I left for India telling anyone who
had taken my class in weeks prior to my leaving, that I knew without a doubt that it would be life changing,
and that I would tell them all about it.
I was right on the 1st count, there has been a shift in me,
an opening in me – one that I can only pray will stick with me as I return home
– but the second claim – that I would be able to tell ALL about it – that will be harder. Much, much harder.
For, how can I put into words the indescribable – the way a town called
Vrindavan may look like a poverty rocked town, but is actually a pulsing heart
of love, compassion, and devotion – IF, as my teacher says you look with the
proper focus. How do I tell people
between downward facing dogs of the chanting and dancing of women 70, 80, maybe
even 90years old whirling in bliss as they chanted in temples to the beat of
drums and bells? Can I truly do
justice to the smell of the roses being offered to the deities in every temple
I visited, or to the radiance of a ma – Ragnauth Swami – as he told us on a
star filled, moonlit night that all around us in nature are teachers,
especially mother earth – who gives and gives even as we abuse her.
And what of the
children – the ones who begged because that is the only way for them, but were
ready to dance with us in full joy, whether we tossed them a rupee or not? Is it possible to sum up the holy
waters of Rahda Kund, the flocks of parrots that soared through the sky, the
monkeys that are cute, but also a terror?
I don’t think I can tell all
about it, but what I can do is live what I felt, and let it eek out a little at
a time – the stories, the chants, the sights, and most importantly the love
that I experienced.
Join Julie on March 30th at 2pm to hear all about her trip to India!
Julie teaches Bhakti Basic on Mondays at 6:30pm.
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