I am beginning to write this blog post at 2:39 in the morning. I hear the heater whooshing throughout the house, and I sit in a pool of soft light in my kitchen.
It's like this at the conclusion of almost every school semester - all the tension built up over months just whooshes out of me, and I end up feeling hummingly quiet and peaceful at some crazy hour in the night. I just want to write.
At times like these my mind wanders to my moments in India in the holy lands of Vrindavan and Mayapur. I feel as though I'm actually there.
In Vrindavan, I smell the tang of smoke and cow dung, a smell like no other place on earth. Temples rise from horizons in the rose-colored haze. In Mayapur, I gaze at a universe of stars, and the moon shines down upon fields of banana leaves and gilds them silver.
I sit here at my kitchen table in my pajamas, so far away from the holy lands, and yet I am so close. So close.
It's like this at the conclusion of almost every school semester - all the tension built up over months just whooshes out of me, and I end up feeling hummingly quiet and peaceful at some crazy hour in the night. I just want to write.
At times like these my mind wanders to my moments in India in the holy lands of Vrindavan and Mayapur. I feel as though I'm actually there.
In Vrindavan, I smell the tang of smoke and cow dung, a smell like no other place on earth. Temples rise from horizons in the rose-colored haze. In Mayapur, I gaze at a universe of stars, and the moon shines down upon fields of banana leaves and gilds them silver.
I sit here at my kitchen table in my pajamas, so far away from the holy lands, and yet I am so close. So close.
Vrindavan
Mayapur
Oh to be in Mayapur again. Such wonderful memories of chanting alongside the Jalangi. Thanks for sharing your memories and pictures. Just the mere thought really takes us there for a moment. I hope you realize your dream to visit the Dhama again soon.
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