Thursday, January 10th, 2013

Meek Little Friend

 

Houston, Texas

In my exploration in the neighbourhood near the temple I couldn’t get to know people so well. Runners pass by me, also a woman with baby in her stroller pass by me. An elderly man in a pickup, relaxed there, just taking things in. He nodded and said hello. At Bayou City, a large fitness place, folks were working out. A young couple in a parked vehicle by the park were a little friendly with each other. And of all things that stood out to me on this humble pedestrian expedition was this beautiful sole red mushroom situated in the midst of a patch of green grass.

He was just that, a red mushroom. First of all, I had never seen a red mushroom before. I had to ponder, what’s his purpose? The answer that came was ‘to provide food for some creature or creatures’. And then I thought another response could be ‘to just be there and just be beautiful for others to see’.

This reminded me of the message given by Romapada Swami in the morning class about sva-bhava, this is a Sanskrit term that refers to an individual’s purpose or nature. For the red mushroom I had concluded that the little guy was there to give joy to someone, which he did – me.

A question that often times comes to me from people is ‘what is my dharma, duty or purpose in life?’ Implying, ‘What career do you think is best for me or how do I know what is best for me? In which direction should I go in pursuing a contribution to society?’ To this, I say something like ‘If you are doing what you like to do, then consider the activity to be natural.’ This then, refers to the sva-bhava of an individual.

There are four basic human types psychophysically according to the Gita. People need to explore, especially when young, one’s sva-bhava in order to hit the right track.

My little friend, the 2 inch tall glossy red mushroom, may be one day liberated from this world. In the meantime he’s doing a small service. At least, he, my meek little friend, caught my interest and he helped me to develop appreciation for the creator.

5 KM

Wednesday, January 9th, 2013

Example Is Best

 

Houston, Texas

A progenitor of the world has fathered many children, and they were in turn expected to do the same –populate the world. The children, all boys, were groomed as youthful monks who performed austerities and were anticipated to be future family men. They were well behaved, cultured individuals. They were pious.

A lifelong monk came to the location where the young men were leading a simple existence. He examined them and finds them fit candidates for a higher level of education, such as seeking liberation from this world. The young monks eagerly consumed the information and become determined that they will be celibate for life, much to the dismay of their father. He had another program in mind. The boys took to the unpleasant approach of disobedience to their father. They wanted to transcend, which is the ultimate purpose in human life. Education does, or should lead to this point – transcendence.

This interesting story (and there’s more to it) is what I was speaking about from the book, Bhagavatam, Canto 6. The message I was trying to emphasize was that while it’s good to be pious, it’s more important to eventually transcend and to go beyond levels of piety and the conventional life of being proper and good. The class today was not scheduled for anyone to give, but I was there and was happy to sit there on the chair and speak to a group of eager souls who wanted to hear an important message for the day. In the life of a monk, one is not just set to do some walking on pilgrimage, but it’s about teaching through precepts and examples. So I was doing the precepting, we just have to make sure that we’re going to try to be the good example as well. So, having the opportunity to speak to people on the topic of spiritual life just reminds me that I must walk my talk.

5 KM

Tuesday, January 8th, 2013

Texas Ain’t What It Used To Be

 

Houston, Texas

The usual impression of Texas is of cowboys and aliens, of oil, of dry desert and cactus plants. But coming for a landing on Flight 8111 on Air Canada, on the flat airfield revealed something else. It’s monsoon like out here; the clouds are thick and rain is dense. Going down the tarmac I came upon white, black and Hispanic employees. Once being met by Anish and Ganesh, two young men from our community here, we drove down a series of highways to reach the Krishna temple on West Street.

We saw no horses or cowboys with hats. Images of what you might see from an old Clint Eastwood movie are totally dispelled. We are in Houston today.

I caught up on sleep in a nice apartment assigned to myself and three others yet to come from Canada. I then took the opportunity to chant japa on my beads in a large cavernous room, the future site of the actual temple. I could envision in the months to come a space full of deities, of pujari priests and of music and sounds sublime. There will be a softness to cover the current hard concrete in the way of drapes and colours. It will be a space for the spirit, defying the mundane. It will transform gorgeously.

Rain persisted while I insisted, and not being perturbed. I kept pacing in this space which will soon see the finest incense bellowing in the air. So I paced in the joy, knowing that this will be a new destination point for pilgrimage.

In stepping out off the property I could see that Houston is definitely not a place for getting on your saddle, but rather it’s about getting in your car. Not everybody is up for a steak dinner, in fact, in Houston, like many cities in North America, vegetarianism is on the rise. And as far as pedestrians are concerned, I don’t see a whole lot of them, but at least through automation, people will be drawn to a temple that will be magnifique, as it is already challenging the square boxed architecture of the neighbourhood with its towering domes.

4 KM

Monday, January 7th, 2013

Today It Was Jessica

Toronto, Ontario

Today Jessica was the victim of slippery trails. My walking team, volunteers from our community, has expanded to four – a monk, Uttama, myself, a young man Hitesh, and Jessica. No one was really prepared for this feat, hence, some footwear lacked traction. It was Jessica who flew up in the air and landed happily, we laughed.

I warned everyone, even reminded myself that you must learn how to fall. It’s like life, expect some tripping around in this world, we’re kind of clumsy by nature. An elderly woman with her Husky dog remarked that it’s difficult to get a grip. “Walk along the unpounded snow,” she recommended.

Indeed our pedestrian contingent paid heed to her words. We realized that the Earth, that is our foundation, is so much taken advantage of. Indeed the Earth on which we walk is not something you can always have implicit faith in. There’s erosions, floods, earthquakes, and then it gets covered with la neige, which creates a whole new sensation. When Bhumi, Mother Earth, disappears before our very eyes, you have to question the concreteness of our world, the ground beneath.

The Vedas describe disillusion, nature’s elements consume each other. Earth, water, fire, air and ether swallow each other. And then finally the conglomerate of all the elements becomes consumed by the source, Vishnu. The gigantic Vishnu has taken horizontal postures in divine slumber and lies there pregnant with all that is matter and all that is spirit; that includes us, the infinitesimal atmas, spirit souls. Eventually, we could come back for another round of trying to get some grounding. When we turn to the source and go for the shelter it provides for us, we can then bid farewell forever to all the mundaneness. That will be a glorious exit.

8 KM

Sunday, January 6th, 2012

Crack!

Owen Sound, Ontario

The sound of a mrdanga drum breaking cracks my heart. Such happened this morning in the home of Garuda Vahan, my past cross country walking support person. It happened in this building, an old church that had been turned into a Pottery Barn, now an open concept apartment. Garuda’s son, Tulsi, picked up the clay drum. The strap broke, causing this precious musical instrument to hit the floor… CRACK!

I could let one heart attack go, but this was the 2nd drum crack within 24 hours. Last evening our best sounding drum was placed in the trunk of a car destined for a home program. When reaching that place, our drummer opened the back door, causing the drum to roll out, CRACK! OUCH!

My consolation to this is looking out the window of the arched window at the fresh snow fall. The view opens up to beautiful Georgian Bay. It’s relieving somewhat. When I turned around I saw the Niagara Escarpment behind me and I’m told that there are hundreds of trails on top of this ridge with its old limestone rock. More comfort.

When you attempt to play a cracked terra cotta instrument, it has lost its tone. Tulsi tried to keep a happy face of optimism. Okay, but these musical treasures, mrdanga drums, are a little hard to come by, they are not available like a slurpy drink found in the local convenience store. New drum means a trip to India and to an exclusive workshop in a remote village somewhere in West Bengal.

Since this beautiful sounding percussion becomes the heartbeat of kirtan that consoles the soul, it becomes a heartbreaker when a tiny damage is done. Fortunately two other mrdangas were available to compensate for the loss of one. The Hannah family who hosted the program along with Rajesh approached the kirtan with such enthusiasm, that we ultimately overcame any sorrow.

Jaya! (Victory). Heart Repaired!

0 KM

Saturday, January 5th, 2013

Main Feature

Scarborough, Ontario

I will soon be addressing the issue of itchy feet, antsy body and restless mind by doing some real travel. I relish the ravine hikes done locally, but it’s time to move on and accept the mendicant’s curse. I’ve been spending time with families at their homes conducting satsang, gatherings of enlightenment. Last evening it was a home program where ten young families attended. Tonight, it was at least 25 families. Tomorrow it will be a trip to the northern city of Owen Sound for more of the same, chanting and dancing and with families. It was within no more of 2 minutes of arriving home from this evening’s satsang that I received a call. “Jack is going fast. It looks like he’s going to pass away within minutes.” And so it was within minutes that I arrived at Scarborough General Hospital to see Jack and his immediate and extended family. Before arriving, the family, being attuned to such preparation for when a dear one is about to depart for a better world, Kith and Kin were engaged in japa, chanting on their beads. Jack’s mom, 86, just arrived from Guyana for a last exchange with her son who is dying from lung cancer. She was also chanting.

This is the highlight of our culture – the chanting. It’s our heartbeat, our lifeblood and prime pulsation. This main feature of all events has been a full swing function for 3 generations of families for the Krishna Consciousness movement. Historically, the use of mantra power has been prevalent for not hundreds but thousands of years in the subcontinent of India. Whether someone was expressing themselves through dhyana yoga (meditative yoga) or sacrificial ceremonies or elaborate rituals, through the ages the consistent feature of Vedic piety was sound that liberates.

Whether in the midst of families or singles or amongst the trees, prairie grass or snow, the mantra Hare Krishna will be under the divine spotlight for me.

8 KM

Friday, January 4th, 2013

Don’t Be An Ass

 

Etobicoke, Ontario

No one wants to be called ill names, however guilty one may be of some wrong doing. A harsh word lodged at you is an ultimate attack on the ego. There are colourful words out there that might very honestly be characteristic of an individual. It’s hurtful when reality strikes in the form of derogatory nomenclature, when a word like ‘ass’with a tail end term happens to land at the side line openings of your head.

In the literature of Srila Prabhupada the phrase ‘ass’ is often used to denote the classic image of a labour intensive workaholic who is like a beast of burden – like a mule or donkey like creature. The word in Sanskrit for such a person, mudha, pronounce ‘moodha’. Generally in an ashram setting where I live such pejorative terms are rarely used towards each other. We try to get along. The word mudha is used however in the sense of describing what might be a brain dead, routine bound person. Mind you, hard work is favourable, but when divested of real purpose in life, one has to question.

Here’s an excerpt from the Gita, 7.15, the purport:

“The mudhas are those who are grossly foolish, like hardworking beasts of burden. They want to enjoy the fruits of their labour by themselves, and so they do not want to part with them for the Supreme. The typical beast of burden is the ass. This humble beast is made to work very hard by his master. The ass does not really know for whom he works so hard day and night. He remains satisfied by filling his stomach with a bundle of grass, sleeping for a while under fear of being beaten by his master, and satisfying his sex appetite, at the risk of being repeatedly kicked by the opposite party. The ass sings poetry and philosophy sometimes , but this braying sound only disturbs others. This is the position of a foolish worker who does not know for whom he should work. He does not know that karma (action)is meant for yajna (sacrifice).”

Again, work is a good thing, but it doesn’t need to take on the flavour of being a zombie.

3 KM

Thursday, January 3rd, 2013

Puneet’s First

 

Toronto, Ontario

I promised Puneet I would take him on one of those slippery and sliding treks down a trail. He took me up on it and so off we went down snow and ice. The night was lit with the snow, for Puneet whose rather fresh out of India, this was a remarkable experience. For him, it was a silvery silence like he’d never known before.

Being a bachelor, Puneet could manage the time with me which were our own moments for quiet. We agreed to hearing only our mantras as we clutched on to our meditation beads. We saw no soul down this ravine and apart from each other, heard no soul other than two raccoons in a tree brawl. The jet black creek contrasted the white around, it was stunning.

The trail seemed to be ours, and yet it wasn’t because someone had laid it out for us and for others. Guess who? We just happened to be the happy users. At slopes we struggled to get up and down, tree trunks were our saving grace, they were our anchors for an unsteady footing.

I recall this one slope that I tackled in ’95, the year before I took my first trek across Canada. I had taken prudent strides and tried to grab any semblance of bush. Once I reached near the summit of the slippery slope, a skunk stood there with his tail rising. He readied to spray his harsh juices. I had decided at that point to let go and to be detached from my prowess at the hard labour done. I slid right back from where I came from at the base, going backwards, reluctantly of course. I then waited for the furry guy to move on before I made another attempt at ascending. I thought it was a wise move. I just had a good laugh thinking about it. Perhaps in a future walk, I’ll explain the reason for my sudden and subtle outburst. We had committed to silence and to chanting our japa mantras on this ice and snow journey. All was good.

8 KM

Wednesday, January 2nd, 2013

Something to Consider

Toronto, Ontario

We have all heard sad stats of the screen immersion by our kids – things like the average child in North America spending 15 – 25 minutes playing outside each day, and some 7 ½ hours in front of a screen. Another discovery is the 80% of 5 year olds who are computer users.

An article was forwarded to me showing negative effects of the lack of outdoors, author Kevin Charles Redman wrote about research done by psychologists on a word play called “Remote Associates Test” or “RAT”, a study on creativity and intuition. Whatever studies have been done on the human brain to do with technology is limited, less than even the brain on drugs – the many social psychologists are concerned about the negative effect the screen exposure has on our neural circuitry. I felt a lift reading this article after I returned from almost a 2 hour jaunt in the snow bound ravine. I felt I was doing the right thing. This one professor of cognition at the University of Utah, David Strayer, expressed that his thoughts were more fluid and that the brain felt more limber on back country trips while his undergraduates also felt a mental boost from camping trips. To quote from the article, “The RAT was easy to administer – no laptops involved. 56 students were given the test; half took it before their course began and half took it midway through. The results were striking. Students who took the test after a four day immersion in the back country scored 50% higher than their course mates.”

As I read this and more, you can imagine my elation. If science is totally behind the culture of doing what’s more natural, perhaps this kind of information on the experiments and results could penetrate the educational channels much more. I am saddened that at the same time we have the high percentage of non adventuresome folks for natural settings, for walking, etc.; we are in a sedentary slump. It would be interesting to see the long term effects of being in the trenches of technology, especially when devoid of any spiritual inkling.

8 KM

Monday, December 31st, 2012

A Mental Award

 

Toronto, Ontario

Every day of my life I like to pick out a personal ‘hero for a day’.

My criterion is that the candidate must be do something inspiriting, something to reflect the qualities of a saint. This can apply to anyone, in or outside the jurisdiction of the ashram that I live in. I do not consciously look for the individual that demonstrates traits of humility, tolerance, patience, hard work, or resilience in the form of being encouraging, maybe even smiling a lot. These people just show up, perhaps they are sent to me to give me a lesson.

I sometimes catch a glimpse on the street of a less fortunate soul who can emulate a quality of strength through transcending the cold or the lack of attention given by the public. To get to my ‘hero for a day’ for this last day of the year I internally honour the visitor to our ashram from Vancouver. His name is Patrick. His origin, I’m not sure – African decent to be certain. Having volunteered to hold the massive speaker on his shoulder in order to amplify our kirtan chanting, Patrick became that hero in my book. After some time he shifted the weighty object from shoulder to the top of his head, obviously a smart move. During the countdown to mark the end of an interesting year, Patrick held it there, it seemed like forever. Our kirtan was not held in an indoor venue, but our usual spot, in front of the prestigious Old City Hall. The temperature was below zero. Snowflakes of the crystal kind slowly descended from above. There were not many, but they were queued at the height or climax of the kirtan. And then, after the fluffy flakes landed (flower petals from the gods) hefty snowballs shot in the air. There was no malicious intent. People were in a good spirit (on spirits).

One of those great white balls of glory hit Patrick, smack in his beautiful black face and beard, while his full dreadlocks were liberated from the onslaught. I peered over at him having viewed one of those flying objects that smacked his face. I was curious as to his reaction. All I can say is that he took it so well. He broke into a contagious smile. It was all just part of the celebration. I would say that this was my last most impressive image for 2012. My mental award goes to Patrick. Thank you, Patrick, for being such a good sport and reflecting the glow of the soul.

10 KM

Sunday, December 30th, 2012

The Garbage Truck

Toronto, Ontario

The garbage truck made its clamour consuming his food. The one who fed him was his driver. The truck seemed hungry and it moved along at each block enjoying tasty morsels of plastic and paper goods.

I was there along Yonge Street in the evening when the mechanical monster stopped at every municipal street bin. It was remarkable the timing. The truck would stop and the driver pull out grabbing a full bag to toss in as my walking pace brought me right there. The driver saw me in sync at each interval, but his glance was blank. The truck seemed more animated than him, I’m sorry to say. At least they looked or worked like a team. I don’t consider that the guy has a loathsome job. Being a monk, and a happy one, I like my vocation, and I would say that I’m not really envious of the chap’s good salary. I appreciate it that he’s working.

I made my trek to reach the Sony Centre, 4.5 km from the ashram. My hand was on my beads the whole time. For half of that distance I was connecting with the garbage man. And while I’m doing my dharma, praying for a better world, he was doing his dharma, cleaning up what other people rejected. It’s service in some shape or form. Time was running late, there was only 60 minutes remaining before the last day of the year was to dawn. It was a good day, very full. Krishna sent me great people to work with on our production back at the ashram. Patrick, a sound expert from Vancouver, volunteered his time. Fil, as an actor, is just great as Arjuna, and so was Jagannatha, pulling off his Krishna role in a smooth way. Sagar and Sing are swanky dancers, and Yogendra is the adorable elephant God, Ganesh.

We are all playing parts in a drama. In the late night walking I passed by someone who’s a beggar, someone is a police officer, someone is a garbage collector, and I am the monk. We all play some role.

Somehow if we could rock and role it out in Krishna’s service, there will be some peace.

9 KM

Saturday, December 29th, 2012

Another Wedding

Markham, Ontario

Another wedding got underway; this time it was a young couple, a Croatian fellow and his young bride Pranesvari from India. We wish them well.

As a service I am asked to say a few words at such a ceremony. I always feel empowered with a Gita in my hands when I open to a page of magic and wonder. The verse is sometimes random that I select, but this morning at this wedding, I was choosy, being inspired by the early reading from verse 7.14.

Daivi hi esa guna mayi… explains that the three modes of material nature as goodness, passion and ignorance are categorized as the divine energy of God. They are not listed as mundane, but as divine. This struck a curiosity in me upon my first reading and I’m sure it does others who read this passage. It’s easy to comprehend that a good walk is divine, but how can death, a feature of this world, be divine? Can a heap of garbage be divine? Can a devastating war be considered divine? Ultimately, yes, because the source of this all is divine. There is something sacred behind everything. This concept is a very interesting one to explore.

Of course, the wedding is a divine or spiritual event, specifically, because Krishna is the chosen center of this relationship (and by now I guess you could pick up that we are using the word divine as a synonym to the word spiritual).

With this logic “everything is divine because it’s source is divine”, Can we then label everything as such? In one sense you can, because what is not linked to the absolute? Perhaps we can settle for the terminology, ‘divine’ and ‘more divine’.

For the evening I partook in another more divine event – a satsang, gathering of chanters in Markham, in the home of Dwarka. What I like about the lead singer Ajamil is that he keeps to traditional melodies. That’s a rarity. These melodies invoke the right mood or spirit.

8 KM