If you love me, then I'll love you

Satsvarupa Dasa: Swamiji, you know what I was; you can see it in me still. It's obnoxious my mind filled with obscenities even if I don't speak them anymore. So much semen wasted and my brains scattered by LSD. That time I sat before you and imitated a yogi in lotus trance, what did I think I was doing to come into your presence like that? I argued against your statement that there was no need to read other scriptures besides the Vedas. And I complained, I'm trying to appreciate Bhagavad-gita, so why do you have to throw in mind-blowers about Krishna's marrying 16,000 wives? They ask me why I didn't write a diary; maybe because it's too much madness. I had to relearn everything and it took some time before writing became useful for your service. There was no need to tell you, Swamiji, all the gory details, but I could have written down how it was sweet in the morning to be with you for Caitanya-caritamrita. When you said, "If you love me, then I'll love you." I should have written it down right away. I'm sorry it's mostly all a blank. But thank you for coming. You are saving me. I don't want to ever forget or think your help was incidental, as if I were almost spiritual and you just added a few touches. Until only a few days ago I didn't have a beadbag. I thought you were going to teach the Tibetan Book of the Dead. I'd never seen a picture of Krishna. I thought everything was one and that I was the center, and sorry for myself, love-starved, food-starved. You saved me.