Sweetness from Dawn to Dusk
North York, Ontario
Students at York University seemed to have really enjoyed the chanting. It was their anticipation to hear about the topic “The Yoga of Sound”. I was the guest speaker at the Krishna Club gathering and decided to be less theoretical and less rhetorical. I opted for the practical approach and just let attendees experience chanting for themselves. They required little convincing. Most of them were primed for hearing sound as opposed to talking about it. We stretched the kirtan session to the point of moving the body as well. Most students here already had happy encounters with kirtan and yoga poses. Tonight we combined both. We were bathing in ‘hot honey’.
And speaking of sweetness, I had a real great time with Godbrother Devamrta Swami conversing over a great meal. He had just returned from a retreat at a resort on Georgian Bay. For the first time his local and faithful following had come to experience the early morning monk program.
Henry David Thoreau speaks about the benefits of the morning. “In the morning I bathe my intellect in the stupendous and cosmogonal philosophy of the ‘Bhagavad-gita’”. So morning and evening the sincere seeker of truth will take advantage of the opening and closing to a day and press or squeeze the day’s passion in between with all the spiritual walls of fortification.
As usual my day began early, on foot, while chanting, and while doing so a woman rolled down the window of her vehicle (while it was her night) and said to me, “I love the peach.” That was a sweet remark, no doubt, which made no reference to fruit but rather the colour of the robes. I suppose she makes a spiritual jump for saying this.
6 KM
B L O G S P O T
Wednesday, 17 November 2010
Saturday, November 13th, 2010
Zero Kilometres
Abudabi/Toronto
Tariq is a Welshman, a young father who has come to see his three year old son living in Canada. Tariq was in the seat next to me on Flight 141, Etihad Airways. He’s a smoker and a drinker (my assumption is he’s moderate in both cases). He boasted about his love for the pub. I felt I couldn’t go too deep with him in spiritual dialogue but I really appreciated his friendship, warmth and easy-going nature. It certainly beats sitting next to a religious zealot who can be cold and hard and ready to release holy venom. It sounds like a paradox but the world is made up of different types.
I’m back home and for two days I had no opportunity to touch real ground. Now after some rest I'll be able to kick some dry leaves lying about into the air and hear them rustle as I tread over grass in the city parks. It’s a distinct difference from the sands graced over in Israel and Juhu.
My monk assistant, Dhruva, helped me with massage on the legs and noticed scars on the right limb. These were a result of a slip in the mud at the Dead Sea. Salt rocks mixed in the mud scraped along the leg leaving scars. It’s not hard to convince anyone that these feet are not lotus-like, especially given that planter’s warts exist, however, slowly they are vanishing. Thanks to liquid nitrogen for the cure and perhaps some credit goes to the cow’s urine application while in Mumbai. I will not cancel out natural remedies as effective cures just like the last time I contacted poison ivy and the best remedy ever was a concoction – an application of mud better known as tilak. That’s sacred mud, if you will. It did the trick.
Now I rest and will wake up and address the infection within. I will chant as offenselessly as possible and try to placate the heart. One day I hope to be strong enough to be able to feel a compassion for the zealots mentioned above in an effort to be helpful.
0 KM
Abudabi/Toronto
Tariq is a Welshman, a young father who has come to see his three year old son living in Canada. Tariq was in the seat next to me on Flight 141, Etihad Airways. He’s a smoker and a drinker (my assumption is he’s moderate in both cases). He boasted about his love for the pub. I felt I couldn’t go too deep with him in spiritual dialogue but I really appreciated his friendship, warmth and easy-going nature. It certainly beats sitting next to a religious zealot who can be cold and hard and ready to release holy venom. It sounds like a paradox but the world is made up of different types.
I’m back home and for two days I had no opportunity to touch real ground. Now after some rest I'll be able to kick some dry leaves lying about into the air and hear them rustle as I tread over grass in the city parks. It’s a distinct difference from the sands graced over in Israel and Juhu.
My monk assistant, Dhruva, helped me with massage on the legs and noticed scars on the right limb. These were a result of a slip in the mud at the Dead Sea. Salt rocks mixed in the mud scraped along the leg leaving scars. It’s not hard to convince anyone that these feet are not lotus-like, especially given that planter’s warts exist, however, slowly they are vanishing. Thanks to liquid nitrogen for the cure and perhaps some credit goes to the cow’s urine application while in Mumbai. I will not cancel out natural remedies as effective cures just like the last time I contacted poison ivy and the best remedy ever was a concoction – an application of mud better known as tilak. That’s sacred mud, if you will. It did the trick.
Now I rest and will wake up and address the infection within. I will chant as offenselessly as possible and try to placate the heart. One day I hope to be strong enough to be able to feel a compassion for the zealots mentioned above in an effort to be helpful.
0 KM
Tuesday, 16 November 2010
Sunday, November 14th, 2010
Sunday Night Ecstasy
Toronto, Ontario
I love it when Keshava Junior of the community picks up the mrdanga drum to back up the chanting vocals I was asked to do. He has a marvellous sense of timing and he understands any signals I send for slowing down, speeding up, softening the tone or picking up the volume or just changing the beat. It is a good synergy and I'm indebted to him when he gives that support as he had done at the evening's final kirtan chanting session at the Sunday Krishna Open House.
There was a visiting brahmacari (monk) by the name of Kavi who hails from the U.K. that jumped into the kirtan. He began to dance explosively. Then Sanjay from Waterloo, Ontario, joined in to do a hot foot step. Dhruva from Halifax also caught on fire and partook in the display of madman fun. Truly, arms and legs went everywhere as more and more ecstatic bodies entered the pool of dance. It was like a scene from Chaitanya's time, as I would imagine, when no one cares about formality but lets loose any regimen. Naturally it was mostly young folks going berserk, men and women. No one wanted it to end. Volumes of sweat determined its termination and the cleaning volunteers push their brooms and mops by the dancers feet giving clear indications of the inevitable.
Earlier on in the day I had complimented Rajasuya at our Brampton centre how he aroused the group there with his kirtan leading.
For the love of God and love of kirtan those who have these experiential times keep up these repeat events and return regularly for more. If only the world knew what a spiritual culture brings forth and has to offer. This is what Chaitanya had come to give.
When walking this early morning on Bloor St. I couldn't make out who was greeting me from across the street because of the darkness and distance. The guy raised his arm and shouted,
"Hey Monk, how's it doin'?"
To this I responded, "Just fine!" And that’s the way it is especially in a rousing, ego-bashing, let your hair hang down kirtan. It's all so fine.
10 KM
Toronto, Ontario
I love it when Keshava Junior of the community picks up the mrdanga drum to back up the chanting vocals I was asked to do. He has a marvellous sense of timing and he understands any signals I send for slowing down, speeding up, softening the tone or picking up the volume or just changing the beat. It is a good synergy and I'm indebted to him when he gives that support as he had done at the evening's final kirtan chanting session at the Sunday Krishna Open House.
There was a visiting brahmacari (monk) by the name of Kavi who hails from the U.K. that jumped into the kirtan. He began to dance explosively. Then Sanjay from Waterloo, Ontario, joined in to do a hot foot step. Dhruva from Halifax also caught on fire and partook in the display of madman fun. Truly, arms and legs went everywhere as more and more ecstatic bodies entered the pool of dance. It was like a scene from Chaitanya's time, as I would imagine, when no one cares about formality but lets loose any regimen. Naturally it was mostly young folks going berserk, men and women. No one wanted it to end. Volumes of sweat determined its termination and the cleaning volunteers push their brooms and mops by the dancers feet giving clear indications of the inevitable.
Earlier on in the day I had complimented Rajasuya at our Brampton centre how he aroused the group there with his kirtan leading.
For the love of God and love of kirtan those who have these experiential times keep up these repeat events and return regularly for more. If only the world knew what a spiritual culture brings forth and has to offer. This is what Chaitanya had come to give.
When walking this early morning on Bloor St. I couldn't make out who was greeting me from across the street because of the darkness and distance. The guy raised his arm and shouted,
"Hey Monk, how's it doin'?"
To this I responded, "Just fine!" And that’s the way it is especially in a rousing, ego-bashing, let your hair hang down kirtan. It's all so fine.
10 KM
Sunday, 14 November 2010
Friday, November 12th, 2010
Bye to Israel!
Mumbai, India
It's hard to leave a place because of the relationships built up over the time of a visit. As usual my hosts were terrific. Israel has been no exception in that regard. Each night here the community came together. We lit deeyas (ghee wicks) to honor God as a baby. It is a set custom during the month of Damodara to do so. I was asked to say some words. Mantras were chanted. Each early morning the Mediterranean shore-line was explored for the first time, I assume, with people chanting mantras. About 80 Kilometers of it was covered.
It's not over. That was confirmed by the voices and hearts of the devotee community there. "You have to come back- soon!"
"Yes, I'll have to finish walking the rest of the country."
You know I got attracted to those waves, the current of Krishna and the breeze- His breath. I especially developed an affinity for my companions even though sometimes the talking amongst each other was often in Hebrew or Russian. Those times were windows to open for thoughts outside of Israel, for my home and areas that I frequent and the people within those domains.
The sun was soon to sink to the welcome of directions west when I arrived at Mumbai. Crammed and crawling cars played a part in the transporting of people to locations of Chat-puja, a festival that Mumbai is rather passionate about.
ISKCON Juhu, my stop over place for the night had a new welcoming of friends. They found a spot in the temple program for me to lead the chant before the deities of Radha and Krishna. It was awesome seeing the participation from all. Those smiling faces were my last vision before retiring for the night. It was like, to put it more in a middle-eastern context, reaching out for the olive branch.
0 KM
Mumbai, India
It's hard to leave a place because of the relationships built up over the time of a visit. As usual my hosts were terrific. Israel has been no exception in that regard. Each night here the community came together. We lit deeyas (ghee wicks) to honor God as a baby. It is a set custom during the month of Damodara to do so. I was asked to say some words. Mantras were chanted. Each early morning the Mediterranean shore-line was explored for the first time, I assume, with people chanting mantras. About 80 Kilometers of it was covered.
It's not over. That was confirmed by the voices and hearts of the devotee community there. "You have to come back- soon!"
"Yes, I'll have to finish walking the rest of the country."
You know I got attracted to those waves, the current of Krishna and the breeze- His breath. I especially developed an affinity for my companions even though sometimes the talking amongst each other was often in Hebrew or Russian. Those times were windows to open for thoughts outside of Israel, for my home and areas that I frequent and the people within those domains.
The sun was soon to sink to the welcome of directions west when I arrived at Mumbai. Crammed and crawling cars played a part in the transporting of people to locations of Chat-puja, a festival that Mumbai is rather passionate about.
ISKCON Juhu, my stop over place for the night had a new welcoming of friends. They found a spot in the temple program for me to lead the chant before the deities of Radha and Krishna. It was awesome seeing the participation from all. Those smiling faces were my last vision before retiring for the night. It was like, to put it more in a middle-eastern context, reaching out for the olive branch.
0 KM
Friday, 12 November 2010
Thursday, 11 November 2010
Wednesday, November 10th, 2010
Jesus was wet here
Jordan River, Israel
From Natanya city situated on the Mediterranean sea we trudged along, always choosing the hardest packed sand next to the water. Our team of four chanted on beads, meditating on the sound and then sang to the standard bhajans sung in temples around the world.
There were intermittent quiet areas where we could manage this in loud tones. The trail which is cross country path, is marked with orange, blue and white stripes on rocks, trees, and just about anything. This trail diverts away from the coast at places and therefore creates some confusion. Ekavirya eventually called our path "the paramatma trail", because in all reality we just moved with our gut feeling. Paramatma by the way, refers to God-in-the-heart, who gives direction within. That seems to work for us.
We met a friendly horticulturalist who guided us around areas that were tricky such as the big power-plant at the Nahal Park. This guy, a retiree, was such a hospitable type. He knew who we were, of-course my robes are the give-away. "You are Hare Krishna?"
In most places judging by the faces, the saffron robes are a novelty, if not an alien sight. After a glorious 20 KMs on foot we drove to the Jordan River, the place of Jesus' Baptism at Yardenit. Our group chose to bathe in his holy waters, just a few meters away for our own privacy. Indeed, the water is sacred, cool and clean, and shaded by varieties of trees, including the medicinal eucalyptus. School girls in uniforms canoed the channel here and adolescent males appeared to camp at our bathing area.
There is lots of life in this area and there are date and orange groves nearby. And while our men were munching on snacks after the swim an amiable groundhog ate fearlessly next to us. In fact it was Roman, our youngest trooper, who mentioned that chanting helps the animals. So the Shabda Brahman (spiritual sound) impacts even those creatures that make no effort toward spiritual practices, the sound has such power.
As Jesus said in delivering the Lord's Prayer "Our Father - who art in heaven, hollowed by the name..." The name is powerful!
20 KMs
Jordan River, Israel
From Natanya city situated on the Mediterranean sea we trudged along, always choosing the hardest packed sand next to the water. Our team of four chanted on beads, meditating on the sound and then sang to the standard bhajans sung in temples around the world.
There were intermittent quiet areas where we could manage this in loud tones. The trail which is cross country path, is marked with orange, blue and white stripes on rocks, trees, and just about anything. This trail diverts away from the coast at places and therefore creates some confusion. Ekavirya eventually called our path "the paramatma trail", because in all reality we just moved with our gut feeling. Paramatma by the way, refers to God-in-the-heart, who gives direction within. That seems to work for us.
We met a friendly horticulturalist who guided us around areas that were tricky such as the big power-plant at the Nahal Park. This guy, a retiree, was such a hospitable type. He knew who we were, of-course my robes are the give-away. "You are Hare Krishna?"
In most places judging by the faces, the saffron robes are a novelty, if not an alien sight. After a glorious 20 KMs on foot we drove to the Jordan River, the place of Jesus' Baptism at Yardenit. Our group chose to bathe in his holy waters, just a few meters away for our own privacy. Indeed, the water is sacred, cool and clean, and shaded by varieties of trees, including the medicinal eucalyptus. School girls in uniforms canoed the channel here and adolescent males appeared to camp at our bathing area.
There is lots of life in this area and there are date and orange groves nearby. And while our men were munching on snacks after the swim an amiable groundhog ate fearlessly next to us. In fact it was Roman, our youngest trooper, who mentioned that chanting helps the animals. So the Shabda Brahman (spiritual sound) impacts even those creatures that make no effort toward spiritual practices, the sound has such power.
As Jesus said in delivering the Lord's Prayer "Our Father - who art in heaven, hollowed by the name..." The name is powerful!
20 KMs
Tuesday, November 9th, 2010
Dead and alive.
Natanya, Israel
At 5 am right on the button, today`s set of troupers, Ekavirya, Vrikodar, Roman and myself set out at a beginning point of the journey on foot. It was a 24 hours convenient store just off of highway 2 near Rishpon, that was the finishing point from the previous day. We all had taken to resting late the night before, as the evening called for sat-sang (spiritual gathering). Yet that did not give cause to dampen any spirits for the early rise, shower, and then the drive to our starting point.
Our first hour was total confusion, a meandering through the curved streets of Kibbutz settlement. As the sun's lightness began to pervade we trekked along narrow trails atop cliffs, and then eventually made our way descending to the beach heading north to the city of Netanya. We met fishermen and runners and youth being primed for the army training. According to my companions the cleaning up of beach trash was a part of their training.
To the exclusion of this humble servant the troupers of today admitted to being out of shape and that our mere 18 KMs was a little hard pressed. No real complains thought. The reward for all the leg labor and a treat for me, the guest to Israel, was a dip in to the Dead Sea. After a good hour and a half on wheels, we arrived at a resort where Russians, Americans, Europeans, Asians and other tourists came for the therapeutic bath in this world famous mineral-dense body of water. Fish don't live in it, but humans flock to it for the buoyancy fun. And after time spent floating (careful to not submerge the head, the salts are intolerable for eyes and mouth) we did as every one else did - smudged the body with mud before a final rinse of real water.
The day`s experience with the elements was not a complete day until the heart could speak out about gratitude to our Guru, Srila Prabhupada. On this 33th anniversary of his passing we expressed what we could about the person who was clearly the cutting edge of a change in world consciousness. Due to his coming to the west, we now have all this marvelous people who have taken to ahimsa (non-violence), vegetarianism, karmic cognition and something else profound called prema (unconditional love for the Supreme).
People have come alive. Our indebtedness to him knows no bounds.
18 KM
Natanya, Israel
At 5 am right on the button, today`s set of troupers, Ekavirya, Vrikodar, Roman and myself set out at a beginning point of the journey on foot. It was a 24 hours convenient store just off of highway 2 near Rishpon, that was the finishing point from the previous day. We all had taken to resting late the night before, as the evening called for sat-sang (spiritual gathering). Yet that did not give cause to dampen any spirits for the early rise, shower, and then the drive to our starting point.
Our first hour was total confusion, a meandering through the curved streets of Kibbutz settlement. As the sun's lightness began to pervade we trekked along narrow trails atop cliffs, and then eventually made our way descending to the beach heading north to the city of Netanya. We met fishermen and runners and youth being primed for the army training. According to my companions the cleaning up of beach trash was a part of their training.
To the exclusion of this humble servant the troupers of today admitted to being out of shape and that our mere 18 KMs was a little hard pressed. No real complains thought. The reward for all the leg labor and a treat for me, the guest to Israel, was a dip in to the Dead Sea. After a good hour and a half on wheels, we arrived at a resort where Russians, Americans, Europeans, Asians and other tourists came for the therapeutic bath in this world famous mineral-dense body of water. Fish don't live in it, but humans flock to it for the buoyancy fun. And after time spent floating (careful to not submerge the head, the salts are intolerable for eyes and mouth) we did as every one else did - smudged the body with mud before a final rinse of real water.
The day`s experience with the elements was not a complete day until the heart could speak out about gratitude to our Guru, Srila Prabhupada. On this 33th anniversary of his passing we expressed what we could about the person who was clearly the cutting edge of a change in world consciousness. Due to his coming to the west, we now have all this marvelous people who have taken to ahimsa (non-violence), vegetarianism, karmic cognition and something else profound called prema (unconditional love for the Supreme).
People have come alive. Our indebtedness to him knows no bounds.
18 KM
Monday, November 8th, 2010
Om Shalom!
Ariel, Israel
My happy fate to walk Israel had been sealed when trekking the waterfront yesterday.
Today marks day 2. Ekavirya a soon father-to-be with twins, became my partner for today's walk. Our first hour was a hard pace. The momentum kept up until the last hour as we lost our bearings when beach ended and cliffs and fencing took over.
"Never trust a coastline", I concluded.
Our steady clip allowed us to pass hundreds of walkers, runners and cyclists, many of whom emerged from the affluent condos and hotels nearby. The best I could do as far as outreach is concerned was to send a big smile, offer a nod of greeting and an occasional utterance of "Shalom".
I am committed to my prescribed chanting on beads and, I could not interrupt that very often. Judging by the looks on people faces my robes were a surprise to them. The markings for an apparent cross country trail were obscured. Ekaviriya and I came upon this national park called "Apollonia". The edge of the park which is fenced off revealed ancient ruins. The Greeks were here. We then had to divert on to semi-desert roads. We were not in the city any longer.
I have to hand it to technology sometimes. If Ekavirya did not had a cell phone, we could easily been lost sheep. In the dry desert we noticed multitudes of white-shelled snails latching onto long green grasses they resembled cotton plants from a distance. I viewed some birds, new species to my eyes.
In the air you could smell the most aromatic wildflowers.
Finally we closed the curtains to the walking aspect of Day 2 with aloe vera drink, humus, olives, tahini, avocado salad and a local take on kichari (an Indian staple).
This brings me to this point; I see Indian and Israeli cultures to be so compatible. A friend back in Canada who calls himself "Mister Hinjew" (born Jewish and adapted to Vaishnava ways) once told me that young Israelis love visiting India. I asked, "Why?"
"Because India is a place where Israelis won't be judged", he said calmly.
It is unfortunate that there is all this bodily differentiations. In Israel you are Jewish or Palestinian or whatever, and you may not get along with each other.
Oh, when will that day come, when we identify as spirit souls?
I wish we could learn from the wildflowers that humbly co-exist.
16 KM
Wednesday, 10 November 2010
Sunday, November 7th, 2010
Why Not?
Tel Aviv, Israel.
After a restless night on El-Al airlines to Tel-Aviv, I finally hit-the-sac, so to speak, at the residence of a Russian household in a community called Ariel. It was not my intent at all to
give Israel a consideration as a walking venue. But when host Radhikatma downloaded a map of the country (I was curious to get a grounding of where I was) the seed of a pedestrian desire
sprouted.
There was some apprehension, of course, considering the political climate of the nation. Hey, but this is not Iraq or Lebanon, it's Israel. Why not go for an adventure? I talked it over with my host and also Vrikodar, another Russian, whom I first corresponded with, and we all got sold on the idea. So just to firm up the expedition, I asked to be dropped off in Tel Aviv, where the evenings program was going to be held, and along with 22 year old, Boris, we strode along the east end of the Mediterranean Sea, Israel's beachfront, for an almost two hour stretch.
There, beach lovers, mostly Russians again, enjoyed sand and water, while we ambled by them. Our time line for this venture brought us into the early night as we were clocked to make it
to the local Bhakti-Yoga center. We were greeted by a lively group, mostly Israeli and Russian Jewish Vaishnavas.
I was asked to speak about the significance of the day called Govardhan Puja. I began with a "thanks for having me" and then spoke about the uniqueness of the Krishna Culture, where all things are regarded as sacred - trees, plants, water, air, stones, people, animals, the sky and even hills. The last item led me to speak about one particular hill in Northern India, a hill called Govardhan and how Krishna, as a young boy, identified this outcropping of rock in a virtual flat terrain as extremely sacred.
As is done in many temples around the world a mock Govardhan Hill was made out of Indian sweets, and the lively group circumambulated its natural-looking structure. We received some flak from tenants below, a warning that my monk friend from America, Kavichandra Swami, foretold would happen.
I was made to feel right at home in Israel and I am looking for to the anticipated adventure ahead.
8 KM
Tel Aviv, Israel.
After a restless night on El-Al airlines to Tel-Aviv, I finally hit-the-sac, so to speak, at the residence of a Russian household in a community called Ariel. It was not my intent at all to
give Israel a consideration as a walking venue. But when host Radhikatma downloaded a map of the country (I was curious to get a grounding of where I was) the seed of a pedestrian desire
sprouted.
There was some apprehension, of course, considering the political climate of the nation. Hey, but this is not Iraq or Lebanon, it's Israel. Why not go for an adventure? I talked it over with my host and also Vrikodar, another Russian, whom I first corresponded with, and we all got sold on the idea. So just to firm up the expedition, I asked to be dropped off in Tel Aviv, where the evenings program was going to be held, and along with 22 year old, Boris, we strode along the east end of the Mediterranean Sea, Israel's beachfront, for an almost two hour stretch.
There, beach lovers, mostly Russians again, enjoyed sand and water, while we ambled by them. Our time line for this venture brought us into the early night as we were clocked to make it
to the local Bhakti-Yoga center. We were greeted by a lively group, mostly Israeli and Russian Jewish Vaishnavas.
I was asked to speak about the significance of the day called Govardhan Puja. I began with a "thanks for having me" and then spoke about the uniqueness of the Krishna Culture, where all things are regarded as sacred - trees, plants, water, air, stones, people, animals, the sky and even hills. The last item led me to speak about one particular hill in Northern India, a hill called Govardhan and how Krishna, as a young boy, identified this outcropping of rock in a virtual flat terrain as extremely sacred.
As is done in many temples around the world a mock Govardhan Hill was made out of Indian sweets, and the lively group circumambulated its natural-looking structure. We received some flak from tenants below, a warning that my monk friend from America, Kavichandra Swami, foretold would happen.
I was made to feel right at home in Israel and I am looking for to the anticipated adventure ahead.
8 KM
Saturday, November 6th, 2010
Leaving Mumbai.
Mumbai, India.
The entire night sounded like a war zone. The New Year Diwali festivities resounded throughout the city - explosions of fire works popping continuously and lighting up the night. I had never seen anything like it, as I peered out the window from the five story room I stayed in. The coloured meteors punctuated the dark sky.
And the powerful banging did not let up, when Ekachakra, my walking companion, and I went south and then north at Juhu Beach. Upon reaching the temple after a sweaty walk I learned of another passing - a devotee woman Devaki, from South America. She died as a result of an automobile accident.
Someone described her as a young princess, beautiful in body and spirit. Her husband I know well. Ekanath Gaura has our condolences.
This world is a place of death. In Sanskrit the word is "martyaloka". Life exists but it is always followed by death. In this way the wheel of action persists. In the Bhagavad-Gita this concept of life is underscored by Krishna when he says "one who has taken his birth is sure to die and after death one is sure to take birth again". (B.G. 2.27)
Death is all around and many of us are ill-prepared to deal with it. If you live a full life covering a span of perhaps 7 or 8 decades then you may be in a better position to receive death. Of course there is never a guarantee when it will happen.
I have wound up my stay in ISKCON Mumbai. The hospitality was incredible; the prasadam (sacred food) was a delight. The only thing that leaves me baffled is the arrangement for female
pilgrims who come for darshan (deity viewing). They are situated in the back of the room. This is something that I have not seen in a Hindu temple anywhere, what to speak of an ISKCON center. It certainly was not a standard established by our Guru, Srila Prabhupada.
I would consider this a very bad arrangement. It should be adjusted so that there is fairness and encouragement. My suggestion is that one half of a temple floor or even a third, be reserved for
the women, up close near the deities. The current system is unacceptable as far as I am concerned.
8 KM
Mumbai, India.
The entire night sounded like a war zone. The New Year Diwali festivities resounded throughout the city - explosions of fire works popping continuously and lighting up the night. I had never seen anything like it, as I peered out the window from the five story room I stayed in. The coloured meteors punctuated the dark sky.
And the powerful banging did not let up, when Ekachakra, my walking companion, and I went south and then north at Juhu Beach. Upon reaching the temple after a sweaty walk I learned of another passing - a devotee woman Devaki, from South America. She died as a result of an automobile accident.
Someone described her as a young princess, beautiful in body and spirit. Her husband I know well. Ekanath Gaura has our condolences.
This world is a place of death. In Sanskrit the word is "martyaloka". Life exists but it is always followed by death. In this way the wheel of action persists. In the Bhagavad-Gita this concept of life is underscored by Krishna when he says "one who has taken his birth is sure to die and after death one is sure to take birth again". (B.G. 2.27)
Death is all around and many of us are ill-prepared to deal with it. If you live a full life covering a span of perhaps 7 or 8 decades then you may be in a better position to receive death. Of course there is never a guarantee when it will happen.
I have wound up my stay in ISKCON Mumbai. The hospitality was incredible; the prasadam (sacred food) was a delight. The only thing that leaves me baffled is the arrangement for female
pilgrims who come for darshan (deity viewing). They are situated in the back of the room. This is something that I have not seen in a Hindu temple anywhere, what to speak of an ISKCON center. It certainly was not a standard established by our Guru, Srila Prabhupada.
I would consider this a very bad arrangement. It should be adjusted so that there is fairness and encouragement. My suggestion is that one half of a temple floor or even a third, be reserved for
the women, up close near the deities. The current system is unacceptable as far as I am concerned.
8 KM
Saturday, 6 November 2010
Friday, November 5th, 2010
A Brother Gone
Mumbai, India
My dear godbrother Purnachandra Swami, whom I first met at his flat on Soho St. in London, and who then was having severe health issue, passed away this morning. The announcement come after my walk at Juhu and a most lively arati service at the ISKCON temple. It was hard to hear the news about a soul who had contributed a substantial amount to the scholastic side of the Krishna Consciousness movement.
My last personal exchange with him was when he came to visit our different centers In Canada and I should not fail to mention that we strolled together to the army surplus store at Toronto’s Young St. to purchase for him on my recommendation, a pair of crocs footwear. I recall very well speaking to him about the role of guru in society and how the spiritual teacher could possibly be understood and appear more relevant. I always appreciated being able to talk openly about matters with him.
One fine day in Mayapur, in West Bengal, we took a journey with a couple from Eastern Europe to view these well forgotten ancient terra cotta temples. We spent a full day observing what were ruins of great Hindu and Vaisnava architecture.
I am sorry to hear he’s gone. When asked to lead a song “Damodarastakam” & to deliver the morning Bhagavatam message to the assembled devotees, I did so in his honour. He was a true friend. How soon we forget though! When asked to meet with students from Pune who wished to hear from me about my walking adventures, I agreed and in the delivery I feel I faulted by not thinking about my brother, Purnacandra, for even a moment. So forgive me for not remembering you more. Indeed you have my respect and love as I compile today this blog info. I am wrought with ego. I hope to see you in the next world.
8KM
Mumbai, India
My dear godbrother Purnachandra Swami, whom I first met at his flat on Soho St. in London, and who then was having severe health issue, passed away this morning. The announcement come after my walk at Juhu and a most lively arati service at the ISKCON temple. It was hard to hear the news about a soul who had contributed a substantial amount to the scholastic side of the Krishna Consciousness movement.
My last personal exchange with him was when he came to visit our different centers In Canada and I should not fail to mention that we strolled together to the army surplus store at Toronto’s Young St. to purchase for him on my recommendation, a pair of crocs footwear. I recall very well speaking to him about the role of guru in society and how the spiritual teacher could possibly be understood and appear more relevant. I always appreciated being able to talk openly about matters with him.
One fine day in Mayapur, in West Bengal, we took a journey with a couple from Eastern Europe to view these well forgotten ancient terra cotta temples. We spent a full day observing what were ruins of great Hindu and Vaisnava architecture.
I am sorry to hear he’s gone. When asked to lead a song “Damodarastakam” & to deliver the morning Bhagavatam message to the assembled devotees, I did so in his honour. He was a true friend. How soon we forget though! When asked to meet with students from Pune who wished to hear from me about my walking adventures, I agreed and in the delivery I feel I faulted by not thinking about my brother, Purnacandra, for even a moment. So forgive me for not remembering you more. Indeed you have my respect and love as I compile today this blog info. I am wrought with ego. I hope to see you in the next world.
8KM
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