The Asian Farms by Bhaktimarga Swami

9968531663?profile=RESIZE_400xStephen was with the Canadian Forces some years back and so I thought to ask him to accompany me on the Sunday night walk, brisk and cold so it was. I thought he was tough enough to accept the cold. He accepted the offer. I also thought, “I’ll get to know him more.” He has that commanding officer’s voice. He used it as we carefully ambled along avoiding black ice on the road’s surface. He carries a good conversation. At one point I requested, “I hope you don’t mind but I spend some time chanting japa on these walks.” He was happy to comply.

As is routine, in the area I walk by Asian farmland and a mini-park is where I stop for a break. Yes indeed, I sit on a swing and then do swing for some sky gazing. Stephen joined me for the star studded endless and wondrous gaze. This practice always confirms, “We are small!”

Now, Monday, as the sun tucks himself away, I took to the same trail, by the Asian farms, but not alone again. This time Arjuna called me from his home in Tampa, Florida. The cell phone can do that for you or it can do it “to you.” Technology is both a blessing and a curse. With Arjuna, I’m always happy to hear from him. It was a walking dialogue, confidential, between clergy and layperson – between guru and sisya (student). I got my walking in and my talking in.

Evening was a blessing; a drive to a Surrey household for dinner. When it came to kirtan time, we headed for the kitchen to grab utensils as our musical instruments.


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