Chanting and distributing books near an old ashram
I am a recovering addict. Although I met devotees eleven years ago, I have not been able to maintain the four regulative principles. Over the past four years, I was on a methadone program, and now I am in the process of detoxing from that poison.
For the last four nights I was unable to sleep, and just last night I slept for a few hours. By Krishna's mercy, because my body finally had enough stability and a little energy, I begged for a little service.
“Go and chant four good rounds at Wilton's Bush,” spoke the Lord in the heart.
I went for a japa walk at Wilton's Bush and put some books in my bag to take along. During my short drive down there, I kept remembering the men's ashram that used to be next to Wilton's Bush. It was a special shelter for many wonderful souls, under the care of Mahavan and Khadiravan. I wondered whether the people living there now had received any purification from staying there in the wake of so many saintly personalities.
After finding a nice spot among the trees, I tried my best to chant. Just as I finished round four, a young couple from Germany walked up. Seeing my bright purple beadbag, they looked at me a little apprehensively. I said hello and told them I was just doing my meditation. Then, after a little get-to-know-you chit-chat, I told them about the Bhakti Lounge's wonderful programs and vegetarian meals.
“I'm a vegetarian,” said the girl.
“Here's your chance!” cried the Lord in the heart.
I presented the Raja Vidya.
“Thank you,” she said, opening the book, reaching for some coins, and handing the book to her partner.
They continued on their walk. Enlivened, I chanted another four rounds.
The next order of the day was to approach a few doors. Directly to my left there was a driveway lined with pensioner-style units. At the first door there was no answer. Chanting Krishna's names to purify the atmosphere, I knocked on the second door, and an older lady answered with a slight grimace on her face. I delivered my best mantra, but she said she gets maybe seventy people a year coming by and asking for donations. I remembered the last time someone knocked on my door, expecting a donation for a charity. So I told her that I really knew how she felt.
But I made another plea, saying that this was the best cause, and she said OK. She went inside and returned with ten dollars! I gave her a book, and we talked a bit more about butterflies and her garden.
At door No. 3 an even older lady answered. Her icy veneer was too much for me, but I asked her to please say “Gauranga!” She said it with the beginning of a smile. I told her that Gauranga brings peace and happiness.
“Gauranga,” she said again with a full smile. “It's so cold today,” she said as she closed the door.
This last statement of hers stayed with me . . .
A girl opened the final door.
“I have that book,” she said, pointing at the Gita.
I persuaded her to take a Raja Vidya and gave her a mantra card and a flyer.
Then I arrived at what used to be the ashram at Wilton's Bush. Spider webs adorned the bottom of the front door. It was surrounded by overgrown weed gardens. After a loud knock and no answer, I went around the back and knocked again. Looking through the glass, I saw a beer poster and a fishing poster on the walls. The recycling bins were full of empty bottles.
So sad! I thought of a jewel box sitting in a rubbish dump that all the jewels had been taken out of. Krishna mercifully showed me that without devotees, this world is as empty and lifeless as bottles in recycling bins.
As I walked back to the car, I thought of the old lady who had chanted Gauranga. I felt inspired to give it one more shot, as I had two extra dollars in donations. The sweet Lord seemed to be approving of the last bhakti-yoga I had to offer. Perhaps it would be that poor lady's salvation.
“Hello, it's you again,” she said at the door.
“Your lovely neighbor gave me a large donation, so I felt inspired to give you this small book to warm your heart on this cold day.”
She smiled and asked how to spell that word Gauranga.
“G A U R A N G A.” “Gauranga,” she said warmly. “Gauranga.” Then she closed the door. My hard heart melted a little more.
Your aspiring servant,
Bhakta Steve
