Eyes of Love
By: Mangala Dolinar
In the summer of 2019, a friend informed me that she wanted to travel to Taos, NM, to visit the Hanuman temple for Guru Purnima. This year’s Guru Purnima celebration was supposedly very special, as the beloved marble Hanuman Murti that Ram Dass commissioned was being moved from his humble abode to a new, beautiful adobe mandir, built brick by brick with the love of Ram.
We traveled in a hurried sprint—driving 24 hours straight to Taos from Asheville, NC—and set up camp as approved sevaks on the temple grounds for the weekend. To our astonishment, Ram Dass had come, traveling all the way from Maui, HI, in his wheelchair, escorted by his entourage of devoted caretakers. Being in his 80s, and on the mainland for the first time in over a decade, meant Ram Dass' fame was elevated to full "rock star" status. Every time I saw a glimpse of him being wheeled around, a crew of 50 or so would follow behind or swarm around, praying for a moment to lock in with those eyes of love that he shared.
Uninterested in joining the feigning crowds, I instead kept my focus on my prayers to Sri Hanuman, welcoming him earnestly to his new temple home. Occasionally, I’d catch a glimpse over the back of Ram Dass’ shoulder, into the face of the individual he was lovingly connecting with—and the mirror of their faces was borderline indescribable. I saw love, unfettered, unlimited, unconditional, pure, raw LOVE.
I observed, over and over again, these responses in the beautiful faces of those absolutely captivated by the loving awareness that Ram Dass embodied. It was so beautiful—watching their tears as they looked into his face, noticing tears falling from my own in response—as I turned and sang to Hanuman, turning back to cry with the beloved eye-gazing with Ram Dass, back to Hanuman, back to Satsang.
As the day progressed, a flower ceremony was initiated, and giant mixing bowls full to the brim with flower petals were brought one by one into the temple. Visitors were encouraged to come to the front, grab a handful of petals, and throw them into the air—showering the marble Hanuman, welcoming him and honoring him in his new home. One by one, devotees approached the murti, each offering their love, gratitude, and devotion in the form of flower petals. With every handful tossed, Hanuman was enveloped in waves of color—an endless cascade of love made visible.
As the ceremony unfolded, I sat on my cushion in the center of the room, watching as the crowd churned around me, each person taking their turn participating in the offering. My gaze locked onto Hanuman’s, the energy in the space deepening with every chant, every petal, every prayer. I sank further into the practice—stiller and stiller, my awareness dissolving into Hanuman's eyes—and something within me flipped. I was no longer the one in the crowd, gazing up at the murti, but the murti, gazing out at the room full of the beloved.
This moment, this flip, sent me deeper into my practice, deeper into the well of loving awareness that had now consumed the room. I was, in this moment, seeing through the eyes of Hanuman, and feeling the unconditional love being showered upon all of us, all as one. It was like an infinite feedback loop, a mirror, a pure reflection of the eyes of love that we are all capable of embodying and sharing.
From this perspective, the room stretched wide, shimmering in waves of devotion. Flower petals rained down until there was no distinction between giver and receiver, no separation between devotion and the devoted. Love was not something exchanged—it was simply being, infinite and indivisible. In that moment, I understood—this is what it means to see through the eyes of love. To witness the world as Hanuman does, in a state of pure, unwavering service and devotion to love itself.
As the celebration wound down, we packed up for the long drive home, and the memory of those eyes of love remained steadfast in my mind. I found myself practicing this gaze, relaxing into the well of unconditional love that always surrounds us, seeing the world through Hanuman’s eyes of Loving Awareness—just as Ram Dass had. The way he met each person with that same unwavering presence, that same infinite reflection of love, was no different from Hanuman’s darshan. He showed us, again and again, that this love is not beyond us, not outside of us—it is within us, waiting to be seen, waiting to be shared.
Ram Dass often said, “The best thing you can do for me is work on yourself, and the best thing I can do for you is to work on myself.” These words live in me as a reminder that the love we share with others is born from the love we cultivate within ourselves. The eyes of love that Ram Dass and Hanuman reflect aren’t separate from us—they’re the very love we’re capable of embodying and sharing in the world. So, how can I show up in this life as my fullest version of self—with eyes of love, so that I may serve, and help others remember the light within themselves too?