MY DAY WITH AMMA, PART 1

Amma.  The "Hugging Saint".  Maybe you've heard of her or saw her featured on a segment of TV's 60 Minutes a few years ago.  She is an Indian woman in her 60's who has risen to be one of the most important and revered spiritual teachers of our time.  She is also a humanitarian marvel, creating systems for helping people all over the world, often in places where red-tape, corruption, and policy mean many in poverty go without the most basic of needs.  Somehow she makes happen what needs to happen to serve the underserved.  Her story is quite remarkable.

More info here on her website: http://amma.org.  I also thought this NYT article was a good one:  http://www.nytimes.com/2013/05/26/business/ammas-multifaceted-empire-built-on-hugs.html?_r=0

Amma tours the world, making appearances in large venues where people line up to wait for hours for a hug from her, to take part in the "vibe" of her religion, which is by all outward appearances a Hindu-inspired practice, but which she defines simply as "Love".

Last Saturday I went for the first time to get my Amma hug.  But here's the thing:  Hub and I were rather ambivalent about going.  She comes to Seattle every year and we always say we will go but then we don't.  But this year we were more motivated because her appearance was not in Seattle, but in the city where we live, at a sports arena about a mile from our house.  How could we pass this up?  This world-renowned saint was practically on our doorstep!  So we headed downtown, found parking, and thought we'd see how long the line was...still giving ourselves the option of cutting out if it looked daunting, as it might since we got there a bit late.

Outside the arena we were met by greeters wearing red scarves, who smiled broadly and welcomed us.  One young woman asked if we'd seen Amma before.  We said no, we're newbies.  She replied, "You will love this experience!  The first time I saw her I was blown away.  When she entered the hall I actually collapsed!  Her energy is amazing...overwhelming...."  Maybe she would have gushed on and on, but we sidled away from her, eager to get in the ticket line and a bit bemused by the adoration, skeptics that we are sometimes.

Once inside there was quite the throng, but it seemed well-organzied and we thought, "well, we're here; might as well do this" and we stood in a serpentine line of patient, soft-spoken, rather jolly souls all eager for their "hug ticket" stamped with a number that would tell us where we'd fall in the day-long hug line.

After 30-40 minutes we made our way to the usher who gave us our tickets, stamped X-2, which seemed pretty far down the alphabet.  Again, we almost bailed.  But Hub asked if we could leave and come back closer to hug time.  The usher hesitated, then allowed that we could leave, but she highly recommended that we stay and be in the energy of the experience.  There would be food, beverage, shopping, meditation workshops, music....  Fine, but we still figured we'd just leave for awhile.  I mean, it was a beautiful Saturday and I didn't want to be stuck inside all day.  We had a number of  chores to do at home -- choosing paint color for our exterior house painting project, deciding on our new DISH-TV package,  getting our in-ground sprinkler system going for the summer....Could be we weren't quite on board with the spiritual aspects of the Amma adventure in that moment...Ha!

Once through the line, we were seated in an area in front of the stage, where rows of chairs on either side of Amma's dais were being set up.  Her perch was surrounded by colorful curtains, robes, drapes and flowers.  Dozens of volunteers rushed about seating people, guiding people, working the food services, serving in the dining area, selling merchandise of all kinds -- clothing, oils, candles, cards with photos of Amma, T-shirts, books, CDs, DVDs, Hindu deity statues.  It was a veritable marketplace.  I've read that Amma travels with nearly 200 devotees who staff her appearances and at each stop there are scores of local devotees who join the staff for the length of her appearances -- here it was 3 days.

We settled in surprisingly quickly, taking in the scene and sort of soaking in the vibe.  We saw some people we knew who were local volunteers who told us we were in for a life-changing experience; that we'd get a "bliss blast".  We were still not so sure of that, but we decided we were in for the duration by that time.  We were curious, and hey, who knows?  If a hug can be life-changing I'm all for that.

About an hour after we got into the arena, Amma came out onto the stage.  I did not collapse.  I just sat and watched her attendants seat her and make sure she was comfortable.  An announcer introduced local dignitaries who seemed bewildered at times, but did not embarrass themselves.   A swami led us all in a meditation that was surprisingly long and deep.  There is something to be said about meditating with hundreds of people in one space.  Amma said a few words translated and I don't remember them.  Nothing that moved me.  Then she started hugging.

And we started people-watching.  This was the biggest continuously polite, smiling, mellow crowd I'd ever been part of.  It was truly intergenerational too.  Older folks mingled with surprisingly well-behaved children, hipsters and women who looked like stereotypical "church ladies" who'd maybe wandered in from Bible Study sat side-by-side.  I saw people in Indian dress and those in bermuda shorts, some in Seahawk shirts and most everyone wearing malas -- more than could be counted.  It was a predominantly Caucasian crowd with Indian folks likely second in number.  Those of Asian, African American, and Native descent were in the mix too.   We milled about and bought T-shirts and had some great Indian food and Chai tea.  We observed, chatted, read, and waited as the volunteer flipped the sign numbers indicating which group was currently invited to get in the hug queue.  We chanted with the live Kirtan band and listened to a long multi-versed Sanskrit chant that started to give me a headache and could have used a bit of editing in my judgement.

Large projection screens on the stage showed a continuous live feed of Amma hugging the constant stream of people who  approached her where she sat.  I noted that each person's head was shoved into Amma's bosom by an attendant and Amma's arms went around the person.  Sometimes she bent her own head to theirs, but often she just hugged and talked to her attendants quite animatedly, nodding, smiling, pointing, like there were just hanging out having a conversation, unperturbed by this line of people kneeling at Amma's feet with their heads chucked into her torso.  On a couple of occasions Amma took phone calls during hugs -- an attendant held a cell phone in front of her as she spoke via speaker it seemed.  But even if she seemed distracted, at some point she did bend toward the supplicant and seemed to tune in to that person if only for a few seconds.  Then that person was finished.  I could tell as they parted that they were handed something from Amma, and it was on to the next...for hours and hours and hours.

Yes, we also watched the clock. The time seemed both to creep and move swiftly.  Maybe there was some crazy magic in the air.  We had been inside the arena for seven hours, when finally our grouping was called to the stage....

STAY TUNED FOR MY DAY WITH AMMA, PART 2  and my view from here.... ©

SEEKING PEACE

I'm thinking about the fragility of life today.  I'm thinking of the little burst of optimism most of us demonstrate just by saying,  "See ya later!" when we depart from family or friends.  Because lately it feels like the odds are against that being the case.

Two and a half weeks ago, on March 8, Malaysian Airlines Flight 370 disappeared into thin air; or landed on a remote strip of island, or crashed into the wilderness, or flew straight into the Indian Ocean -- no one quite knows since all communication was lost (seemingly purposefully) and the jet veered dramatically off course and continued on to "somewhere" for several hours undetected.  Searchers are still trying to find Flight #370.

Last Tuesday, March 18th, a news helicopter fell out of the sky on a busy Seattle street next to the Space Needle at 7:30 in the morning.  It landed on cars sitting at a stoplight, yet some people were able to escape before the crashsite was engulfed in flames.  It was a miracle there weren't more casualties, but the deaths of the pilot and photojournalist aboard and the severe burns suffered by a driver in the wrong place at the wrong time were sobering enough.

At 10:45 this past Saturday morning, March 22, an enormous hillside slid down onto a whole neighborhood along the Stillaguamish River, a beautiful, rural, small-town area north of where I live, burying everything in its muddy path in a one-square mile slurry of mud and debris.  They say it took only seconds to sweep everything away, to bury everything and everyone in its path under 40-50 feet of mud; no time to run.  Twenty-four bodies have been recovered so far; scores still missing.

Tsunamis, earthquakes, hurricanes, and tornados have all been top story news with seeming regularity.  People with guns wreck havoc in schools, on campuses, in movie theaters and on street corners so often we have almost come to expect it -- saddened but not shocked anymore.  Drunk drivers are so commonplace I am almost amazed we make it home most nights at all, grateful to have avoided the carnage that has come to so many so senselessly.

I realize all of these incidents are echoed through the news media 24/7, creating the sense that they happen over and over, when in truth the odds really are still with us.  Yet, no matter the odds, we are vulnerable every day to an untimely, unexpected departure from this life, leaving those behind to mourn, pray, and question fate.

Still, aren't we always, every minute, in a time of transition?  We are here for such a brief moment, then we are gone, whether we live in these bodies for one year or one-hundred.  It's a quick stop in the grand scheme of things.  Maybe the surprise should be that we get the gift of another day at all.

I have a spiritual teacher who stops everything she is doing whenever she hears a siren on the city streets.  She spends a moment, not turning away from whatever tragedy may have befallen a stranger, but turning toward that pain and opening her heart with compassion.  She chants "Om Namah Shivaya", honoring Shiva the Destroyer, who makes the way clear for rebirth, for regeneration, who represents transition of all kinds.

Perhaps the best we can do is to embrace each of our days with gratitude, send loving compassion to those who suffer and mourn, and know that transition is life and, as my teacher says, "Capital 'L' Love" is really all we have to count on.   Om Shanti Om  (Peace to all Humankind).

At least, that's the view from here… ©