Well, it looks as if I have rejoined the world. I hate to say that but it might be true. Of course we know that, if it isn't His will, He'll throw a monkey wrench into the thing which is OK by me.
Yesterday I went across the street for something called, 'county classics' Got all dressed up with lipstick and eye brows and my new black slippers and, forgetting to take my cane, scurried across the street. It was held in the auditorium and about 20 people, men and women, sang and played guitars; three of four played the piano. All of them were quite elderly in fact there was a round of applause for a ninety year old man who was celebrating his birthday. A few had pretty good strong voices, most sounded pretty feeble. One tall lady in short shorts danced all around wiggling her hips and giggling. I only witnessed the drama but found myself going up front at the end to ask if I could sing next time. As youall know, I've been singing here in my flat lately translating the 'golden oldie songs from the sixties into love songs to Swami. I've done about 70 of them removing words like 'kiss' and replacing it with 'bliss'. I thought I might sing, John Denver's, 'County Roads, take me home' which I rewrote as. 'Take me home to Puttaparthi, mountain Ama, brown hills circle Chittravati'. Now I'll have to change it back to. Take me home, West Virginia, Mountain Mama but it doesn't matter because I will always know where my real home is. Actually Puttaparthi ISN'T my real home either, as we know, my REAL home is my glorious Atmic self.
A couple weeks ago Christine and I hitched a ride with a young man here who was in a very bad accident and drives a specially built car. He's very nice and was telling us that a fellow from the next floor, a retired opera singer, fixed him lunch every day. I have probably mentioned to you that my mother was an opera singer before she married my father, or did I. Anyway I have always sung a bit myself so my ears picked up at that. OK youall know how HE works. There was one fellow at the music thing who had an amazing voice. Afterwards when I went up to volunteer to sing, this fellow was talking to the organizer. I told him I thought he had a glorious voice, a Basso Profoundo and asked if he was the nice man who cooked lunch for Randy. H said that he was and yes, why don't you come and sing next Wednesday. I said I would even without a smile from the organizer. I scurried back across the street. So I guess I will sing and maybe I've at last made a friend here in the building. Inshalla.
I miss my little dog. Everything reminds me of her. The chair she always sat in, the little off color spots on the carpet which I cleaned up but not completely. My sister is better about calling me and telling me about her antics. She is less hysterical now, about being left alone, I mean Puggles. Not my sister. She stays in my sister's room which is down stairs and jumps on the computer chair to bark out the window when Betty comes home. The chair goes in circles and Puggles gets scared. I use to call her my 'circus dog' because she would jump on the recliner and it would tilt over, and jump up on the step table to get on the bed which is pretty high. My lamp just went out by itself so I guess He doesn't like it when I go on about my...my sister's little dog.
That's great about your singing talents being discovered and making friends on the 'outside world'. I think it is always so silly when devotees think that being super holy is to stay at home and try to repeat the Name as much as possible. Swami always wanted people to go out in the world and spread their light and love and inspire others. You can't do that holed up in one place, getting restless, bored and crying because realization doesn't fall in one's lap. Sorry you miss your dear, devoted and sometimes troublesome Puggles.
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