Courtesy Of Radio Sri Chinmoy

When I perform in the subway, people often approach me and ask, "Why don't you sing about Jesus?" So I turn them around and have them look at the people on the platform. There's a beautiful Muslim family passing by. A few yards away, a Hasidic man is talking to his wife. A lesbian couple I know walks past and waves and their young son says he saw me on tv. Each time a train leaves, the platform fills again with all different kinds of people who quite frankly don't need to be preached at by the likes of me, The Worlds Best Sinner.

What could I possibly say to a Muslim or Jew or B'hai that would turn them to Jesus anyway? How could I possibly say it in the space between trains? Why would I want to intrude on such personal matters in public?

But I have a secret.

My work over the past 20 odd years has been a ministry. You see, I'm not kidding when I say that Love Is God. Christians I say this to call it a syntax error, but I know better. Ever since I touched the Love that Knows no Comprehension (or when the Radiant Is touched me) it occasionally pours itself into me like a waterfall and I'm forced to give it away in tiny thimbles called "songs." It's a maddening task that seems to be never ending, but it seems if I stop I'll drown in Love. So I pour a thimble or two on a few hundred hearts, knowing that in most cases, folks won't realize what I did to them until after they've left the station. Over time, I've built an underground Cathedral where music helps to heal the investment banker, the school teacher, the immigrant laborer, the Christian, the Muslim, the old Spanish Catholic lady who loves Julio Iglesias...

Today I'd like to present some beautiful music written by Sri Chinmoy, performed by musicians from Russia. Folks who think like Pat Robertson think Sri Chinmoy is going to hell for not accepting Christ as his personal savior, so I figured I'd give him some props while he's still around. You can download the entire album here, or if you dialup, you can download individual tracks here.

Music reaches into places in the heart where words cannot reach.

Namaste,

Subway