I went to a lovely kirtan led by Phil McWilliams on Saturday night.It was raining off and on. People left their shoes on the front porch and some partook of a vegetarian potluck before the music began.
I got to visit with a few people and came away better off for it, as always. I have waited a long time to find my sangha and I never tire of writing about it. This group is the culmination of a long search for myself, the part of me that is bigger than Vicki. I mean, she gets old and tired in a hurry. I know everything she will say and do.
But with this group, the love carries one above the personality level so easily. The vibe is vivacious yet quiet. I suspect there are introverts aplenty here. Plates are filled with healthy food and conversation is quiet and easy.
As the music begins, I sit on a brown leather couch while another woman joins me. A couple are lying on the floor and putting their feet up on the couch. The woman pats my leg lovingly and I
squeeze her hand. The doors are kept open and curtains move mysteriously as small lights are visible across the street. This is kirtan; this is my heaven on earth.
I can’t see the musicians because they are in the adjoining room. People in there are mostly sitting on the floor. I am more comfortable on something with a back. So I listen with my eyes closed much of the time.
Riding home I feel so connected to something I never thought I would find. Myself.