Yearning for the beloved

Last week while I was in Greece Hubby and I were talking about our favourite time of day. We agreed that (at least when we’re in the Mediterranean) it’s the early evening. The moment when the work of the day is done, the temperature’s cooled off a little, and the freedom of evening beckons. The light changes and the tempo of life shifts. There’s a sense of liberation and an opening of possibilities.

Today this time of day was filled with a short kirtan, offered by the TT teachers. We stashed our anatomy notes away and settled in a circle around the harmonium. And we chanted. And it was beautiful. I gave myself up to the music and opened my heart and let it be filled with the sound. This open-heartedness was almost a physical sensation. A delicious vulnerability. I’ve never quite got the concept of ‘bhakti’ but in this moment I was filled with a such a yearning, a desperation almost, for release and for surrender, yet coupled with a peaceful optimism and a feeling of safety. Everything felt possible. In this moment the rhetoric of ‘the beloved’ made perfect sense, though I can’t articulate it. I was just calling out.

And it makes me feel a little uncomfortable, truth be told, so I’m already reinterpreting it in my head as just the fact that I’m missing my flesh and blood beloved who’s unfortunately delayed in Greece.

Here’s KD’s rendition of Jaya Bhagavan (the mantra that really got to me) in case you’d like a listen: