• Mathura Hawley


Updated: Aug 2, 2021

Krishna was the father of a troubled, lost child that had just come out recklessly into the secular world, and he needed my help to watch over him."

I walk to the top of the mountain where the old farmhouse ashram still stands. This is where Prabhupada stayed when he was first here to bless the holy grounds that would go through a spiritual roulette and rebirth to be the brightened New Vrindaban of today. I drop my book bag down next to me on the faded wooden planks of the porch, and I look out at the rain that falls over the hillside and rushes down streams of rocks and wild flowers. I take a long, deep breath, then another, then read passages from Prabhupada about the unwavering love and loyalty of Krishna when we simply give in and embrace it. I read aloud to the rain and the trees, so I will hear it myself. I read that Krishna is always our best friend, our protector. That nothing is a coincidence nor a punishment, no matter how painful it appears. And I realize something about my recent experience that surprises and stops my recovering heart for a moment. I was never in a true relationship with the person I married. Although I loved Om completely and acted from a place of empathy, patience and forgiveness, he could not return it. But it was not about that. My idea of what happened in my own life with him is completely wrong. Sitting here on the very spot where a new consciousness of God began for a big part of the western world, it is revealed to me that I was not used, I was chosen. Krishna was the father of a troubled, lost child that had just come out recklessly into the secular world, and he needed my help to watch over him. He selected me to do it, because he knew I possessed generous amounts of kindness and that I could handle this kid from my life experience. Om, in turn, brought me to Krishna, and because I was already feeling content and confident in my life for the first time, with my heart wide open and my hope turned up high, Krishna rushed in and took up residence. As time went on, and Om’s problems became too much to handle, Krishna removed him, and in the process literally saved my life. The pain of separation was intense, and I wept over him for a year, feeling as if I was swimming alone through glass, thinking I had failed somehow for not giving more or trying even harder to be loved. But this kid never loved me, not really, and I was blind to that until, when just days after he left, he began to act as if I never existed. Krishna provided him shelter and love through me, but I was only a foster parent. In the end, the plan worked out for everyone. Krishna thought I could handle one of his most troubled souls, welcomed me home in the process, and opened my heart to a love so pure so comforting and so inspiring, that I will never feel alone. The kid is long gone, so there is no need to forgive him as I will never see him again. Krishna requires no forgiveness from my heart, as I am finding being a part of his plan to be my greatest honor and deepest pleasure. The part that washes over me today, on this old front porch, in this sacred place, the part that now brings me to tears of understanding, is that I can finally stop blaming myself for being abandoned by someone I loved so much. It was simply a crossroad of dramatic awakenings, the beginning of a longer journey, and I need to stand up, put the palms of my hands together in gratitude, and get back on the road again.

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