Grace

I've been writing a bit here about reading the Bhagavad Gita and Ram Dass' Living the Bhagavad Gita. I don't seem to have enough time in my life for reflection. But about once a week I manage to find the time to devote to chanting. Although my monkey mind continues with only moments of exception, as it does through karate, meditation and almost all contemplative pursuits, there are moments of clarity and grace. This morning tears streamed down my face for quite some time while singing. It is as if they come to wash away the hard crusted outer layers of living in the physical world. And strip away the artifices.
I have a tendancy to belt out while chanting. (I also have a tendancy to talk way more loudly than necessary and my hearing is just fine; it's a bad habit.) But this morning I found myself singing ever more quietly and hearing/feeling an essential childlike sweetness inside/underneath the way I actually experience myself in the world. It was a graceful glimpse at my core, and I think not just my core, but the core of humanity.
When we are children, our essential nature is sweet, untainted. But the world bears its mark upon us, we become socialized, our personalities layer over our essential being, and we become patchwork quilts of the people who raise us, the teachers who teach us, the experiences that mold us. Callouses develop that hide us from ourselves and others. The spiritual quest is not only a search for union with divinity but a reunion with our selves. We touch that self and the divinity at the same time I think.
At least I did this morning while chanting to Krishna Das' Live on Earth. I'm counting the days til the all night kirtan at Omega, and the release of KD's All One, an hour long recording of Hare Krishna.
But for now, it is back to my ever lenghtening list of things to do - from exhibition submissions to thank you notes and laundry.