Are You Looking For Directions?
Shaunavon, Saskatchewan
“Are you looking for directions?” asked the two young female students on their way to high school.
“No, I’m not lost, I’m walking across the country to celebrate the human body and what it’s capable of, to tap into the spiritual side of life.”
“That’s so cool! Can we get a photo with you?” And that’s how morning began and the interaction with people. One fellow was on this huge machine grating the gravel road which I took for 10 KMs, when he stopped his whole operation to talk. He relayed how he finds all kinds of people on these roads, including a guy lying in the ditch trying to sober up.
At the town of East End where Daruka and I did a presentation at the school (from K-12), the teacher asked, “Are you a quiet order of monks?”
“No, in fact, we make lots of noise with drums and songs – mantras.”
My favourite comment for the day coming from roadside folks in particular was when four bikers on their Harley’s pulled over. They stopped their engines, cut off their machines, pulled off their helmets and gloves and reached out one by one to offer a handshake of congratulations. The spokesperson said, “I guess we’re here to get some blessings.” Apparently the fellows saw me on their way into town when in town they picked up a newspaper, The Boom Town, saw and read the article about The Walking Monk. On their return journey they just had to stop and talk. They were great.
In addition to all the wonderful interactions, I was interviewed live at 6:45 AM on CBC Radio (Canadian Broadcasting Corporation) from Regina with Sheila. Then we succeeded with a tape recording interview with Penny of CJSN Radio. The Standard Newspaper with Paul also came out to the highway to take a story. Finally it was with great satisfaction that Penelope booked Daruka and I for the library on Friday to speak on Tales From Trails.
We are quite set and are certainly not lost.
30 KM
B L O G S P O T
Wednesday, 11 September 2013
Monday, September 9th, 2013
The Day Began In T-Dot
Toronto/Calgary/Saskatoon/Swift Current
The day began in Toronto in the Yorkville district, one of the locations for TIFF, the Toronto International Film Festival. Just hours after the parties rolled up to honour Hollywood stars, including those red carpets, a small group of us robe clad monastics took to those streets for our morning spiritual workout, which is walking and softly chanting. Yes, chanting and moving your mechanism is always a great way to start any day.
Via West Jet, I flew to Saskatoon with a stopover in Calgary. From there, Daruka drove us (with both of our tummies saturated in lasagna compliments of Panchami and Kasyap) to Swift Current and to our rest stop. There was very little exposure to the elements today. I could see the rolling planes, the sun, the clouds, even drops from a sun shower made their way on to the windshield, but I couldn’t feel these features being confined to conveyances.
I had time to contemplate the recent past, such as the verbal exchange I had with the professional wrestlers of yesterday. We were in fact talking about the power of maya, the conglomerate illusions of the world, and to put its personification into a permanent headlock, maybe even cut off the circulation in the process in order for maya to have a long long sleep (apparently wrestlers sometimes press on a gland in the neck of their opponent to achieve this, sounds gruesome).
Well, it is also gruesome to see a soul fall prey to all the diverse hankerings. It’s a pity to be enslaved by the very senses that gratify. Our lack of fortitude permits this slavery. Our reluctance to taste the higher taste and to settle for cheap gratification shows that we don’t want to budge much. As monastics, we never condone the pleasures of life, we just regulate them.
In fact, I came up with a line that I could use for people when they ask about my trekking, “I’m walking to celebrate the human body and the extraordinary things we can do with it such as connecting with our spiritual side. We all know our capacity to eat, sleep, mate, defend. What else are we, as humans, capable of? How about cultivating our true self awareness?”
By the time Daruka and I reached Swift Current I was overzealoused to put my feet on the ground. But sleep comes first, that was hard to do. Probably there’s too much adrenaline running through the machinery.
3 KM
Toronto/Calgary/Saskatoon/Swift Current
The day began in Toronto in the Yorkville district, one of the locations for TIFF, the Toronto International Film Festival. Just hours after the parties rolled up to honour Hollywood stars, including those red carpets, a small group of us robe clad monastics took to those streets for our morning spiritual workout, which is walking and softly chanting. Yes, chanting and moving your mechanism is always a great way to start any day.
Via West Jet, I flew to Saskatoon with a stopover in Calgary. From there, Daruka drove us (with both of our tummies saturated in lasagna compliments of Panchami and Kasyap) to Swift Current and to our rest stop. There was very little exposure to the elements today. I could see the rolling planes, the sun, the clouds, even drops from a sun shower made their way on to the windshield, but I couldn’t feel these features being confined to conveyances.
I had time to contemplate the recent past, such as the verbal exchange I had with the professional wrestlers of yesterday. We were in fact talking about the power of maya, the conglomerate illusions of the world, and to put its personification into a permanent headlock, maybe even cut off the circulation in the process in order for maya to have a long long sleep (apparently wrestlers sometimes press on a gland in the neck of their opponent to achieve this, sounds gruesome).
Well, it is also gruesome to see a soul fall prey to all the diverse hankerings. It’s a pity to be enslaved by the very senses that gratify. Our lack of fortitude permits this slavery. Our reluctance to taste the higher taste and to settle for cheap gratification shows that we don’t want to budge much. As monastics, we never condone the pleasures of life, we just regulate them.
In fact, I came up with a line that I could use for people when they ask about my trekking, “I’m walking to celebrate the human body and the extraordinary things we can do with it such as connecting with our spiritual side. We all know our capacity to eat, sleep, mate, defend. What else are we, as humans, capable of? How about cultivating our true self awareness?”
By the time Daruka and I reached Swift Current I was overzealoused to put my feet on the ground. But sleep comes first, that was hard to do. Probably there’s too much adrenaline running through the machinery.
3 KM
Sunday, 8 September 2013
Saturday, September 7th, 2013
Off The Road
Scarborough, Ontario
I landed in Toronto and was faced with wetness – rain all day. Rushing down the 401 Highway, my trusted driver, Nikil, with his family, and I, made it to Milligan Park in Scarborough for their first annual Chariot Festival. This event reenacts a procession held in the ancient city of Puri, India. The major highlight of this colourful event is once again, the chanting of the maha mantra.
I was really impressed by the cultural performances, most notably by a group of young girls who went on line to learn mrdanga drum beats. They went to practice, then to form a band as a solid team. Then, four young guys from the same community came forward to present a two man flute, one man violin, and one man mrdanga drum recital. It was purely instrumental and no less devotional. The tone, the mood, created that atmosphere of peace and the willingness to serve.
Perhaps of all instruments, the flute when played well is the most soothing of all to the mind. I’m not sure, but it’s just a personal opinion, or if it will ever be a debate left to public opinion. Speaking impartially, I would say, and I have mastered none as far as instruments are concerned, that would be my assessment. Perhaps science and brain scans could possibly verify this point.
The Chariot Festival was completed and I was whisked away to a post Krishna birthday event in Richmond Hill. The Bhadra family posted their 24th annual program, in which I was asked amongst other devotional obligations to say something of my current walk through the Prairies. Whenever I have the chance, I attempt to bring the audience to the road with me. I tried to express the self romanticization of the pilgrimage. It is an adventure and people do get inspiration. It’s my duty to share in this.
My lamentation for this day, however, is that time did not allow for me to do any walking, except to cross the street.
Here is a short definition of ‘pilgrim’ in the publication, The Devil’s Dictionary, by Ambrose Bierce.
“A Pligrim: A traveller who is taken seriously.”
0 KM (Sounds terrible, I know.)
Scarborough, Ontario
I landed in Toronto and was faced with wetness – rain all day. Rushing down the 401 Highway, my trusted driver, Nikil, with his family, and I, made it to Milligan Park in Scarborough for their first annual Chariot Festival. This event reenacts a procession held in the ancient city of Puri, India. The major highlight of this colourful event is once again, the chanting of the maha mantra.
I was really impressed by the cultural performances, most notably by a group of young girls who went on line to learn mrdanga drum beats. They went to practice, then to form a band as a solid team. Then, four young guys from the same community came forward to present a two man flute, one man violin, and one man mrdanga drum recital. It was purely instrumental and no less devotional. The tone, the mood, created that atmosphere of peace and the willingness to serve.
Perhaps of all instruments, the flute when played well is the most soothing of all to the mind. I’m not sure, but it’s just a personal opinion, or if it will ever be a debate left to public opinion. Speaking impartially, I would say, and I have mastered none as far as instruments are concerned, that would be my assessment. Perhaps science and brain scans could possibly verify this point.
The Chariot Festival was completed and I was whisked away to a post Krishna birthday event in Richmond Hill. The Bhadra family posted their 24th annual program, in which I was asked amongst other devotional obligations to say something of my current walk through the Prairies. Whenever I have the chance, I attempt to bring the audience to the road with me. I tried to express the self romanticization of the pilgrimage. It is an adventure and people do get inspiration. It’s my duty to share in this.
My lamentation for this day, however, is that time did not allow for me to do any walking, except to cross the street.
Here is a short definition of ‘pilgrim’ in the publication, The Devil’s Dictionary, by Ambrose Bierce.
“A Pligrim: A traveller who is taken seriously.”
0 KM (Sounds terrible, I know.)
Friday, September 6th, 2013
Address The Fib
Saskatoon, Saskatchewan
This was a rest day before embarking on a weekend flight to Toronto for a Chariot Festival in Scarborough. My marathon has not ended, I’ll be back on Highway 13 by Tuesday.
Relaxing it was, however, you do no favour to your feet by leaving them totally idle. They are on a roll, they want to move, so I treat them to the trails in a Saskatoon suburb at Jean Avant Pond. You follow a stream of water that feeds the man made pond and surrounding landscape. I am thankful that such places exist as pedestrians and runners are exclusive here. Even cyclists would find it hard to be accommodated here.
As a monk, swami, I have the other obligation to fulfill after putting aside what appears as recreational activity, walking. I oblige as a teacher in Bhakti Yoga in the home of Kasyap and Panchami, the couple who have spearheaded the Festival of Inspiration in Saskatoon for three consecutive years now. I had the pleasure to facilitate a 9 Devotions Workshop. A perfect numbered 2 dozen participants came to interact in this open hearted program.
Following in the footsteps of my guru and a chain of teachers with origins as far as can be imagined, the aim is to help persons in transitioning to a finer dimension. By the end of the session we are meant to be feeling lighter and our view on the world, brighter. The biggest block to any transformation of this type is simply the ego. The ego is steeped in the misconception that I am this body. This, of course, is the ultimate fib.
I am not this body, but I am spirit.
8 KM
Saskatoon, Saskatchewan
This was a rest day before embarking on a weekend flight to Toronto for a Chariot Festival in Scarborough. My marathon has not ended, I’ll be back on Highway 13 by Tuesday.
Relaxing it was, however, you do no favour to your feet by leaving them totally idle. They are on a roll, they want to move, so I treat them to the trails in a Saskatoon suburb at Jean Avant Pond. You follow a stream of water that feeds the man made pond and surrounding landscape. I am thankful that such places exist as pedestrians and runners are exclusive here. Even cyclists would find it hard to be accommodated here.
As a monk, swami, I have the other obligation to fulfill after putting aside what appears as recreational activity, walking. I oblige as a teacher in Bhakti Yoga in the home of Kasyap and Panchami, the couple who have spearheaded the Festival of Inspiration in Saskatoon for three consecutive years now. I had the pleasure to facilitate a 9 Devotions Workshop. A perfect numbered 2 dozen participants came to interact in this open hearted program.
Following in the footsteps of my guru and a chain of teachers with origins as far as can be imagined, the aim is to help persons in transitioning to a finer dimension. By the end of the session we are meant to be feeling lighter and our view on the world, brighter. The biggest block to any transformation of this type is simply the ego. The ego is steeped in the misconception that I am this body. This, of course, is the ultimate fib.
I am not this body, but I am spirit.
8 KM
Friday, 6 September 2013
Thursday, September 5th, 2013
In The Vastness
Scotsguard, Saskatchewan
The only thing casting light at 4 AM out in the bareness of the prairie are the stars above, and there is my headlamp – a necessity. You need to know what you’re stepping on at this dark hour. You don’t want to land on some roadkill. Also, with the headlamp you are made known for the oncoming traffic in front or behind. Motorists must be aware that you are there. There is practically no shoulder to the road. But, traffic is light. In the first hour of my walking not a single machine came by. I’m in an area of less civilization.
By 6:30 AM, the eye of God, the sun, came up from behind. At that time you could hear the sound of crickets. Owls are now quieted and hawks began to occupy the ether, moving in swirls. To my amazement, a heard of antelope in full freedom moved with incredible speed in group tightness across the plane from one cut wheat field, crossing the road in front of me, jumping a ditch and then onto another field. Off they went. Minutes later they reappear and it is without a question that they were expressing curiosity at my presence.
En route to work, and some people stop asking if all is okay.
“Yes, I’m alright, it’s a fourth walk across Canada.”
“Good luck!” they say after I’ve identified name, my order, and my purpose.
The sun got brutal. The area is quite desolate, there was no town along the way. From what I could see, Scotsguard is not even a hamlet, maybe three buildings. The first group of trees for any real shade came at the 7th hour of the walk. There I took my one and only cat nap. Thank God for no mosquitoes in this shade, lots of flies though.
I am reminded of the wonder of nature, it’s soft and harsh sides, and I recall a verse from the Gita to allow me to savour in the thoughts of a deeper dimension. From 8.20 it reads:
“Yet there is another nature which is eternal and is transcendental to this manifested and unmanifested matter. It is supreme and is never annihilated. When all in this world is annihilated, that part remains as it is.”
After a last dash at walking, Daruka showed up having booked us for radio media in the early of next week, and some more school engagements. Eventually we made the four hour drive north to Saskatoon.
Whether on foot or in a vehicle, we are both struck with awe at the vastness of the open prairie as we sped along. Billy the parrot always gives a squawk at the sight of anything in flight.
30 KM
Scotsguard, Saskatchewan
The only thing casting light at 4 AM out in the bareness of the prairie are the stars above, and there is my headlamp – a necessity. You need to know what you’re stepping on at this dark hour. You don’t want to land on some roadkill. Also, with the headlamp you are made known for the oncoming traffic in front or behind. Motorists must be aware that you are there. There is practically no shoulder to the road. But, traffic is light. In the first hour of my walking not a single machine came by. I’m in an area of less civilization.
By 6:30 AM, the eye of God, the sun, came up from behind. At that time you could hear the sound of crickets. Owls are now quieted and hawks began to occupy the ether, moving in swirls. To my amazement, a heard of antelope in full freedom moved with incredible speed in group tightness across the plane from one cut wheat field, crossing the road in front of me, jumping a ditch and then onto another field. Off they went. Minutes later they reappear and it is without a question that they were expressing curiosity at my presence.
En route to work, and some people stop asking if all is okay.
“Yes, I’m alright, it’s a fourth walk across Canada.”
“Good luck!” they say after I’ve identified name, my order, and my purpose.
The sun got brutal. The area is quite desolate, there was no town along the way. From what I could see, Scotsguard is not even a hamlet, maybe three buildings. The first group of trees for any real shade came at the 7th hour of the walk. There I took my one and only cat nap. Thank God for no mosquitoes in this shade, lots of flies though.
I am reminded of the wonder of nature, it’s soft and harsh sides, and I recall a verse from the Gita to allow me to savour in the thoughts of a deeper dimension. From 8.20 it reads:
“Yet there is another nature which is eternal and is transcendental to this manifested and unmanifested matter. It is supreme and is never annihilated. When all in this world is annihilated, that part remains as it is.”
After a last dash at walking, Daruka showed up having booked us for radio media in the early of next week, and some more school engagements. Eventually we made the four hour drive north to Saskatoon.
Whether on foot or in a vehicle, we are both struck with awe at the vastness of the open prairie as we sped along. Billy the parrot always gives a squawk at the sight of anything in flight.
30 KM
Thursday, 5 September 2013
Wednesday, September 4th, 2013
Fresh Cut Wheat
Cadillac, Saskatchewan
The smell of fresh cut wheat hits the nostrils as soon as I open the door to Daruka’s car and make my entrance to the highway. He drives me to the spot from where I left off on the previous day.
It’s a whole new world of exploration. Will I walk through communities that might socially be classified as ghost towns as in the case of some places I’ve been to? I’m referring to boarded up businesses, sometimes also homes that have fallen into the hands of creepers and bushes. I would say that I’ve not yet trekked through a full blown ghost town yet, but some of these places seem to be getting there. You can only imagine the life that was once there. I guess job opportunities are better in the city so these once thriving communities start to fall into decline. There is always the chance for action to spring back and for a place to blossom again. Hmmm… land must be dirt cheap here.
I proceeded on with today’s adventure and heard to my left side coyotes howling. Once they completed their chorus, a choir began to my right side, stereo. A second community of coyotes had vibrated their awesome sound. I was rather close to their proximity. The sun hadn’t really come up yet. The sound of the choir sent a shot of goose pimples up my back. I just chanted some mantras more intensely, I had to make my sound as meaningful as the coyotes.
Now the day was in full swing, the sun had come up. Greg and Lilly from the Boom Town Booster, came for an interview, and so did Matthew from the Prairie Post. And for presentations at schools now that the summer is over, Daruka and I drove our way east and then west along Highway 13 to meet our appointments in Assiniboia and Lafleche. The gymnasiums got filled up in no time. The kids were marvellous. Educators love it when we inspire kids to be more outdoors. And secondly, hearing about travel encourages kids to think outside of the box.
One thing that I wanted to share was, you know how churches often have a caption to read outside their building? Here is one that applies to attitudes:
“A pessimist needs a good kick in the cans.”
24 KM
Cadillac, Saskatchewan
The smell of fresh cut wheat hits the nostrils as soon as I open the door to Daruka’s car and make my entrance to the highway. He drives me to the spot from where I left off on the previous day.
It’s a whole new world of exploration. Will I walk through communities that might socially be classified as ghost towns as in the case of some places I’ve been to? I’m referring to boarded up businesses, sometimes also homes that have fallen into the hands of creepers and bushes. I would say that I’ve not yet trekked through a full blown ghost town yet, but some of these places seem to be getting there. You can only imagine the life that was once there. I guess job opportunities are better in the city so these once thriving communities start to fall into decline. There is always the chance for action to spring back and for a place to blossom again. Hmmm… land must be dirt cheap here.
I proceeded on with today’s adventure and heard to my left side coyotes howling. Once they completed their chorus, a choir began to my right side, stereo. A second community of coyotes had vibrated their awesome sound. I was rather close to their proximity. The sun hadn’t really come up yet. The sound of the choir sent a shot of goose pimples up my back. I just chanted some mantras more intensely, I had to make my sound as meaningful as the coyotes.
Now the day was in full swing, the sun had come up. Greg and Lilly from the Boom Town Booster, came for an interview, and so did Matthew from the Prairie Post. And for presentations at schools now that the summer is over, Daruka and I drove our way east and then west along Highway 13 to meet our appointments in Assiniboia and Lafleche. The gymnasiums got filled up in no time. The kids were marvellous. Educators love it when we inspire kids to be more outdoors. And secondly, hearing about travel encourages kids to think outside of the box.
One thing that I wanted to share was, you know how churches often have a caption to read outside their building? Here is one that applies to attitudes:
“A pessimist needs a good kick in the cans.”
24 KM
Tuesday, September 3rd, 2013
First Day Back
Pointex, Saskatchewan
It’s the first day back at school for elementary kids . After dropping off students, a bus driver pulled over when he saw me. He’s heard of Hare Krishna before. We agreed on mutually praying for each other, even though our approaches to faith are different.
Before the real cold sets in, all kinds of repairs go on. I met a group of workmen on the railway which runs next to Highway 13. Only a ditch lies between the two routes of travel.
“What’s going on?” Asked one of the dozen or so guys with hard hats and red safety jackets.
“It’s a walk, a pilgrimage, the fourth. I chose the quiet highway this time. Hey, do you guys ever sing together, ‘I’ve been working on the railroad’.” That gave a chuckle.
The jolly spokesman said, “We do it when we need to pump each other up.”
“I do a bit of singing, chanting mantras actually, along the way. I’m a Hare Krishna monk, and it’s one of the things we do. Out here in the prairies, you can sing to your hearts content (laughter).”
Down the road, as the late morning wore on, a young rancher in a pick up truck stopped. He had a cowboy hat and the works, “Are you a Hare Krishna?”
“Sure am.”
“Can I get a picture taken with you?”
“Sure.” He got out of his truck and it seemed a thrill for him, like a bronco bustin’ affair.
Another fellow stopped. I had seen him walking his German Sheppard when I walked through the village of Hazenmore. He was so busy keeping his pet at his leash’s control that he hardly had time for me then. Now, in the vehicle, he did.
“You want a ride?” he said in English accent (sorry, I’m the one with the accent being a North American).
I explained to him what I’m up to. He knew about Krishna Consciousness. He wasn’t sure whether to address me with a ‘Hari Hari’. He also expressed he didn’t believe in God, but in religion.
“To each his own,” I said, “but to me, when I see this vast prairie and the gorgeous sky, a beautiful creation, it’s my rationale that there’s some divine intelligence behind it all.”
“I believe in the ‘fohss of naycha’”.
“I also believe in the force of nature, and we call it Bhagavan, Krishna.” It was a pleasure speaking to a guy from England. Finally because it was the first day of school, Daruka, because he’s sharp on these things, contacted the local school in Pointex.
Yes, Chantal, the coordinator for the school said, “You and your monk friend can come in on the last period of the students’ day back.” The kids were adorable, they had questions unlimited.
39 KM
Pointex, Saskatchewan
It’s the first day back at school for elementary kids . After dropping off students, a bus driver pulled over when he saw me. He’s heard of Hare Krishna before. We agreed on mutually praying for each other, even though our approaches to faith are different.
Before the real cold sets in, all kinds of repairs go on. I met a group of workmen on the railway which runs next to Highway 13. Only a ditch lies between the two routes of travel.
“What’s going on?” Asked one of the dozen or so guys with hard hats and red safety jackets.
“It’s a walk, a pilgrimage, the fourth. I chose the quiet highway this time. Hey, do you guys ever sing together, ‘I’ve been working on the railroad’.” That gave a chuckle.
The jolly spokesman said, “We do it when we need to pump each other up.”
“I do a bit of singing, chanting mantras actually, along the way. I’m a Hare Krishna monk, and it’s one of the things we do. Out here in the prairies, you can sing to your hearts content (laughter).”
Down the road, as the late morning wore on, a young rancher in a pick up truck stopped. He had a cowboy hat and the works, “Are you a Hare Krishna?”
“Sure am.”
“Can I get a picture taken with you?”
“Sure.” He got out of his truck and it seemed a thrill for him, like a bronco bustin’ affair.
Another fellow stopped. I had seen him walking his German Sheppard when I walked through the village of Hazenmore. He was so busy keeping his pet at his leash’s control that he hardly had time for me then. Now, in the vehicle, he did.
“You want a ride?” he said in English accent (sorry, I’m the one with the accent being a North American).
I explained to him what I’m up to. He knew about Krishna Consciousness. He wasn’t sure whether to address me with a ‘Hari Hari’. He also expressed he didn’t believe in God, but in religion.
“To each his own,” I said, “but to me, when I see this vast prairie and the gorgeous sky, a beautiful creation, it’s my rationale that there’s some divine intelligence behind it all.”
“I believe in the ‘fohss of naycha’”.
“I also believe in the force of nature, and we call it Bhagavan, Krishna.” It was a pleasure speaking to a guy from England. Finally because it was the first day of school, Daruka, because he’s sharp on these things, contacted the local school in Pointex.
Yes, Chantal, the coordinator for the school said, “You and your monk friend can come in on the last period of the students’ day back.” The kids were adorable, they had questions unlimited.
39 KM
Monday, September 2nd, 2013
Galaxy Trail
Meyronne, Saskatchewan
For starters today, I saw what seemed like a magical trail. My eyes seemed deceived. At 4:20 AM when I hit the pavement, there appeared a parallel route right above me, The Milky Way. It was directly above and it was welcoming.
If I could reach up far enough and thrust myself upside down, I might succeed to walk it. Then I would have a new perspective on things. I could see even better than now, being a small dot in the prairie, how tiny we really are, how insignificant we actually are.
As the sun slowly influenced my momentary dream to trek the heavens to the point of it dissolution, I took seriously to my dark trail again, the asphalt.
Something was moving in the grass, I approached it. A porcupine? No. A skunk. He raised his bushy tail and came forward, actually, right after me. Did I just stand there? No. I ran. He halted and finally retreated. The worst case scenario would be to receive a generous spray from a skunk. Wouldn’t Daruka love to have me in his car stinking like foul mustard oil. Sometime later in the course of the walk, a particularly large garter snake slithered his way toward the highway, to him, I was the skunk, the aggressor. He picked up speed and fled and disappeared into the grass.
Humans. They have standard questions once I explain I’m on a journey to promote pilgrimage.
“Where do you sleep? How do you eat?” Naturally the doubt is there because all they see of me is robes and a pouch for japa beads.
“Campsites mostly, in a tent,” I said. “Simple living, high thinking. Also I have a support person, Daruka, he comes and checks on me once in a while. We have our tent, cooking stove, clothes, and all of our belongings in his car.“ Once the practical concerns are met, the motorist or the person who’s questioning may want to penetrate more deeply and even get philosophical.
For the finale of the day, Daruka, Billy and I left for the home of Lynn from Ogema. There we enjoyed a potluck, discussions about natural living, reincarnation and a session of chanting. Chanting is calming, it always is when you apply yourself.
30 KM
Meyronne, Saskatchewan
For starters today, I saw what seemed like a magical trail. My eyes seemed deceived. At 4:20 AM when I hit the pavement, there appeared a parallel route right above me, The Milky Way. It was directly above and it was welcoming.
If I could reach up far enough and thrust myself upside down, I might succeed to walk it. Then I would have a new perspective on things. I could see even better than now, being a small dot in the prairie, how tiny we really are, how insignificant we actually are.
As the sun slowly influenced my momentary dream to trek the heavens to the point of it dissolution, I took seriously to my dark trail again, the asphalt.
Something was moving in the grass, I approached it. A porcupine? No. A skunk. He raised his bushy tail and came forward, actually, right after me. Did I just stand there? No. I ran. He halted and finally retreated. The worst case scenario would be to receive a generous spray from a skunk. Wouldn’t Daruka love to have me in his car stinking like foul mustard oil. Sometime later in the course of the walk, a particularly large garter snake slithered his way toward the highway, to him, I was the skunk, the aggressor. He picked up speed and fled and disappeared into the grass.
Humans. They have standard questions once I explain I’m on a journey to promote pilgrimage.
“Where do you sleep? How do you eat?” Naturally the doubt is there because all they see of me is robes and a pouch for japa beads.
“Campsites mostly, in a tent,” I said. “Simple living, high thinking. Also I have a support person, Daruka, he comes and checks on me once in a while. We have our tent, cooking stove, clothes, and all of our belongings in his car.“ Once the practical concerns are met, the motorist or the person who’s questioning may want to penetrate more deeply and even get philosophical.
For the finale of the day, Daruka, Billy and I left for the home of Lynn from Ogema. There we enjoyed a potluck, discussions about natural living, reincarnation and a session of chanting. Chanting is calming, it always is when you apply yourself.
30 KM
Wednesday, 4 September 2013
Saskatchewan photos
Weyburn radio interview 8.26.13
Near Estevan Dam 8.23.13
Carlin, Becky, Hoyt, Violet, Daruka,
Billie & BMS- Viceroy, SK 8.30.13
In wheat field near Assiniboia, Saskatchewan
8.28.13
Saskatchewan grain at sunrise
Monday, 2 September 2013
Sunday, September 1st, 2013
What About Compassion
Limerick, Saskatchewan
Just a short horse’s ride from where Chief Sitting Bull came to rest during his efforts to fight for his people, I had been walking. What an honour.
With the previous evening’s rain, and night time darkness, many salamanders came out of their areas to make a migration over the ruthless road. Blotches of their remains stain the highway. When I saw one fellow trying to make his way across, I felt I owed him one, given I had caused one of his maybe cousins to curl, squirm and squeal with my umbrella’s tip the other day. In my curiosity and exploration, I believe I gave him some pain.
“Let me treat this new guy nicely,” I thought. And then I remembered having a chat with a newspaper journalist who had come to interview me in 2007. He relayed how he was trying to do something “karmically safe” when in a grumpy mood he kicked severely a neighbours dog. He felt terribly guilty after that and decided to purchase a dog of the same breed and to look after him just to make amends.
With the same sentiment I thought I would approach the salamander and be nice to him. I stretched my body fully lying on the road (it was a quiet hour), I gave him a stroke on his head, then his back, tail and belly. He seemed to like it to the point where he remained stationary for the petting. He even closed his eyes. He then moved toward me to get more affection.
Because of this little exchange I was compelled to try it on two other guys. They reciprocated the same way. It looks like the non violent approach really works. I earned the title ‘Ghandi’ today from a motorist who shouted out the name even though he was unaware of what I had done previously.
In the afternoon it was in Regina at the ISKCON Center that I gave a talk from the Bhagavad Gita verse 5.20 which reads:
“A person who neither rejoices upon acheiveing something pleasant, nor laments upon obtaining something unpleasant, who is self intelligent, unbewildered, and he knows the science of the Absolute is to be understood to be already situated in transcendence.”
This is not to say that there are to be no feelings of compassion, but one must appreciate the neutral stance we benefit from in dealing with the dualities of this world.
I’d like to thank Justin Crann of the Moose Jaw Time Harold, who got us on the front page of the long weekend issue. In the picture I am portrayed chanting and playing on the dolak drum. The caption in bold reads, “On The Long Road To Enlightenment”. Thanks, Justin.
33 KM
Limerick, Saskatchewan
Just a short horse’s ride from where Chief Sitting Bull came to rest during his efforts to fight for his people, I had been walking. What an honour.
With the previous evening’s rain, and night time darkness, many salamanders came out of their areas to make a migration over the ruthless road. Blotches of their remains stain the highway. When I saw one fellow trying to make his way across, I felt I owed him one, given I had caused one of his maybe cousins to curl, squirm and squeal with my umbrella’s tip the other day. In my curiosity and exploration, I believe I gave him some pain.
“Let me treat this new guy nicely,” I thought. And then I remembered having a chat with a newspaper journalist who had come to interview me in 2007. He relayed how he was trying to do something “karmically safe” when in a grumpy mood he kicked severely a neighbours dog. He felt terribly guilty after that and decided to purchase a dog of the same breed and to look after him just to make amends.
With the same sentiment I thought I would approach the salamander and be nice to him. I stretched my body fully lying on the road (it was a quiet hour), I gave him a stroke on his head, then his back, tail and belly. He seemed to like it to the point where he remained stationary for the petting. He even closed his eyes. He then moved toward me to get more affection.
Because of this little exchange I was compelled to try it on two other guys. They reciprocated the same way. It looks like the non violent approach really works. I earned the title ‘Ghandi’ today from a motorist who shouted out the name even though he was unaware of what I had done previously.
In the afternoon it was in Regina at the ISKCON Center that I gave a talk from the Bhagavad Gita verse 5.20 which reads:
“A person who neither rejoices upon acheiveing something pleasant, nor laments upon obtaining something unpleasant, who is self intelligent, unbewildered, and he knows the science of the Absolute is to be understood to be already situated in transcendence.”
This is not to say that there are to be no feelings of compassion, but one must appreciate the neutral stance we benefit from in dealing with the dualities of this world.
I’d like to thank Justin Crann of the Moose Jaw Time Harold, who got us on the front page of the long weekend issue. In the picture I am portrayed chanting and playing on the dolak drum. The caption in bold reads, “On The Long Road To Enlightenment”. Thanks, Justin.
33 KM
Sunday, 1 September 2013
Saturday, August 31st, 2013
Strength
Assiniboia, Saskatchewan
I’m 60 but I feel like I’m 20 these days. I got through a strong headwind today on the road and then a downpour came. I feel just about ready for anything. I take on the sun almost every day, I feel a certain strength.
Just to test my physical prowess, I challenged one of those straw bales commonly found on the side of the highway. They are cylindrical in shape with about 5 foot length in size lying sideways. I attempted to roll one which I succeeded in doing in 2003. This time I could budge and even roll it back and forth a trite, but not actually push and roll it forward. Oh well, I never claimed to be Superman or Hanuman for that matter. I’m not invincible but feeling physically well.
Just to make Daruka and I feel even better in spirit and in body someone by the name of Joy from the Assiniboia Times, a weekly, came for a few photos to put in her upcoming article. For our physical wellbeing she handed us a bag of ripe tomatoes from her garden, now that’s love. We have yet to see just how much more nutritionally set we will be after consuming those nutritionally rich love balls we call tomatoes.
Joy was great, she remembers the Hare Krishnas from the Beatles and hippie days. She had seen the Fab Four live in Seattle and Portland in her teens. Yes, the places were packed with screaming girls, and she admitted being one of them. There’s incredible strength demonstrated in the sound of a screaming damsel, and I mean no disrespect here.
Strength has many sources. Like tomatoes, herbs and greens provide much. For dinner, Daruka and I were invited to the home of a family in Assiniboia where we also settled for the night. Before walking up the steps to their house, I noticed their garden replete with veggies and herbs, one of which was fresh coriander, also known as cilantro. The green is a powerful mouth stimulator. It garnishes many food items so well. It’s supposed to be good for the eyes. Mouth watering, yummy.
I took it upon myself to ask our host if I could gather some for the meal, and they were totally cool with it. This green-wonder, with its potencies got sprinkled on all our delicious food which happened to be a grainless meal.
That strong meal, strong sleep, then strong walk. Where does strength come from? From God.
37 KM
Assiniboia, Saskatchewan
I’m 60 but I feel like I’m 20 these days. I got through a strong headwind today on the road and then a downpour came. I feel just about ready for anything. I take on the sun almost every day, I feel a certain strength.
Just to test my physical prowess, I challenged one of those straw bales commonly found on the side of the highway. They are cylindrical in shape with about 5 foot length in size lying sideways. I attempted to roll one which I succeeded in doing in 2003. This time I could budge and even roll it back and forth a trite, but not actually push and roll it forward. Oh well, I never claimed to be Superman or Hanuman for that matter. I’m not invincible but feeling physically well.
Just to make Daruka and I feel even better in spirit and in body someone by the name of Joy from the Assiniboia Times, a weekly, came for a few photos to put in her upcoming article. For our physical wellbeing she handed us a bag of ripe tomatoes from her garden, now that’s love. We have yet to see just how much more nutritionally set we will be after consuming those nutritionally rich love balls we call tomatoes.
Joy was great, she remembers the Hare Krishnas from the Beatles and hippie days. She had seen the Fab Four live in Seattle and Portland in her teens. Yes, the places were packed with screaming girls, and she admitted being one of them. There’s incredible strength demonstrated in the sound of a screaming damsel, and I mean no disrespect here.
Strength has many sources. Like tomatoes, herbs and greens provide much. For dinner, Daruka and I were invited to the home of a family in Assiniboia where we also settled for the night. Before walking up the steps to their house, I noticed their garden replete with veggies and herbs, one of which was fresh coriander, also known as cilantro. The green is a powerful mouth stimulator. It garnishes many food items so well. It’s supposed to be good for the eyes. Mouth watering, yummy.
I took it upon myself to ask our host if I could gather some for the meal, and they were totally cool with it. This green-wonder, with its potencies got sprinkled on all our delicious food which happened to be a grainless meal.
That strong meal, strong sleep, then strong walk. Where does strength come from? From God.
37 KM
Friday, August 20th, 2013
Red Coat Trail
Viceroy, Saskatechewan
This Highway 13 is also known as the Red Coat Trail, the Royal Canadian Mountain Police made this their patrol route, a century or two ago. On horseback they moved. Now with less charm, police use motorcars. But, they are rare to see. I guess it’s a good sign. Crime is at a minimum along this quiet prairie trail where I feel at times a stronger presence of hawks than humans. Locals tell Daruka and I that a man on a horse came through here last year. Dressed like a knight in shining armour, he got quite the attention.
It was a young farmer, Carlin, who got curious about Daruka and his bird. Daruka was on the side of the road, snapping away with his camera when Carlin demonstrated the usual prairie road courtesy. If you’re parked on the side of the road in the prairies, that means you could be stranded, so Carlin inquired when he saw Daruka, “Is everything okay?”
That encounter led to another brunch invitation, this time, by Carlin. I completed my quota of 30 kms when Daruka had come to get me on board for a quick trip to the farm. There we met Becky, his wife, a 3 year old son, and a new born of 6 weeks. Our hosts treated us warmly to kamut, a delicious grain that pulled the Egyptians through hard famine years in ancient times. If this clan is a sample of wholesome prairie life, then I’m impressed. We were made to feel at home.
In conversation we didn’t so much speak about pilgrimage, but of the kamut itself and of the way of looking at food from the Vedic perspective. We shared with them the neatly categorized food types according to the Vedic wisdom of India. These 3 basic categories are sattva, food that either calms and/or provokes attentiveness, rajas, food that inspires passion and fire, and tamas, food that encourages lethargy, slowness or dullness. For our short stay with the family, the food category we partook in was very life giving.
Our visit with this farming couple terminated with a drive to the city of Moose Jaw, known for being mobster Al Capone’s hideaway in Canada. At Crescent Park, a small group of enthusiasts for kirtan (chanting) gathered to send a collective good vibe to this city whose attraction draws casino goers as well as other more sattvic features. The local newspaper rep, Justin, reporting for the Times Herald, came by, I guess to harness a positive story for the long weekend.
My message is, “You don’t have to walk to the extreme like me, but if you put in a small percentage of that, you’re doing good. Do meditate, chant or pray in the process. In this way the physical and spiritual become one.”
Thanks to Victor and Jagadish for all the help they provided today.
30 KM
Viceroy, Saskatechewan
This Highway 13 is also known as the Red Coat Trail, the Royal Canadian Mountain Police made this their patrol route, a century or two ago. On horseback they moved. Now with less charm, police use motorcars. But, they are rare to see. I guess it’s a good sign. Crime is at a minimum along this quiet prairie trail where I feel at times a stronger presence of hawks than humans. Locals tell Daruka and I that a man on a horse came through here last year. Dressed like a knight in shining armour, he got quite the attention.
It was a young farmer, Carlin, who got curious about Daruka and his bird. Daruka was on the side of the road, snapping away with his camera when Carlin demonstrated the usual prairie road courtesy. If you’re parked on the side of the road in the prairies, that means you could be stranded, so Carlin inquired when he saw Daruka, “Is everything okay?”
That encounter led to another brunch invitation, this time, by Carlin. I completed my quota of 30 kms when Daruka had come to get me on board for a quick trip to the farm. There we met Becky, his wife, a 3 year old son, and a new born of 6 weeks. Our hosts treated us warmly to kamut, a delicious grain that pulled the Egyptians through hard famine years in ancient times. If this clan is a sample of wholesome prairie life, then I’m impressed. We were made to feel at home.
In conversation we didn’t so much speak about pilgrimage, but of the kamut itself and of the way of looking at food from the Vedic perspective. We shared with them the neatly categorized food types according to the Vedic wisdom of India. These 3 basic categories are sattva, food that either calms and/or provokes attentiveness, rajas, food that inspires passion and fire, and tamas, food that encourages lethargy, slowness or dullness. For our short stay with the family, the food category we partook in was very life giving.
Our visit with this farming couple terminated with a drive to the city of Moose Jaw, known for being mobster Al Capone’s hideaway in Canada. At Crescent Park, a small group of enthusiasts for kirtan (chanting) gathered to send a collective good vibe to this city whose attraction draws casino goers as well as other more sattvic features. The local newspaper rep, Justin, reporting for the Times Herald, came by, I guess to harness a positive story for the long weekend.
My message is, “You don’t have to walk to the extreme like me, but if you put in a small percentage of that, you’re doing good. Do meditate, chant or pray in the process. In this way the physical and spiritual become one.”
Thanks to Victor and Jagadish for all the help they provided today.
30 KM
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