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The fellow at the Air Canada agents desk took my flight documents so I could secure my boarding pass that would take me to Washington, D.C. He was curious.

“If you don't mind my asking, are you one of those martial arts masters?”

“I'm a monk, a Krishna monk.”

“That's what I meant to say, ‘monk’. That's interesting. Great!”

Another passenger in line before customs asked, “are you a Tibetan monk?”

“A Krishna monk.”

“Oh, I’m a Christian, too!”

“A Hare Krishna!” Said his wife in correcting him. Fro

Madhavendra was a holy man
Definitely not a regular layman
He carried the title of brahmin
Perhaps he can be called a shaman

For when he reached a sacred hill
He felt a very tingling thrill
A trance had overtaken him
A genuine shaking in every limb

After a bath by the lake
He went to take a break
Beneath a tree he went to rest
Somewhere near a high bird’s nest

A young boy suddenly turned up
And woke the monk somewhat
He brought him something hot
It was milk in a rustic clay pot

“I brought you s

It is clearly sandal weather. Only the evening is enticing for the outdoors so I hibernated inside most of the day engaged in chanting, delivering classes, reading, poetry writing, eating (and napping after that). Several initiatives took up a portion of the day such as preparation for the next MANtra retreat (for November 12, 13, 14) and planning for this year’s garden/farm conference.

The evening reading was from the Chaitanya Charitamrta (the CC) and the story was about the interaction betwe