Ananda-mayi dasi
Out of the Wildflowers
And the wildflowers. The wildflowers pushing against all odds, against this endlessly small room, this seed encasing the pivotal word: might. They come. They are mighty.
How to Find Water (For Thieves)
Krishna is a thief. A good thief. He steals wonderful things—milk and kisses, butter too. Love, actually. That’s why he’s dark—and radiant; he tries to hide his goodness in the night.
In the Beginning was the Beginning: On New Year’s Parties and Boundaried Beginninglessness
I’ve been thinking a lot about beginnings, and anyone who thinks a lot about beginnings begins to understand there’s no end to thinking about beginnings. New Year’s is a beginning, and time. So is creation: the first brick of a house, the first step across the threshold of a door.
Dying to Love
He pointed to the facts: I lived in a nice condominium on a nice island a ferry ride away from a nice city where my nice partner worked at a nice job. I pointed to my feelings: My nice life was killing me.
Forgiveness Beyond Herself
Daily we pilgrimage to the saints' seemingly split facades: we interact—in families and communities, in cyberspace and private thoughts—and if we realize where we’re standing when approach their unhinged thresholds, we take off our shoes, bow, and offer puja.
Faith and Femininity
When I watched my ponytail fall to the floor, I was surprised by the lurch in my stomach. The definite markings of my femininity would soon be swept into the forest, leaving uncertainty: How would I embody femininity now that I had chosen to withdraw from traditional feminine expectations?
I am Being Written
When I talk with my friends..they often ask with trepidation, “But, are you still writing?” I think they’re really asking, “Are you still you?" Usually, I explain that I don’t have much time for writing now. The monastery is a busy place.
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