Author Archives: H.H. Bhaktimarg Swami

Here Then And Now

Toronto, Ontario

Yesterday I trekked amidst trees.  Today I took to pavement with concrete buildings on both sides.

I can’t say that scenario number two, or today’s scene was anything less interesting.  Pedestrians are playing out their lives in their own natural way, conversing a bit, flaunting, or just moving from one place from another in their own individual way.

I time machined my way back to a hundred plus years and imagined the situation then.  People would be milling around, clothes would be dark and folks would be less risqué in their style of fashion.  Both men and women wore hats, there would be a sharing of space with horses.  There would likely be a courtesy, but not necessarily a warmth of exchange with that Victorian air about it.  There was optimism and talk about business and the family.  You might find people speaking of the Bore War, and Canada’s participation in it in Africa.  The pace of life would be slowed down compared to what it is now.  In the business district a stride would be more of a strut where as in the residential area it would be more of a stroll.

In 1905 there was a great fire.  It had razed many buildings demolishing many of them.  But people resilient as they are or were shot everything up again.

All this imagery I superimposed onto the current background of the existing urban setting of Toronto.  I couldn’t imagine a monk in saffron walking at that time – the turn of the century.  There wasn’t the kind of freedom then as there is now.

I had actually been walking with a member of the Krishna community when the flashback hit.  I had been urging him to settle down and formally tie the knot with his common-law wife.  The idea is to make commitments in life that encourage sacrifice.  The idea is to build a team of two, maybe three or four or more (as in children).  The idea is that love should be more firmed up and less whimsical.  The idea is that the relationship should have a spiritual base.

Funny thing is here I’m fast forwarding now using my walking partner as the subject.  I believe he appreciated my suggestions.  After pressing the rewind button and then the fast forward one I decided to press play.  Here we are, let’s live in the moment, get real, follow dharma (duty), and adhere to the wishes of guru and Krishna and make progress.

8 KM

When I Walk…

Toronto, Ontario

When I walk a trail such as the one near Brick Works I naturally feel good.  Part of it, my feeling, has a shadow.  There is admittedly some guilt (I’ll explain), and part of it, some resentment (also to be explained).

Firstly, and happily, I’m taken by the diversity of vegetation and the incredible fall colours that throws you into a child’s wonderland.  That is 90% of the composition of my feeling.  Another 5% leaves me feeling ignorant as I hardly can identify a Norway maple to be distinct from other maples.  “Woe is me,” I thought.  I don’t know the names of my friends.  The flip side of this ignorance is that here is an opportunity to learn.  The 5% of my emotions strike the chord of a resentment.  Why wasn’t I educated on the subject matter on these ever existing companions?  Was learning algebra more important than getting acquainted with these guys that offer beauty, fragrance, oxygen, food, fuel, warmth?  Time could have been better spent I think.

I guess I will tread the path of the seniors, delight in birding and plants and feeling the elements like never before.  I have for some time dabbled in the exploration of these marvelous creatures.  When I was young I never thought I’d get there, to that age I meant.  It leads me to believe that the biggest illusion in life is that when you’re young you’ll retain youthfulness forever.  Youthful energy and youthful mindset can be so foolhardy.

Perhaps the invincibility syndrome of youthfulness is what went on in the tiny mind of this 3 inch baby snake as he slithered across the path today.  A barefoot woman stood by the little guy and warned me of his vulnerable presence.  I stopped, looked at him, but momentarily as it felt like the woman wanted and needed her solo experience with him.  I thought to honour her wish and I carried on with the trail and  continuing to be caught in awe and wonder at what was all around me.

I should note that I was not the only one enwrapped in the autumnal loveliness.  There were dozens and dozens of people each moving on their own stride in cooperation with nature.

Before the night’s rest, I read a passage from our guru, Srila Prabhupada as he defined the word, ‘cooperation’.  In simple logic and terms he said in a talk in Seattle in 1968, “When you do something in cooperation with the Lord, that is called bhakti, devotion.”

10 KM

Driving At Night…

Toronto, Ontario

Driving at night is not the best situation.  Your vision is obscured.  It’s a risky way to go, yet sometimes you have no choice.

Our group of 5 took to interstate highways through Pennsylvania and New York states before reaching Ontario.  It was an all-nighter, it was impossible in a van to sleep as a passenger.  Pulling over the highway and having a break was like a glimpse of moksha, or as Buddhists call it, nirvana (a term that came from Hindus).  Basically you’re looking at having some relief from all the sitting.  Oh how I hanker to be on that road again, walking at my leisure.

A final relief came from the subtle agony of being motionless when at arrival time we finally reached or got home, and also much later on when Philippe and I made our way walking up Yonge Street.  Our destination was to Blu God tattoo shop.

During the nocturnal drive I had been thinking about the upcoming weekend in Toronto and how about a big outdoor art expression night called “Nuit Blanche” was to take place.  Two years ago we spontaneously went on Yonge Street for a chanting session.  We pulled large brass deities of Radha Krishna out of the tattoo shop at the courtesy of owner, Jamuna Jivan, and lovingly, respectfully, placed them on a blanket before setting them right on the street.  We then performed a ritual of love called arati with those deities, followed by chanting.  It was a crowd pleaser and a heart teaser.

Why not duplicate the process again?

It’s all a matter of laying out your creativity, being a little innovative and trying to instill in others a kindling of devotion, something that’s deep inside of everyone.

The one thing about walking (and I’ll also give some credit to driving a long distance) is there is some time for brain storms.  It’s a beautiful dream time while on journey, of course you have to watch where you’re going.

Padam padam yad vipadam na tesam is one of my favourite phrases, which means, “Every step (or in the case of a vehicle, every turn of the wheel) you take could spell danger.”

4 KM

Willis and the Gita

Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

I met Willis at German Town, he was just having a smoke outside the pub when we greeted each other.  First of all, because he was curious, I had to clarify which monastic order I belong to.

“What’s your belief system?” he asked.

“We follow the ancient teaching of Bhagavad Gita.”

“Hey, I read Bhagavad Gita,” which he pronounced perfectly.

“What do you think of it?”

“It’s got a lot of positive energy,” remarked Willis who I learned is a writer and a real estate agent.

Eventually our conversation lead to many spheres and especially the topic of male/female union.  He asked me what advice I could give of his urge and pursuit in this direction.  Frankly, I suggested to find the right partner and be committed to the one.  This way you both work on patience, tolerance and selflessness.  “We will all exit from this world at one point, and we want to leave this world being very clean inside,” I said.  To this he nodded in agreement.  It seems that Willis knows the people in the neighbourhood where two blocks away from our ISKCON centre, he succeeded in pulling a couple of guys over to let them in on the conversation.  We eventually parted on amicable terms.

Hours later I found myself in the office of Ravindra.  I had asked him for a critique on our dramatical rendition of the Bhagavad Gita called, “Gita: Concise”.  He was just cool with everything he had seen and had heard on the stage the previous day.  He did offer a brief suggestion for perhaps inserting a script, an emphasis on everyone’s natural role in this world as a servant.  Thanks, Ravindra, consider it done.

By the way, my performance towards walking was poor today, but a second take on the drama where my energy went, enthralled our Sunday crowd at the ISKCON Open House, including the university students that came.

3 KM

Shoeless?

Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

How is a person to walk without his shoes?  May he go barefoot?

There is one criticism that I have when visiting a Vedic centre, temple, or even a yoga studio.  While some of these destinations do not subscribe to the mayavad or ‘all is one’ philosophy, when it comes to precious shoes, you might experience a free for all culture.  It’s a little bit odd, but arrangements for the deities in a temple is totally together, or orderliness in a yoga session, but if you’re looking for a good first impression at the shoe shelf entrance area, then look elsewhere.

It was embarrassing for me when I discovered that Ravindra, the leader of the community, spent a good portion of his morning trying to track down my footwear.  He is my senior of nine years, he is my big bro, and to have him do this for me, well, it was a moment of humility that struck me.  I had left my pair of shoes at the entrance before retiring for the night.  By morning, prior to a proposed walk, they had vanished.  It ends up that they were borrowed.  Humourously, my crocs, a couple, if you will, had gone for separation.  One was found in the kitchen and another was found by some stairwell, a result of enthused chaos in preparation for the Chariot Fest today.

In any event, we were all “happy feet” again, and I became majorly involved in a chanting procession which began at noon at Ben Franklin Parkway to the art museum where according to one devotee is the famed place where Sylvester Stallone had himself go up and down those steps for training in the classic film, Rocky.

For the entertainment at the “Parade of Chariots” many Bharat Natyam dances took place. There’s a mesmerizing pull that these dance presentations offer, but after a while, I think, the audience wants something more comprehensible (the style of dance has vocalists using non-English formats).  Our troupe of monks from Canada came on the stage to demonstrate a different art form with a predominant male presence for “Gita: Concise”.  It went over really well.

As the day rolled on, my shoes stayed put at the base of my legs.  At one point I tucked them under a table situated near the mantra yoga tent where I also conducted a session.

You might lose your shoes, you might lose your soles, but you should never lose your soul.

8 KM

At Philly

Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

It was near the commuter train that I entered a winding trail near these black walnut trees, a peaceful path it is.  I came upon a seniors couple on the whole hour there.  The rest of the time I was to myself.  It seems to be an unofficial trail which is the best kind.  For the most part, it’s a neat trail, a clear trail.  However, in certain sections, but rarely, you could find broken glass, a result of outdoor partying by youth most likely.

Ravindra had earlier on told me of these entangling trails.  While dark, we tread one on the course of our japa walk which didn’t end up being a mantra meditation walk at all.  He is full of talk with the rich history of the area of German town and Chestnut Hill.  He let me in on all that he wanted to say.  We also touched on some details of his half Christian half Jewish heritage.  I did feel like I achieved a lesson in history of a portion of this city of brotherly love, Philadelphia.

If you go to a place like Europe, you’ll hear about Philadelphia for its cream cheese.  According to Ravindra’s wife, when Europeans speak of the renowned cheese, they only use the word Philadelphia as the spread you put over sandwiches, bagels and other foods.  No mention of cheese in the conversation.  Philadelphia is synonymous to cream cheese.  In fact, this is the common food product that I use in applying to tortillas to make wraps with veggies when I trek across Canada, it nourishes me.

The only other thing that makes me think of this city is Shyamalan, the director of the film The Sixth Sense, whom I met when before he became a noted master in film.

I had delivered a class at the Radha Krishna temple on Allens Road this morning.  It turned out as much of a discussion as it did a discourse or talk.  The verse from which I spoke mentioned the Kumaras who were lifelong monks.  That then lead to the topic of the marital status of people, in many cases people do stay single, but what makes life a fulfillment is through a spiritual channel where a relationship has a solid base only.

7 KM

A True Friend

Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

A true friend is someone who leads you on to a trail.

The small group of us from Canada had made the trip to Philly.  I met with Ravindra Svarup and his wife who told me of trails in the Mount Ary district.  Mount Ary is a place where there’s old growth trees.  It’s also the area of the first integrated neighbourhood in America where people of black and white origin found comfort in coexistence.  Though the trails are here, it wouldn’t be until tomorrow morning that I would do some exploration in the vegetation.

Back to Ravindra and wife, Saudamini – I admire them so much.  Here are a couple who have remained as such for decades.  You can say they survived the test of time as a couple.  At a time when the family unit faces challenges in this age of modernity there are some shining representatives of loyalty that exist.  We don’t talk about them because on the very personal note, they have not produced sensational news.

Ravindra in particular, has practically document research history of the Hare Krishna society likely more that anyone.  If not documented, he has that retaining brain of accounts in its development, challenges and triumphs of what seemed like an idealistic group from the 60’s.  He and I, and for some minutes, Saudamini, sat for quite a while looking at an interesting path of a culture that soon turns 50 in the year 2016.  To say that Krishna Consciousness is new would be fallacious.  It’s an old culture.  Krishna devotionalism has existed for thousands of years with roots in India.

It is my wish and deep desire to trek the US in 3 years from now and follow the trail of how the Krishna Culture spread from Boston, to New York to San Francisco to Los Angeles.  In fact, today marks the anniversary that our guru, the founder, A.C. Bhaktivedanta Swami Prabhupada anchored ship in America in September 1965.  The society became official in ’66 in New York.  I became a monk with the group in the spring of ’73 in Toronto, Canada.

No regrets from my side, especially when I have friendship from Ravindra and Saudamini.  By the way, Ravindra legal academic name is Dr. William Deadwyler III.  He is one of my favourite authors of theological essays.

For today – no walking, a long time was spent on wheels to get to Philly.  It’s a kind of a curse.

0 KM/0 miles

It Happened At Bloor


Toronto, Ontario

It was a small chanting party that enthused the public at the business and shopping area of Bay and Bloor.  We were a lively bunch.  We looked happy.  One of our monks from the ashram, Maha Mantra by name, is particularly good at playing the mridanga drum.  Pedestrians would light up when passing our jolly crew, although you could see the occasional nose in the air kind of response.

One particular fellow took us by surprise.  He was obviously drunk.  At the same time, he would not be in the category of being a total loser.  He was dressed very spiffily even.

“Sixty-nine!” he slurred, “It was Sixty-nine I first met you guys at Rochedale.”  Rochedale was an experimental cooperative high rise where you found intellectuals, hippies, beatniks and even Hare Krishnas who are living on one floor.  At that time there was rampant drug usage, sex orgies, people jumping out the windows while tripping.  Of course, the Krishna’s were exempt from those habits.  It was cheaper accommodation so they found it favourable for residing there.

In any event the elated chap kept talking, embracing, and handing us cash, even though we never asked for any.  It was hard to comprehend what he was saying at times, he just kept rattling on as we enjoyed his spontaneously warm reception.  He kind of made our day you could say by the way that he was so overly accepting of us.  At least we could decipher when he said, “Group hug, group hug,” to which we responded.  Indeed he was the strongest character we met of all the people there, and he left an impression.

Now, if someone asks why are we out here in the first place, singing and playing all this music, how to respond?  Are we a band of street musicians out here to entertain?

The answer to this type of question actually surfaced in our morning discussion when we explored what sacred space is. The sage, Narada Muni defined pilgrimage space in the book Bhagavatam as an area where spiritual activity is enacted.

For those of us who processioned our way from our ashram to Bloor Street, we no doubt benefitted from the workout, and especially for Dharma, a monk in his 60’s who has some disability.  We feel that chanting in various public locations offers the space a transition of spirit.  It is meant to be an act of magnanimity that great kirtan yogis have made as a contribution to the world.

9 KM

Finding Your Apple Tree

Brampton, Ontario

When I trek through the villages of the prairies just on this last ventures, I sought to meet people.  And, for the sake of replenishing energy, I also kept my eyes on the trees of the village in hope to at least spot an apple tree.  It’s that time of year that this hearty fruit comes up for harvest.  A lesson on detachment often came my way because trees for wind and snow shelter is common around at a person’s house.  But that’s the prairies, you’re lucky to find apples.

Now that I’ve arrived in a quite different environment, vegetationally and perhaps culturally also, farmer’s apple trees planted from the days of yore were in the plenty in the Heart Lake area of Brampton.  There were multiple varieties.  Rajnish, Alpa and I took to the edge of the lake for a stroll only to be richly rewarded with these fleshy and tasty packages of mercy.

Things looked up throughout the day.  I signed papers for a 2 year lease to a building, the new location of our Brampton community for future occupancy right in the downtown core.  This is a victory of course.

I also could not help to sense another stroke of optimism in the air when later on in the day I veered to the quite Rosedale neighbourhood on a second solo walk near downtown Toronto.  In front of me a young man was singing a song to himself as he was striding several metres ahead of me.  I first heard him as we ambled on a bridge overlooking the ravine.  I admit I was drawn to the song, but I couldn’t discern the genre of music.  Then I concluded that it was like a lullaby, it was that mystical time of day at dusk.  And as I picked up speed with the anticipation of hearing more clearly, it seemed that he did also.  He was dark, either black or east Indian, he kept going on at it until he made a turn.  By then the sun had almost vanished, so I lost him.  It’s rare to hear someone sing to themselves for a prolonged time.  It was like a discovery moment.  A discovery which excites like coming upon an abandoned apple tree at Heart Lake.

I had turned a corner myself, making my way back to the ashram.  I greeted a guy and said, “How are you?”  His tone was terrible, in fact he blurted out the word, “Terrible.”

“What’s wrong?”  I stopped and asked, “Such extremes,” I thought.  I jumped from Mr. Happy Go Lucky to Mr. Grumps.

Mr. Grumps was beefing about clearing someone’s yard of unwanted shrubs and how he didn’t get paid.  I tried to cheer him up, but it appeared that the chip on his shoulder was a heavy chunk.

I hope he finds his apple tree.

9 KM

Until We Resume

Edmonton, Alberta

Yogendra, an active member of the Radha Govinda Cultural Centre, helped break the 0KMs/miles of yesterday.  It seems tragic when you don’t score in one day.  Realistically, the rest is necessary.

In the Rutherford region of Edmonton, a suburban trail did suffice.  It took us by surprise, but there it was, just as we were headed by vehicle to a known spot we stumbled upon a forested trail.  I’m grateful that urban planners include paths for people.  Our grand score was a whopping 3 KMs, sarcastic as it may sound.

Feet do make noise when they move. Creatures that reside on either side of the trail can hear steps and/or feel the vibes that we create.  In the course of this puny trek, I observed a haunting quiet.  It’s obvious we’ve entered the fall season and that means longer sleep for many living entities, and a deeper receding in to holes and crevices and the earth and the trees.  Mosquitos or bugs are now retired for a while, something I don’t necessarily lament over.  But, whatever the season, we humans manage to routinely blaze the same trail.  We are out and about.  I guess that you could say that we are the resilient bugs.

Sharada conducts a Krishna Sunday school in her own home.  Her husband, Srinivasan, is most supportive of the program.  Together they hosted a satsang, a spiritual gathering.  It was Daruka and I in this last night out together who shared with this group our reminiscences of our trekking adventures.  It was a sometimes crazy adventure that we had.  Kirtan calmly closed the session, as did a great veggie feast.  I rounded up the event with a reading from the book Bhagavatam, 1.11.26, it was a description of Bhagavan.

“His chest is the abode of the goddess of fortune.  His moonlight face is the drinking vessel for eyes which hanker after all that is beautiful.  His arms are the resting places for all the demigods, and His lotus feet are refuge of pure devotees who never talk or sing of anything not in relation to Him.”

Thanks, Daruka, for a fine journey with you and Billy.  Until we resume in the spring – Hare Krishna.

3 KM

Let’s See

Edmonton, Alberta

Well, I’ve been there before – at the cut-off point.  Cold turkey is a term when you abruptly axe yourself from an addiction, if that’s possible.

The addiction referred to is walking.  This leg of the walk, the 4^th, saw me through the southern part of Manitoba and then southern Saskatchewan and then well into southern Alberta.  You can easily get psychologically affected.  A doctor said withdrawal symptoms could arise when you marathon and then suddenly come to a halt.  Let’s see what happens.

Daruka and I headed north for two speaking engagements in Edmonton.  As we moved along on Highway 2 towards our destination, I had a hard look at the feet while in the passenger’s seat.  We’re looking at healthy, relaxed calves, but at feet, have had some challenges.  Cracks on the heels, dead warts skin at the toes’ ends, and some slight inflammation on the tiny toes are all symptomatic of some hard walking.  What true warrior wouldn’t have some scars. Fortunately the knee joints aren’t the least bit agitated.

The other day Daruka and I met Tyrell, a chap from Saint Albert near Edmonton.  His grandparents apparently walked the country coast to coast.  They are missionaries.  I would love to make a connection with them, share some of the road experiences, let’s see.

As we plied along at a good clip in Daruka’s Grand Prix, I had another look at a map of Alberta and then peered outside the window to view the towns we passed by in correspondence to the map.  I could see that this Highway 2 which runs north/south has an ample quantity of towns and villages, places that are off the beaten path.  My heart did not exactly palpitate, but a cloud of dreams did suddenly pop into my presence.  “What if?” I thought, “Just what if I tread the path of north/south, even if east/west roads don’t juncture here?”  The thought did excite. Generally the direction taken to accomplish the goal of walking the entire country is latitudinally, at least for Canada, but that means that you miss umpteen, if not hundreds of places that are on the longitudinal grid.

In the future strategizing of trekking the whole stretch of Canada, what about trying to cover every town and village?  Let’s see.

Dream away, Swami.

0 KM

 BMS addresses Eastend, SK seniors BMS addresses Eastend, SK seniors  Shaunavon, SK Library kirtan Interview with Penny at Shaunavon, SK radio station Weyburn, SK radio station interview Relaxing near Estevan, SK Dam at end of …

Over the course of a week, we get quite a few calls from the public with news tip.
Some of them turn into actual stories but, in all honesty, most of them wind up as snipe hunts.

So I’ll admit to being more than a little bit skeptical when I got a call last week from a man saying that he thought he had a news story for us.

The skeptic meter got cranked up to high when this same gentleman followed by telling me he was travelling across the country with a monk and a parrot.

“Is this a joke?” I asked.

Turns out it was no joke. The man on the phone’s name was Daruka, and he is journeying across the country with Bhaktimarga Swami or, as he is better known to his many followers, the Walking Monk.

Bhaktimarga passed through southeast Saskatchewan last week, and his arrival in the area created quite a stir as reports of a man in robes walking on the highway began to circulate over social media.

http://www.estevanmercury.ca/article/20130828/ESTMERCURY0101/130829875/-1/ESTMERCURY/walking-monk-strolls-through-estevan

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Above the Catwalk

Taber, Alberta

Last night for my final trek for the day on Highway 3, a massive moon was behind me in the eastern sky.  Now, when having been dropped off at the highway this morning, I saw that the moon had shrunk and had leapt to the western sky.  If stars had dotted the upper background, I wouldn’t know, I could not see at this late start at 5:30 AM.

My steps forward were of normal speed and steadiness.  No motorists cared to stop for a word or two, but I did get in my share of communication with llamas who gravitated towards me but kept a few metres distance.  They stood there curious.  I offered them mantras.

Then came a bison farm.  I gave the same line of communication to them. They stopped their grazing and took to gazing to an inquisitiveness that hopefully made their day.

Finally upon reaching the small city of Taber, I mingled with some folks at a church yard sale before reaching the completed steps for the day at Confederation Park.  There, a more serious chat happened with boys at the skateboard facility.  I quite liked their little stunts on boards, scooters and bikes.  I found their language okay, you know, some things are just sick and some just suck.

It was here that Greg from the Taber Times came for an interview.  Amongst his questions came, “I see from your website that you were raised Christian, what made you change?”

My response was that I’m still a believer and that I added Krishna to the equation.  I never left Christian values.  A second interview came in Lethbridge just before meeting with a group at one floor just above a hair salon called Catwalk.  We call that a satsang when people come together for a spiritual experience.  That was sweet.  I was thrilled that not everyone cancelled out to go to the local zombie walk and turned up at our satsang instead.  Then a swift ride north on Highway 2 brought Daruka and I to a north east corner address in Calgary for another satsang  and a comprehensive as possible look at verse 9.32 of the Gita.  This verse qualifies everyone every opportunity to reach incredible spiritual heights.  No one is barred regardless of their background, creed, gender or colour.

Our day had been long as these engagements folded into what turned into a starry night.  Fatigue got the both of us and that includes Billy the bird.

A quote to remember, “If we only look down, there will never be stars.”

I want to thank Andrea and Ali for the space above the Catwalk.

22 KM

Love And Not Logic Conquers

Grassy Lake, Alberta

“The best things in life aren’t things” is a saying that fits our lifestyle description quite well.  Daruka and I have every item we need to sustain our simple program.  It’s very little though – an old car, a small supply of food in a picnic cooler, our humble clothes (in my case, robes), our tent, and a bank card that withdraws from our account and then replenishes itself in an ever so ‘just enough’ manner.  We have our Gitas which purge our brains.

I should say there’s more though, there is the road and with it, the people.  One motorist stopped to talk, his name is Sibhu, and he’s from South India.  We got to discussing about the various forms of yoga – karma, bhakti, ashtanga, jnana.  Jnana refers to logic, or analytical processing.   Bhakti, the yoga of the heart is my prescription, which is also inclusive of the other forms of yoga.  Bhakti addresses love, not mundane, but divine love.  It may be interpreted as being emotional or sentimental.  My argument with Sibhu was a bhakti yogi is so trained to keep a lid on extreme emotions. Ultimately bhakti expresses emotions and appreciation for the Ultimate Source.

“Logic,” I explained, “does not conquer, but love does.  Love for the Divine is more powerful than logical thinking and philosophical speculation.”  Subhu also took the position that we have to go beyond a deity.  I agreed.  We can acknowledge the beyond factor in divine sound such as in chanting.  For the world in which we live, pure sound vibration transforms people.

I believe that Sibhu who admitted to not being raised in conventional ways couldn’t speak from a full devotional experience, yet he didn’t dismiss my position.  I met him on his way home from an evening shift, he works with the handicapped.  I hope that our paths will cross again.

I spoke of appreciation for the Divine Creator at a yoga centre in Medicine Hat and then I lead a Hare Krishna chanting session.  The group seemed to get absorbed and feel the love coming from their own mouths.

Our last stop before reaching our sleeping destination for the night and a second installment of trekking was at the home of Tarun Patel and family where warmth in the form of hospitality and fuel for the tummy put a glorious crown on the day.

31 KM

Movin’ On

Bow Island, Alberta

Surya, the sun, made a presence again.  Clouds moved on.  I moved on, Highway 3, westward.  A jovial Dutch farmer pulled over and had a chat with me.  I informed him of the Nedarlantds blood in me.  He was happy to know.

A couple with a New York license plate changed directions when they saw my robes.  Turns out they are Sai Baba devotees.  We exchanged our ‘Namaste’s and our ‘Haribol’s, which are Vedic verbal greetings.  They offered me yogurts, fruits and a granola bar.  Bless them.

At Seven Persons’ School, over 200 students came to the town’s community hall to hear about a Hare Krishna monk’s adventure across the country, what it means to do so with companion Daruka, and what it means to have a talking and squawking bird with you all the time.  The most profound question for me came after the presentation from a young girl.

“What do you do (in the open roads) when you need to go to the bathroom?”

Answer, “You really have to control your eating habits, otherwise, keep walking until you find a bush.  It could take hours though before you find one.”

By evening time, Daruka had taken me to the Dairy Queen where he had made contact with some young Indian chaps with the surname Patel.  They were so excited when he handed them a hard bound Gita in their own language, Gurjurati.  The other young Caucasian workers there took a curious moment to look at the exotic script and pictures.

Speaking of sweet encounters, reporters can offer that too.   Jamie from the Weekly Commentator paper from Bow Island agreed to meet us at the town park.  She was educating us on local history and social matters as much as we were informing her on the goodness of a combined walk and chant program.

So from the town Seven Persons to the town Bow Island where the pinto bean grows in abundance, I covered a distance of…

30 KM

Soggy Saffron Noodle

Seven Persons, Alberta

The one really nice thing about sporadic temperamental torrential rainfall is that it doesn’t go on forever.  Somewhere along the way it ceases – hopefully.  As the hours rolled on, fighting to keep my umbrella from snatchy wet winds, you do wonder if conditions will let up.  It was an interesting 6 hours exposure.  I’m grateful to have experienced my wet dynamics training from the Ireland venture, just like I had a coaching for dry and dusty trekking in Israel.

Overall I was feeling less self pity than perhaps 10 years ago when going through this type of hurdle.  I believe I’m evolving slowly.

My route was from Dunmore on Township Road 120 West to then link up to Highway 3 towards the city of Lethbridge.  Skies indicated that every which way was taking on a deluge.  By the time I completed today’s stretch of walking I was like a soggy saffron noodle waiting in a telephone booth for Daruka to fetch me. I came out of it all mentally stronger than before, it was a blessing really.

I could tell that the interviewed recording with Steve on CJCY Rock radio station the day before came on the air during my treading through the water.  You could tell by the style of honking from the motorists.  Usually they’re either short beeps on the horn or a long extended happy one, which indicates ‘we are with you, we back what you’re doing’.

According to Daruka who listened to the broadcast, the entire interview was aired with Steve who remarked at the end, “But I wonder if the monk would walk in this weather?” meaning in the rainstorm.  Daruka phoned in and let Steve know that I was dropped off at 4:30 am and indeed I was walking in the rain.  Steve then went back on air and told his listeners that he had an update on the Walking Monk who was definitely out there on the highway in the rain.

Thanks, Steve, for making the public aware.

Once I had the chance to dry off and put on dry clothes, Daruka and I headed for the town, Maple Creek.  There we chatted with a rep from the local paper The Maple Creek times for an interview with Marcia Love.  Proceeding on we made it to Sasha’s second outlet for yoga.  It’s a new space, an old credit union bank newly renovated.  The vault is still there and we took full advantage of that space which has favourable acoustical quality.  The group from town came and had a beautiful experience with candles to light this dark space.  We chanted Om Namo Bhagavate Vasudevaya.  I believe Sasha was convinced that the name of the vault room will be the Om Home.  Formally much cash was kept in the vault amongst other valuables perhaps.  It looks like money was bumped for mantra.

In the main area of the old bank I relayed more of “Tales From Trails”.  We also went directions towards Vedic or yogic philosophy, customs and rituals. A question was raised about sensuality and what role it plays in traditional Vedic society.

Explanation given:  Generally sexual activity is intimate, private, personal, even sacred as per Krishna’s message in 7.11 of the Gita, “I am sex that is not contrary to dharma.”  In other words there are guidelines and there are controls.  Public display of kama (conjugal interest) is regulated.

I want to thank Brenda Feuerstein who knows Sanskrit and has been a great networker for us in the areas of Saskatchewan and Alberta.  She is a great devotee and is doing her share to raise humanity to a higher consciousness.

26 KM

Fresh Feel

Dunmore, Alberta

I had started with a fresh feel back on the Number 1 Highway, the Trans Canada, referred to in Newfoundland as TCH and sometimes called the main drag of Canada. It’s 4:30 AM, prairie dogs (gophers) are sleeping at this time.

I ventured through Urvine, population 300+. If memory tells me right the last time I came through here there was one of those old grain elevators years ago. Not anymore. I also remember meeting and speaking with a woman by the name of Natasha. I also recall meeting a fellow in a pickup truck who stopped and said he had seen me walking in Ontario; that’s three provinces over.

The sun eventually became strong. With no shade or spring water sources for thirst, I decided to check out the weigh scale station. A real nice elderly officer supplied me with plenty of cool water and even some to go.

It’s funny how now I’m on a major highway and no one stops to talk. I have to detour slightly in order to make human contact. I liked Highway 13 for the slower pace and the increased interactive opportunities.

Daruka and I did leave the area for a visit to Swift Current and a visit to Satya Yoga Studio on Central Avenue. Sasha is the facilitator to this marvellous space. As you enter near the lobby, decorative framed messages adorn the wall – Love Deeply, Laugh Often, Live Simply.

Sasha’s students had come to listen to some of my tails from the road. We also got to chanting and discussing. One message that I try to convey is to always tread the middle path and to avoid extremism. Some of the students really delighted in a brief lesson on a Sanskrit verse,’ aham brahmasmi’, which means, ‘I am spirit’.

‘Twas good.

36 KM

Try To Keep Plugging

Calgary, Alberta

I consider today chill day number two. A meagre trek it was, 4 KMs at the most, in the north east of Calgary. My companion for the trek on trails was Gaurachandra, born as Gigi Festa in southern Italy. His Orissan wife has a good handle on prepping Italian food which is perhaps second to an Indian kitchery for being the ideal hot meal for a walker. When the plate of steamy hot pasta drenched in the red of tomato was presented to me, I boldly requested their garden basil as topping.

“No problem,” was the host’s remark, who speedily and eagerly wished to be guest friendly, and went on her feet to harvest the delectable greens. My intent at the request was to share this wealth, and so Gigi, Bindu who is from Costa Rica, and Vani Priya, the cook, went green on the tongue with this additional appetizer. Artichokes, avocado and asparagus were side dishes.

I mention about food, and especially prasadam, food that our friends consecrate before consuming or serving. A marathon walker can easily crave food for our burning cells and after hours on the road the only minor sensual outlet will be to please the palate.

“Not too much, please,” I must remind another host, “please understand, I am a swami ji, I must live a simple life. Too much rich food is not good for me.” Sometimes I have to check their generous offer of seconds and thirds. Even the firsts were big in quantity. “Have mercy,” I plead.

It sometimes becomes a playful thing. What appears as a shovel load of tasty edibles comes at you with speed, and you might have to place the head, torso and arms over the plate that is struggling to reach vacancy. If the host has his or her way, wheelbarrow loads would tip over as loads of delicious prasadam. All is done in good spirit.

I must remind myself, however good it all smells and tastes, that it was Sri Chaitanya who was a sanyassi (monk) who set up the standard for the renounced, “No fancy attire and no opulent food,” so I will try to follow in His footsteps and keep plugging away.

4 KM

Presentations and People

Calgary, Alberta

We enjoyed a packed house attendance, what was literally true, a house that was packed with people in Calgary’s north east section.  It was in the residence of Asitosh and Shirpal, a Bengali family which included a feast of green subji and sweets of misty dahi and rasagula.  I’m not a great fan of sweets, but am surrendered to the mild sweet yogurt of dahi.  Nice chanting session and an attentive group was special – all an experience of previous nights.

Sahadev, the coordinator of the Krishna community, took me to a prospective new lot with building which indicates the need for an expansion for the now existing Radha Madhava Cultural Centre in downtown Calgary.  It was a healthy sign to see a bursting attendance here also for a morning session on topics from the Gita.

Last evening we spoke from verse 6.25 which reads:

“Gradually step by step, one should be situated in trance by means of intelligence sustained in full conviction.  And thus the mind should be fixed on the Self alone and should think of nothing else.”

And this morning I spoke from 3.7 where in our guru, Srila Prabhupada, in his commentary on the verse about karma yoga, expressed this:

“A sincere sweeper in the street is far better than the charlatan meditator.”

I was thrilled to be part of a second speaking engagement today at the home of a Fijian family when another squeezed in group came to listen.  It was a reading and interactive discussion on Krishna’s entering the ancient city of Mathura.  The light that glared the most for today was a three hour kirtan chanting session at Princess Island, which is hugged by the fresh water flow of the Bow River.  The public response was tremendous.

0 KM

Highway Home

Walsh, Alberta

A Doctor Brewster Higley had composed in 1870s a well known song, ‘Home On The Range’.  His description of the countryside and the atmosphere is quite spot on when venturing through the Prairies.

Oh give me a home where the buffalo roam
And the deer and the antelope play,
Where seldom is heard
A discouraging word
And the skies are not cloudy all day.

I had three hours to trek before reaching a landmark – the Alberta border.  Two provinces to go.  Hip Hip Hari!  That milestone, Brenda and Victoria, from the town East End, joined Daruka and I for that special moment.  This called for a celebration with a picnic, compliments of our friends, the two additional walkers.  For me, the hummus was the main feature of the roadside meal before we picked up to meander the quiet streets of Walsh, population 52.

The cross-the-border-feat entailed Daruka and I leaving Highway 13 which had turned to gravel in a practically peopleless zone, and making one more leap north to the only nearby east west passage, Highway 1, or the Trans Canada Highway.  It was not so much by choice that we came to this much busier four lane road.  There is less charm here, but it was a practical move we had to make.

Obligations for an evening talk in Calgary cut the pleasant walk short today and the three of us, most notably Daruka, and let’s not forget our feathered friend Billy, and I will revisit this piece of the road Tuesday, and resume trekking the amazing trail.

I was left to contemplate on our three hour ride to Calgary of memories stuck in the mind of some fine exchanges with people from Highway 13.  It left me pining over that ‘back home feeling’.  And then, one farmer, a cattle rancher we met, who had actually turned vegetarian for a time and who had been reading the Gita, remarked in a warm tone, “I’ll be ending up life meeting a big guy who’s blue and has an extra pair of arms.”  To that, I had a laugh at the cowboy’s genuine remark.

Home, home on the range!

18 KM

Pavement to Gravel

Consul, Saskatchewan

In the previous night at Brenda’s place, people were warning of cougar sightings and to be careful. Okay! I’ve seen cougars in the wild in Saskatchewan before. Not alive, but dead. Cubs I saw, struck by traffic. I took photographs of them, they were definitely cougars.

To pay heed to the warning I decided for extra safety to avoid startling animals of the wild, especially in the dark, by chanting with more volume than usual when walking the highway. Also, I felt to give them clearance as much as possible, as routine, I walked down the middle of the road. For the first three hours of walking this stretch, you have one car per hour coming, it’s so quiet. Maybe that’s why wildlife likes it out here. At one point, I even ventured off walking the railway line for a stretch because I haven’t been seeing any trains.

Back on the road, and as usual, when the sun hits, much is revealed about evening’s goings on. Coyotes have offered their feces to the highway. They are quite neat about it, using the highway’s edge, and for some reason, avoiding the shoulder of the road. At least it tells me they are there, are alive and well.

Coming on her bicycle was Linda Brown, mayor of the village of Consul, population 70. She was charged up to meet, at this time, Daruka, Billy and I. She went off to collect two button pins to the town with its logo, we were touched.

The highway’s pavement ends at the town of Consul, and I came to terms with using the gravel of no choice. Things such as hawks accompanied me and there were the antelope, known to be the continent’s fastest runners. These creatures kept me perked up. When the rare motorist goes by, dust gets stirred up like crazy.

What are you going to do?

At 3 PM with less than a day’s notice, the local museum was filled with mostly seniors. Daruka had picked me up and drove me to the occasion. I relayed some details about the Canada pilgrimage and again, here I was able to tell of the Krishna Conscious philosophy. I felt extremely comfortable about how we definitely will not die. Our bodies will perish, but we will go on in a new existence, tweaking our journey, refining our life. “The Creator is compassionate to the point where we are permitted numerous chances.”

Our second and last presentation for the day was held in the library in Shaunavon. People there relished hearing of pedestrian pastimes with philosophy blended in. What resonated the most apart from the kirtan that all participated in was hearing that the Great Spirit is indeed a person and is present in the forces of nature. I mention that relationships and love are important to everyone and with the great spirit there’s a relationship that is solid, divine and unconditional. “God is the source and has force.”

May the Source and the Force be with you. All we need to do is serve.

30 KM

Deer Me

Highway 13 and 21 Junction, Saskatchewan

Today is Radhastami a day to honour the eternal consort of Krishna. In ashrams and temples all over the world, celebrations are centred around the feminine aspect of the Divine.

Daruka, Billy and I are far from any place of such traditional colour and ceremony, and yet we become assured from within that something special will happen today. For an early start, however, something inauspicious occurred. On our way to my starting point for the day, we hit a fawn, it was badly injured. The car took a beating on the right side, doing damage to the lights and the body. The poor fellow, the fawn, was tossed into the air and in to the side of the ditch at the car’s impact. Just after we noticed a family of four hovering the highway at predawn, Daruka was awfully broken up about it, being the driver. He returned to the victim after dropping me off, only to sit there and chant to it. The fawn did not stay long, and as we understand it, his soul was preparing for a journey to the next life.

In North America, deer and moose are the major causes for auto accidents. It’s not Daruka’s first time, so you can understand the frequency of this challenge on the road.

The day began well rounded, however, when Brenda had us over for dinner and for conducting a satsang. In this small town, called East End, population 600, if you can draw a group within less than a 24 hour notice, you’re doing good. Her place got filled up and so I presented “Tales From Trails” and interwove universal truths from the Bhagavad Gita followed by kirtan. The kirtan or chanting was quite new for the folks there, but they loved it.

We reserved time for their questions. There were many. I thank Brenda, who’s a yoga teacher herself, for clarifying to the group that yoga is not just about stretching the limbs or about improved breathing. She remarked, “First there was bhakti, devotion, then later came the exercise part.” To endorse her statement, I offered this, “In the beginning there was bhakti, and that means stretching your heart,” implying that yoga is more than just exercise and stress relieving. It is entirely holistic.

We also presented to the group the concept of Radha, the eternal partner of Krishna. That was well received.

Looking back at the deer mishap, the circumstances, although painful had an auspicious edge to it all on this sacred day.

33 KM

A Rooted Routine

East End, Saskatchewan

Daruka and I routinely sing a bhajan in honour of the guru while we’re on our route to the spot from where I left off the day before. We used no instruments. Of course, he can’t, he’s driving. We just rely on our voices to sing what is an integral part of our morning. We apply as much devotion as possible.

It’s also a good idea, particularly today, to start off on the best note, given what 9/11 means to a lot of people. Out here in the Prairie, for the people we meet, the anniversary of New York’s twin tours descent, appears rather irrelevant. Here we are far removed from an urban world.

I could clearly see what’s called Cypress Hills. They are beautiful smooth, rounded hills with coulees – a bit barren and looking like the badlands, but most interesting. Sage plants are all about “dry as a bone” would be an appropriate expression to describe some of the area. It’s great being away from billboards and retail strip fast food joints. Here it’s more or less raw nature, pastures and wheat fields, but a true sense of rawness.

A bus driver pulled over and offered words of thanks, “We appreciate the inspiration you are giving to humanity.” Then a newspaper delivery man came to walk his dog with me, also a woman by the name of Wendy came with a bag of apples from her backyard tree. A family also came to trek with me for a while in a very remote section of the highway. A farmer loading his hay for the winter’s feeding of his cows, stopped, and asked for prayers, “Rolin’s, the name. My wife is Susan. Please pray for us,” (of course I’ll oblige). Then Brenda Furerstein came to our inn for the evening. She assisted her late husband, George, in a translation of the Bhagavad Gita. She also gave me a copy. She will gather friends for mantra meditation with us for tomorrow.

And speaking of the Inn, Ed Sanford, owner/proprietor of Riverside Inn, so kindly let us stay for as long as we need. We invited Ed in for our kitcheri dinner, which we prepared in the kitchenette. This dish is great for travelling. Ed, also loved it. We consecrated it, in other words, made it prasadam. A mellow fellow, big hearted person, this Ed is. We will tag him on to our growing list of new friends.

Please remember, the pessimist complains about the wind, the optimist expects it to change, the realists adjusts the sails.

31 KM

Are You Looking For Directions?

Shaunavon, Saskatchewan

“Are you looking for directions?” asked the two young female students on their way to high school.

“No, I’m not lost, I’m walking across the country to celebrate the human body and what it’s capable of, to tap into the spiritual side of life.”

“That’s so cool! Can we get a photo with you?” And that’s how morning began and the interaction with people. One fellow was on this huge machine grating the gravel road which I took for 10 KMs, when he stopped his whole operation to talk. He relayed how he finds all kinds of people on these roads, including a guy lying in the ditch trying to sober up.

At the town of East End where Daruka and I did a presentation at the school (from K-12), the teacher asked, “Are you a quiet order of monks?”

“No, in fact, we make lots of noise with drums and songs – mantras.”

My favourite comment for the day coming from roadside folks in particular was when four bikers on their Harley’s pulled over. They stopped their engines, cut off their machines, pulled off their helmets and gloves and reached out one by one to offer a handshake of congratulations. The spokesperson said, “I guess we’re here to get some blessings.” Apparently the fellows saw me on their way into town when in town they picked up a newspaper, The Boom Town, saw and read the article about The Walking Monk. On their return journey they just had to stop and talk. They were great.

In addition to all the wonderful interactions, I was interviewed live at 6:45 AM on CBC Radio (Canadian Broadcasting Corporation) from Regina with Sheila. Then we succeeded with a tape recording interview with Penny of CJSN Radio. The Standard Newspaper with Paul also came out to the highway to take a story. Finally it was with great satisfaction that Penelope booked Daruka and I for the library on Friday to speak on Tales From Trails.

We are quite set and are certainly not lost.

30 KM

The Day Began In T-Dot

Toronto/Calgary/Saskatoon/Swift Current

The day began in Toronto in the Yorkville district, one of the locations for TIFF, the Toronto International Film Festival. Just hours after the parties rolled up to honour Hollywood stars, including those red carpets, a small group of us robe clad monastics took to those streets for our morning spiritual workout, which is walking and softly chanting. Yes, chanting and moving your mechanism is always a great way to start any day.

Via West Jet, I flew to Saskatoon with a stopover in Calgary. From there, Daruka drove us (with both of our tummies saturated in lasagna compliments of Panchami and Kasyap) to Swift Current and to our rest stop. There was very little exposure to the elements today. I could see the rolling planes, the sun, the clouds, even drops from a sun shower made their way on to the windshield, but I couldn’t feel these features being confined to conveyances.

I had time to contemplate the recent past, such as the verbal exchange I had with the professional wrestlers of yesterday. We were in fact talking about the power of maya, the conglomerate illusions of the world, and to put its personification into a permanent headlock, maybe even cut off the circulation in the process in order for maya to have a long long sleep (apparently wrestlers sometimes press on a gland in the neck of their opponent to achieve this, sounds gruesome).

Well, it is also gruesome to see a soul fall prey to all the diverse hankerings. It’s a pity to be enslaved by the very senses that gratify. Our lack of fortitude permits this slavery. Our reluctance to taste the higher taste and to settle for cheap gratification shows that we don’t want to budge much. As monastics, we never condone the pleasures of life, we just regulate them.

In fact, I came up with a line that I could use for people when they ask about my trekking, “I’m walking to celebrate the human body and the extraordinary things we can do with it such as connecting with our spiritual side. We all know our capacity to eat, sleep, mate, defend. What else are we, as humans, capable of? How about cultivating our true self awareness?”

By the time Daruka and I reached Swift Current I was overzealoused to put my feet on the ground. But sleep comes first, that was hard to do. Probably there’s too much adrenaline running through the machinery.

3 KM

Off The Road

Scarborough, Ontario

I landed in Toronto and was faced with wetness – rain all day. Rushing down the 401 Highway, my trusted driver, Nikil, with his family, and I, made it to Milligan Park in Scarborough for their first annual Chariot Festival. This event reenacts a procession held in the ancient city of Puri, India. The major highlight of this colourful event is once again, the chanting of the maha mantra.

I was really impressed by the cultural performances, most notably by a group of young girls who went on line to learn mrdanga drum beats. They went to practice, then to form a band as a solid team. Then, four young guys from the same community came forward to present a two man flute, one man violin, and one man mrdanga drum recital. It was purely instrumental and no less devotional. The tone, the mood, created that atmosphere of peace and the willingness to serve.

Perhaps of all instruments, the flute when played well is the most soothing of all to the mind. I’m not sure, but it’s just a personal opinion, or if it will ever be a debate left to public opinion. Speaking impartially, I would say, and I have mastered none as far as instruments are concerned, that would be my assessment. Perhaps science and brain scans could possibly verify this point.

The Chariot Festival was completed and I was whisked away to a post Krishna birthday event in Richmond Hill. The Bhadra family posted their 24th annual program, in which I was asked amongst other devotional obligations to say something of my current walk through the Prairies. Whenever I have the chance, I attempt to bring the audience to the road with me. I tried to express the self romanticization of the pilgrimage. It is an adventure and people do get inspiration. It’s my duty to share in this.

My lamentation for this day, however, is that time did not allow for me to do any walking, except to cross the street.

Here is a short definition of ‘pilgrim’ in the publication, The Devil’s Dictionary, by Ambrose Bierce.

“A Pligrim: A traveller who is taken seriously.”

0 KM (Sounds terrible, I know.)

Address The Fib

Saskatoon, Saskatchewan

This was a rest day before embarking on a weekend flight to Toronto for a Chariot Festival in Scarborough. My marathon has not ended, I’ll be back on Highway 13 by Tuesday.

Relaxing it was, however, you do no favour to your feet by leaving them totally idle. They are on a roll, they want to move, so I treat them to the trails in a Saskatoon suburb at Jean Avant Pond. You follow a stream of water that feeds the man made pond and surrounding landscape. I am thankful that such places exist as pedestrians and runners are exclusive here. Even cyclists would find it hard to be accommodated here.

As a monk, swami, I have the other obligation to fulfill after putting aside what appears as recreational activity, walking. I oblige as a teacher in Bhakti Yoga in the home of Kasyap and Panchami, the couple who have spearheaded the Festival of Inspiration in Saskatoon for three consecutive years now. I had the pleasure to facilitate a 9 Devotions Workshop. A perfect numbered 2 dozen participants came to interact in this open hearted program.

Following in the footsteps of my guru and a chain of teachers with origins as far as can be imagined, the aim is to help persons in transitioning to a finer dimension. By the end of the session we are meant to be feeling lighter and our view on the world, brighter. The biggest block to any transformation of this type is simply the ego. The ego is steeped in the misconception that I am this body. This, of course, is the ultimate fib.

I am not this body, but I am spirit.

8 KM

In The Vastness

Scotsguard, Saskatchewan

The only thing casting light at 4 AM out in the bareness of the prairie are the stars above, and there is my headlamp – a necessity. You need to know what you’re stepping on at this dark hour. You don’t want to land on some roadkill. Also, with the headlamp you are made known for the oncoming traffic in front or behind. Motorists must be aware that you are there. There is practically no shoulder to the road. But, traffic is light. In the first hour of my walking not a single machine came by. I’m in an area of less civilization.

By 6:30 AM, the eye of God, the sun, came up from behind. At that time you could hear the sound of crickets. Owls are now quieted and hawks began to occupy the ether, moving in swirls. To my amazement, a heard of antelope in full freedom moved with incredible speed in group tightness across the plane from one cut wheat field, crossing the road in front of me, jumping a ditch and then onto another field. Off they went. Minutes later they reappear and it is without a question that they were expressing curiosity at my presence.

En route to work, and some people stop asking if all is okay.

“Yes, I’m alright, it’s a fourth walk across Canada.”

“Good luck!” they say after I’ve identified name, my order, and my purpose.

The sun got brutal. The area is quite desolate, there was no town along the way. From what I could see, Scotsguard is not even a hamlet, maybe three buildings. The first group of trees for any real shade came at the 7th hour of the walk. There I took my one and only cat nap. Thank God for no mosquitoes in this shade, lots of flies though.

I am reminded of the wonder of nature, it’s soft and harsh sides, and I recall a verse from the Gita to allow me to savour in the thoughts of a deeper dimension. From 8.20 it reads:

“Yet there is another nature which is eternal and is transcendental to this manifested and unmanifested matter. It is supreme and is never annihilated. When all in this world is annihilated, that part remains as it is.”

After a last dash at walking, Daruka showed up having booked us for radio media in the early of next week, and some more school engagements. Eventually we made the four hour drive north to Saskatoon.

Whether on foot or in a vehicle, we are both struck with awe at the vastness of the open prairie as we sped along. Billy the parrot always gives a squawk at the sight of anything in flight.

30 KM

Fresh Cut Wheat

Cadillac, Saskatchewan

The smell of fresh cut wheat hits the nostrils as soon as I open the door to Daruka’s car and make my entrance to the highway. He drives me to the spot from where I left off on the previous day.

It’s a whole new world of exploration. Will I walk through communities that might socially be classified as ghost towns as in the case of some places I’ve been to? I’m referring to boarded up businesses, sometimes also homes that have fallen into the hands of creepers and bushes. I would say that I’ve not yet trekked through a full blown ghost town yet, but some of these places seem to be getting there. You can only imagine the life that was once there. I guess job opportunities are better in the city so these once thriving communities start to fall into decline. There is always the chance for action to spring back and for a place to blossom again. Hmmm… land must be dirt cheap here.

I proceeded on with today’s adventure and heard to my left side coyotes howling. Once they completed their chorus, a choir began to my right side, stereo. A second community of coyotes had vibrated their awesome sound. I was rather close to their proximity. The sun hadn’t really come up yet. The sound of the choir sent a shot of goose pimples up my back. I just chanted some mantras more intensely, I had to make my sound as meaningful as the coyotes.

Now the day was in full swing, the sun had come up. Greg and Lilly from the Boom Town Booster, came for an interview, and so did Matthew from the Prairie Post. And for presentations at schools now that the summer is over, Daruka and I drove our way east and then west along Highway 13 to meet our appointments in Assiniboia and Lafleche. The gymnasiums got filled up in no time. The kids were marvellous. Educators love it when we inspire kids to be more outdoors. And secondly, hearing about travel encourages kids to think outside of the box.

One thing that I wanted to share was, you know how churches often have a caption to read outside their building? Here is one that applies to attitudes:

“A pessimist needs a good kick in the cans.”

24 KM

First Day Back

Pointex, Saskatchewan

It’s the first day back at school for elementary kids . After dropping off students, a bus driver pulled over when he saw me. He’s heard of Hare Krishna before. We agreed on mutually praying for each other, even though our approaches to faith are different.

Before the real cold sets in, all kinds of repairs go on. I met a group of workmen on the railway which runs next to Highway 13. Only a ditch lies between the two routes of travel.

“What’s going on?” Asked one of the dozen or so guys with hard hats and red safety jackets.

“It’s a walk, a pilgrimage, the fourth. I chose the quiet highway this time. Hey, do you guys ever sing together, ‘I’ve been working on the railroad’.” That gave a chuckle.

The jolly spokesman said, “We do it when we need to pump each other up.”

“I do a bit of singing, chanting mantras actually, along the way. I’m a Hare Krishna monk, and it’s one of the things we do. Out here in the prairies, you can sing to your hearts content (laughter).”

Down the road, as the late morning wore on, a young rancher in a pick up truck stopped. He had a cowboy hat and the works, “Are you a Hare Krishna?”

“Sure am.”

“Can I get a picture taken with you?”

“Sure.” He got out of his truck and it seemed a thrill for him, like a bronco bustin’ affair.

Another fellow stopped. I had seen him walking his German Sheppard when I walked through the village of Hazenmore. He was so busy keeping his pet at his leash’s control that he hardly had time for me then. Now, in the vehicle, he did.

“You want a ride?” he said in English accent (sorry, I’m the one with the accent being a North American).

I explained to him what I’m up to. He knew about Krishna Consciousness. He wasn’t sure whether to address me with a ‘Hari Hari’. He also expressed he didn’t believe in God, but in religion.

“To each his own,” I said, “but to me, when I see this vast prairie and the gorgeous sky, a beautiful creation, it’s my rationale that there’s some divine intelligence behind it all.”

“I believe in the ‘fohss of naycha’”.

“I also believe in the force of nature, and we call it Bhagavan, Krishna.” It was a pleasure speaking to a guy from England. Finally because it was the first day of school, Daruka, because he’s sharp on these things, contacted the local school in Pointex.

Yes, Chantal, the coordinator for the school said, “You and your monk friend can come in on the last period of the students’ day back.” The kids were adorable, they had questions unlimited.

39 KM

Galaxy Trail

Meyronne, Saskatchewan

For starters today, I saw what seemed like a magical trail. My eyes seemed deceived. At 4:20 AM when I hit the pavement, there appeared a parallel route right above me, The Milky Way. It was directly above and it was welcoming.

If I could reach up far enough and thrust myself upside down, I might succeed to walk it. Then I would have a new perspective on things. I could see even better than now, being a small dot in the prairie, how tiny we really are, how insignificant we actually are.

As the sun slowly influenced my momentary dream to trek the heavens to the point of it dissolution, I took seriously to my dark trail again, the asphalt.

Something was moving in the grass, I approached it. A porcupine? No. A skunk. He raised his bushy tail and came forward, actually, right after me. Did I just stand there? No. I ran. He halted and finally retreated. The worst case scenario would be to receive a generous spray from a skunk. Wouldn’t Daruka love to have me in his car stinking like foul mustard oil. Sometime later in the course of the walk, a particularly large garter snake slithered his way toward the highway, to him, I was the skunk, the aggressor. He picked up speed and fled and disappeared into the grass.

Humans. They have standard questions once I explain I’m on a journey to promote pilgrimage.

“Where do you sleep? How do you eat?” Naturally the doubt is there because all they see of me is robes and a pouch for japa beads.

“Campsites mostly, in a tent,” I said. “Simple living, high thinking. Also I have a support person, Daruka, he comes and checks on me once in a while. We have our tent, cooking stove, clothes, and all of our belongings in his car.“ Once the practical concerns are met, the motorist or the person who’s questioning may want to penetrate more deeply and even get philosophical.

For the finale of the day, Daruka, Billy and I left for the home of Lynn from Ogema. There we enjoyed a potluck, discussions about natural living, reincarnation and a session of chanting. Chanting is calming, it always is when you apply yourself.

30 KM

Weyburn radio interview 8.26.13 Near Estevan Dam 8.23.13 Carlin, Becky, Hoyt, Violet, Daruka, Billie & BMS- Viceroy, SK 8.30.13 In wheat field near Assiniboia, Saskatchewan 8.28.13 Saskatchewan grain at sunrise

What About Compassion

Limerick, Saskatchewan

Just a short horse’s ride from where Chief Sitting Bull came to rest during his efforts to fight for his people, I had been walking. What an honour.

With the previous evening’s rain, and night time darkness, many salamanders came out of their areas to make a migration over the ruthless road. Blotches of their remains stain the highway. When I saw one fellow trying to make his way across, I felt I owed him one, given I had caused one of his maybe cousins to curl, squirm and squeal with my umbrella’s tip the other day. In my curiosity and exploration, I believe I gave him some pain.

“Let me treat this new guy nicely,” I thought. And then I remembered having a chat with a newspaper journalist who had come to interview me in 2007. He relayed how he was trying to do something “karmically safe” when in a grumpy mood he kicked severely a neighbours dog. He felt terribly guilty after that and decided to purchase a dog of the same breed and to look after him just to make amends.

With the same sentiment I thought I would approach the salamander and be nice to him. I stretched my body fully lying on the road (it was a quiet hour), I gave him a stroke on his head, then his back, tail and belly. He seemed to like it to the point where he remained stationary for the petting. He even closed his eyes. He then moved toward me to get more affection.

Because of this little exchange I was compelled to try it on two other guys. They reciprocated the same way. It looks like the non violent approach really works. I earned the title ‘Ghandi’ today from a motorist who shouted out the name even though he was unaware of what I had done previously.

In the afternoon it was in Regina at the ISKCON Center that I gave a talk from the Bhagavad Gita verse 5.20 which reads:

“A person who neither rejoices upon acheiveing something pleasant, nor laments upon obtaining something unpleasant, who is self intelligent, unbewildered, and he knows the science of the Absolute is to be understood to be already situated in transcendence.”

This is not to say that there are to be no feelings of compassion, but one must appreciate the neutral stance we benefit from in dealing with the dualities of this world.

I’d like to thank Justin Crann of the Moose Jaw Time Harold, who got us on the front page of the long weekend issue. In the picture I am portrayed chanting and playing on the dolak drum. The caption in bold reads, “On The Long Road To Enlightenment”. Thanks, Justin.

33 KM

Strength

Assiniboia, Saskatchewan

I’m 60 but I feel like I’m 20 these days. I got through a strong headwind today on the road and then a downpour came. I feel just about ready for anything. I take on the sun almost every day, I feel a certain strength.

Just to test my physical prowess, I challenged one of those straw bales commonly found on the side of the highway. They are cylindrical in shape with about 5 foot length in size lying sideways. I attempted to roll one which I succeeded in doing in 2003. This time I could budge and even roll it back and forth a trite, but not actually push and roll it forward. Oh well, I never claimed to be Superman or Hanuman for that matter. I’m not invincible but feeling physically well.

Just to make Daruka and I feel even better in spirit and in body someone by the name of Joy from the Assiniboia Times, a weekly, came for a few photos to put in her upcoming article. For our physical wellbeing she handed us a bag of ripe tomatoes from her garden, now that’s love. We have yet to see just how much more nutritionally set we will be after consuming those nutritionally rich love balls we call tomatoes.

Joy was great, she remembers the Hare Krishnas from the Beatles and hippie days. She had seen the Fab Four live in Seattle and Portland in her teens. Yes, the places were packed with screaming girls, and she admitted being one of them. There’s incredible strength demonstrated in the sound of a screaming damsel, and I mean no disrespect here.

Strength has many sources. Like tomatoes, herbs and greens provide much. For dinner, Daruka and I were invited to the home of a family in Assiniboia where we also settled for the night. Before walking up the steps to their house, I noticed their garden replete with veggies and herbs, one of which was fresh coriander, also known as cilantro. The green is a powerful mouth stimulator. It garnishes many food items so well. It’s supposed to be good for the eyes. Mouth watering, yummy.

I took it upon myself to ask our host if I could gather some for the meal, and they were totally cool with it. This green-wonder, with its potencies got sprinkled on all our delicious food which happened to be a grainless meal.

That strong meal, strong sleep, then strong walk. Where does strength come from? From God.

37 KM

Red Coat Trail

Viceroy, Saskatechewan

This Highway 13 is also known as the Red Coat Trail, the Royal Canadian Mountain Police made this their patrol route, a century or two ago. On horseback they moved. Now with less charm, police use motorcars. But, they are rare to see. I guess it’s a good sign. Crime is at a minimum along this quiet prairie trail where I feel at times a stronger presence of hawks than humans. Locals tell Daruka and I that a man on a horse came through here last year. Dressed like a knight in shining armour, he got quite the attention.

It was a young farmer, Carlin, who got curious about Daruka and his bird. Daruka was on the side of the road, snapping away with his camera when Carlin demonstrated the usual prairie road courtesy. If you’re parked on the side of the road in the prairies, that means you could be stranded, so Carlin inquired when he saw Daruka, “Is everything okay?”

That encounter led to another brunch invitation, this time, by Carlin. I completed my quota of 30 kms when Daruka had come to get me on board for a quick trip to the farm. There we met Becky, his wife, a 3 year old son, and a new born of 6 weeks. Our hosts treated us warmly to kamut, a delicious grain that pulled the Egyptians through hard famine years in ancient times. If this clan is a sample of wholesome prairie life, then I’m impressed. We were made to feel at home.

In conversation we didn’t so much speak about pilgrimage, but of the kamut itself and of the way of looking at food from the Vedic perspective. We shared with them the neatly categorized food types according to the Vedic wisdom of India. These 3 basic categories are sattva, food that either calms and/or provokes attentiveness, rajas, food that inspires passion and fire, and tamas, food that encourages lethargy, slowness or dullness. For our short stay with the family, the food category we partook in was very life giving.

Our visit with this farming couple terminated with a drive to the city of Moose Jaw, known for being mobster Al Capone’s hideaway in Canada. At Crescent Park, a small group of enthusiasts for kirtan (chanting) gathered to send a collective good vibe to this city whose attraction draws casino goers as well as other more sattvic features. The local newspaper rep, Justin, reporting for the Times Herald, came by, I guess to harness a positive story for the long weekend.

My message is, “You don’t have to walk to the extreme like me, but if you put in a small percentage of that, you’re doing good. Do meditate, chant or pray in the process. In this way the physical and spiritual become one.”

Thanks to Victor and Jagadish for all the help they provided today.

30 KM

Honouring our guru

Regina, Saskatchewan

Last night we engaged in a celebratory event, Janmastami, in Regina, until 1:30 AM. After a good rest, I conducted a program to honour our guru, Srila Prabhupada. I had the good fortune to put in 10 kms on the road to a place near Horizon. Here is my offering of devotional sentiment to the guru.

You never did leave us

Your books contain your spirit

Your apparent departure

A myth without merit.

You are alive as ever,

Mortality has no place

For the voice of truth

Within time and space.

Your teachings bear power

Thrusting “real” enjoyment

And tightening controls

To sensual amazement;

They are for all times

Nothing relative

But relevant, teaching

The art that, “we give”.

No truth superior,

Science of the self

Most secret of secrets

Not to stay on ones’ shelf.

To live in this realm

Entities do cry

Deprived of peace

And Maya being dry.

Examining the real / surreal

What to conclude?

That life is constant?

The Force to include?

The cosmic clock ticks

Wearing us away

‘Til we look to sport

With Him and to play.

We thank you for that

All mentioned above.

There is no repay

For this genuine love.

We have you and Him

Making it all whole

Our final exam

Is to reaching this goal.

10.5 KM

On His Birthday

Ogema, Saskatchewan

I wanted to tell the world that today is Krishna’s birthday. The strange thing was that not one motorist, not one soul stopped to talk. There were the regular honks and hand waves, but no one came to a standstill to offer congratulations on the marathon trek, or inquire about wellbeing or offer some water to drink.

This registered to me that this is the way it’s meant to be. Perhaps solitude was a theme to live by on this special day until social interaction would pick up in the evening in Regina at the ISKCON centre.

In any event, solitude, I achieved, especially when at one moment at about the middle mark of 15 kms I was dragging feet with fatigue. Some pranayam breathing also didn’t help much. I just needed forty winks as I believe is the expression, or a cat nap. So where do I have such a snooze in a desert like place where there’s hardly a tree about, and where soft grasses means bugs unlimited? I’ve taken a nap on a bale of hay before, but the ones that I see that are in my purview are all too close to the road. God knows, someone will notice me lying there and honk their horn or call the police.

I settled for a space on a plowed field and tucked myself behind a clump of grass. This was perfect for a spot to nap. Yes, one of those grasshoppers did come to terminate the great doze by jumping on my chest. His timing was perfect though, I proceeded on foot. Personally, I would give anything to live like this, in the freedom of nature’s bedroom choices over the fanciest suite in a five star hotel.

The sun was hot by the time I reached Ogema, a small town that apparently wished to name itself Omega, but the name was already taken so a juggle of letters solved that problem. In fact, the sun was a blast with 35 degrees Celsius temperature. I craved for shade like I craved for Krishna. With some ground work done by Daruka and the charm of our princess parrot, the few downtowners were out to break the solitude with their individual greeting. It started with a welder who spotted me and invited me into his shop for a cold water. What a sweet experience it was given the fact that it’s a full day fast until midnight, Krishna’s actual time of His divine birth.

At the next town over, Pangman, Daruka and I couldn’t resist but to enter the local outdoor pool. No one was there except for Bernie, the lifeguard. Slowly the place filled up with dads, moms and kids, breaking a supposed solitude. Happily, we were able to tell as many as we could that it’s Krishna’s birthday.

30 KM

Time Goes By

Khedive, Saskatchewan

Time goes by so quickly when walking. 4 AM is suddenly 5 AM and then 6 AM and so on and on and on. The scenery change, the weather change from dark to light to bright, the interaction with people are all fillers to the time factor.

The chanting which I do during the mobile process also offers a kind of groundedness or gravity to the otherwise irritable mind. For certain, the Hare Krishna mantra keeps me from a weary state of being, it gives energy. When speaking about the physical world there’s nothing that can infuse and enthuse you with optimum thought like when you are under the open prairie skies. The sky tells you to unleash, to dream, to be creative, to rise to the spirit of freedom and to giving and to offering your whole self to the world and the Creator.

Yet, that said and done, there is not a day that perfectly lays itself out. For me there is always going to be some leg and foot issue, and in the case of today, an harassing sun, but that’s alright. This is to be accepted as the nature of the world with all its dualities. How can we develop an evenness of mind unless dualities are honoured? Count your blessings, my friends.

My blessing was partially felt in spending the balance of the day in a room at Circle 6 Motel, compliments of owner Aswin Brahmini, a Gurjurati gentlemen. He’s been arranging an East Indian meal of chapattis, rice and subji, even in the thick of his busy schedule.

I had put in a good day of trekking practically without stoppage once it begun. Meanwhile Daruka constantly chats with residents of Weyburn, and also clicks away with his camera. Today, his main subject was grasshoppers which are numbering in millions on the road. He caught one grasshopper couple mating. He positioned his camera and as he put it, “They gave me a look as if to say, ‘Do you mind?’”

My relationship with these jumping bugs is as an observer. So many of them get ruthlessly crushed under the wheels of the motorists. Then, to respond to the tragedy, their cohorts come to the victim and either feast on them or reverentially stand by in sadness. I’m not sure what are the dynamics.

Are there any grasshopper gurus out?

30 KM

Switching Trails

Weyburn, Saskatchewan

It was not a snap decision but one that was well thought out. Daruka and I decided we had to switch roads. Highway 18, although cutting through nice landscape, was becoming a challenge. In spots, it turns into gravel and where paved, it becomes uneven, quite hazardous to the wheels of our support car, a’93 Mercury Grand Marquis. Okay for my feet though. The area was becoming quite barren with population sparse. We decided to leap north to the highway parallel to us, Highway 13. Locals tell us it was a wise decision.

The move brought us to the city of Weyburn, population 11,000. This is where Tommy Douglas started his career. For those readers who are not Canadian, I’ll mention that he was voted as being the most popular Canadian being the father of medicare in Canada. Having your medical needs met is precious for residents of this big country.

Before Daruka had a chance to get into 103.5’s radio station with our walking story, the station was already informed by a motorist who saw me trekking, “You can’t believe what I just saw…” phoned in the person. The description of a monk on foot ambling his way through town excited the crew and as they were just making their way out the door, Daruka popped in with Billy perched on his shoulder. The radio hosts came out to search and caught up with me and Daruka. After the interview, our message with photo was put on line entitled, “On a Wing and a Prayer”.

For my 2nd instalment of walking today, motorists seem to respond to that message. Again, people are so nice. The route here is primarily agribusiness and less of the oil industry. By nature’s way the road here is lined with the potent fragrance and presence of chamomile. Hawks continue to be in flight above on this new route.

Sometimes the heat hits you hard. If someone stops and they want to talk, the heat appears to dissipate. There is nothing like communicating about the virtues of reflective walking and of the simple lifestyle. One fellow who stopped while on his way to the oil pipes said, “Hey, I’ve just finished reading Sharma’s book, ‘The Monk Who Sold His Ferrari’.” This true story tells of a man’s successful business ventures and how he came close to a life threatening illness. That turned him to the life of simplicity and taught him that less is more.

31 KM