The Disciple's Vow

At times I feel overwhelmed, alone and afraid. I don't even recognize myself sometimes and I feel as if I've transformed into an entirely different person. I've learned that, like a marriage, it is impossible for one to truly know their spiritual partner. One could spend his or her entire life with someone and still have a shallow or incomplete understanding of that individual. A spiritual master may see only what representation the disciple portrays of him/herself. (The eternal spiritual master who resides in the heart, Sri Guru, however, is never fooled.)
Disciples frequently lack the maturity or complexity to understand the desire and wishes of the spiritual master. Likewise, it is daunting to understand the Self. While the pact between master and disciple is before God to each other, allegiance in spiritual life is also an allegiance to the Self. The disciple is obligated to act always in his spiritual best interest. By no exaggeration, it is the primary priority of the initiated disciple to remain chaste to her eternal spiritual identity and duty. Failure to do so would hamper all progress and lead her astray; in fact, such misgivings could turn her away from the spiritual path entirely if given to offenses and accumulated misconceptions.
I do not know my Self. I do not understand my Self. I've often succumbed to doubt, temptation, fear and, most of all, hesitation. I fear to act, speak, feel or think for fear that it may not be palatable to others. I fear that my actions could be misconstrued or condemned or deemed reckless. I've found few things that truly bring me joy-- music, martial arts, and dedicated study. I've found that often I learn more valuable lessons in pursuit of mundane knowledge than in a dry discourse. I've seen drug addicts, addicts of the flesh, gamblers and so-called lost souls with more humanity, compassion and wisdom to offer than even the most weathered practitioner in temple. I find their lessons most valuable, relevant and influential-- for they remind me that the Lord can lead anyone back Home just as easily as illusion can lead her astray.
O Keshava! I've seen You staring back at me in the pages of a book. I have seen the Lord-- He was hidden between scribbled notes on the page. The Lord was found in careful arithmetic and calculations, in the relaxed breath between poetic phrases, dancing amid notes on sheet music. He was intelligence, beauty, an exasperated sigh and fluent understanding breaching forth from the page. I felt the Divinity within myself, around me, encoded within the multiverse, and brimming forth unbounded! I felt alone in this realization as I feared no one else had this same vision and yet I felt swaddled, safe in the Divine Feminine's arms.
Of all my identities, I found that the one I treasure, protect and keep hidden is the one that I should nurture and cultivate. She is locked away in a tower, accessible only with great effort. She is appalled and frustrated and distrustful of the outside world. She lives in her own imagination, in a fantastic faery-tale realm with ivory towers that offer her fortification from the grotesque. She is alone and peaceful, and yet restless and yearning for escape. She remains chaste, loyal and faithful to her spiritual master and awaits patiently his orders and instructions!

Gouranga Duti Pada

Today I woke up late at 5am. Our hope was that I would get the boys up early enough to make it to the early morning service (mangala-arati) but I figured it wouldn't happen so I prepared for my home altar service. The boys got up relatively early for a weekend (and spring break at that) and they helped out a lot with the services. Since today is a Gouranga Mahaprabhu's appearance day, we planned a large festival and worship for Gouranga. I sewed a new outfit for Giriraj Lal, a turban, two dhotis and chadars for Gour-Nitai. I thought the turban would take more time and I wasn't sure if I would be able to finish it. Kanai volunteered to make garlands, he designed a garland for Giriraj that was adorable.
We took a breaks for breakfast and lunch but the entire day was full of preparations for the festival. I managed to finish the outfits before it was time to go to the temple celebrations. I changed Nitai into his new outfit and quickly showered and changed before we left to Radha Kalachandji's temple. When we got there, I immediately couldn't stand it. The place was already packed and the festival was just getting started. I wore my new yellow silk sari with this gorgeous embroidery work. I think it's my new favorite sari. After the temple's bathing ceremony, it was time for us to get home and do our home deity's bathing ceremony. We did a bathing ceremony, worship ceremony and I got to lead the Gour arati prayers. We were supposed to go back to temple for the procession around the block but the boys and I were hungry and exhausted so we decided to go back home and eat. Dinner was fantastic. I was full so I decided to lie down for a bit and check Facebook. Maria and I took some cute photos today but she's really good at taking photographs.
I wanted to shared a prayer in glorification of Lord Gouranga's two lotus feet:

The Lotus Feet of Gouranga are my life and soul.

They shelter and protect me from the onslaught of material suffering.

The Lotus Feet of Gouranga are my only refuge.

They are like an oasis in the burning, desert-like material existence

My Lord Gouranga has come with the gift of Divine Love of God

He freely distributes it to whomever asks for it

Regardless of whether one is qualified or not.

My Sweet Lord Gouranga has shown the path back to Godhead

By personally taking up the process of chanting the Holy Name.

May that Holy Name bring upon Divine Love in my heart!

May that Holy Name purify my existence!

May that Holy Name always dance upon my tongue!

The Lotus Feet of Gouranga are my treasure, my soul, my greatest solace! 

Serie Anonimo

Anonymous Series

La Primera/The First

One of the final things you said seemed unenlightened from my perspective. Though I could bring myself to understand or accept this situation as a reality for others, it never crossed my mind that, perchance, such circumstances would ever fall upon me or mine. That is, if you would allow yourself to be mine. You broached the topic carefully and I understood it immediately for it was of sensitive and somewhat scandalous nature.

La Segunda/The Second

Today I felt particularly drawn to you. I wanted to tell you about something that happened over the weekend but it wasn't exactly appropriate and we had company. I can't tell you how much I love talking to you alone in your office. I really like it when I hear you playing some music or practicing alone in there between classes. That's why I peek in and sit with you, even if I don't have anything of interest to talk about. Sometimes, when you get really quiet, it feels cozy and safe, even if we're sitting far apart. I'm glad I met you and that we're becoming friends because I feel like I can speak freely with you unlike others. I feel like we've been friends for ages, possibly lifetimes, and that you understand my subtle moods quickly as well as their cause. I don't have to reveal much to you; intuitively, you perceive and understand everything perfectly such that at times I feel you're a mind reader! I feel that you sense my eagerness when I walk in the door or the hesitation by the sound of my dragging feet or defensiveness when I hide out in the room alone for a while listening to music or watching puppy videos. Sometimes, we don't have to say anything at all but remain silent, comfortably in each other’s presence. Why wouldn't you feel the same around me if I feel that way about you? Isn't that how Mother Nature designed attraction and coded this into our biology?

La Tercera/The Third

Oh, when she came into your office I wanted to rush her out. I know she has a bit of a crush on you and, though I understand her, I frequently feel irritated when she simply barges in or when she interrupts or distracts you from our conversations. I feel that way and I think you do as well; in fact, I’m sure you can sense my annoyance and jealously of her. You love her so much and she loves you but I’m starved, absolutely starved, for your attention. Pay attention to me! Why don’t you ever look at me when I gaze lovingly at you? Is it that you’re afraid to make contact with me? I assure you that I desperately desire every bit of your affections and attentions, but frequently I feel your trepidation and fear.

Is it that you’re ashamed of me? I’m not ashamed of you. I want you—every part of you but I also know your position. You’re in a position of authority and power in so many ways and your life is very public to your students. Why wouldn’t you feel a bit ashamed of me? I represent every unethical possibility and disastrous outcome and scandal. I promise I’d do my best to keep your public life safe from prying eyes and use utmost discretion. Couldn’t it work if we sat down and carefully planned ahead?

Secret Notes

Dear Sunshine,
I want to tell you a dozen things.
I want to tell you how much you intrigue me but I know it's a bad idea.
I'd like to get to know you better and tell you more about myself in turn, but in the process I know I could get myself and others hurt.
Knowing full well, I still feel drawn toward you. I yearn to reach out toward you much like a sun-loving vine tangles her way forward and climbs toward the warmth of the sun's rays.
-Latā, The Vine

Dear Beloved,
I managed to finally rid myself of you, that is, until today. I ran across an acquaintance and instead of moving forward gracefully, I found myself wanting to dig for any information as to your whereabouts, well-being, etc.
Perhaps I could inquire, but I know it was unlikely that I could manage the task without giving myself away-- or appearing desperate for you. (You know how I care about impressions.)
How can I know you, truly, when I am ungrateful of you when I have to to myself?  I take our moments for granted and then pine for you in the aftermath of your absence. Why is it so hard to admit that to you when we're together, alone?
-Ekākī, The Loner

Tolerating Happiness

Yesterday I heard a deafening screeching in my ear. It was the sound of energetic enthusiasm unbounded and unrestrained. I told myself that this too would pass... both happiness and distress are fleeting. Actually, my eagerness and excitement were expected so I knew precisely how to counteract it. Temperance, young grasshopper. I didn't think anyone would understand if I told them that I was tolerating happiness, or my need to do so, and so my mind connected two completely unrelated situations and men to each other. I later confided to one, "This incident reminded me of some words you spoke a while back. I'm tolerating happiness." and he chuckled, nodded and earnestly said, "If Krishna's devotee remembers me, it is to my good credit." I felt closer bonded to him than before. How can you tell someone you love them in so many words? Is that possible?
I believe it is. A simple gesture, glance, or words can have the evocative phrasing and nuance of a finely crafted poem. That isn't to say that he understood the full import of my experience. I can not know for sure, of course, but I don't think he understands how deeply his words moved me or what profound truths were revealed therein. If you ever read this: I love you! 

Jazz Head

This Party Is On
So my latest dream takes place at a party and it begins with my my son and I showing up to the venue of an arts and crafts themed children's party. The host set up crafting stations for every craft imaginable. For example, one table was fully equipped with felt puppet making supplies like googly-eyes, hot glue guns, felt, etc. while another was a paper crafting table. The host even hired chaperones for each table-- most of them retired teachers and volunteers. My son was enamored with all the tables and decided to make a rouched black pencil skirt. After machine stitching the skirt panels, he hand-basted some loose gathers at the center front and back to get an idea of what the skirt would look like. I really loved the skirt, it looked great, especially for a nine year old's first try at sewing. The stitches were straight and even, the tension on his thread looked perfect, but the basting was a little slanted. The only thing he worried about was the size of the skirt because he hadn't taken my exact hip measurements before starting. "I think it looks fine, babe, but I can try on the skirt if you want." I said as I ducked into a nearby bathroom.
Rouched Mess
What I hadn't taken into account was that the material was stretchy and he hadn't used elasticized thread on the gathers or stretched the material as he stitched the vertical basting stitch so the hem was too high at the center front and back. When I tried on the skirt, my crotch and butt were completely exposed while the rest of the garment rested snuggly on my thighs. I have to disclose that I wasn't wearing any under garments, so I couldn't even model the skirt for him because there was a room full of nine and ten year olds that surely would laugh at my humiliation. It was like third grade all over again. I tugged hopelessly at the front of the skirt until the basting thread popped and the skirt front fell near my knees. Krishna Chandra knocked and peeped from behind the door and giggled at the silly sight. "It's alright, I can fix that later." he reassured me. He only saw the front of the skirt and I explained to him that I couldn't possibly come out because the back was more embarrassing; the basted gathers bunched up to the point of least resistance somewhere along my lower back. He got the picture and just had a fit. Besides the mishap with the basting stitch, the skirt was well-made. I assured him that we could finish the project at home where we had more materials and measuring tape. He laughed and I looked for my lover to show him Krishna Chandra's outfit.

Social Butterly

As it turns out, I knew plenty of people at the party, and by 'people' I mean intelligent adults with whom I could converse with for more than three minutes at length. Apparently, I was single because everyone at this party either kept asking me if I was seeing anyone yet or they would flirt and ask me out. I was seeing someone, and by 'seeing' I mean I was having casual sex with someone I knew but we weren't an official couple. My dream self is not very complicated but she confuses me. I really enjoyed the attention at the party but as the party went on, I started to feel guilty about lying to my friends about my relationship status. I wanted them to know the truth but I didn't know if my lover wanted to be my boyfriend yet. I looked for him everywhere as he assured me that he would be at the event, which, as I already related was more like an Arts and Crafts fair than a kid's birthday party. I started to feel bored and frustrated without my partner and so I left search for him. I wondered if he had fallen asleep or if he was sick, or if something terrible had happened to him.
Mountain Cabin
Around that time, someone mentioned to me that a huge storm was headed toward my lover's house and several attendees got emergency weather alerts from the National Weather Service in close succession on their smart phones. Thunderstorm warning. Flash floods. Hail. Heavy Rain. Flood warning. The jarring sounds of emergency alarms resonated in the corridors, which amplified the cacophony and my trepidation. I jumped into my car and drove to my lover's part of town and then hiked the rest of the way up to his cabin. He lived in a log cabin with a beautiful scenic mountain near a lake or river. As I hiked up to his place, I noticed the emerging thunderstorm clouds nearing the mountain and remembered that terrifying sound of resounding alarms so I ran up the rest of the way. I saw my lover's vehicle nearby and an unknown car as well. I thought that he must've gotten tied up with unexpected guests and was hosting them. Being cut off from cell towers and internet, he must not have received my texts of any weather alerts. It all made sense; I just had to warn them that the storm was on its way to this part of town and get them out of here before the flood water washed away the mountain side. Images of landslides and a collapsing mountain side wiping my lover's cabin from the face of the Earth rushed through my mind. As I approached his window side, I caught a glimpse of him in bed with a young blonde woman. As it turns out, my secret lover is none other than my husband, Chandaneswar. I should relate that is a recurring theme in my dream. It is unclear whether Chandaneswar and I are divorced, separated or if we were ever married in the dream. I just know that I'm an available single mother, a flirt, and I'm sleeping with an asshole. I don't know what it means, and it doesn't matter because we're at the scariest, darkest, most sinister, disturbing part of the dream. I hiked up the mountain trail past my lover's cabin and looked down at the view.
As I stood on the mountain side, a deep sense of calm detachment washed over me. I realized that his cabin was a perfect bachelor pad. I began to contemplate my life and wonder if it I wanted to make a scene or confront them. I grew apathetic and indifferent and concluded that it really didn't matter. I was using him as much as he was using me; perhaps I only wanted him for the purposes of filling a void in an uncomfortable social scenario. After all, I wasn't accustomed to handling social events alone. Eventually I would have to accept this new identity and social dynamic. As the storm descended upon that mountain, I decided to let my lover and his lady friend brave the storm and its wrathful destruction on their own. I didn't have to warn them, after all. Maybe they would perish in the flood water and resulting landslide. Who knows? Who can say for sure? Who knows the future?
Creative Destruction
I ran back to my car, got in and drove back to the party. As I drove, I remained eerily calm and determined that I would write my own future. I would go back to that party and get some phone numbers of people who wanted to be with me, who had no problem asking me out in public, and who didn't keep their cards to themselves. When I got back people were looking for me and asked me where I went and why I took off. I told them that I went to pick up a friend but got scared when I saw the approaching storm so I turned back. They all assured me it was wise that I had come back to the party quickly, I have a young son to care for after all. Krishna Chandra was still hanging out at the sewing station so I sat at an empty bench, grabbed some scrap paper and started jotting down lyrics, chord progressions, and a simple melody line. In my melancholic trance, it quickly turned into a jazz chart and song about murdering my lover and his mistress. I showed it to a couple of jazz guys and musicians at the party and asked them if they thought it was any good. The consensus was that it was inexplicably brilliant. "Have you ever written jazz before?" someone asked. "No, but I guess I should." I replied.

Well-Oiled Machine

Sri Gopi Nath Giri Dhari

Sri Lakshmi

Today Chitravasini and I had errands and shopping to do early in the morning so I didn't get to worship My Lordships this morning. Fortunately, I knew that today was going to be busy so I prepared the lunch menu and got most of the preliminary stuff out of the way. I didn't get home until almost 2pm, but as I don't have a fixed schedule for Their worship and so on, I figured I could run errands and do the puja later. After their abhishek and srngar, I offered Them something to eat and I was surprised to see that I completed my full routine in under an hour! I love it when the everything runs smoothly like a well-oiled machine!

Sri Sri Lakshmi Narasimha Deva

Sri Madan Gopal Ji

I have been struggling the past few weeks to get any new ideas for Deity outfits. The last time I made Their Lordships a new outfit was probably around a festival. I really want to make more time for Them and use some of the new brocade fabric that is sitting around idly. I hope I can get more time, but as it stands, I hardly get enough time for myself. Most of my time is consumed my school, puja, and practicing. I hope Lord Balaram empowers me and Lord Krishna accepts my offerings. Today my jasmine didn't give many flowers and I think this is because it's going out of season soon. I'm really upset because on top of this, my gardenia has passed away. I figured I could revive her but after weeks of struggling with her, I finally put her to rest. I uprooted her from the soil and I saw her root system was not very strong. This is unfortunate; I'm really depressed but hopefully I get more flowers and shrubs this weekend! Chandaneswar prabhu hired a landscaper to plant new gardenia shrubs for me!

nityanandam aham naumi sarvananda karam param
harinam pradam devam avadhuta shiromani 

namo maha vandanyaya krishna prema pradayate
krishnaya krishna-chaitanya namne gaura tvishe namah

Jay Gopeswar Mahadev!

Anonymous Notes: The Last Time I Saw You

The last time I saw you, I felt anxious. I felt that you wanted to talk to me and it appeared you waited around in the hall in hopes of seeing me. I don't blame you; I've attempted the same before myself. There was no reason for you to stick around; the more I mingled, the more I realized that you probably were trying to reach out. I don't know whether you think I'm stupid enough to engage you or if your intentions are completely innocent. I don't know whether you think I'm a flirt or just friendly or that perhaps you have a chance in hell at striking up a fling off the cuff. What does it all matter now? As long as you persist, I'll resist. I'll keep you at a distance. Your demeanor is deceptively relaxed but I can see beneath that nonchalant veneer, my darling. 

The last time I saw you, I felt the happiest in my life. We were both absorbed and entranced in a delightful conversation and I didn't even care who else was around or eavesdropping because I simply couldn't have enough time with you. There was a palpable sense of urgency and desperation in the air that evening that drove me. Where shall we meet again, if ever, and when? I don't know if I'll ever see you again, or if I'll even have the courage to express to you how much you've touched my soul. I love you. I love you so much it just fucking hurts.

The last time I saw you, I felt we were both painfully awkward. I couldn't really find words to fill the empty void. I gave you a gift and without any reservation, you expressed how surprised you were but we didn't really speak again after that. I wonder how you are sometimes but honestly, I can't even be around you anymore. Sometimes I think you're deliberately trying to hurt my feelings and I can't wrap my head around you. Are we okay or not? I don't understand how you have so much power over me. Why do I care what you think about me? Is it because I still care about you? I can't stand you sometimes.

The last time I saw you, you told me I was beautiful and that you regretted the past. I accepted your apology because you seemed sincere and it was such a long time ago. I think you wanted me to feel sorry for you, your situation, your circumstances, and your hard times. I don't really give a shit. I don't care about your hard times because they were your own doing. You've manipulated and deceived plenty of people in your life and that is why you suffer. I don't know if you'll ever read this, but if you do, I hope you know I helped you because I cared for you, not because I felt pity. I wanted us to be friends and move forward but you crossed me in the worst possible way. How could you do it? 

The last time I saw you, I knew it would be the last time. I knew in my heart that I would have to live with this longing for the rest of my life and that every so often, that pang of separation would crop up, I'd stab it down, and forget it for a few years. And so on... it's been almost fifteen years and I don't think you'd recognize me anymore. I don't know if you would even speak to me in my present state and consciousness. Would you even find me interesting anymore or would I bore you? I wonder where you are, if you're all right, whom you're with and how you're doing periodically. I stab at the possibilities. I stab, stab, stab. 

The last time I saw you, my heart jumped. I couldn't believe it was you, but I don't know why I was so shocked. I don't know why I thought that I could avoid you and that it was improbable that I'd ever see you again. It was foolish to think so. It was foolish to hope I could put you behind me as an embarrassing phase and move forward without batting an eyelash. When I saw you, I had some ice cream or popsicle and you were headed to an exam. Where the hell were you all year? I didn't have to see you until finals week and it scared me shitless. I wanted to say, "Hi." but I also wanted to run the other way. I'm still terrified and titillated by you.

The Violin Story

This story takes place during my fourth grade year at H. S. Thompson Learning Center. I'm excited that I get to tell you this story because I've only shared this story with one person.... and I don't think it counts because that person was my therapist. So, this is the first time I've ever shared this story and its profound significance with anyone. Wow.
Alright, let me set the scene because this story takes place in an old, smelly portable behind our school. The floors squeaked and creaked and the air conditioning never worked and you had sweaty bodies smelling up the poor place and it always seemed bewilderingly fragile like a really strong gust of wind could bring it all crashing down. Well, you should know that this particular portable was no ordinary place, despite the health and hazardous code violations; it transported us to a magical realm.
I should also introduce you to Ms. Waites, who is the protagonist of this tale; though it's my story, she's the real heroine. Ms. Waites was my violin teacher, Strings director, a talented violinist, an inspirational teacher and all around well-rounded, colorful human being full of love and light.
I met Ms. Waites in Art class with Ms. Packard; she was going around signing up students for strings classes. As you may know, I sprung from the womb with my life's missions etched into my soul so I knew from the moment I saw Ms. Waites that this woman would change my life. I leaped at the opportunity to sign up and asked her a dozen questions on the spot. She went for it.
Okay, here's where things travel into a gray area in my character. When I asked my mother if I could play an instrument, she didn't want to be bothered either because I was generally a very demanding child and asked too damn many questions (nagged the hell out of her) or she didn't understand that the course and material was free. Instead of bothering myself with trying to convince my mother to sign the form, I decided to take an expedited route. Also, I knew that I probably lacked the innate persuasive abilities as a young child so I didn't even try. Who understands the reasoning and logic of a child? Who cares?
After assessing the risk involved, I decided that no life force on the face of this planet was capable of stealing this opportunity from me so I went ahead and forged my mom's signature, filled in all the necessary paper work and returned the forms to my new favorite teacher, Ms. Waites. How in the world Ms. Waites accepted it at face value is beyond me but I imagine she looked the other way due to my zeal. Maybe she was desperate for students? Who cares?
This is the best part of the story..
The day comes to get our instrument assignments and, of course, I draw the short straw of the lot. Everyone else had taken Strings before so they knew which instruments were in disrepair and they called dibs on the good ones. I was too slow, naive, and inexperienced to understand the ways of humans so I took the instrument handed to me with wide eyes and a smile. The other kids took it upon themselves to inform me of my violin's condition. I mean, they made damn sure that I knew it was a pile of junk. I was upset and Ms. Waites could tell somehow. Maybe it was my fanciful display of a temper tantrum that tipped her off... I don't know. Who cares?
Ms. Waites instinctively knew, as all great instructors do, what to tell me in order to inspire me. She appealed to my sense of work ethic, pride, and ego with just a phrase. Intuitively she said, "Melissa, if you can make this instrument sing, you can make anything sing." and with that I was pacified and determined in my mission. I told myself that day, "If anyone can make this instrument sing, it will be me." and that's been my motto since childhood. I rely strongly on my own skill and ability, not the instruments, and from that day forward that expression has been like a mantra that I whisper to myself daily.
Its important for us to remember that our tools will only take us so far in life. We must rely on our talents, skills and technical ability to carry us through the task at hand.
 :)

Winter Adventure

Lonely Plains

There is nothing but lonesome empty plains as far as the eyes can see as we enter the Texas landscape. Gone are the regal red rock mountains and rugged terrain of Arizona and New Mexico. Why, the very sight of the gentle slopes and fields signal my imminent arrival back home. I am relaxed and poised as I arrive in my home state. It isn’t as if I was unwelcome elsewhere, but something about Texas welcomes me, soothes me, and lulls me into a restful state.

Last night I had a strange dream that broke me from my sleep. When I awoke, I realized that I had the same dream before, except this time I couldn’t recall the exact details. While I wanted to disclose the entire dream, I could only recall a few things and those caused me shame so I didn’t tell my husband. At last, I told him that I was startled awake but that I couldn’t remember why.  Interestingly enough, he told me that he had a strange dream that was also identical to a previous dream, almost a year old.

My dream went something like this: we were traveling en masse throughout India on pilgrimage; this isn’t unusual as we have plans to travel to India soon. Around that time, a young handsome man seduced me and to atone for my sinful thoughts I resolved to shave my head and give up any semblance aisvarya or opulence. This detail is also striking because for years, I contemplated monasticism and a few years ago I grew obsessed with shaving my head much to Chandaneswar’s protest. A few days ago, Chandaneswar mentioned that we were going to visit Thirupati Balaji and I could shave my head there if I still wanted to do it. Anyhow…

In the dream,  I removed my precious gems and metals and dressed myself only in simple cloth. Thereafter, I decorated myself with tilak, sacred clay markings upon my upper body and asked my husband’s blessings to perform penance. He indicated that he would not give me his blessings because he felt that it was unnecessary for me to atone for a mere mental lapse in chastity. After lecturing me on the nature of Kali Yuga, the age of quarrel and hypocrisy, he advised me to forgive myself and move forward with my spirituality with greater enthusiasm but not to remove myself from society or take to asceticism or renunciation.

At this point, I argued that if I remained in society and continued to associate freely with materialistic society, it was possible or very likely that the quality and sincerity of my spiritual endeavors would slowly deteriorate over time.

I added that if one man had so easily tempted me after only a passing encounter, it was highly probable that I would be weaker in more trying circumstances. To that, he countered that everyone in Kali Yuga commits sins by mind and we should neglect them. After some discussion, we both decided to take to renunciation and travel together.  Strange dream, no?

What Shall I Do?

The other day I looked into your eyes and wondered if they had any end. Where do you come from, dear one, and how were you created? From which materials did the Creator fashion you that rendered you immensely and intensely sweet and tender?

How can I understand your mind? Have you anything else in your heart besides inherent saintliness and compassion for fallen souls such as me? My Liege, bestow your warm embrace and poised grace upon me!

Five Strange Dreams

This past week I've had a series of dreams that are disturbing, weird, freaky, or just hilarious. I promise you that each was rich in overwhelming detail and if I were to indulge you with it, I'd be able to write a few short stories out of them. I am even considering doing the same and illustrating some of the vividly grotesque and enchanting images therein. Here is a list of dreams I had this past week, mind you, this is only about five... I have two or three dreams a night and these are just the ones I can recall great detail. There are others that weren't as memorable because they lacked shock value and captivating imagery.
I had a dream that I performed a marriage ceremony with an animal sacrifice ritual.
I had a dream that I was lactating suddenly after cuddling my son and talking about babies.
I had a dream that I was a work-study student and found an abandoned infant in the bathroom.
I had a dream that I was on a medical university campus and my car was stolen from the parking lot.
I had a dream that I took a married man's sexual advancements under consideration.

Interested yet? Yes? I'll tell you what happened in each of these dreams, and since they're so long and detailed, I'll do my best to be concise.

Dream 1: The Marriage Sacrifice
I stood atop a desert canyon covered in succulents and rocks with a young couple; we all wore pure white cotton cloth. I held a mantra manuscript in my own handwriting, the couple held fertility symbols: a venomous snake and an apple tree. I chanted some mantras, held their hands in my own and declared them lawfully married. Nearby lay a machete, some bronze-ware pots and dark soil. I proceed to chant sacrificial mantras over the items, provoke the cobra, kill it with my machete, and transplant the tree with the upper third of the snake's body lightly buried into the pot. The blood of the victim rejuvenated the soil, his eye peered straight out, and his body stood erect with his hood fully expanded as if he were guarding the tree. I skinned the lower two-thirds of the snake and adorned the bride with the snakeskin. I filled a bronze pot with soil, sprinkled it with blood, buried the remains, and sent them on their way with their nuptials. The entire ceremony lasted less than an hour.

Dream 2: Spilled Milk
Krishna Chandra and I sat on our bed comfortably and talked about babies at length. He asked me if I wanted more children, and I told him that I only wanted a child if she was a perfect replica of him-- intelligent, affectionate, generous, warm and understanding. I reminisced about his infancy, held him close to my breasts and kissed his beautiful face. I told him how wondrous those days were, how happy he made me, and I shed tears of joy as I gazed into his tender eyes. Immediately, I felt my breasts tingle, swell, and feel wet. When I asked him to move his head from my chest, my swollen breast fell out of my blouse and sprayed milk. He was surprised and in awe, "Is it milk?" he asked. I asked him to taste it, and he exclaimed it was the sweetest milk he ever tasted. Unbearably swollen, Krishna Chandra milked and massaged my breasts while I gushed milk all over his face. He giggled and laughed like a baby, jumped up and down upon the bed, and I beamed with happiness. I told him that my overwhelming love and affection for him brought on this phenomenon.

Dream 3: The Orphan
I was on work-study program at a prestigious university campus where I studied music. The other students mostly left for the day; we had a performance the next morning and I was in charge of cleaning the hall and bathrooms for the concert. The director of the music department left me only a single key, he warned, "All the doors will lock behind you except the bathroom, you must lock them yourself." I understood my charge and got to work quickly by first spraying the hard surfaces in the restroom and left to vacuum the hall. When I returned, I gathered the trash bags, replaced them, and wiped the disinfectant from all the hard surfaces. As I neared the last stall, I noticed a staircase leading to the ceiling. It must have been part of the old structure because the attic was sealed shut and the stairs led nowhere. At the top of the narrow stairs was a bundle of laundry, and it appeared to move slightly. I went up the ladder and grabbed the linens. It was an abandoned newborn, umbilical cord still intact. I called campus police, informed the director, and tried to calm the now crying infant. They said I needed child services and no one on campus offered me any further help. I saw a couple students and prodded them for information. No one had information, but the students enthusiastically helped me care for the baby girl.

Dream 4: I was on tour at a medical university campus. I was indecisive about my plans but heard the school had a great program that interested me. I drove my little Honda to the campus with my family, dropped them off at the auditorium, and left to park the car. I circled around the parking lot like a vulture waiting for a carcass to pick, but at least they had covered garage parking. Finally, I parked near the hospital, and left excitedly toward our rendezvous point. Chandan and Krishna Chandra had fun in the student center playing games, snacking, and interacting with other families. When I reached, the boys said they made up their mind: they loved the campus and I was applying ASAP, end of story. The tour no longer interested them, they had ventured off with some student volunteers and gotten the low-down. "Let me finish this game and we can be home in time for dinner." said Chandan. "Sure... is that okay with you sona?" Krishna Chandra agreed, I could go pull the car around while they finished their chess game. A few of the other attendants laughed and said they wished their relatives were as supportive and eager about their decision. Happily, I set off; as I neared my space, I looked around in confusion. I spotted a young man I recognized, an old friend and asked him if he could help. "Strange, are you sure you're on the right level?" "Of course. I parked right here in front of the hospital driveway; I remember this space exactly." He helped me call the campus security, and I gave my car's description. I walked back to tell the boys what happened. They came out and helped comb the parking lots.

Dream 5: I was on vacation with my family on the beach where I met an older, handsome, charming man. He was very debonair, the type that you see in old classic films, perfectly coiffed and charismatically witty. He told me he was also on vacation with his family, but he was restless and bored. I caught his eye, he told me we could have an affair as perfect strangers and never see each other again. At first, I was offended by his offer, but he asked me to sleep on it and reconsider. He was staying at the same hotel, gave me his room number, and assured me he could keep a secret. No one ever has to know about our tryst. As the day passed, I soon forgot about the man, and filled the day socializing and enjoying my friend's and family's company. When I got back to my room, I found a cryptic post-it note with a number, no name, no detail, no further information. It was him! His brazen audacity shocked me; what if my husband had suspected something? It kept me up at night and I tossed and turned until I finally began to relent. "Maybe?"