Where He Is, I am

I walked right past the woman as I always do near Les Halles where there are always people soliciting the passerbys for attention. This time as I did I spotted a familiar book tucked tenderly under her arm and I slowed a bit and turned just as she was showing its cover to a Parisien who had "I don't have time for this," written all over her face.

Feeling called to the book, and curious about its appearance here in this place, I walked back to the woman.

"Excusez-moi madame," I started..."can you please tell me what you are doing with the Bhagavad Gita?"

She looked into my eyes, and I looked back into hers, her face softened and she said, "you know the Bhagavad Gita?"

I told her I did and she smiled and asked me if I had read this version.

"There's only one version..." I said lightly, to which she replied that this version was the "real one."

I've been thinking about this for several days since this exchange. The idea that every holy book has versions. How myth, storytelling, oral traditions, revelations, actual accounts...have been shared since the beginning of time.

And moreover, how each of these holy books are woven together throughout history.

It turns out the woman is a Bhakti sister, offering the Bhagavad Gita to strangers in exchange for donations as her karma yoga for a center I now have on the top of my list to visit in Paris.

And I'm feeling blessed for this direct message from above to stay on the path with a new direction I'm feeling deeply called to take in my faith and service with women in the world.

He stopped me on my path, in Paris...with a holy book.

Where He is, I am.