Ешь, молись, люби

Chapter 52

           "InoticedyouwereabsentfromTheGeetthismorning,"he’llsay,andI’llsay,"IamcommunicatingwithGodinotherways,"andhe’llsay,"Bysleepingin,youmean?"

           ButwhenItrytogotothechant,allitdoesisagitateme.Imean,physically.Idon’tfeellikeI’msingingitsomuchasbeingdraggedbehindit.Itmakesmesweat.ThisisveryoddbecauseItendtobeoneoflife’schronicallycoldpeople,andit’scoldinthispartofIndiainJanuarybeforethesuncomesup.Everyoneelsesitsinthechanthuddledinwoolblanketsandhatstostaywarm,andI’mpeelinglayersoffmyselfasthehymndroneson,foaminglikeanoverworkedfarmhorse.IcomeoutofthetempleaftertheGurugitaandthesweatrisesoffmyskininthecoldmorningairlikefog-likehorrible,green,stinkyfog.ThephysicalreactionismildcomparedtothehotwavesofemotionthatrockmeasItrytosingthething.AndIcan’tevensingit.Icanonlycroakit.Resentfully.

           DidImentionthatithas182verses?

           Soafewdaysago,afteraparticularlyyuckysessionofchanting,Idecidedtoseekadvicefrommyfavoriteteacheraroundhere-amonkwithawonderfullylongSanskritnamewhichtranslatesas"HeWhoDwellsintheHeartoftheLordWhoDwellsWithinHisOwnHeart."ThismonkisAmerican,inhissixties,smartandeducated.HeusedtobeaclassicaltheaterprofessoratNYU,andhestillcarrieshimselfwitharathervenerabledignity.Hetookhismonasticvowsalmostthirtyyearsago.Ilikehimbecausehe’sno-nonsenseandfunny.

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