Vrindaban
Cold winds suddenly blow into Vrindaban from the North, heavy fog sets in, and the sun hides until late afternoon. The weather has turned completely miserable. I am suffering more now because of it than I did when the same weather seasonably hit us for a long stretch in late December. Why? Because when the first balm of warm weather visited us after the long winter, I thought, “Ahh, how nice. Now I can enjoy!” Until we rise above duality our attachments are also
the cause of our suffering.
CHOP! CHOP! CHOP! Suddenly, by decree of the college who owns the 30-acre field next to the japa-kutir, our sweet forest is being senselessly decimated. Damn Kali-yuga and its effect on the dhama?destroying our spiritually uplifting views, cluttering the hallowed ground with ugly, multicolored, non-decomposable
plastic bags, and shoving a hodgepodge of grossly amplified and distorted sounds down our ears. Still, real Vrindaban shines through the clouds of maya for one who takes shelter of the holy name. A fortnight here still guarantees liberation. And still, I count my blessings to be here.