Prayer!

[Guest guest]

Dear Divine Siblings,

It's been so QUIET that I would like to offer and suggest the following

-

How about writing your very secret desires as related to Amma? I'll

start one -

If I had my way - I would like to give up my present job and work

full-time for Amma. (Of course Amma says that all work, if done

selflessly, can be offered to Her and that all work IS Her's!) But,

still, I would like to be able to do the following:

1) Tour with Swami Ramakrishna to South America. Help him arrange pujas,

cook and sing along with the group.

2) Stay at home and be CONSISTENT with the translation of the

Bhagavatham (which alas has been put on the back burner, despite

repeated admonitions from Swami Paramatmanandaji!)

3) Practice music and start a choir group.

4) Have satsangh every week and cook for devotees.

5) Have Swamis stay over for a couple of weeks and be able to serve

them.

6) Spend at least six months in Vallikau.

Alas! We can but dream! In the meantime, I have to work at the

University and bring back a paycheck to take care of the bills!

The devotees, who are right now with Amma in Santa Fe are so blissed out

that no one even thinks of coming near a computer to give us an update!

Sri Ramakrishna Paramhamsa was right in saying that one can only make

sounds so long as one is not realized. (These lucky souls, even if not

self- realized, are like busy bees drinking the nectar. They have no

time for their poor siblings, who are sitting with parched throats in

this dry desert of Amma-lessness (in the physical sense!) We attempt a

feeble cry "Water! Water!" But who is listening? They are making merry.

This reminds me of the Raslila - when the first strains of the flute

wafted over the jasmine-scented air in Brindavan, all the Gopis left

whatever they were doing and raced toward the forest - maddened by the

haunting tune, which beckoned them. Their steps were unsteady and they

looked drunk, stupefied, and insane. They had no time to even alert

their friends. They simply ran, leaving the churning stick in the

earthen pot, a suckling infant, a husband waiting impatiently for

dinner, a stern mother-in-law, children clamoring for something or the

other and hundred other chores.

But one Gopi - a luckless, forlorn Gopi was left behind. Her cruel

husband locked her inside a room and sternly forbade her to step out in

this moonlit night. She cried, pleaded and banged on the door, but to no

avail. In sheer desperation, her soul flew swifter than her body could

have - to the lotus feet of the Blue Boy of Blessed Brindavan - to His

enchanting melody - to rest in the sandal-wood and kasturi smeared

chest. (Alas! My heart is made of stone. It does not have the capacity

to love. It knows not the deep anguish of this Gopi, otherwise, it too

would have torn asunder this physical cage and flown off to rest at the

Holy Feet, where all Universes converge.)

Jai Ma!

Chandrika