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- Ешь, молись, люби
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So
I
’
ve
started
being
vigilant
about
watching
my
thoughts
all
day
,
and
monitoring
them
.
I
repeat
this
vow
about
700
times
a
day
:
"
I
will
not
harbor
unhealthy
thoughts
anymore
.
"
Every
time
a
diminishing
thought
arises
,
I
repeat
the
vow
.
I
will
not
harbor
unhealthy
thoughts
anymore
.
The
first
time
I
heard
myself
say
this
,
my
inner
ear
perked
up
at
the
word
"
harbor
,
"
which
is
a
noun
as
well
as
a
verb
.
A
harbor
,
of
course
,
is
a
place
of
refuge
,
a
port
of
entry
I
pictured
the
harbor
of
my
mind
-
a
little
beat
-
up
,
perhaps
,
a
little
storm
-
worn
,
but
well
situated
and
with
a
nice
depth
.
The
harbor
of
my
mind
is
an
open
bay
,
the
only
access
to
the
island
of
my
Self
(
which
is
a
young
and
volcanic
island
,
yes
,
but
fertile
and
promising
)
.
This
island
has
been
through
some
wars
,
it
is
true
,
but
it
is
now
committed
to
peace
,
under
a
new
leader
(
me
)
who
has
instituted
new
policies
to
protect
the
place
.
And
now
-
let
the
word
go
out
across
the
seven
seas
-
there
are
much
,
much
stricter
laws
on
the
books
about
who
may
enter
this
harbor
.
You
may
not
come
here
anymore
with
your
hard
and
abusive
thoughts
,
with
your
plague
ships
of
thoughts
,
with
your
slave
ships
of
thoughts
,
with
your
warships
of
thoughts
-
all
these
will
be
turned
away
.
Likewise
,
any
thoughts
that
are
filled
with
angry
or
starving
exiles
,
with
malcontents
and
pamphleteers
,
mutineers
and
violent
assassins
,
desperate
prostitutes
,
pimps
and
seditious
stowaways
-
you
may
not
come
here
anymore
,
either
.
Cannibalistic
thoughts
,
for
obvious
reasons
,
will
no
longer
be
received
.
Even
missionaries
will
be
screened
carefully
,
for
sincerity
.
This
is
a
peaceful
harbor
,
the
entryway
to
a
fine
and
proud
island
that
is
only
now
beginning
to
cultivate
tranquillity
.
If
you
can
abide
by
these
new
laws
,
my
dear
thoughts
,
then
you
are
welcome
in
my
mind
-
otherwise
,
I
shall
turn
you
all
back
toward
the
sea
from
whence
you
came
.
That
is
my
mission
,
and
it
will
never
end
.
I
’
ve
made
good
friends
with
this
seventeen
-
year
-
old
Indian
girl
named
Tulsi
.
She
works
with
me
scrubbing
the
temple
floors
every
day
.
Every
evening
we
take
a
walk
through
the
gardens
of
the
Ashram
together
and
talk
about
God
and
hip
-
hop
music
,
two
subjects
for
which
Tulsi
feels
equivalent
devotion
.
Tulsi
is
just
about
the
cutest
little
bookworm
of
an
Indian
girl
you
ever
saw
,
even
cuter
since
one
lens
of
her
"
specs
"
(
as
she
calls
her
eye
-
glasses
)
broke
last
week
in
a
cartoonish
spiderweb
design
,
which
hasn
’
t
stopped
her
from
wearing
them
.
Tulsi
is
so
many
interesting
and
foreign
things
to
me
at
once
-
a
teenager
,
a
tomboy
,
an
Indian
girl
,
a
rebel
in
her
family
,
a
soul
who
is
so
crazy
about
God
that
it
’
s
almost
like
she
’
s
got
a
schoolgirl
crush
on
Him
.
She
also
speaks
a
delightful
,
lilting
English
-
the
kind
of
English
you
can
find
only
in
India
-
which
includes
such
colonial
words
as
"
splendid
!
"
and
"
nonsense
!
"
and
sometimes
produces
eloquent
sentences
like
:
"
It
is
beneficial
to
walk
on
the
grass
in
the
morning
when
the
dew
has
already
been
accumulated
,
for
it
lowers
naturally
and
pleasantly
the
body
’
s
temperature
.
"
When
I
told
her
once
that
I
was
going
to
Mumbai
for
the
day
,
Tulsi
said
,
"
Please
stand
carefully
,
as
you
will
find
there
are
many
speeding
buses
everywhere
.
"
She
’
s
exactly
half
my
age
,
and
practically
half
my
size
.
Tulsi
and
I
have
been
talking
a
lot
about
marriage
lately
during
our
walks
.
Soon
she
will
turn
eighteen
,
and
this
is
the
age
when
she
will
be
regarded
as
a
legitimate
marriage
prospect
.
It
will
happen
like
this
-
after
her
eighteenth
birthday
,
she
will
be
required
to
attend
family
weddings
dressed
in
a
sari
,
signaling
her
womanhood
.
Some
nice
Amma
(
"
Aunty
"
)
will
come
and
sit
beside
her
,
start
asking
questions
and
getting
to
know
her
:
"
How
old
are
you
?
What
’
s
your
family
background
?
What
does
your
father
do
?
What
universities
are
you
applying
to
?
What
are
your
interests
?
When
is
your
birthday
?
"
Next
thing
you
know
,
Tulsi
’
s
dad
will
get
a
big
envelope
in
the
mail
with
a
photo
of
this
woman
’
s
grandson
who
is
studying
computer
sciences
in
Delhi
,
along
with
the
boy
’
s
astrology
charts
and
his
university
grades
and
the
inevitable
question
,
"
Would
your
daughter
care
to
marry
him
?
"
Tulsi
says
,
"
It
sucks
.
"
But
it
means
so
much
to
the
family
,
to
see
their
children
wedded
off
successfully
.
Tulsi
has
an
aunt
who
just
shaved
her
head
as
a
gesture
of
thanks
to
God
because
her
oldest
daughter
-
at
the
Jurassic
age
of
twenty
-
eight
-
finally
got
married
.
And
this
was
a
difficult
girl
to
marry
off
,
too
;
she
had
a
lot
of
strikes
against
her
.
I
asked
Tulsi
what
makes
an
Indian
girl
difficult
to
marry
off
,
and
she
said
there
are
any
number
of
reasons
.
