In the South
To Los Angeles, USA
So you can’t walk on the US interstate highways. It’s illegal. And then such places as Texas, New-Mexico, and Arizona are rather over-heated with the sun baking overhead making even a stroll tough. I get my meager opportunity to stretch legs at truck stops when we fuel up.
The truck stops that are most prominent in the southern states are a chain store called “love’s”. At one privately owned gas station an outdoor sign read “We Have Pretty Waitresses.” That doesn’t really interest a monk very much. I imagine that it’s geared more towards cowboy culture. In any event the truck stop parking lot is the place to walk in circles just to put on some kilometres.
From Houston to Los Angeles the drive is a good 24 hours. With such a long haul you make the best of your time. Patience should shine. It reminds me of a Chinese Proverb, “One moment of patience may ward off great disaster. One moment of impatience may ruin a whole life.”
We find that kirtan chanting and stimulating talks grabs the interest of our youth. Not too much, not too little. Above all, it’s important to befriend and encourage these young men in their teens who are entering into a crazy world.
The air conditioning isn’t quite up to standards but all of us appear to be reading, texting and in one case the boys got to viewing “The Karate Kid”. I know the old version included in it the Maha-mantra. How so does the new version? I don’t know! I hope it does.
3 Km
B L O G S P O T
Saturday, 30 July 2011
Wednesday, July 27th, 2011
To Texas
Houston, Texas
Try sleeping in a moving bus with a bunch of teenagers. They’re a little ‘till late at night. But it’s okay. We’ve got a four-tier bunk bed system and the inhabitants are somewhat angelic. I’ll explain later.
Try taking a shower and other toilet preparatory work while the bus paces at 70 miles per hour; that’s over 110 km per hour. You’re rocking.
Try keeping some sanity sharing crammed quarters with twenty-five young whipper snappers. You’ll work on patience.
That’s what it’s like on the Krishna Culture Festival Tour. I was describing the boys bus, the one I’m on. The MCI Canadian-make bus, a 400 horsepower machine weighing 23 tons. It’s a beauty!
There’s another right behind us. It’s the girls bus. You’ve got seventeen young teen women in that conveyance. More leg room I guess.
After the one day stop at Atlanta we moved on by way of the southern trans US highway 10 through wet, drenched, swampy Florida, Alabama, Louisiana and then Texas -- a long haul to Houston. Oh, we keep the travel as Krishna Conscious as possible. Mahat Tattva, an outstanding monk from San Diego and I conducted a sadhana program for the boys including them in our discussion on “Is Sense Gratification Necessary?”
It was fourteen hours later of young body heat radiating. Finally we were released to enter air conditioned Gauranga Hall at Houston’s ISKCON Centre, there to prepare for our second performance of “The Three Lives of Bharat.” The show went on.
The audience loved it.
One thing that I forgot to mention about the bus policy. If a curse word is used you are charged a dollar. I haven’t heard of any such violation. In all honesty “Krishna” is the most common word within the walls of our bus. That’s pretty good for a bunch of young men. That’s why I call them angels.
0 Km
Houston, Texas
Try sleeping in a moving bus with a bunch of teenagers. They’re a little ‘till late at night. But it’s okay. We’ve got a four-tier bunk bed system and the inhabitants are somewhat angelic. I’ll explain later.
Try taking a shower and other toilet preparatory work while the bus paces at 70 miles per hour; that’s over 110 km per hour. You’re rocking.
Try keeping some sanity sharing crammed quarters with twenty-five young whipper snappers. You’ll work on patience.
That’s what it’s like on the Krishna Culture Festival Tour. I was describing the boys bus, the one I’m on. The MCI Canadian-make bus, a 400 horsepower machine weighing 23 tons. It’s a beauty!
There’s another right behind us. It’s the girls bus. You’ve got seventeen young teen women in that conveyance. More leg room I guess.
After the one day stop at Atlanta we moved on by way of the southern trans US highway 10 through wet, drenched, swampy Florida, Alabama, Louisiana and then Texas -- a long haul to Houston. Oh, we keep the travel as Krishna Conscious as possible. Mahat Tattva, an outstanding monk from San Diego and I conducted a sadhana program for the boys including them in our discussion on “Is Sense Gratification Necessary?”
It was fourteen hours later of young body heat radiating. Finally we were released to enter air conditioned Gauranga Hall at Houston’s ISKCON Centre, there to prepare for our second performance of “The Three Lives of Bharat.” The show went on.
The audience loved it.
One thing that I forgot to mention about the bus policy. If a curse word is used you are charged a dollar. I haven’t heard of any such violation. In all honesty “Krishna” is the most common word within the walls of our bus. That’s pretty good for a bunch of young men. That’s why I call them angels.
0 Km
Thursday, 28 July 2011
Tuesday, July 26th, 2011
Hard Work Gets Results
Atlanta, Georgia
The walk at the park system along Ponce de Lion Ave is really cool. It’s the humidity that drives one away from a trail, and that’s before the sun rises.
As far as temple/mission oriented services are concerned, I was asked to give the class from the book Bhagavatam. I tend to place a little piece of my historical self into the presentation, making it a little more personable as I interweave it into the Vedic philosophy. It was about my early childhood, my shyness, and how Krishna Consciousness helped me gain confidence. Today was also the premier performance of The Three Lives of Bharat, with a new cast composed of a pick of young people who will be part of our road show for the next month.
In the production I have also incorporated my early life’s experience, which is witnessing the sometimes intense arguments. On the farm we saw pigs wallowing in the mud and watched a cow give birth. I regard these experiences as precious, as something to have learned from, and something to apply to later on in life. For me, it’s the dramas.
The presentation held at the Atlanta temple was well received by a devotional audience. The story originating from Canto 5 of the Bhagavatam, traces the three consecutive lives of a great king. In the opening scene, we portray the soul’s journey going through different species. Fish, chimps, cows, etc.
In any event, everyone worked hard in the performance and in the five day rehearsals preceding it. The grainless feast to follow the performance was 'lekker', the South African word for delicious, as our co-director to the play would say. Laghu Hari is also an actor and the puppet maker for the show and he adds so much to the production. My gratitude knows no limits for his full on energy supply.
7 Km
Atlanta, Georgia
The walk at the park system along Ponce de Lion Ave is really cool. It’s the humidity that drives one away from a trail, and that’s before the sun rises.
As far as temple/mission oriented services are concerned, I was asked to give the class from the book Bhagavatam. I tend to place a little piece of my historical self into the presentation, making it a little more personable as I interweave it into the Vedic philosophy. It was about my early childhood, my shyness, and how Krishna Consciousness helped me gain confidence. Today was also the premier performance of The Three Lives of Bharat, with a new cast composed of a pick of young people who will be part of our road show for the next month.
In the production I have also incorporated my early life’s experience, which is witnessing the sometimes intense arguments. On the farm we saw pigs wallowing in the mud and watched a cow give birth. I regard these experiences as precious, as something to have learned from, and something to apply to later on in life. For me, it’s the dramas.
The presentation held at the Atlanta temple was well received by a devotional audience. The story originating from Canto 5 of the Bhagavatam, traces the three consecutive lives of a great king. In the opening scene, we portray the soul’s journey going through different species. Fish, chimps, cows, etc.
In any event, everyone worked hard in the performance and in the five day rehearsals preceding it. The grainless feast to follow the performance was 'lekker', the South African word for delicious, as our co-director to the play would say. Laghu Hari is also an actor and the puppet maker for the show and he adds so much to the production. My gratitude knows no limits for his full on energy supply.
7 Km
Monday, July 25th, 2011
Dissolve Inferior Cravings
Atlanta, Georgia
Thirty one of us passengers, including the bus driver of the Krishna Youth Ministry, pulled up at the ISKCON Centre in the Druid Hills Centre of Atlanta. It was 1:45 am and we had been on the road since 8 pm, Sunday night. All were fast asleep to the exception of the driver, Dranaksha, and bus leader, Manu, now they retired. I woke up and felt it was time to walk, to chant some japa (mantra meditation). Nirguna, a spiritual student of Vancouver, awoke, and we both decided to head for mid-town Atlanta.
We met people asking for nickels and dimes, a security police noticed our robes, he became curious wanting to know about our monastery in Druid Hills. He indicated we were walking in a drugs zone, affiliated with the drug scene of course is violence. The cop, an amiable largely built fellow, he was an amiable one. I was sure he didn’t fear for our being coaxed into taking drugs, but rather, being possible victims of violence. We continued forward, never the less, with confidence.
If I could say boldly, drugs are a real culprit in society today. I won’t reserve to say also, that the root of the problem is the lack of spiritual purpose in life.
I was informed that 2 of the young men on the bus had been persuaded to experiment with drugs, in other words, they have had some struggle with it. But, under a different kind of pressure, another kind of peer pressure however, such as the conducive arrangement found with the clean fun on the traveling bus, it could turn things around for the boys. There is hope in spiritual power, more so than in material energy, which is inferior.
People resort to drugs and so many other addictions due to a vacuum. When the vacuum can be filled with a deeper and more meaningful kind of purpose, inferior cravings dissolve.
10 Km
Atlanta, Georgia
Thirty one of us passengers, including the bus driver of the Krishna Youth Ministry, pulled up at the ISKCON Centre in the Druid Hills Centre of Atlanta. It was 1:45 am and we had been on the road since 8 pm, Sunday night. All were fast asleep to the exception of the driver, Dranaksha, and bus leader, Manu, now they retired. I woke up and felt it was time to walk, to chant some japa (mantra meditation). Nirguna, a spiritual student of Vancouver, awoke, and we both decided to head for mid-town Atlanta.
We met people asking for nickels and dimes, a security police noticed our robes, he became curious wanting to know about our monastery in Druid Hills. He indicated we were walking in a drugs zone, affiliated with the drug scene of course is violence. The cop, an amiable largely built fellow, he was an amiable one. I was sure he didn’t fear for our being coaxed into taking drugs, but rather, being possible victims of violence. We continued forward, never the less, with confidence.
If I could say boldly, drugs are a real culprit in society today. I won’t reserve to say also, that the root of the problem is the lack of spiritual purpose in life.
I was informed that 2 of the young men on the bus had been persuaded to experiment with drugs, in other words, they have had some struggle with it. But, under a different kind of pressure, another kind of peer pressure however, such as the conducive arrangement found with the clean fun on the traveling bus, it could turn things around for the boys. There is hope in spiritual power, more so than in material energy, which is inferior.
People resort to drugs and so many other addictions due to a vacuum. When the vacuum can be filled with a deeper and more meaningful kind of purpose, inferior cravings dissolve.
10 Km
Sunday, July 24th, 2011
Not Interested
Alachua, Florida
He was only three feet from me eating voraciously at grass, or what might be crawling on the grass. I will admit, it was the first time I’ve seen an armadillo. He didn’t hear my footsteps coming towards him, he was absorbed in what he was doing.
I even chanted fairly audibly, and still he persisted in his purpose. It wasn’t until I released a genuine cough that he acknowledged my presence, and from there, he scurried off into the distance.
Now, if anyone has ever encountered one of these fellows, with his armor like body, you could then relate to a turtle who has a similar dynamic. Apparently, the armadillo usually defends himself by turning into a stationary object like a rock, but my buddy’s protection involved ‘taking off’.
As we all know, the tortoise is described as a creature who stands still in danger, and in the Gita, it explains that he draws his limbs within his shell. That is his defense mechanism, and his way of self-preservation. How this becomes relevant to us is that sense pleasures encroach on our spiritual development. The way to protect yourself from temptations of all kinds is to clam up and chant Hare Krishna. You send a clear, deliberate message, ‘not interested, goodbye.’
This is easier said than done, but we do need to try in order to have preservation of peace.
Trying is something that Jonothan has been working on. Jonothan works with a major airline in the US, but has been pursuing the lofty skies of Krishna Consciousness. Today he succeeded in getting his diksa (initiation). His new Sanskrit name is Jagatvira Das, which means the servant of the one who controls the universe. Congratulations, Jagatvira! Keep saying to the cause of maya, illusion, ‘not interested’.
8 Km
Alachua, Florida
He was only three feet from me eating voraciously at grass, or what might be crawling on the grass. I will admit, it was the first time I’ve seen an armadillo. He didn’t hear my footsteps coming towards him, he was absorbed in what he was doing.
I even chanted fairly audibly, and still he persisted in his purpose. It wasn’t until I released a genuine cough that he acknowledged my presence, and from there, he scurried off into the distance.
Now, if anyone has ever encountered one of these fellows, with his armor like body, you could then relate to a turtle who has a similar dynamic. Apparently, the armadillo usually defends himself by turning into a stationary object like a rock, but my buddy’s protection involved ‘taking off’.
As we all know, the tortoise is described as a creature who stands still in danger, and in the Gita, it explains that he draws his limbs within his shell. That is his defense mechanism, and his way of self-preservation. How this becomes relevant to us is that sense pleasures encroach on our spiritual development. The way to protect yourself from temptations of all kinds is to clam up and chant Hare Krishna. You send a clear, deliberate message, ‘not interested, goodbye.’
This is easier said than done, but we do need to try in order to have preservation of peace.
Trying is something that Jonothan has been working on. Jonothan works with a major airline in the US, but has been pursuing the lofty skies of Krishna Consciousness. Today he succeeded in getting his diksa (initiation). His new Sanskrit name is Jagatvira Das, which means the servant of the one who controls the universe. Congratulations, Jagatvira! Keep saying to the cause of maya, illusion, ‘not interested’.
8 Km
Monday, 25 July 2011
Saturday, July 23rd, 2011
Down the Boulevard
Alachua, Florida
What do I see, hear and smell on the boulevard?
The narrow white sand road that I have been walking is actually called NW 112 Boulevard. Or at least it begins as a wide roadway promenade, but then shortly thereafter, it becomes a few metres/yards length. It becomes a quiet, narrow country lane. I'm glad it is like that. Who wants to invite thick traffic?
So, what is there to be seen along the Boulevard? Bulls, cows, homes and bails of hay, red birds and trees with clumps of Spanish moss. I hear crickets at night and at least two owls to add to the concert.
For smells, there are the local floral and fauna, most of which I'm not familiar with, being that it's tropical.
As daybreak occurs, I see humans. One of those early trekkers on the Boulevard, is Kripasindhu, an old friend. When I first became a monk, it was this very jovial and smiling person who encouraged me.
As a former American draft dodger, Kripasindhu made his way to Canada, back in the late sixties, and then met devotees of Krishna. He was always an upbeat type of person, and I remember how my being a rather new recruit, I hit a moment of doubt and questioning--not of the philosophy--but of my services. This very optimistic person said all the right things, and in the right way to give me a boost.
I owe this person so much. If it had not been for him coming in at the right moment, I'm not sure what providence would have had in store for me. Whenever I see him in my rare visit to this community, my heart pumps with feelings of gratitude for him.
Come to think of it, I cannot think of a more valuable role that a person can play in life than when encouragement is delivered by them. This realization tells me that I must step up on all such opportunities to provide encouragement for someone in need. I would like to suggest to not think narrow, but to think broad like the boulevard.
10 KM
Alachua, Florida
What do I see, hear and smell on the boulevard?
The narrow white sand road that I have been walking is actually called NW 112 Boulevard. Or at least it begins as a wide roadway promenade, but then shortly thereafter, it becomes a few metres/yards length. It becomes a quiet, narrow country lane. I'm glad it is like that. Who wants to invite thick traffic?
So, what is there to be seen along the Boulevard? Bulls, cows, homes and bails of hay, red birds and trees with clumps of Spanish moss. I hear crickets at night and at least two owls to add to the concert.
For smells, there are the local floral and fauna, most of which I'm not familiar with, being that it's tropical.
As daybreak occurs, I see humans. One of those early trekkers on the Boulevard, is Kripasindhu, an old friend. When I first became a monk, it was this very jovial and smiling person who encouraged me.
As a former American draft dodger, Kripasindhu made his way to Canada, back in the late sixties, and then met devotees of Krishna. He was always an upbeat type of person, and I remember how my being a rather new recruit, I hit a moment of doubt and questioning--not of the philosophy--but of my services. This very optimistic person said all the right things, and in the right way to give me a boost.
I owe this person so much. If it had not been for him coming in at the right moment, I'm not sure what providence would have had in store for me. Whenever I see him in my rare visit to this community, my heart pumps with feelings of gratitude for him.
Come to think of it, I cannot think of a more valuable role that a person can play in life than when encouragement is delivered by them. This realization tells me that I must step up on all such opportunities to provide encouragement for someone in need. I would like to suggest to not think narrow, but to think broad like the boulevard.
10 KM
Sunday, 24 July 2011
Friday, July 22nd, 2011
Whatever the Condition
Alachua, Florida
There is a great advantage behind being in the countryside. You can see stars dotting the sky at night. You can see Chandra (the moon), now resembling a quarter piece of lemon. There's the Polestar. It reminds me of the Puranic story to do with Dhruva, the young warrior boy whose inspiration took him to great levels.
In Florida, weather is hot and sticky. At mid-day any trekking is a sluggish stride, as preparation for a month long youth trip necessitates going from building to building. It is here, in this rural area, that you have a temple, a school, numerous devotee residences, and the home or headquarters of the Krishna movements' bi-monthly magazine, "Back to Godhead". Most buildings are tight-shut and are air-conditioned to death. It is with a certain kind of bravado that you dare move car-less from any one place to another.
Nevetheless it would be a condition that our guru, Srila Prabhupada, would take very kindly to. Born in India, these natural conditions of the land of Bharat (India) are conducive to people who hail from there. It's all rather relative. Whatever the weather, the truly evolved souls are absorbed in other concerns.
A sample: One soul, Bhaktivinode Thakur expressed his pre-occupation like this:
"Please tell me, when will that day be mine...when my offenses will end and the power of grace will infuse my heart with a taste for the pure mantra? Thinking myself lower than a blade of grass, bringing forbearance into my heart, respecting all, and freed of false pride...when will I taste the essence of the pure mantra?" (from Saranagati)
10 KM
Alachua, Florida
There is a great advantage behind being in the countryside. You can see stars dotting the sky at night. You can see Chandra (the moon), now resembling a quarter piece of lemon. There's the Polestar. It reminds me of the Puranic story to do with Dhruva, the young warrior boy whose inspiration took him to great levels.
In Florida, weather is hot and sticky. At mid-day any trekking is a sluggish stride, as preparation for a month long youth trip necessitates going from building to building. It is here, in this rural area, that you have a temple, a school, numerous devotee residences, and the home or headquarters of the Krishna movements' bi-monthly magazine, "Back to Godhead". Most buildings are tight-shut and are air-conditioned to death. It is with a certain kind of bravado that you dare move car-less from any one place to another.
Nevetheless it would be a condition that our guru, Srila Prabhupada, would take very kindly to. Born in India, these natural conditions of the land of Bharat (India) are conducive to people who hail from there. It's all rather relative. Whatever the weather, the truly evolved souls are absorbed in other concerns.
A sample: One soul, Bhaktivinode Thakur expressed his pre-occupation like this:
"Please tell me, when will that day be mine...when my offenses will end and the power of grace will infuse my heart with a taste for the pure mantra? Thinking myself lower than a blade of grass, bringing forbearance into my heart, respecting all, and freed of false pride...when will I taste the essence of the pure mantra?" (from Saranagati)
10 KM
Thursday, July 21st, 2011
By the Fence
Alachua, Florida
This community is called, New Raman Reti, named after the sandy soils where Krishna and Balaram used to play in India. My japa walking trail is approximately a mile long, so I trek up and down this route avoiding pavement all together. This country rode is covered with a natural white sand that once reflected by the moon’s luminescence, allows you to see what might be slithering across it. You know where you’re stepping even in the dark. It’s a great trail, uneven in areas, allowing the soles to stretch and flex a bit. Along the trail, bulls and cows tend to line up at the edge of a fence where local devotees love to feed them. If that kind of generous offer doesn’t come, then grass is in abundance. Egrets, small heron like birds, stay near these bovine friends. When the animal starts to pull and tear at the grass, bugs leap out who catch the surprise of their life as they are gulped up by those birds.
My conjecture is that these bovine cows are in their retired mode of life. They are slow and easy going , and love their leisure time under the shade.
This is not where I spend my hours – by the fence along the trail. At the edge of the fence line I maximize my time at the local A/C’d chartered school’s cafeteria for practices on our devotional road show called “Bharata”. The challenge for Laghu Hari, Godruma Goura, and myself, is that the kids are inexperienced at drama, although they are eager to learn. It means we work hard, but it’s all devotional service to Krishna and that’s what makes it all enjoyable for body, mind and spirit.
8 KM
Alachua, Florida
This community is called, New Raman Reti, named after the sandy soils where Krishna and Balaram used to play in India. My japa walking trail is approximately a mile long, so I trek up and down this route avoiding pavement all together. This country rode is covered with a natural white sand that once reflected by the moon’s luminescence, allows you to see what might be slithering across it. You know where you’re stepping even in the dark. It’s a great trail, uneven in areas, allowing the soles to stretch and flex a bit. Along the trail, bulls and cows tend to line up at the edge of a fence where local devotees love to feed them. If that kind of generous offer doesn’t come, then grass is in abundance. Egrets, small heron like birds, stay near these bovine friends. When the animal starts to pull and tear at the grass, bugs leap out who catch the surprise of their life as they are gulped up by those birds.
My conjecture is that these bovine cows are in their retired mode of life. They are slow and easy going , and love their leisure time under the shade.
This is not where I spend my hours – by the fence along the trail. At the edge of the fence line I maximize my time at the local A/C’d chartered school’s cafeteria for practices on our devotional road show called “Bharata”. The challenge for Laghu Hari, Godruma Goura, and myself, is that the kids are inexperienced at drama, although they are eager to learn. It means we work hard, but it’s all devotional service to Krishna and that’s what makes it all enjoyable for body, mind and spirit.
8 KM
Friday, 22 July 2011
Wednesday, July 20th, 2011
To Even Warmer Breezes
South USA
It’s nice to be remembered.
The travelling road show, The Festival of India, is manned and operated by 15 young men under supervisor, an American devotee, Madhua, by name. On route and westbound towards the Prairies, the festival operation made a major stop at Serpent River, where they met an Ojibwa chief, who recalled seeing me walking on that same highway (Trans Canada) years ago.
Serpent River happens to be a First Nations reserve and the park where the festival boys stopped for a relaxer, was the site of a Native powwow. The boys were ready to jump into the cooling waters of this meandering river when they were halted by the chief and elders. “Wait until we’re finished our ritual” the chief commanded. When all was done, introductions began. The chief put two and two together and the friendly man revealed that he recalled talking to a peach robed monk, who was living off of the natural vegetation along the road. That was me.
I recall him as well. I just can’t recollect the jovial person’s name. There were too many syllables to his name. You know, upon hearing the exchange, it does tell me that people who saw that ghost, or phantom of a fellow (me) and that it was a decent exchange, confirms for me the validity of the mad monk marathon.
I was so glad to hear from my friend on the road and I offered my respects from afar to my eagle feathered friend. I considered him a warm friend during that pilgrimage.
And speaking of warm currents, three flights from Thunder Bay, and four airports brought me to the South, the Gainesville area and the Alachua community. The sun was shying away behind horizons when I was driven down to the Bhaktivedanta Institute house. Moving along the bumps of sand dirt, that felt like wheels over someone’s rib cage. “I will walk this trail in the morning”, I anticipated. It will be early. It will be a trail that I’ve tread before. And as for this day, a bashful swami admits – no kilometres on my radar today.
South USA
It’s nice to be remembered.
The travelling road show, The Festival of India, is manned and operated by 15 young men under supervisor, an American devotee, Madhua, by name. On route and westbound towards the Prairies, the festival operation made a major stop at Serpent River, where they met an Ojibwa chief, who recalled seeing me walking on that same highway (Trans Canada) years ago.
Serpent River happens to be a First Nations reserve and the park where the festival boys stopped for a relaxer, was the site of a Native powwow. The boys were ready to jump into the cooling waters of this meandering river when they were halted by the chief and elders. “Wait until we’re finished our ritual” the chief commanded. When all was done, introductions began. The chief put two and two together and the friendly man revealed that he recalled talking to a peach robed monk, who was living off of the natural vegetation along the road. That was me.
I recall him as well. I just can’t recollect the jovial person’s name. There were too many syllables to his name. You know, upon hearing the exchange, it does tell me that people who saw that ghost, or phantom of a fellow (me) and that it was a decent exchange, confirms for me the validity of the mad monk marathon.
I was so glad to hear from my friend on the road and I offered my respects from afar to my eagle feathered friend. I considered him a warm friend during that pilgrimage.
And speaking of warm currents, three flights from Thunder Bay, and four airports brought me to the South, the Gainesville area and the Alachua community. The sun was shying away behind horizons when I was driven down to the Bhaktivedanta Institute house. Moving along the bumps of sand dirt, that felt like wheels over someone’s rib cage. “I will walk this trail in the morning”, I anticipated. It will be early. It will be a trail that I’ve tread before. And as for this day, a bashful swami admits – no kilometres on my radar today.
Wednesday, 20 July 2011
Tuesday, July 19th, 2011
Smoke and Water
Thunder Bay, Ontario
I landed in this northern city with haze all around. There is a reported ninety (that’s 90) forest fires in bone dry northern Ontario. The sky is bleak. The famous rock formation called The Sleeping Giant set in Lake Superior’s North Shore is completely obscured. My mandate here is clear though. I was to attend the Thunder Bay version of the Festival of India. The stage show was lined up with acts, and it was complete. I was not to play any real part in it. With no troupe accompanying me I could not conduct a performance at Marine Park, nor was I needed to emcee. A rep from Magic Radio Station was present and behind the mic.
Also, Nirantara, a spiritual brother from Los Angeles was scheduled to be on set three times for the night. He did, and he sang his stuff, like his take on Otis Redding’s ‘Sittin’ at the Dock’, with lyrics, ‘sitting at the dock at Bombay, wastin’ time...’
He’s fun.
I was expected to walk around the grounds doing a monk’s schmooze, and to give some time at the book table for Bhagavad-gita sales. I met people who were curious about Indian food, Indian sounds, Indian smells, and Indian looks. A steady stream of the local demographical people came, many first nations also, into a sattvic (good) world of positive karma.
John Raferty, a local member of parliament, had lit the traditional Vedic dheeya flame to open the ceremony followed by classical dancers and singers. People did specifically come to drop by to purchase books, to swallow samosas, to release their kids on to jumping castles, and to get an earful of ‘My Sweet Lord’ (Krishna) with Narantara’s strumming on his guitar.
While the hundreds of participants were having a blast in this alcohol drug free environment, communities all around us in the boreal forest were being evacuated from their homes. The fires are relentless and are smoking up hectare after hectare. Such dualities. One thing that was not hazy but very clear was that the Krishna Cultural Festival of India flowed real well, like one of those cascade rivers you find up north, thanks to the hard work of Dr. Jani and wife, Sneha.
5 Km
Thunder Bay, Ontario
I landed in this northern city with haze all around. There is a reported ninety (that’s 90) forest fires in bone dry northern Ontario. The sky is bleak. The famous rock formation called The Sleeping Giant set in Lake Superior’s North Shore is completely obscured. My mandate here is clear though. I was to attend the Thunder Bay version of the Festival of India. The stage show was lined up with acts, and it was complete. I was not to play any real part in it. With no troupe accompanying me I could not conduct a performance at Marine Park, nor was I needed to emcee. A rep from Magic Radio Station was present and behind the mic.
Also, Nirantara, a spiritual brother from Los Angeles was scheduled to be on set three times for the night. He did, and he sang his stuff, like his take on Otis Redding’s ‘Sittin’ at the Dock’, with lyrics, ‘sitting at the dock at Bombay, wastin’ time...’
He’s fun.
I was expected to walk around the grounds doing a monk’s schmooze, and to give some time at the book table for Bhagavad-gita sales. I met people who were curious about Indian food, Indian sounds, Indian smells, and Indian looks. A steady stream of the local demographical people came, many first nations also, into a sattvic (good) world of positive karma.
John Raferty, a local member of parliament, had lit the traditional Vedic dheeya flame to open the ceremony followed by classical dancers and singers. People did specifically come to drop by to purchase books, to swallow samosas, to release their kids on to jumping castles, and to get an earful of ‘My Sweet Lord’ (Krishna) with Narantara’s strumming on his guitar.
While the hundreds of participants were having a blast in this alcohol drug free environment, communities all around us in the boreal forest were being evacuated from their homes. The fires are relentless and are smoking up hectare after hectare. Such dualities. One thing that was not hazy but very clear was that the Krishna Cultural Festival of India flowed real well, like one of those cascade rivers you find up north, thanks to the hard work of Dr. Jani and wife, Sneha.
5 Km
Monday, 18 July 2011
Monday, July 18th, 2011
Devotees
Toronto, Ontario
Devotees of Brampton and Orillia became initiated at Centre Island yestarday. I'm happy for them and thinking about their progressive steps as I walked the neighbourhood of Rosedale.
The names of the new initiates are Jaya Gopal, Chandrika, Vyasacharya, Puja, Narayani and Sukavak. Congratulations!
From the walk I sprang into the temple room to facilitate a class.
Our Monday mornings are reserved for our guru, Prabhupada. It struck me while the few attendees and I read from the book named after him, in Feb of '72 he was mentally planning a design for our headquarters in Mayapura which included buildings to accommodate residents and guests. His intent was to set up structures fashioned for the traditional four social orders of life referred to as varnashram. That was interesting. (You can find this in the Chapter "Let There Be A Temple.")
Late in the morning, JW Windland of Encounter World Religions Centre brought to the temple forty plus teachers and ministers from Ontario, Alberta, Nova Scotia, California, and Nebraska. The gracious guests came to learn about the Krishna Conscious ways. They really soaked in the chanting and the dancing. We are talking about people who are mostly middle aged.
It is my personal love to speak and mingle with these type of open-hearted people. They questions. They have experience and realizations.
Some remarks in the presentation that we may consider as highlights for them were:
"There's a piece of God in all of us, including animals and plants.", "God is a person.", "God has form.", "Human life is meant for controlling the senses."
10 Km
Toronto, Ontario
Devotees of Brampton and Orillia became initiated at Centre Island yestarday. I'm happy for them and thinking about their progressive steps as I walked the neighbourhood of Rosedale.
The names of the new initiates are Jaya Gopal, Chandrika, Vyasacharya, Puja, Narayani and Sukavak. Congratulations!
From the walk I sprang into the temple room to facilitate a class.
Our Monday mornings are reserved for our guru, Prabhupada. It struck me while the few attendees and I read from the book named after him, in Feb of '72 he was mentally planning a design for our headquarters in Mayapura which included buildings to accommodate residents and guests. His intent was to set up structures fashioned for the traditional four social orders of life referred to as varnashram. That was interesting. (You can find this in the Chapter "Let There Be A Temple.")
Late in the morning, JW Windland of Encounter World Religions Centre brought to the temple forty plus teachers and ministers from Ontario, Alberta, Nova Scotia, California, and Nebraska. The gracious guests came to learn about the Krishna Conscious ways. They really soaked in the chanting and the dancing. We are talking about people who are mostly middle aged.
It is my personal love to speak and mingle with these type of open-hearted people. They questions. They have experience and realizations.
Some remarks in the presentation that we may consider as highlights for them were:
"There's a piece of God in all of us, including animals and plants.", "God is a person.", "God has form.", "Human life is meant for controlling the senses."
10 Km
Sunday, July 17th, 2011
Second Day at the Festival
Toronto Islands, Ontario
On the ferry going to the mainland, I met a young man from India who had just purchased a copy of the Bhagavad-gita. It was suggested to him to also consider the book “Krishna”. I imagine the salesperson from the festival’s book booth was encouraging a second reading material.
“Was I wrong to just take a Gita and not to read about Krishna’s life? Which book is more important to read first?” he asked innocently.
I recommended he read the book he acquired and once he gets his hands on a “Krishna” book, he could try a brief read of the Gita in the morning and a bedtime read of “Krishna” book at night and that it could be a daily practice.
He loved the advice on doing it in parallel lines.
Then I met an oriental fellow by the name of Yu who is a Yoga student. He has a copy of the “Gita” which has been in his home for some years. He has a struggle.
“How do you get beyond chapter one?”
“Just turn the page,” I suggested.
I understood that perhaps Yu had some psychological block about moving on. Perhaps the details of two lines of warriors stationed and pitted against each other was too much for him to bear. After all, chapter two expounds the very beginning of Vedic philosophy. It’s where you find depth in the Gita. There is no violence in it.
I have met other people who have some fear about the Gita’s message. This apprehension may be somewhat justified. After all, the truth hurts and the Gita sends out this naked truth. It appears that most of us are habituated to living in denial.
I urged Yu to step beyond that line of fear and accept the initial sting. From thereafter, he should be able to recognize an old friend or an old voice that speaks to all of us in the same way, the voice of sweetness, the voice of surrender.
7 Km
Toronto Islands, Ontario
On the ferry going to the mainland, I met a young man from India who had just purchased a copy of the Bhagavad-gita. It was suggested to him to also consider the book “Krishna”. I imagine the salesperson from the festival’s book booth was encouraging a second reading material.
“Was I wrong to just take a Gita and not to read about Krishna’s life? Which book is more important to read first?” he asked innocently.
I recommended he read the book he acquired and once he gets his hands on a “Krishna” book, he could try a brief read of the Gita in the morning and a bedtime read of “Krishna” book at night and that it could be a daily practice.
He loved the advice on doing it in parallel lines.
Then I met an oriental fellow by the name of Yu who is a Yoga student. He has a copy of the “Gita” which has been in his home for some years. He has a struggle.
“How do you get beyond chapter one?”
“Just turn the page,” I suggested.
I understood that perhaps Yu had some psychological block about moving on. Perhaps the details of two lines of warriors stationed and pitted against each other was too much for him to bear. After all, chapter two expounds the very beginning of Vedic philosophy. It’s where you find depth in the Gita. There is no violence in it.
I have met other people who have some fear about the Gita’s message. This apprehension may be somewhat justified. After all, the truth hurts and the Gita sends out this naked truth. It appears that most of us are habituated to living in denial.
I urged Yu to step beyond that line of fear and accept the initial sting. From thereafter, he should be able to recognize an old friend or an old voice that speaks to all of us in the same way, the voice of sweetness, the voice of surrender.
7 Km
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