I did walk a piece today. I did wait a piece today—in the dentist clinic waiting room. A woman in front of me, age sixty, brunette to red hair—ponytailed—at the inquiry desk, left her queue to sit down. I followed.

“So you’re a monk?” she began.


“What order?”

“Hare Krishna!”

“Oh yeah! Why the colour?”

“This saffron tone is reserved for celibate monks. It’s a colour worn before one’s married, and after retirement. I never got married. I’ve had this colour all these years.”

“When did you join?”

“Age twenty.”

“It was your calling?”

“Definitely,” I said.

“My father was a minister. It was his calling. He knew at age fourteen. He ministered in Kenya. Everyone thought he was crazy. A Scotsman he was.”

I was curious. “Was he Presbyterian?”

“He started off but then he became non-denominational.”


The dialogue went on.

“I adopted kids from Africa. I have a few.”

She definitely was no monk, or nun, but a conversationalist, yes. I wanted to continue on but was asked to go for my dental cleaning.

“Well, I’m being called. Nice to talk to you!”

“Likewise!” she said.

Source: http://thewalkingmonk.blogspot.com/2020/06/tuesday-june-23-2020.html

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