Vengeful stab at false ego's heart

Marathon time.

”You can feel it”,

A devotee said today.

“Lord Chaitanya is here.”

And so it begins..

For me

This means digging deep.

My mind has been storing

Excuses

Since spring

Or so it feels like.

(No, honestly

It has!)

Fermenting them,

In this way brewing some of the year’s

Most potent

Aversions.

“Going out with books?

Eww..

What a senseless piece of

Self-fladgulating

Waste of time?!”

Of course,

This static grating of the mind

Is pure

Nonsense.

All bogus.

Marathon time is

Nectar time!

Srila Prabhupada inaugurated it,

And to partake is seen as

A serious

Annual

Recommitment

To his cause,

Param vijayate

Sri Krishna sankirtanam!

Of course,

I don’t get so worked up

With the whole

Competitive spirit.

I’m not in shape for

Any medals,

I don’t aim for

The podium.

The stadium is for

The celebrated athletes,

Who work hard throughout

The whole year,

Who stay in shape.

I’m like the bloke

Watching footie on the tellie,

Comfortably seated at home,

Coaching from the couch.

However,

I do have my own ball.

(No, honestly,

I do!)

And

I take it out sometimes,

At least

Now and then,

I must,

So when I cheer

For my team,

From a stadium folding chair,

(not front row, in the back)

Mustering all my

Artificial

Affiliation,

Wearing the colors,

(but lacking the heart),

People will think

“Ah, he knows this game.

AND he is  humble!”

Lonely planet, 16.11.2011

Omg,

The mind is so

Uncultured!

It goes on and on.

Like a taxi driver

In a country

Where you so clearly

Are a tourist.

He wants to show you the sites,

Take you places only he knows.

He has a friend on every corner

Who can supply

Your every need.

Although seemingly

Friendly,

The meter is ticking in the background

The whole way.

And although seemingly

Locally streetwise,

He does every possible detour,

Purposely,

All the time saying:

“It’s ok, my friend.

This way is faster.”

“Nono,

You cannot go there

This time of year,

I know someone.”

Give me a break!

Hit the breaks!

I want off!

I am seeing through

Your schemes,

Your hustling,

Your routine.

I want off

And out.

But it is not so easy.

For now,

You two are as one.

Stuck in the

Awkward taxi

Of a material body

You must live with the mind.

Engage him rather in

Errands of the soul.

Tip him if you must.

Crawl out from the back

And sit in front.

Give directions.

Acquire a map

To keep your heading.

The Bhagavad Gita, as it is,

Comes recommended

By experienced travelers.

And if you find yourself

In a predicament,

Arrange a

Rendezvous

With such persons!

Then there is that Hare Krishna

Mahamantra,

Which is said to

Cleanse the sliding mirrors

Of all similar

Traffic bound vehicles,

Which you may find yourself

Occupying,

From time to time.

In this way

Your see things more clearly.

U get perspective.

Bon voyage.

Voices, dogs and inhospitable habitats

But it all feels so real!

The tastes,

The sights,

That yearning,

Burning on the inside.

The voices

Speak,

Sort of like

 A spoken interaction

With the world around me,

Unheared and breathless,

Yet ceaselessly,

Constantly

Commenting, evaluating,

Deciding, guessing and

Stimulating

Anticipated action.

Some voices are more

Aggressive

Then others,

Some more subtle.

Then there is

“The ogre”,

Always harassing,

Always insisting

That he is owed something,

Like an eternal

Self-sustaining debt.

Sometimes patting the back,

As if suspiciously friendly,

Other times belching curses,

Demanding with threats.

In all honesty,

I feed this dog.

Yes,

I do.

I throw him a bone.

Even at times

When he comes crawling home

After a fight, defeated,

Practically on the verge of death,

I go to the lengths of

CPR, or even

Administering any kind of

Life prolonging medicine

At my disposal.

(Even sometimes

Silently

Praying for his recovery… )

God,

How pathetic!

The dog to emerge victorious

Is the dog that is fed the most.

It is a simple fact.

Common sense, really.

Why then seek out to explore

Those foggy landscapes

Of the mind and senses?

The damp mist of speculation

And contemplation of sense objects.

The ogrelike dog

Broken away from his leash,

Has you stumbling around, chasing him,

In this marchland habitat.

Waving arms in front,

You trip over every root

As he taunts you with barking

In the distance.

Here there is every chance

Of again falling into

That material pool,

Reeking of decay.

Feed the good dog.

He is ever faithful

To the master.

Like a blind dog

Trained to be that

Trusty, dependable companion,

He will not lead u astray.

He stays on his leash,

He can sniff out the path

Leading out.

Out of the fog.

Passed the pools.

But he must be fed

To survive.

And what is his favorite treat?

                Hare Krishna, Hare Krishna,

                Krishna Krishna, Hare Hare,

                Hare Rama, Hare Rama,

                Rama Rama, Hare Hare.