oliver, took that train last summer and loved it.
Long treks have that power to transform and you can't really understand it until you put your feet on the ground and move forward.
The easy listening of Oliver's CD reflects what was so experiential for him. Before his passing a couple of years ago, he wrote (and played) about the wisdom that came from his walking, "I hear the wonder - and the struggle - of getting to know the earth one step at a time."
6 KM
B L O G S P O T
Saturday, 12 February 2011
Thursday, February 10th, 2011
Chipper
Toronto, Ontario
At noon our Haligonian monks and Torontonian monks along with our two young nuns, who recently arrived from Cleveland and Calgary, sat down with me for a reading about Chaitanya, who as a pilgrim, stopped at the home of brahman, Adwaita, for a relieving meal. All who listened to the narration delighted in the jovial exchanges between the brahman Adwaita, and Chaitanya's associate, Nityananda. They would bash each other with words.
It was this impression of light-heartedness that was an obvious norm for devotees. Spiritual life doesn't necessarily entail a glum or grim practice. While an approach of sobriety is standard, it can be punctuated with laughter and jokes. Personally for me life would be intolerable without humour. Humour is something our guru, Srila Prabhupada, engaged in. His mission which is serious in its conviction has layers and layers of lightness in order for it to have risen and grown. Stories of joy that shaped the movement are like the yeast in the bread.
My walking today involved a visit to Malabar's Costume Shop in preparation for some drama productions held in India. Bhakta Jeff is a serious monk, a young Canadian, who accompanied me to the costume place. It's a fun place. Jeff agreed. As part of his service he is accustomed to running errands, purchasing food for his fellow brahmacharis (monks) amongst other things. It was a first for him to see all the unique attire that changes a person's look and character. The place is shelved with masks, make-up, hats and props of all kinds - a little like a circus or dreamland. Naturally we tried a wig or two on his bald head. It was good for a laugh.
The life of devotion is always up. Those devoid of it have every reason to be downtrodden because you will die and everything's over.
In devotion we have a new life, a new day, a new dawn, a new chance. We keep chipper and cheer up each other.
5 KM
Toronto, Ontario
At noon our Haligonian monks and Torontonian monks along with our two young nuns, who recently arrived from Cleveland and Calgary, sat down with me for a reading about Chaitanya, who as a pilgrim, stopped at the home of brahman, Adwaita, for a relieving meal. All who listened to the narration delighted in the jovial exchanges between the brahman Adwaita, and Chaitanya's associate, Nityananda. They would bash each other with words.
It was this impression of light-heartedness that was an obvious norm for devotees. Spiritual life doesn't necessarily entail a glum or grim practice. While an approach of sobriety is standard, it can be punctuated with laughter and jokes. Personally for me life would be intolerable without humour. Humour is something our guru, Srila Prabhupada, engaged in. His mission which is serious in its conviction has layers and layers of lightness in order for it to have risen and grown. Stories of joy that shaped the movement are like the yeast in the bread.
My walking today involved a visit to Malabar's Costume Shop in preparation for some drama productions held in India. Bhakta Jeff is a serious monk, a young Canadian, who accompanied me to the costume place. It's a fun place. Jeff agreed. As part of his service he is accustomed to running errands, purchasing food for his fellow brahmacharis (monks) amongst other things. It was a first for him to see all the unique attire that changes a person's look and character. The place is shelved with masks, make-up, hats and props of all kinds - a little like a circus or dreamland. Naturally we tried a wig or two on his bald head. It was good for a laugh.
The life of devotion is always up. Those devoid of it have every reason to be downtrodden because you will die and everything's over.
In devotion we have a new life, a new day, a new dawn, a new chance. We keep chipper and cheer up each other.
5 KM
Thursday, 10 February 2011
Thursday, February 10th, 2011
Wednesday, February 9th, 2011
Toronto, Ontario
I had walked my allotment of distance west on Dupont, south on Christie, east on Bloor and across-over to the temple ashram. At the edge of park, Christie Pitts, is a massive lit up image of a tiger. To my speculation it's a symbol of Korean pride at the base of Little Korea. He's fully formed out of lights and sits content.
I thought of the contentedness of godsister Bhadra Priya who is being cremated tomorrow in Florida. I sat down for twenty minutes to write this poem in her honour.
Leaving Us Today
Dear Vaisnav, you are leaving us today
To take part in a much greater play
Fleeing from this world, a mix of sweet and sour
To ascend to the realm of the Higher Power.
It's hard for those who knew you well.
It's not for us to say or for us to tell.
We can't be greedy demanding your presence
We take from you and capture the essence.
Inspire you did and that we'll remember
From the start of the year to the end of December
You were loyal, determined, fixed, and straight
And overall your devotion was great.
You have cut the bonds, to join the One with the flute,
The One who claims He's the very root.
Let's sing! Let's dance! seeing you off
Let's be elated which is never enough
Bhaktimarga Swami
(in dedication to my godsister Bhadra Priya)
Toronto, Ontario
I had walked my allotment of distance west on Dupont, south on Christie, east on Bloor and across-over to the temple ashram. At the edge of park, Christie Pitts, is a massive lit up image of a tiger. To my speculation it's a symbol of Korean pride at the base of Little Korea. He's fully formed out of lights and sits content.
I thought of the contentedness of godsister Bhadra Priya who is being cremated tomorrow in Florida. I sat down for twenty minutes to write this poem in her honour.
Leaving Us Today
Dear Vaisnav, you are leaving us today
To take part in a much greater play
Fleeing from this world, a mix of sweet and sour
To ascend to the realm of the Higher Power.
It's hard for those who knew you well.
It's not for us to say or for us to tell.
We can't be greedy demanding your presence
We take from you and capture the essence.
Inspire you did and that we'll remember
From the start of the year to the end of December
You were loyal, determined, fixed, and straight
And overall your devotion was great.
You have cut the bonds, to join the One with the flute,
The One who claims He's the very root.
Let's sing! Let's dance! seeing you off
Let's be elated which is never enough
Bhaktimarga Swami
(in dedication to my godsister Bhadra Priya)
Wednesday, 9 February 2011
Tuesday, February 8th, 2011
Montreal, Quebec
Shelly Cook became a nun in the latter part of '72 or early '73 in the Krishna Consciousness movement. She joined the ashram, a rented Victoria home on 187 Gerrard Street, in what was known as the Cabbagetown section of Toronto. There on the second floor resided the women that she befriended while the men occupied the 3rd or top floor. Shelly became initiated as Bhadra Priya by His Divine Grace A.C. Bhaktivedanta Swami Prabhupada in late September of '73 when all but five to six people stayed back from the usual crammed quarters of the ashram.
Our thirty-five, or so, residents had left for "sankirtan", street chanting and distributing magazines and our home-made-family-business incense sticks. Shelly (or after referred to as Cheryl) and I stayed back for the ceremony, a fire sacrifice, as we called it then. My name was John and I became Bhaktimarga. Her name, Bhadra Priya, stayed with her for the time she was living with us in Toronto and during her stay in the ashram near Wheeling, West Virginia.
She was always dutiful, loyal and got along with all of us in the ashram. She first came as a genuine spiritual seeker and when she found Krishna she got hooked. I remember she was the ashram's photographer. She loved to take pictures of the deities of Krishna. A friend described her as "simple, solid and positive."
What is unfortunate is that she had to leave us. She was struggling with cancer for the last three years and was finally called to leave for a more painless life. She will be missed by many of us.
Bhadra Priya was born on Nov. 9th in 1946. She did leave ashram life for a time and worked with the Toronto Transit System as a driver on one of the city's main routes for over twenty years. She put her heart into what she did. She was an avid spiritual reader. The last days spent were in Alachua, Florida with godsisters and friends. For the last hours people were chanting around her. It happened the way she wanted.
And for me, I always, always admired her strong sense of sincerity. She really was an inspiration. Hare Krishna!
4 KM
Shelly Cook became a nun in the latter part of '72 or early '73 in the Krishna Consciousness movement. She joined the ashram, a rented Victoria home on 187 Gerrard Street, in what was known as the Cabbagetown section of Toronto. There on the second floor resided the women that she befriended while the men occupied the 3rd or top floor. Shelly became initiated as Bhadra Priya by His Divine Grace A.C. Bhaktivedanta Swami Prabhupada in late September of '73 when all but five to six people stayed back from the usual crammed quarters of the ashram.
Our thirty-five, or so, residents had left for "sankirtan", street chanting and distributing magazines and our home-made-family-business incense sticks. Shelly (or after referred to as Cheryl) and I stayed back for the ceremony, a fire sacrifice, as we called it then. My name was John and I became Bhaktimarga. Her name, Bhadra Priya, stayed with her for the time she was living with us in Toronto and during her stay in the ashram near Wheeling, West Virginia.She was always dutiful, loyal and got along with all of us in the ashram. She first came as a genuine spiritual seeker and when she found Krishna she got hooked. I remember she was the ashram's photographer. She loved to take pictures of the deities of Krishna. A friend described her as "simple, solid and positive."
What is unfortunate is that she had to leave us. She was struggling with cancer for the last three years and was finally called to leave for a more painless life. She will be missed by many of us.
Bhadra Priya was born on Nov. 9th in 1946. She did leave ashram life for a time and worked with the Toronto Transit System as a driver on one of the city's main routes for over twenty years. She put her heart into what she did. She was an avid spiritual reader. The last days spent were in Alachua, Florida with godsisters and friends. For the last hours people were chanting around her. It happened the way she wanted.
And for me, I always, always admired her strong sense of sincerity. She really was an inspiration. Hare Krishna!
4 KM
Monday, February 7th, 2011
Slush and a Fresh Cab Driver
Montreal, Quebec
Yves Prescott is a hotbed of information about native culture, being part Mohawk. We've been friends for years, ever since shortly after I became a monk in the 70's. Recently he's become a wealth of info about African history, a result of currently working in an African art gallery. But today we bounced to the history of an earlier Montreal in the area just east of Centre-Ville, where the Poles and Anglophones had settled. We trudged through streets of slush, primarily Ste. Catherine's admiring an architecture of yesteryear. The facades and turrets of certain edifices reflect a French influence. It's nice to see the style of past tastes. It certainly puts modern attempts to shame.
Yves and I had to detour numerous times the newly formed ponds of slush at street junctures. Never is there a dull moment in the matter of trekking. It takes expertize to keep dry feet in such conditions.
Our dry-foot walk culminated with a chanting session at Pie IX Boulevard temple, then a talk I conducted from the Gita. As we completed a well participated discussion, a woman came to me. I won't mention her name as she would appreciate the privacy. She told me she enjoyed her recent trip to India except for near the end. She had a not-so-nice experience with a cab driver.
Because of television, movie and internet portrayal of western women as loose, men of the east often misunderstand. This rather tall and powerful man stood outside her door of the cab as she descended the vehicle. He expressed to her demanding more than just the cab fare. The woman who is well groomed and has 20 years of martial arts training make a plea to Krishna for help. With her hand she gave him an ever-so-light push (as she described it) and this sent him landing several metres away. He was flat on the ground. She was startled, so was he and several witnesses as he struggled to his feet.
"Where did all that power come from?" people wondered.
What was most amazing about the narrative was just a short true tale about self-defense but the victim's humble spirit behind her telling.
"Did I do the right thing?" she asked.
"You sure did, but in the future do travel with a companion. There's protection and you can then share talks and experiences together."
3 KM
Montreal, Quebec
Yves Prescott is a hotbed of information about native culture, being part Mohawk. We've been friends for years, ever since shortly after I became a monk in the 70's. Recently he's become a wealth of info about African history, a result of currently working in an African art gallery. But today we bounced to the history of an earlier Montreal in the area just east of Centre-Ville, where the Poles and Anglophones had settled. We trudged through streets of slush, primarily Ste. Catherine's admiring an architecture of yesteryear. The facades and turrets of certain edifices reflect a French influence. It's nice to see the style of past tastes. It certainly puts modern attempts to shame.
Yves and I had to detour numerous times the newly formed ponds of slush at street junctures. Never is there a dull moment in the matter of trekking. It takes expertize to keep dry feet in such conditions.
Our dry-foot walk culminated with a chanting session at Pie IX Boulevard temple, then a talk I conducted from the Gita. As we completed a well participated discussion, a woman came to me. I won't mention her name as she would appreciate the privacy. She told me she enjoyed her recent trip to India except for near the end. She had a not-so-nice experience with a cab driver.
Because of television, movie and internet portrayal of western women as loose, men of the east often misunderstand. This rather tall and powerful man stood outside her door of the cab as she descended the vehicle. He expressed to her demanding more than just the cab fare. The woman who is well groomed and has 20 years of martial arts training make a plea to Krishna for help. With her hand she gave him an ever-so-light push (as she described it) and this sent him landing several metres away. He was flat on the ground. She was startled, so was he and several witnesses as he struggled to his feet.
"Where did all that power come from?" people wondered.
What was most amazing about the narrative was just a short true tale about self-defense but the victim's humble spirit behind her telling.
"Did I do the right thing?" she asked.
"You sure did, but in the future do travel with a companion. There's protection and you can then share talks and experiences together."
3 KM
Monday, 7 February 2011
Sunday, February 6th 2011
Oh Happy Day!
Russell, Ontario
Gaurachandra and I slept the night at Russell's Music Academy, also the home of newly-weds, Kasper and Vraja. I woke up very content from the previous evening's successful workshop on the nine steps of devotion. As mentioned in a part entry to this blog, if my memory serves me correctly, there is often times a tendency within a devotional gathering to routinely execute the process in a formal way and to forfeit the heartfeltness of bhakti itself.
When assessing the workshop I asked the participants which aspect of the presentation they liked the most. The consensus was 'befriending someone'. It appears that while we give all of our reverence to the Divine (Krishna) we may forget the people around us who are also expressing adoration. It's easy to lose sight of the need to acknowledge the others around us. Let's not forget the parts and parcels of the Supreme as we remember Him.
The joy I felt from the participants' happiness carried over into this morning and as I explored practically every street of the town which had been snow-shovelled minutes before I trekked its sidewalk. Indeed snow accompanied my japa journey as it does fairly regularly these days. Once completing the trek I volunteered to shovel the Academy's driveway with pleasure. Pushing snow out of the way feels like removing karma from the heart. This chore merely extended these feelgood hours.
Gaurachandra and I drove off to Montreal for the evening's Open House program which included initiations of candidates into the process [formally]. Kasper and Vraja from Russel also came. Kasper asked me what gives me the fire to forge ahead, to which I answered, "All the nine steps (beginning with hearing and chanting) and which includes pushing snow (and karma)."
6KM
Russell, Ontario
Gaurachandra and I slept the night at Russell's Music Academy, also the home of newly-weds, Kasper and Vraja. I woke up very content from the previous evening's successful workshop on the nine steps of devotion. As mentioned in a part entry to this blog, if my memory serves me correctly, there is often times a tendency within a devotional gathering to routinely execute the process in a formal way and to forfeit the heartfeltness of bhakti itself.
When assessing the workshop I asked the participants which aspect of the presentation they liked the most. The consensus was 'befriending someone'. It appears that while we give all of our reverence to the Divine (Krishna) we may forget the people around us who are also expressing adoration. It's easy to lose sight of the need to acknowledge the others around us. Let's not forget the parts and parcels of the Supreme as we remember Him.
The joy I felt from the participants' happiness carried over into this morning and as I explored practically every street of the town which had been snow-shovelled minutes before I trekked its sidewalk. Indeed snow accompanied my japa journey as it does fairly regularly these days. Once completing the trek I volunteered to shovel the Academy's driveway with pleasure. Pushing snow out of the way feels like removing karma from the heart. This chore merely extended these feelgood hours.
Gaurachandra and I drove off to Montreal for the evening's Open House program which included initiations of candidates into the process [formally]. Kasper and Vraja from Russel also came. Kasper asked me what gives me the fire to forge ahead, to which I answered, "All the nine steps (beginning with hearing and chanting) and which includes pushing snow (and karma)."
6KM
Saturday, February 5th, 2011
Big Time Exploitation
Ottawa, Ontario
Enroute to Ottawa along highway 7, a brand of the Trans Canada Highway, I was fortunate to step out of a car and walk a humble 3 kilometers. My companion, Gaurachandra, feeling the effects of driver's drowsiness, needed the break while I needed the stretch. I walked the town of Marmora and beyond. Dog sled competition were taking place as the townsfolk converged for a Winter Fest.
Dog sledding was learned from the natives. While trekking I thought of the Ojibway living in this very area that I walked my short distance. As a sequel to our drama of last summer "Lonely people" I am preparing a new script "Greedy People." There is countless evidence that Europeans came here, learned from the First Nations people how to survive, but exploited them. The research for the topic greed led me to a "Touch the Earth" by T.C. McLuhan about indigenous people, mostly chiefs, declaring how they are forced to change their ways. It's an eye-opening read. Here's an excerpt from Chief Luther Standing Bear:
"Our first resentment was in having our hair cut... Short hair being the mark of gentility with the white man, he put upon us the mark, though he still retained his own customs of keeping the hair-covering on his face. Our second resentment was against trousers, based upon what we considered the best of hygienic reasons. Our bodies were used to constant bathing in the sun, air, and rain, and the function of the pores of our skin, which were in reality a highly developed breathing apparatus, was at once stopped by trousers of heavy, sweat-absorbing material aided by that worst of all treatments- red flannel underwear... Many times we have been laughed at for our native way of dressing, but could anything we ever wore compare in utter foolishness to the steal-ribbed corset and the huge bustle which our girls adopted after a few years in school?
"The Indian, essentially an outdoor person, had no use for the handkerchief; he was practically immune to colds and like the animal, not additced to spitting. The white man, essentially an indoor person, was subjected to colds, catarrh, bronchitis, and kindred diseases. He was a cougher and a spitter, and his constant use of tobacco aggravated the habit. With him the handkerchief was a toilet necessity."
In another excerpt by Chief Red Jacked of the Senecas who made an address to a council which included a young missionary named Cram. Here we get to a point about greed.
"Brothers, our seats were once large, and yours were small. You have now become great people, and we have scarcely a place left to spread our blankets. You have got our country, but are not satisfied; you want to force your religion upon us."
Red Jacket moved to shake hands with the missionary; Cram refused saying, 'There was no fellowship between the religion of God and the Devil.' The Indians smiled and retired peacefully.
3KM
Ottawa, Ontario
Enroute to Ottawa along highway 7, a brand of the Trans Canada Highway, I was fortunate to step out of a car and walk a humble 3 kilometers. My companion, Gaurachandra, feeling the effects of driver's drowsiness, needed the break while I needed the stretch. I walked the town of Marmora and beyond. Dog sled competition were taking place as the townsfolk converged for a Winter Fest.
Dog sledding was learned from the natives. While trekking I thought of the Ojibway living in this very area that I walked my short distance. As a sequel to our drama of last summer "Lonely people" I am preparing a new script "Greedy People." There is countless evidence that Europeans came here, learned from the First Nations people how to survive, but exploited them. The research for the topic greed led me to a "Touch the Earth" by T.C. McLuhan about indigenous people, mostly chiefs, declaring how they are forced to change their ways. It's an eye-opening read. Here's an excerpt from Chief Luther Standing Bear:
"Our first resentment was in having our hair cut... Short hair being the mark of gentility with the white man, he put upon us the mark, though he still retained his own customs of keeping the hair-covering on his face. Our second resentment was against trousers, based upon what we considered the best of hygienic reasons. Our bodies were used to constant bathing in the sun, air, and rain, and the function of the pores of our skin, which were in reality a highly developed breathing apparatus, was at once stopped by trousers of heavy, sweat-absorbing material aided by that worst of all treatments- red flannel underwear... Many times we have been laughed at for our native way of dressing, but could anything we ever wore compare in utter foolishness to the steal-ribbed corset and the huge bustle which our girls adopted after a few years in school?
"The Indian, essentially an outdoor person, had no use for the handkerchief; he was practically immune to colds and like the animal, not additced to spitting. The white man, essentially an indoor person, was subjected to colds, catarrh, bronchitis, and kindred diseases. He was a cougher and a spitter, and his constant use of tobacco aggravated the habit. With him the handkerchief was a toilet necessity."
In another excerpt by Chief Red Jacked of the Senecas who made an address to a council which included a young missionary named Cram. Here we get to a point about greed.
"Brothers, our seats were once large, and yours were small. You have now become great people, and we have scarcely a place left to spread our blankets. You have got our country, but are not satisfied; you want to force your religion upon us."
Red Jacket moved to shake hands with the missionary; Cram refused saying, 'There was no fellowship between the religion of God and the Devil.' The Indians smiled and retired peacefully.
3KM
Saturday, 5 February 2011
Friday, February 4th, 2011
The Beauty of the Sear
Toronto Ontario
We had completed an event "An Evening of Bhakti" organized and performed by this city's own bhajan group "Gaura Shakti" I was introduced as special guest for the program. Once the mic was handed to me I raised a mild protest "How could that be? I live here!"
Within the walls of our temple ashram in Govinda's Dining Room an evening of chant, dance, and try to trance took place culminating with a tasty chow mein (we stretched the concept of the meaning of "eastern"). Yoga students from curious groups broke from the strick asana formations to ride the smooth wave of kirtan.
At 10pm during mingling period I realized thta I hadn't yet hit the sidewalk for the day. I donned winterwear and took to walking, as self-obligation. But while body was street-bound for some while, mind stayed in the room where kirtan permutated the others. "What a soothing experience!" I thought.
My mind walked back to nine hours before when I sat at a table of the same room talking with someone about the same thing I had two weeks prior-surgery.
"The stitches pinch, don't they?" I remarked.
"My doctor said he was proud of the sear he created" said my visitor a patient of a form of cancer.
"Okay" we thought. Doctors have to revel in something. I guess its something like a warrior who boasts of his wounds and scars. The history of war events in India tell that a wound is a mark of heroism. One Rujput Queen refused her husband's entrance into the palace since he returned from battle with no injury. I guess its the sign of chivalry.
Before retiring for the night I looked at my hernia sear and had to admit my innate-quary at seeing it as a beauty mark. What to do? Beauty is in the eyes of the beholder. I'm so programmed from my generation. I still don't necessarily regard even a tatoo as "cool." Forgive me for my being so square. Conditioned that I am I try to see the beauty of God, His form, His name...
I really got to see "the scar" and the beauty of the name as I completed my mantra meditation for the day. The clock struck midnight. I rested.
8 KM
Toronto Ontario
We had completed an event "An Evening of Bhakti" organized and performed by this city's own bhajan group "Gaura Shakti" I was introduced as special guest for the program. Once the mic was handed to me I raised a mild protest "How could that be? I live here!"
Within the walls of our temple ashram in Govinda's Dining Room an evening of chant, dance, and try to trance took place culminating with a tasty chow mein (we stretched the concept of the meaning of "eastern"). Yoga students from curious groups broke from the strick asana formations to ride the smooth wave of kirtan.
At 10pm during mingling period I realized thta I hadn't yet hit the sidewalk for the day. I donned winterwear and took to walking, as self-obligation. But while body was street-bound for some while, mind stayed in the room where kirtan permutated the others. "What a soothing experience!" I thought.
My mind walked back to nine hours before when I sat at a table of the same room talking with someone about the same thing I had two weeks prior-surgery.
"The stitches pinch, don't they?" I remarked.
"My doctor said he was proud of the sear he created" said my visitor a patient of a form of cancer.
"Okay" we thought. Doctors have to revel in something. I guess its something like a warrior who boasts of his wounds and scars. The history of war events in India tell that a wound is a mark of heroism. One Rujput Queen refused her husband's entrance into the palace since he returned from battle with no injury. I guess its the sign of chivalry.
Before retiring for the night I looked at my hernia sear and had to admit my innate-quary at seeing it as a beauty mark. What to do? Beauty is in the eyes of the beholder. I'm so programmed from my generation. I still don't necessarily regard even a tatoo as "cool." Forgive me for my being so square. Conditioned that I am I try to see the beauty of God, His form, His name...
I really got to see "the scar" and the beauty of the name as I completed my mantra meditation for the day. The clock struck midnight. I rested.
8 KM
Thursday, February 3rd, 2011
The Banyan Tree
Toronto, Ontario
The other day when visiting a family from the community I read a tale which is in the realm of children's books but which is applicable for any age group. It's entitled "Perfect Creator" and its moral behind the banyan tree. It is produced by Sri Vaikuntha Enterprises. I wanted to share it as its about a man who went on a walk. Here's as I read it:
"It was a HOT day. Ramu began the long journey to his uncle's village. On the way, Ramu saw a huge banyan tree spreading its branches, welcoming him to rest under its shade. Ramu lay down on the cool grass, reveling in the shade of the old banyan. As he rested, he looked up at the branches of the tree. He noticed the tiny fruit on the huge banyan. He said to himself, 'I believe that the great Lord is the most intelligent of all. But why did He create a huge banyan tree with such small fruits?'
"He thought of the pumpkin creeper in his backyard. The creeper was slender but its fruit was so BIG! He thought, 'Surely the Lord has made a big mistake! The huge trees MUST have large fruits and the small plants, tiny fruits.' the cool breeze and the soothing shade of the banyan tree slowly lulled Ramu into a deep slumber, when suddely...
"He awoke with a shock and shook and shook with fright as he wondered what hit him. he thought, 'If it had been been bigger, I would have been hurt badly!' He folded his hands in prayer and thanked the Lord, 'You are the wisest! You made this great banyan tree for weary travelers like me to rest under but its fruit tiny so they may not hurt anyone resting in its shade. I shall never doubt your creation again. you are the perfect creator.'
"Ramu thus understood that God is perfect, and everything created by Him is perfect."
8 KM
Toronto, Ontario
The other day when visiting a family from the community I read a tale which is in the realm of children's books but which is applicable for any age group. It's entitled "Perfect Creator" and its moral behind the banyan tree. It is produced by Sri Vaikuntha Enterprises. I wanted to share it as its about a man who went on a walk. Here's as I read it:
"It was a HOT day. Ramu began the long journey to his uncle's village. On the way, Ramu saw a huge banyan tree spreading its branches, welcoming him to rest under its shade. Ramu lay down on the cool grass, reveling in the shade of the old banyan. As he rested, he looked up at the branches of the tree. He noticed the tiny fruit on the huge banyan. He said to himself, 'I believe that the great Lord is the most intelligent of all. But why did He create a huge banyan tree with such small fruits?'
"He thought of the pumpkin creeper in his backyard. The creeper was slender but its fruit was so BIG! He thought, 'Surely the Lord has made a big mistake! The huge trees MUST have large fruits and the small plants, tiny fruits.' the cool breeze and the soothing shade of the banyan tree slowly lulled Ramu into a deep slumber, when suddely...
"He awoke with a shock and shook and shook with fright as he wondered what hit him. he thought, 'If it had been been bigger, I would have been hurt badly!' He folded his hands in prayer and thanked the Lord, 'You are the wisest! You made this great banyan tree for weary travelers like me to rest under but its fruit tiny so they may not hurt anyone resting in its shade. I shall never doubt your creation again. you are the perfect creator.'
"Ramu thus understood that God is perfect, and everything created by Him is perfect."
8 KM
Thursday, 3 February 2011
Wednesday, February 2nd, 2011
Black Night
Toronto, Ontario
"Crunch! Crunch!" goes the sound of the feet over fresh laden snow. The rhythm remains uneven though, as some of the sidewalk is revealed having been shoveled and scraped, then salted.
The trekking was essential after a meal of hot ravioli and delicious wraps with hummus. Thanks to Adi Kurma and Amala, the cooks, all went down well. The walking encourages it all to burn in the furnace of my stomach while moving through the evening's new moon air.
The sky is black; the ground, pure white. In a tiny parkette, someone has taken to the ice gliding over its hard surface and in this family friendly neighbourhood of Annex walkers, equal the number of motorists. "Jaya!" I say in my heart denoting the sign of victory. With the onslaught of a blizzard earlier on automation has been retarded or halted.
Nature seemed to have won the arm wrestle with man tonight. To that gain my soul leaps with the expression of "Jaya!"
It will remain so, nature's dominance, until the morning rush of passion when I will be in the temple singing with monastic brothers, the song, "Vibhavari Sesa". The author, Bhaktivinod Thakura, remarks, "The night has come to an end and the light of dawn is entering. O jiva soul, rise and give up your sleep."
Those words are meant for me as much as for anyone else. We are cocooned in our ego. The sleep is very deep like some of the snow I'm treading through.
"Crunch! Crunch!"
4 KM
Toronto, Ontario
"Crunch! Crunch!" goes the sound of the feet over fresh laden snow. The rhythm remains uneven though, as some of the sidewalk is revealed having been shoveled and scraped, then salted.
The trekking was essential after a meal of hot ravioli and delicious wraps with hummus. Thanks to Adi Kurma and Amala, the cooks, all went down well. The walking encourages it all to burn in the furnace of my stomach while moving through the evening's new moon air.
The sky is black; the ground, pure white. In a tiny parkette, someone has taken to the ice gliding over its hard surface and in this family friendly neighbourhood of Annex walkers, equal the number of motorists. "Jaya!" I say in my heart denoting the sign of victory. With the onslaught of a blizzard earlier on automation has been retarded or halted.
Nature seemed to have won the arm wrestle with man tonight. To that gain my soul leaps with the expression of "Jaya!"
It will remain so, nature's dominance, until the morning rush of passion when I will be in the temple singing with monastic brothers, the song, "Vibhavari Sesa". The author, Bhaktivinod Thakura, remarks, "The night has come to an end and the light of dawn is entering. O jiva soul, rise and give up your sleep."
Those words are meant for me as much as for anyone else. We are cocooned in our ego. The sleep is very deep like some of the snow I'm treading through.
"Crunch! Crunch!"
4 KM
Wednesday, 2 February 2011
Tuesday, February 1st, 2011
On the Street and At the Stairs
Toronto Ontario.
I had walked an awesome ten kilometers day walking downtown while simultaneously searching for luggage with prospects to purchase for the coming trip to India. The pieces of luggage I inspected weren't impressive from a durable point of few. When ending up in Chinatown I actually admired modest prices while the quality there was unchanged. My search for baggage wasn't my preoccupation.
I peered at the construction going on in the downtown while trekking. I am astounded by the costs of condos going up. While some have a going rate of 1/2 million it wasn't uncommon to read the signeage from 1 million to 17 million dollars. A Canadian dollar these days is neck to neck with America. So That's astronomical. And this is the way people prefer to live? In a box? In the air?
When I completed my physical work-out I returned to the precincts of my nesty room at the peak of the stairs of the temple ashram. I unlaced my trekking shoes and readied myself for my indoor slip ons. There at my eye level is a penantrating look at a master picture by photographer Haidee Malkin, showing a woman from India, squatted down at her produce of fruit and veggies. I had delibrately hung it there as well as it's mate a photo from rural Gujarat displaying a turbonned farmer employing two oxen yolked to a turning device for irrigation.
The reason I said "deliberate" is that I wanted to always remind myself of what our guru challenged his students to do- to support and implement natural living entailing the securing of land, the production of food and placing value on the animals.
In the long term, I don't see sustainalibility in condo culture, no more than I do in condoms culture. It's all rather unnatural isn't it?
10 KM
Toronto Ontario.
I had walked an awesome ten kilometers day walking downtown while simultaneously searching for luggage with prospects to purchase for the coming trip to India. The pieces of luggage I inspected weren't impressive from a durable point of few. When ending up in Chinatown I actually admired modest prices while the quality there was unchanged. My search for baggage wasn't my preoccupation.
I peered at the construction going on in the downtown while trekking. I am astounded by the costs of condos going up. While some have a going rate of 1/2 million it wasn't uncommon to read the signeage from 1 million to 17 million dollars. A Canadian dollar these days is neck to neck with America. So That's astronomical. And this is the way people prefer to live? In a box? In the air?
When I completed my physical work-out I returned to the precincts of my nesty room at the peak of the stairs of the temple ashram. I unlaced my trekking shoes and readied myself for my indoor slip ons. There at my eye level is a penantrating look at a master picture by photographer Haidee Malkin, showing a woman from India, squatted down at her produce of fruit and veggies. I had delibrately hung it there as well as it's mate a photo from rural Gujarat displaying a turbonned farmer employing two oxen yolked to a turning device for irrigation.
The reason I said "deliberate" is that I wanted to always remind myself of what our guru challenged his students to do- to support and implement natural living entailing the securing of land, the production of food and placing value on the animals.
In the long term, I don't see sustainalibility in condo culture, no more than I do in condoms culture. It's all rather unnatural isn't it?
10 KM
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)