It’s afternoon in New Raman Reti. When the curtains open at 4:15pm for arati, it’s just me, the pujari, and God. In the heat, the fragrance of gardenias and roses has filled the templeroom. I settle to the cold marble floor with the harmonium and sing something soft and sweet, with no rhythm.
After the arati, I sit cross-legged out on the verandah and honor mahaprasad of fruit and lemonade, and the pujari turns on the music of Srila Prabhupad singing.
I watch white clouds breathe and dance in the clear sky. Oak trees draped in Spanish moss become illuminated in gold in the early evening sun. Whispers of gardenia brush past in the breeze. And when I close my eyes, all I hear is the song of birds and the voice of Srila Prabhupad.
Year after year, on these afternoons in such overflowing peace, the thought always seems to rise to the surface of my mind: this is the perfection of life.
And I've come to realize that in Krishna Consciousness, there’s no limit to how many times I can say that.
After the arati, I sit cross-legged out on the verandah and honor mahaprasad of fruit and lemonade, and the pujari turns on the music of Srila Prabhupad singing.
I watch white clouds breathe and dance in the clear sky. Oak trees draped in Spanish moss become illuminated in gold in the early evening sun. Whispers of gardenia brush past in the breeze. And when I close my eyes, all I hear is the song of birds and the voice of Srila Prabhupad.
Year after year, on these afternoons in such overflowing peace, the thought always seems to rise to the surface of my mind: this is the perfection of life.
And I've come to realize that in Krishna Consciousness, there’s no limit to how many times I can say that.
1 comment:
this is beautiful. :)
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