I havent written in this blog in over a year. Its a shame really because I really like writing and storytelling. My problem is simply that Im lazy and I guess I assume that if anyone wanted to know what was going on with me, they would just add me on Facebook. But in this year I was so surprised at the amount of devotees that approached me and wanted to know what happened to my blog, maybe they’re waiting on tutorials or for me to tell more stories. People I would never expect! So maybe I’ll give it a go again.

In this year I would say that I’ve been pretty busy. I spent five months in Sri Mayapur Dham studying in their Pujari Training Course at Mayapur Academy. And since coming back at the end of March I moved to Miami, Florida and jumped right into being a full-time pujari taking care of the large-and-in-charge Lord Jagannath, Baladev and Lady Subhadra.

So I have a whole bunch of pics from Mayapur. I cant stop thinking about Mayapur. Its all I ever talk about and think about. You know what’s horrible? When I was in Mayapur, I couldn’t wait to come back to the US. Now Im here and I remember all the wonderful memories I had there and I’m dying to go back. The things that used to annoy me so much makes me laugh now. Darshans I used to shrug my shoulders at I now reverently observe though my computer screen. The peace and quite I begged for in the crowds of people, now replaced by an empty¬†loneliness. I remember walking around and laughing with my friends. I miss being able to eat anything anywhere and never wonder about meat, eggs, fish, onion, garlic. I would chant in Panchatattva’s temple room in the evenings- pacing back and forth, begging to be Their instrument. I used to get knocked over by egar Bengali women trying to take Darshan of Radha-Madhava. I seriously miss mahaprasadam french fries. Something that good should be illegal. I used to ride my bicycle on the Main Road and nearly kill myself, but I would just jump back on again and speed toward Deity greeting. I miss rikshaw rides. I miss the boat between Mayapur and Navadwip Ghat. I miss Navawip, even though its a little ghetto and scary. I miss the house my husband and I are building together. I miss the headache. The heartache. And, yes, even the occasional¬†stomach-ache. I miss sleeping in through mangal-arati with my husband and we both wake up in time to listen to the morning announcements on the radio. I miss the familiar faces. I miss that Krishna is part of a regular routine.

I left since the end of March. But I still, really really miss Mayapur.