Over the Pacific, USA
It’s hard to part and leave a spiritual community after bonding with members over a few short days. Like all places, whether tropical like Hawaii or facing the frigid elements like Canada half of the year there is something that is constant regardless of the place. After exchanging hugs with god brother, Suresvara, I would put a finger on that something. It’s the ambient flavour that Krishna delivers in all His homes. And as I walked a final trek on this Hawaiian trip along one of those world-class beaches while Surya, the sungod, peaked over the glimmering liquid line, it was Krishna’s flavour in the form of sound that provided the Bhakti touch.
At the Houston airport one employee I had approached for inquiry mistook my question for saying something about the Midas touch. The Midas touch refers to a repair company that offers excellent services for your car. I actually didn’t say anything about the Midas touch as she, the employee, was perhaps thrown off because of my non-existent southern droll. She did blush a bit when the question was repeated.
The mistake, however, triggered a thought about the Bhakti Touch. Wherever I travel I get the experience of the Bhakti Touch. To describe it, well, it’s warm. It conjures up the experience of sound referred to earlier, the food we call prasadam, the sound of bells and drums, the smell of champaka flower incense, images of flowing robes, a euphoric guru, books of ancient message and people of devotion who smile, hug and touch the heart.
The Bhakti Touch has nothing to do with anything mushy. It’s for real and it’s not mundane.
4 Km
B L O G S P O T
Tuesday, 28 April 2009
Sunday, April 26th, 2009
Beauty and Blood
Honolulu, Hawaii
Mark Twain called it the most beautiful place in the world. Ramananda, the local temple co-ordinator, and I walked to a cliff in Nanaii State Park situated next to Old Pali Road over looking the oceanside beyond green valleys. It was red volcanic rock sprinkled one time by more red.
The top and the base of the cliff were blood stained when at the turn of the eighteenth century warring tribes muscled for power and sovereignty over the Hawaiian Islands. Spears, muskets and more formidable canons caused the defeated tribe to take a forced leap off the cliff. Warriors in the hundreds were laid to rest after the fatal jump. The history made at this cliff flavoured this destination with colour tainting the beauty of the place.
We learned that red was a favourite colour in those times and a symbol of monarchy expressed through attire. Coats for the royalty were made from feathers plucked from live trapped birds which were then released. A tourist interpreter also informed a group of tourists while we browsed that brothers and sisters would marry and any children born deformed would be eliminated.
History has so many shades.
Meanwhile, our own little devotional group at the Iskcon Temple made preparations to present “The Gita” drama preceded by talks about walks. I am referring in particular to the cross Canada ventures. The chanting session was an electrifying experience before the sacred images of Panca Tattva, an angelic looking group of divinity who epitomized ‘perfect balance’ just by their mere symmetrical setting. The super feast topped off the Sunday open house program attended by an ecstatic group of happy faces. With all of this, our modest devotional community added a small something to Hawaiian history.
7 Km
Honolulu, Hawaii
Mark Twain called it the most beautiful place in the world. Ramananda, the local temple co-ordinator, and I walked to a cliff in Nanaii State Park situated next to Old Pali Road over looking the oceanside beyond green valleys. It was red volcanic rock sprinkled one time by more red.
The top and the base of the cliff were blood stained when at the turn of the eighteenth century warring tribes muscled for power and sovereignty over the Hawaiian Islands. Spears, muskets and more formidable canons caused the defeated tribe to take a forced leap off the cliff. Warriors in the hundreds were laid to rest after the fatal jump. The history made at this cliff flavoured this destination with colour tainting the beauty of the place.
We learned that red was a favourite colour in those times and a symbol of monarchy expressed through attire. Coats for the royalty were made from feathers plucked from live trapped birds which were then released. A tourist interpreter also informed a group of tourists while we browsed that brothers and sisters would marry and any children born deformed would be eliminated.
History has so many shades.
Meanwhile, our own little devotional group at the Iskcon Temple made preparations to present “The Gita” drama preceded by talks about walks. I am referring in particular to the cross Canada ventures. The chanting session was an electrifying experience before the sacred images of Panca Tattva, an angelic looking group of divinity who epitomized ‘perfect balance’ just by their mere symmetrical setting. The super feast topped off the Sunday open house program attended by an ecstatic group of happy faces. With all of this, our modest devotional community added a small something to Hawaiian history.
7 Km
Saturday, April 25th, 2009
Habits Hold On
Waikiki Beach, Hawaii
The public at Waikiki are accustomed to the chanting party coming through on the streets. At least shop owners are. The tourists turn over constantly and they are from all over the world.
With some seniority on my side, I tried to implement some standard of orderliness to the party of chanters, which seemed to have some positive effect.
My preference as a venue would be to a quieter park area where you might find more sober humans and hence more thoughtfulness.
Of course, people have slipped into bad habits. Perhaps you have heard it- a habit is like a cozy warm bed, easy to move into but hard to get out of.
Here’s another one. Habits are like a thread. You keep adding and they turn into a rope.
How about this one. Habits start by being too weak to be ‘felt’ and then end up being too strong to be ‘left.”
Whether booze or drugs they consume a person and then spit him or her out.
Here’s a last one. Before you realize that you have got the habit, the habit has got you.
Our guru, Srila Prabhupada, most empathically encouraged abstinence and to explore a pleasure within. Encounter a higher (spiritual) taste and all else appears so secondary.
Hawaii is an interesting place. It harbours natural beauty parallel to high end habits of humans. I see lots of spiritual facilities in Honolulu. Waikiki on the weekend at dusk isn’t much of a place for a monk.
7 Km
Waikiki Beach, Hawaii
The public at Waikiki are accustomed to the chanting party coming through on the streets. At least shop owners are. The tourists turn over constantly and they are from all over the world.
With some seniority on my side, I tried to implement some standard of orderliness to the party of chanters, which seemed to have some positive effect.
My preference as a venue would be to a quieter park area where you might find more sober humans and hence more thoughtfulness.
Of course, people have slipped into bad habits. Perhaps you have heard it- a habit is like a cozy warm bed, easy to move into but hard to get out of.
Here’s another one. Habits are like a thread. You keep adding and they turn into a rope.
How about this one. Habits start by being too weak to be ‘felt’ and then end up being too strong to be ‘left.”
Whether booze or drugs they consume a person and then spit him or her out.
Here’s a last one. Before you realize that you have got the habit, the habit has got you.
Our guru, Srila Prabhupada, most empathically encouraged abstinence and to explore a pleasure within. Encounter a higher (spiritual) taste and all else appears so secondary.
Hawaii is an interesting place. It harbours natural beauty parallel to high end habits of humans. I see lots of spiritual facilities in Honolulu. Waikiki on the weekend at dusk isn’t much of a place for a monk.
7 Km
Friday, April 24th, 2009
Kings and Chameleons
Honolulu, Hawaii
It’s my first trip to this chain of islands and I’m enjoying nature’s ventilation like anything. I am housed in a small cabin beneath a massive banyan tree situated in the backyard of the Iskcon House. Krsna Prema, my host, treated me to the staple food for the Hawaiian Islands, taro, a root crop given the Indian touch as a pakora with chickpea batter. A second treat was a ride to Old Pali Highway, an overgrown road- turned - trail at a marvelous panoramic lookout for ocean and mountain vistas.
A local chap discovered chameleon mates, a horned male which was carried on his hat, and female rested on top of his index finger on this scenic trail. The lizards who were very docile, donned the most beautiful green blends I have ever seen. The chap was not intent on taking them on as pets. “they are high maintenance,” he remarked. He was just taking them for a ride before releasing them back to their habitat.
A memorable moment to capture my mind about today was not just the outdoors but the book “Bhagavatam” discussed indoors. It was the story of a king, Citraketu, who lost his only son to the heinous act of poison. So our discussion with peers led to losing loved ones. I contemplate the loss of good souls in my life, personalities such as Bhakti Tirtha and Sridhar Swamis who passed away while in their fifties. What they did was leave good memories. There has to be something positive to relish and to dwell on that is stored in our memory banks. The past is not all bad. Some inspiration does come from probing into the past. When I think of the contribution our guru made for me personally, I get emotional.
The only thing to be in anxiety about when looking in reverse is when we wallow in the excess sense pleasures of our bygone times. We may be temped to visit our darker past.
5 Km
Honolulu, Hawaii
It’s my first trip to this chain of islands and I’m enjoying nature’s ventilation like anything. I am housed in a small cabin beneath a massive banyan tree situated in the backyard of the Iskcon House. Krsna Prema, my host, treated me to the staple food for the Hawaiian Islands, taro, a root crop given the Indian touch as a pakora with chickpea batter. A second treat was a ride to Old Pali Highway, an overgrown road- turned - trail at a marvelous panoramic lookout for ocean and mountain vistas.
A local chap discovered chameleon mates, a horned male which was carried on his hat, and female rested on top of his index finger on this scenic trail. The lizards who were very docile, donned the most beautiful green blends I have ever seen. The chap was not intent on taking them on as pets. “they are high maintenance,” he remarked. He was just taking them for a ride before releasing them back to their habitat.
A memorable moment to capture my mind about today was not just the outdoors but the book “Bhagavatam” discussed indoors. It was the story of a king, Citraketu, who lost his only son to the heinous act of poison. So our discussion with peers led to losing loved ones. I contemplate the loss of good souls in my life, personalities such as Bhakti Tirtha and Sridhar Swamis who passed away while in their fifties. What they did was leave good memories. There has to be something positive to relish and to dwell on that is stored in our memory banks. The past is not all bad. Some inspiration does come from probing into the past. When I think of the contribution our guru made for me personally, I get emotional.
The only thing to be in anxiety about when looking in reverse is when we wallow in the excess sense pleasures of our bygone times. We may be temped to visit our darker past.
5 Km
Thursday, April 23rd, 2009
A Real Teacher is Always a Student
Over Choclate mountains USA
A man off to a diving exploration via air travel identified himself as Mark and with a smile asked if he could sit next to me. He is a teacher at a university in the engineering field. While waiting for our flight I asked him how he found his year of teaching.
“Pretty flat,” he said, referring to very quiet students. “Not every entertaining.” Although he measured this year’s student crop as ‘reserved’ he admitted to them “we are here to learn from each other.” I found it rather unique for a teacher to say that. Perhaps I was quite programmed under the old British school system in my childhood and had the exposure to authoritarian rule for the most part.
There were those teachers that you could get very close to and they would share their world with you. They would be “one of the boys” practically. I recall one of my teachers, who would play football with us outside of school hours and tell us how much he liked the Mamas and the Papas as much as we liked them. He was cool and we learned from him while at the same time we (his students) met with the usual formal protocol.
My new made friend, Mark, a professor seemed to exude that kind of vibration of warmth and humility and command a respect simultaneously. It is like the mountains I look at below me during the flight. They look beautiful with their peaks and valleys. It’s a great texture.
Someone can be a top executive, top in his field, be a king or a queen or a guru but if you can't be a little human, can’t share or express some friendship you can be as flat as a prairie.
Mark admitted that his students although a little non- responsive, were people he respected and loved. He struck me as being a real teacher and not just a cash earner who passed some exams some years back. I spoke to him of dharma and karma and of after-life. He was thoroughly interested which is one of my main points. He was a teacher who is still a student. Once you give up inquisitiveness you are a dead man.
Happy diving, Mark!
4 Km
Over Choclate mountains USA
A man off to a diving exploration via air travel identified himself as Mark and with a smile asked if he could sit next to me. He is a teacher at a university in the engineering field. While waiting for our flight I asked him how he found his year of teaching.
“Pretty flat,” he said, referring to very quiet students. “Not every entertaining.” Although he measured this year’s student crop as ‘reserved’ he admitted to them “we are here to learn from each other.” I found it rather unique for a teacher to say that. Perhaps I was quite programmed under the old British school system in my childhood and had the exposure to authoritarian rule for the most part.
There were those teachers that you could get very close to and they would share their world with you. They would be “one of the boys” practically. I recall one of my teachers, who would play football with us outside of school hours and tell us how much he liked the Mamas and the Papas as much as we liked them. He was cool and we learned from him while at the same time we (his students) met with the usual formal protocol.
My new made friend, Mark, a professor seemed to exude that kind of vibration of warmth and humility and command a respect simultaneously. It is like the mountains I look at below me during the flight. They look beautiful with their peaks and valleys. It’s a great texture.
Someone can be a top executive, top in his field, be a king or a queen or a guru but if you can't be a little human, can’t share or express some friendship you can be as flat as a prairie.
Mark admitted that his students although a little non- responsive, were people he respected and loved. He struck me as being a real teacher and not just a cash earner who passed some exams some years back. I spoke to him of dharma and karma and of after-life. He was thoroughly interested which is one of my main points. He was a teacher who is still a student. Once you give up inquisitiveness you are a dead man.
Happy diving, Mark!
4 Km
Wednesday, April 22nd, 2009
Monks Supporting Each Other
Toronto, Ontario
Some Montreal monks have come to check out our Toronto ashram, test out their new van and come to see visitor Devamrta Swami. Our visitors, Anubhava, Jagannatha and Veda Vyasa accompany me on my favourite monk trails. First of all, there was a promenade to Casa Loma, a palatial castle stop on a hill, as we softly chanted with the aid of our meditational beads. That was at the crack of dawn. By mid-afternoon, the boys were set for some real grassroots Hare Krishna activity teaming up with three monks form Halifax drumming on mrdanga and djembe drums while singing the maha mantra at popular Kensington Market. Shoppers and shopkeepers took well to the monks having fun doing what people often expect of us.
I had also introduced the boys to a Rosedale ravine, a real treat- a trail that takes you in the midst of nature within the centre of the bustling city. There was also time taken to address issues with Anubhava, the Montreal temples co-coordinator, to discuss individual concerns of discontent. As much as you find there are triumphs on the spiritual path, you find challenges.
One time a person asked me abut troubles in spiritual communities. I responded with a candid “wherever there are humans there will be human nature that leads us to complications.”
In the sacred Gita, Krishna speaks about this mundane world as a troubled place of misery and struggle.
There is always fewer struggles in the company of supportive peers who
tread the spiritual path
4 Km
Toronto, Ontario
Some Montreal monks have come to check out our Toronto ashram, test out their new van and come to see visitor Devamrta Swami. Our visitors, Anubhava, Jagannatha and Veda Vyasa accompany me on my favourite monk trails. First of all, there was a promenade to Casa Loma, a palatial castle stop on a hill, as we softly chanted with the aid of our meditational beads. That was at the crack of dawn. By mid-afternoon, the boys were set for some real grassroots Hare Krishna activity teaming up with three monks form Halifax drumming on mrdanga and djembe drums while singing the maha mantra at popular Kensington Market. Shoppers and shopkeepers took well to the monks having fun doing what people often expect of us.
I had also introduced the boys to a Rosedale ravine, a real treat- a trail that takes you in the midst of nature within the centre of the bustling city. There was also time taken to address issues with Anubhava, the Montreal temples co-coordinator, to discuss individual concerns of discontent. As much as you find there are triumphs on the spiritual path, you find challenges.
One time a person asked me abut troubles in spiritual communities. I responded with a candid “wherever there are humans there will be human nature that leads us to complications.”
In the sacred Gita, Krishna speaks about this mundane world as a troubled place of misery and struggle.
There is always fewer struggles in the company of supportive peers who
tread the spiritual path
4 Km
Tuesday, April 21st, 2009
The Loose and the Stiff
Toronto, Ontario
Devamrta Swami asked me over breakfast how I felt the world is doing. What immediately came to mind was that the sandwiches we were eating were great. Naturally, he anticipated that I push beyond the horizon of the condominium corner where we were seated. So I tried to say something.
“The liberals and conservatives are constantly in an arm wrestle.”
“Dialogue is always a welcome sign. If the arms are held together holding equal power I see a balance. The arms need a chance to rest though. We can’t always be arguing. My dear swami friend nodded. I did not reciprocated with the same question. We just moved into different directions in our conversation.
When I thought about the arm-wrestle after the quick breakfast and a quick tooth brushing session before the dentist would spot and pick at food particles at my appointment, I really had in mind that amongst spiritualists there are the free spirited and the tight wads. It seems to go across the board whether secular or religious, that you will find loose and stiff opinions, on matters of all sorts and kinds.
Devamrta held his own charm as usual in our brief communication. “A passive warrior “is the title I would give him. He has a day off from speaking engagements but is poised to prepare and speak to a group of people in the corporate community the next day. He gloriously breaks ground with the stretchy yoga community and now with the stiffer ‘white collar” groups. He can very expertly raise the consciousness of people from the two extreme backgrounds.
5 Km
Toronto, Ontario
Devamrta Swami asked me over breakfast how I felt the world is doing. What immediately came to mind was that the sandwiches we were eating were great. Naturally, he anticipated that I push beyond the horizon of the condominium corner where we were seated. So I tried to say something.
“The liberals and conservatives are constantly in an arm wrestle.”
“Dialogue is always a welcome sign. If the arms are held together holding equal power I see a balance. The arms need a chance to rest though. We can’t always be arguing. My dear swami friend nodded. I did not reciprocated with the same question. We just moved into different directions in our conversation.
When I thought about the arm-wrestle after the quick breakfast and a quick tooth brushing session before the dentist would spot and pick at food particles at my appointment, I really had in mind that amongst spiritualists there are the free spirited and the tight wads. It seems to go across the board whether secular or religious, that you will find loose and stiff opinions, on matters of all sorts and kinds.
Devamrta held his own charm as usual in our brief communication. “A passive warrior “is the title I would give him. He has a day off from speaking engagements but is poised to prepare and speak to a group of people in the corporate community the next day. He gloriously breaks ground with the stretchy yoga community and now with the stiffer ‘white collar” groups. He can very expertly raise the consciousness of people from the two extreme backgrounds.
5 Km
Monday, April 20th, 2009
Assess/Rate
Toronto, Ontario
We all get rated for what we do. The moon and sun observe us. Stars and other luminary objects watch us. Crows in trees and squirrels as well keep a watchfulness over our movements. People too. We get judged by them.
The newspaper media in Canada is looking at Barack Obama, U.S. President, and giving him a rating after one hundred days in office. They gave him a score B. It’s an opinion of course based on right or left wing subjectivity. The President is accountable to his citizens and not just Canadians but most certainly, the U.S. and the world all over make assessment on his work. Then there is ME. “I” need to be assessed. Perhaps the worst opinion makers on our own selves is our selves. We do need assessment for our own performance level if we hope to improve and impact the world favorably.
We need to know “How am I as a citizen of the earth? How do I fare with peers? Am I a good husband, wife, parent, peer, student, teacher, employer and employee? “We need to know more than just what we project about ourselves.
It’s unhealthy to take an Absolutist stance on things and to carry Holier Than Thou attitude. Conversely, asking everyone’s opinion for everything or asking for permission to cough or sneeze is an unwholesome extreme. That would lay a case for paralysis.
Today the weather was extreme. Rain poured. Wind whipped. My passion to walk was extreme for a solution I chose to walk the underground shopping concourse. I didn’t have to fight the extreme elements. I just came to a compromise (even though I love the out-of-doors)
Always shoot for a balance. Assess but, beware, not to over-assess. Who has the time? Life is short!
5 Km
Saturday, 25 April 2009
Sunday, April 12th, 2009
“Cooking it up”
Durban, South Africa
They were smoke signals – signals of devotion. Outside my room I could hear laughter, wood crackling in fire. It was early morning – 3am. I peered out of my window and noticed the blotches of light set against the darkness. I was curious so I made my way outside to get closer. There were 108 lit fires each cooking generous amounts of breyani, the local’s favourite food. Today’s batch of breyani would feed 25 000 people or more, satisfying the palate with this combination of patra rice, sugar beans and a mixture of vegetables. Later this is to be followed with a tasty split-pea dhall.
The dozens of cooks and assistants look forward to the yearly Chariot Festival and the labour of love behind it. I spoke with the cooks and the people feeding wood into the happy fires, heating each 75–litre pot. They all smelled smoky and so did I. While we are on the topic of cooking in devotion a fierce devotional cooking demo competition took place at the outdoor stage between two seasoned monks, Bhakti Caitanya Swami and Bhakti Brnga Govinda Swami bedazzled a huge crowd with their expertise in culinary skills, talking up a mouth-wateringly good rap food that is vegetarian and then offered to Krishna.
According to the organizers, the biggest draw as usual on site is the drama. “The Eight Boy” pulled in a full house 2000 capacity and even got my good friend, Vaiyasaki, a fellow Canadian and chanting leader, excited, “Put it on Broadway – as is.” He was serious.At the Festival, each year there is lots to see and do. There are lots to see and do. At every stall or stage at North Beach, someone is cooking up a storm.
2 Km
Durban, South Africa
They were smoke signals – signals of devotion. Outside my room I could hear laughter, wood crackling in fire. It was early morning – 3am. I peered out of my window and noticed the blotches of light set against the darkness. I was curious so I made my way outside to get closer. There were 108 lit fires each cooking generous amounts of breyani, the local’s favourite food. Today’s batch of breyani would feed 25 000 people or more, satisfying the palate with this combination of patra rice, sugar beans and a mixture of vegetables. Later this is to be followed with a tasty split-pea dhall.
The dozens of cooks and assistants look forward to the yearly Chariot Festival and the labour of love behind it. I spoke with the cooks and the people feeding wood into the happy fires, heating each 75–litre pot. They all smelled smoky and so did I. While we are on the topic of cooking in devotion a fierce devotional cooking demo competition took place at the outdoor stage between two seasoned monks, Bhakti Caitanya Swami and Bhakti Brnga Govinda Swami bedazzled a huge crowd with their expertise in culinary skills, talking up a mouth-wateringly good rap food that is vegetarian and then offered to Krishna.
According to the organizers, the biggest draw as usual on site is the drama. “The Eight Boy” pulled in a full house 2000 capacity and even got my good friend, Vaiyasaki, a fellow Canadian and chanting leader, excited, “Put it on Broadway – as is.” He was serious.At the Festival, each year there is lots to see and do. There are lots to see and do. At every stall or stage at North Beach, someone is cooking up a storm.
2 Km
Thursday, 23 April 2009
Sunday, April 19th, 2009
Sunday Stroll
Both in Brampton and Toronto I conducted initiation ceremonies for those acknowledging their membership into the International Society for Krishna Consciousness. But before all of that I took to the street for a straight liberating walk west- bound on this quiet Sunday morning. I stopped by the Gopal Mandir, a small Krishna temple on Dundas st. looking particularly very Hindu- like with dozens upon dozens of icons of Krishna and other gods cluttered together on platform surfaces.
The preist of the place is a black gynaese devotees who was kind to show this humble pilgrim the washroom and offer an apple. Bless his heart. With the trek in progress the apple gave fuel and the residual juices left on my right hand fingers enthused a lonely raccoon sitting atop a low garage to come forward to sniff the sweetness.
Raccoons have been my buddies since the days that I took up my self-styled training for walking long distances. These furry creatures’ presence have always been a source of excitement for me when the walking path could be very quiet. It happens that I need a break from humans and substitute them with trees, plants, and animals.
The evening aarti (ceremony) at the Toronto temple culminated with a remarkable full participation at Kirtan (chanting). Drums rolled, lungs activated and legs and arms flung in the air.
Life is great in the devotional lane.
10 Km
Both in Brampton and Toronto I conducted initiation ceremonies for those acknowledging their membership into the International Society for Krishna Consciousness. But before all of that I took to the street for a straight liberating walk west- bound on this quiet Sunday morning. I stopped by the Gopal Mandir, a small Krishna temple on Dundas st. looking particularly very Hindu- like with dozens upon dozens of icons of Krishna and other gods cluttered together on platform surfaces.
The preist of the place is a black gynaese devotees who was kind to show this humble pilgrim the washroom and offer an apple. Bless his heart. With the trek in progress the apple gave fuel and the residual juices left on my right hand fingers enthused a lonely raccoon sitting atop a low garage to come forward to sniff the sweetness.
Raccoons have been my buddies since the days that I took up my self-styled training for walking long distances. These furry creatures’ presence have always been a source of excitement for me when the walking path could be very quiet. It happens that I need a break from humans and substitute them with trees, plants, and animals.
The evening aarti (ceremony) at the Toronto temple culminated with a remarkable full participation at Kirtan (chanting). Drums rolled, lungs activated and legs and arms flung in the air.
Life is great in the devotional lane.
10 Km
Saturday, April 18th, 2009
Say Thanks!
Toronto, Ontario
While a dear god-brother came to town, monk Devamrita Swami, to deliver a talk on the environment and it’s relation to spirituality. I was pleasantly harnessed to an appreciation dinner. It was not me that was receiving the “Thanks you’s” although it is common in eastern culture to always give adulation to the priests. I was at the other end of the table, so to speak, acting as one of a host of facilitators expressing gratitude to donors and community members.
The two words “Thank-you!” mean so much to so many people. It provides the fuel to carry on. Any heart-felt expression along the line of offering gratitude goes a long way. What is heart-wrenching is the fact that most people go about their daily routine doing things for others and rarely receive a “Thank-you”.
When people express that their stress level is very high it often means that life’s drudgery isn’t tempered with words of kindness and gratitude. Most people deserve to be honored. Gifts are given, parties are thrown, trophies and plaques of honor go out to those who gave some sweat.
It was an honour to give honour to helpers over the past year when a temple committee here cooked a great vegetarian feast, set up a fabulous- looking dining room, gave some tokens and gifts and expressed some sweet words.
Our guru said, “Thank-you!” thousands of times in so many ways demonstrating the quality of what a perfect gentleman should be.
Toronto, Ontario
While a dear god-brother came to town, monk Devamrita Swami, to deliver a talk on the environment and it’s relation to spirituality. I was pleasantly harnessed to an appreciation dinner. It was not me that was receiving the “Thanks you’s” although it is common in eastern culture to always give adulation to the priests. I was at the other end of the table, so to speak, acting as one of a host of facilitators expressing gratitude to donors and community members.
The two words “Thank-you!” mean so much to so many people. It provides the fuel to carry on. Any heart-felt expression along the line of offering gratitude goes a long way. What is heart-wrenching is the fact that most people go about their daily routine doing things for others and rarely receive a “Thank-you”.
When people express that their stress level is very high it often means that life’s drudgery isn’t tempered with words of kindness and gratitude. Most people deserve to be honored. Gifts are given, parties are thrown, trophies and plaques of honor go out to those who gave some sweat.
It was an honour to give honour to helpers over the past year when a temple committee here cooked a great vegetarian feast, set up a fabulous- looking dining room, gave some tokens and gifts and expressed some sweet words.
Our guru said, “Thank-you!” thousands of times in so many ways demonstrating the quality of what a perfect gentleman should be.
Friday, April 17th, 2009
A Man in a cab and A Man in Black
Toronto, Ontario
Every now and then this Muslim cab driver spots me downtown as I trek and Chant. When he sees the robes he stops and chats. He had been up for hours driving passengers with booze on their breath. Connecting with a sober monk is a breath of fresh air for him.
He’s a pleasant man. I leaned over the side of the car speaking to him through his open passengers window. He likes the spiritual reinforcement. We part on amiable terms.
With further walking north on Yonge st. I met a chap dressed like Johnny Cash, all in black. He was young, physically attractive, and was curious about monasticism. We talked for blocks and blocks as he posed questions that came to his receptive mind. Eventually we hit on the subject of human nature’s appetite for sex.
My position was that the tradition I represent condones responsible sex. He interpreted it as meaning, “safe sex”, or the use of condoms. I expressed that it is abstinence unless married and “married to one” that we prescribed to. I suggested that the world could look at sexual union with a fresh outlook. Chapter nine of the Gita recommends that all that we so must have a link to the Divine.
My new friend in black insisted that “safe sex” is fine and that impulsive action is natural. I insisted on the advantages of planning for all actions including sex.
Anyways I ended up going my way and he left for his apartment.
Maybe I’ll have a second round with him someday. It will be fun
8 Km
Toronto, Ontario
Every now and then this Muslim cab driver spots me downtown as I trek and Chant. When he sees the robes he stops and chats. He had been up for hours driving passengers with booze on their breath. Connecting with a sober monk is a breath of fresh air for him.
He’s a pleasant man. I leaned over the side of the car speaking to him through his open passengers window. He likes the spiritual reinforcement. We part on amiable terms.
With further walking north on Yonge st. I met a chap dressed like Johnny Cash, all in black. He was young, physically attractive, and was curious about monasticism. We talked for blocks and blocks as he posed questions that came to his receptive mind. Eventually we hit on the subject of human nature’s appetite for sex.
My position was that the tradition I represent condones responsible sex. He interpreted it as meaning, “safe sex”, or the use of condoms. I expressed that it is abstinence unless married and “married to one” that we prescribed to. I suggested that the world could look at sexual union with a fresh outlook. Chapter nine of the Gita recommends that all that we so must have a link to the Divine.
My new friend in black insisted that “safe sex” is fine and that impulsive action is natural. I insisted on the advantages of planning for all actions including sex.
Anyways I ended up going my way and he left for his apartment.
Maybe I’ll have a second round with him someday. It will be fun
8 Km
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