Amma on my mind

My yoga asana practice has been rough lately. I’m experiencing discomfort in my left hamstring and glute, and in my neck. This morning I had to drag myself to the shala to practice. The little kid inside my head kept trying to convince me to skip. To keep myself on track, I directed my thoughts to Amma and mentally chanted her name - the name of the Divine Mother.

When I got there, I sat in the lobby, as we students do until Sharath calls the next student. He shouts, “one more... two more” and we fill in the spots where the previous students have just finished their practice.

Today, for the third day in a row, I got a place near the mens’ locker room.

“Awesome,” I thought, “by the mens’ locker room again.”

“I don’t want to practice today, I don’t want to practice today,” the little kid inside me repeated.

Then the thought occurred to me, “there are probably close to 100 practice spots in the shala. Maybe there is some deeper reason why I keep 'randomly' ending up in the same one.”

I remembered something I read about Guruji, the late founder of the style of yoga I practice. When asked about a particular drishti (gaze point) in one of the postures, he replied, “There is only one drishti, that is God.”

On this advice from Guruji-voice-in-my-head, I redirected my thoughts to the Divine Mother, and mentally commenced chanting, “Amma, Amma, Amma...” again.

As I scooped my hands upward into warrior posture, I gazed heavenly and saw a poster-sized picture of Guruji’s late wife, also named Amma, and herself a beautiful embodiment of the Divine Mother. The picture is on the wall, near the ceiling, directly over my spot by the men’s locker room

Then it hit me: there is a reason I keep ending up here, right underneath this beautiful picture of Amma.

Again I was teary-eyed. Its been that way ever since meeting Amma a few days ago. I let the tears come. The little kid inside that didn’t want to practice succumbed, and the practice was quite healing.


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Am-ma!

Amma hugged me yesterday!

In the morning, Mr. Dalmia (also known as Puh-pa!, and my landlord) was excited that E and I were going to see Amma. He foretold that her bindi (the bright red colored dot she and many Indians wear on their foreheads) may sparkle; and, if I am lucky, she will whisper something in my ear in her native tongue. He told me a story of a relative that was healed of cancer by Amma’s grace.

We arrived at Amma’s ashram in Mysore at around 9:30 am. There must have been over a thousand people there. There was a very large tent with lots of seating, and a stage up front. Around the tent there were vendors, like at an outdoor festival. You get a time card when you arrive, which is exchanged for a hug token during satsang. “Satsang” means a gathering of true company.

When Amma entered the room, the energy instantly shifted. The same feeling that one gets at a favorite artist’s rock concert or a tense and exciting sporting event. She led the four-and-a-half-hour satsang, and then the hugging commenced. The satsang consisted of Amma-led chanting, singing, and a beautiful Divine Mother imagery meditation. During the chant, she would cry out the Divine Mother’s name, which sounded like, Am-ma! Am-ma! Am-ma! (with the accent on the second syllable the same way An-mei says Puh-pa!).

At one point during the satsang, I totally saw Amma’s bindi sparkle and I second-guessed what I had seen. Her bindi is just paint, so how could it sparkle like that?

Amma also gave a long speech which was translated into English via a large teleprompter. Her speech was poignant and in touch with current reality. She quoted Martin Luther King, Jr. and used metaphorical stories to convey her message.

The gist of her message is that we humans are not focusing enough on a spiritual education. We are living isolated lives, ruled by our egos, and we fail on a day-to-day basis to recognize the Divine unity at essence of all life on earth. The result is cultural and religious war, and the destruction of our planet. She advised we spend more effort and attention educating our youth about compassion and spirituality.

After the satsang, while we were waiting for our hug token number to be called, we walked around the site. There was free food for all participants, even though a hug from Amma costs nothing. We ate rice and soup and dahl with our hands. E had a blast doing that. Then we visited some of the vendors, who were selling Amma pictures and cds and mala beads.  

A rudraksha mala caught my eye and E said, “mommy look at the beads!” and pointed to the same mala I was looking at.

I asked him, “do you want one?”

He said, “No, its for mommy. Its special.”

I bought it, of course, and some pictures of Amma. The day was spent keeping E entertained while we waited for our number. Not gonna lie, it was pretty tiring keeping him out of trouble for ten-plus hours. I tried to keep his attention and excitement by telling him that we were going to meet Amma. I explained that Amma is kind of like Santa Claus, and you can ask her for anything you want.

I said, "what are you going to ask Amma for?"

He replied matter of factly, "Presents." I got a little nervous that he would be disappointed when his presents did not instantly appear after meeting Amma. 

I tried to mitigate the damage: "you might not get the presents you ask Amma for right away; they might come later or in a different way." 

He stared at me blankly.

When it was our turn, we got in line to get a hug from Amma. While in line, I had the thought that I would be wearing my new mala when receiving Amma’s hug. Instantly, I thought of what E said: that the mala is special. A tear came to my eye.

When we got up to the stage, Amma’s followers were helping to regulate. Most of them are Westerners, interestingly. They took my bag and my glasses. It was surreal meeting her on stage, with the bright lights, and not being able to see a thing without my glasses.

E didn’t want a direct hug so Amma kissed him on the top of the head. I held him while I got my hug. Her handlers basically kind of push your head down into Amma’s bosom. She was talking to a woman to my left while I was getting my hug, and it seemed to be to my advantage because I got a super-long hug while she talked! At one point, I kind of lifted my head and Amma firmly pushed my head back into her bosom.

While down there, I whispered, “Kalidas, clear skin” into her voluptuousness. She whispered something into my right ear in another language. As we parted ways, she handed us two folded up napkins with something inside. I handed one to E.

He was ecstatic. "A present for me from Amma!" 

"Yes!" I replied. I felt instant relief that my Santa Claus description of Amma held up muster to my two-year old. He opened it up and inside was a candy and some of the red bindi paint in a small baggy. He was very happy.

We walked down from the stage and I unwittingly started to cry, in a sort of half laughing/half crying sort of way, like when one is overjoyed.

E was totally energized by whatever just happened with Amma. All of a sudden, after being worn out and kind of cranky from a long day, he was going strong and running all around the grounds. We wandered over to another area of the site. It was dark out now and the area was decorated in green and blue strings of lights. 

He shouted with joy, "Christmas lights, mommy!" 

"Yes, Christmas lights!" I exclaimed back to him. Amma really is like Santa. I hope mommy's wishes are granted too.

It was 7:00pm by the time we got our hugs and there were many hundred people still waiting for theirs. After that, from what I could tell, the evening satsang was to start, with more hugs from Amma. I imagine Amma was hugging people until 3:00 or 4:00 AM.

That is amazing in itself; a fifty-something year old women spending 18+ hours hugging thousands of people while offering them all free food. She is the real deal - whether or not you believe in her grace, she is an amazing human being. She devotes her life to others, with a particular focus on orphaned children.

And I love her. I am downing the Amma kool-aid in large quantities. My landlords reminded me in the morning how lucky E and I are - that we were in Mysore at the right time and got to experience "darshan" (auspicious beholding of a saint) from Amma. 

I could not agree more.


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Amma is coming to town!

Amma is coming to town! Amma is also known as “the hugging saint.” She is a living mystic; living in a constant state of direct realization of the Divine. 

And she gives out hugs. People travel far distances for the chance to hug her, and stories of her mystical abilities and miracles abound. My friend Hope has seen her twice. Hope is here in Mysore too - this is actually her eleventh (11th!) trip.

She saw Amma in the United States and once here in India. She says you can ask Amma for something, and a miracle may occur. Hope asked Amma for healing for her friend Steve’s father, but all she could muster out while starstruck in Amma’s presence was “Steve, Steve, Steve.” Not only was Steve’s father healed, but for the next several months she attracted people named Steve into her life - to the point of ridiculousness.

So I’ve decided I’m going to ask Amma to be Kali Das. And by that I mean, I want to embody my higher self, to live in a state of communion with my higher self; the Divine within. The name ‘Kali Das” symbolizes that for me. Kali is a name for the Divine Mother, and Das means “servant of” or “devotee.”

Also, there is a famous Indian writer - the “Indian Shakespeare” if you will - named Kalidas. The story goes that Kalidas was the village idiot, and was utterly embarrassed and ridiculed because of his stupidity. He devoted his life to the Divine Mother, Kali, and was granted the gift of beautiful words. I feel I am being called to write, so the name Kali Das has deep significance.

So I am going to ask Amma to be Kali Das. I’ve heard Amma does not really speak English; however, she is said to understand all languages on a higher level. If all I can get out while mystified in her presence is, “Kali Das,” I will be happy.

Now if I have my wits about me, I’m also going to ask her for clear skin. 

Don’t laugh. Hope said there is a story of a woman asking Amma for bigger boobs and supposedly it happened. And Hope says Amma helped her hair grow. And I’m tired of having the skin of a teenager at almost thirty-six years old. I think maybe Amma can help me. Its worth a shot, and I’m certainly not above asking her. 

Admittedly it feels a bit silly, treating Amma like Santa Claus for grown-ups. But deep down I'm a believer, so I'm going for it wholeheartedly. Updates to follow.


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More adventures

Emerson is with Ratna this morning, and I am grateful for the time to write. I took a break from writing for a bit to take a walk down the road and grab lunch. Adventures ensued.

I see a cow on the side of the road. Lately I’ve been patting them on the head when I pass. Usually, the cows even bow their head a little to allow me to pat. I feel so connected to animals and think they must see that feeling of connection in me, and want my head pats. So this morning Ms. Cow bows her head a little, I reach out to pat, and she uses her pointy cow horns to whack me in the thigh. I turn and run a few steps and screech, thinking the cow is chasing me. Of course she is not, she is still where she was a moment ago, chewing her cud. I laugh out loud and look around. Luckily it does not appear that any of the locals saw me. Mental note: be more reticent with future cow pats.

I head on up to my favorite bakery where I can get a roasted veggie sandwich and curry-potato stuffed bread for 14 rupies total - which is about 28 cents. Best deal around. After I buy lunch I sneak into a local tailor shop, which recently moved locations to a better spot.

I walk in and meet the owner, and ask him if he moved recently. He says yes, and seems pleased that I noticed. I tell him that he altered a tank top for me last year, and that I bought a bag from him. He smiles and gets back to his work.

I pick out two beautiful bags (for gifts!) and five smaller wallet-size bags. I ask him how much it is. Here is the tricky part - in India, like lots of other places, the shop keepers almost expect you to bargain. As an American I’m not really comfortable with it, and usually feel out of my element trying to “make a deal.” He counts up the total and while he is counting I say something like, “Is there a discount for multiple purchases?” while laughing awkwardly.

He appears to completely ignore me and tells me the total is 1400 rupies, the exact ticket price. I decide to give up my negotiating, which is failing miserably, and convince myself that it is nice to help a local business owner and I am paying less than $30 for two big bags and five small wallets - what a deal. He smiles when I pay him and says, “you take one extra wallet, my gift to you.” 

Yay!! I thank him and wish him success at his new location. I head back home with a spring in my step.

Then I encounter two local transvestites. They are dressed like women, in beautiful saris, and have pretty, feminine faces. The only giveaway is the vague appearance of facial hair removal procedures on their chins. I know their story vaguely, the small bit I learned of it last year. They walk around and demand money from local business owners, threatening to curse them if they do not give them money. The locals believe in the girls’ powers and willingly pay to avoid being cursed. I decide to play stupid. I invoke the dumb American tourist approach.

The taller one calls from 20 feet away and walks toward me, “You have money. You give me 10 rupies.” I try to look confused and send love at the same time. I look her directly in the eye, “what do you need 10 rupies for?”

Her companion looks at me and says, “you have rice?” Although suddenly I’m not sure if she is saying, “you have lice?” Immediately my mind tells me she is trying to curse me with head lice!! I feel a bit of fear - could she really give me head lice? Her eyes are deep and mystical, and I all of a sudden believe she might have that power. I breathe and go back into my myself, try to feel my connection to the Divine. Again, I play stupid: “I do not have any rice. Do you want rice?”

She gets slightly annoyed, “give me 100 rupies,” she says with a firmer tone. I look into her eyes and give her a compliment and flash a playful smile: “with your beautiful eyes, I might consider it.” She blushes and her eyes warm up. She says, “where are you from?”

“America,” I tell her.

“What is your name?” She asks.

“Kali” I tell her. She smiles."What is your name?" I ask.

“My name is Shanti*,” she says.

Her friend becomes impatient with the delay. She says with a stern but kind tone, “10 rupies for her, 10 rupies for me.”

I reply in a dorky voice, nodding, feeling lucky to get out of the deal without head lice and for less than 100 rupies: “twenty rupies sounds fair.”

We part ways and both the girls say goodbye and thank you and I sense a warmness from them toward me. I walk away with a feeling of nervous excitement and feel fortunate for the chance encounter, which I instantly want to write about. Every day is an adventure here.




*(not her real name)


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Morning treat

This morning E and I headed up to Anoki’s Garden (frequented by Yoga students) for breakfast. We met some friends and were sitting at a big table with other yoga students that I do not know, though I’ve seen them around. One of the girls was telling a story about how she accidently left for yoga practice this morning without a cover-up on over her yoga clothes, just a scarf covering her, and she felt that the Indian women were staring at her and questioning her modesty. I had the thought, “I always leave the house with my yoga clothes and just a scarf – she must be overly modest.”

We leave and I’m walking E around the City. Everyone seems very friendly and waves and says hello. "I must be glowing with happiness," I think. We stop at a store to get my Indian phone reloaded with minutes and again I think about the yoga student, and her over-the-top modesty, and I think, “she is overreacting, I don’t need to worry that much about modesty.” 

Shit you not that very instant a middle-aged Indian women walks up to me and says, “Madame! You have a hole in the back of your pants, very bad spot, go home immediately and change. Please Madame.” I turn around and see that there is a largish hole, maybe 2x2, right over my asscrack! I have been flashing everyone we have past on the road for approximately the last hour.  So much for modesty.


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Kali, me demonstre

Kali, I’m in love with your essence,

my essence,

in human seed.

Yet, again at the hands of the proverbial thorn-covered rose I bleed.

This bag of bones attaches to fulfillment through others like him –

It cannot resist.

You know this.

You created it.

To what beautiful, Divine End?

I succumb to it again.

And again.

Make me impervious,

Make me your gate.

Let your Divine Will flow through me

Without words to negate

Your unspeakable Love

which, unlike words, 

is not subject to mistake.

Help me proceed without regard for vulnerability,

so that there is nothing left to protect.

Show me: At last! nothing can hurt me.

I am Your cause - 

Your effect.

Gently

Kali, Kali, Kali,
I'm under your spell
whether I love you or I hate you
either way I can't escape you -
The choices are mine:
the first is bliss, the other hell.
I surrender
 please be gentle
and remember
my heart is yours,
your Love pierces my shell.