*Govinda Dasi*
*June 25 at 8:32 AM*
This morning I was remembering something so very clearly. It was in *1968,* and on this particular day, *Srila Prabhupada* was looking very pensive, thoughtful, as if he were *watching a movie of the future.*
Often he would comment on *events in this world,* though we were never connected by *tv or internet—only an occasional newspaper* that would come our way.
But *Srila Prabhupada* would look around and seem to *know what was going on in the world as mystic seers do,* since those *siddhis were always available to him.*
I was always totally unaware of anything that was going on in the outside world, since I considered his room to be *MY world,* and *HE was all the people.*
I was young, *only twenty,* and nothing in the world of current affairs had ever interested me. In high school and college, only Thoreau’s *“Walden Pond”* sparked my interest.
On this day, I went in and sat down quietly in front of his trun
