hare hare, hare krishna

I spent a lovely weekend with a lovely woman in the Bay Area. I lived nearly 18 years in that place. I learned my craft there, how to be a friend, a father, and a lover. I lived there so long that its streets, shops, and restaurants evoke not just memories but layers of memories. Strolling through its streets, particularly with someone special to me, was more an archeological excavation of my psyche than a simple weekend away.

The weekend was a mixture of nostalgia for the life that I used to lead there and a feeling of hopeful anticipation that the future will exceed the past. It is particularly ironic that in this weekend so heavily burdened by ties to the past and future, I experienced a moment of sublime presence in the now.

I already felt blessed that the day was clear and bright. A big spender, I bought us slices of Blondies for lunch and we found a warm patch of sun on the steps of the ASUC to eat them. Man that pizza is good.

With a belly full of melted cheese, I lay back against my companion and closed my eyes. The concrete and glass ASUC building is no Bodhi tree. I was angling more for a little nap than a glimpse of nirvana but sometimes the sublime can emerge unbidden from unlikely circumstances.

It was good. My head resting in the lap of a fantastic woman. The sun splaying across me unevenly – warming me just enough to make the cold breeze enjoyable. The sounds of Berkeley buzzing vaguely in the background.

Then the Hare Krishnas came. Drumming. Chanting. These are not your mother’s Hare Krishnas. Although some were in robes of Krishna Peach, most were in street clothes. Their ages ranged from late 60’s to four years old. But the chanting was the same as it has always been since the His Divine Grace A. C. Bhaktivedanta Swami Prabhupada gave birth to the movement before I was born. The hypnotic chanting, the rhythmic drums, the dancing belled feet pushed an already beautiful moment into the sublime. For a few lovely minutes, I felt myself melt – first into my companion, then into Berkeley in all its wacky glory, and then into the froth of experience.

Tags: Berkeley