YOU GET WHAT YOU NEED

 "You can't always get what you want, but if you try sometimes, you just might find, you get what you need..."  Mick Jagger.

I decided to try to fit my neighborhood walk in before the predicted showers hit this later this morning.  I left at 10:00 a.m.  By 10:10 it was raining.  At first I thought, "Damn! I gotta get  home!"  But then I remembered I am actually not the Wicked Witch of West in danger of melting in the rain, nor did I have her troop of winged monkeys to carry me back up the steep hill I'd just descended.  So, I decided something uncharacteristic of me; I decided I'd carry on.

I'm a fair weather outdoors-woman.  I like to be warm, dry, and comfortable at all times.  I'm more of an indoors-woman during the cold, wet, gray NW fall/winter/spring.   I do not purposely go out in the rain, especially if it's accompanied by wind.  It wasn't windy today, so that likely played into my radical decision to keep to my walking route, even in the rain.

About the time I felt the first sprinkles, I stopped at a bench at the bottom of my hill to gather my thoughts.   I looked out at the slate gray sky merging with the slate gray water and regretted I had not gone on my usual Marina walk.  It's got postcard perfect views. But I decided to stop wishing for something other than what was right in front of me.  

Here, at the bottom of my hill, is the urban, industrial water view.  The working waterfront, the unpretty one, the one that challenges and frustrates. I saw the Navy base, the shipping piers, the big cranes.  And out beyond, the islands and cloud-obscured Olympic Mountain range.  This has a certain beauty too, often harder to see.  I also heard the sea lions barking, even if I couldn't see them.  I knew they'd thrown their big bodies, so unwieldy on land and so sleek and sure in water, up onto a buoy or pier calling out to each other in their distinctive deep-throated "harrh-harrh-harrh".  We were so charmed to hear this sound from our house when we moved here long ago.  It seems so strange and wild.  I heard  the gulls overhead cawing, the Pileated Woodpecker going to town on the nearby wooden utility pole.  I watched robins pecking at the wet soil and noticed three crows keeping watch lined up on an overhead wire.  I closed my eyes and heard the patter of rain against my quilted jacket as it came down more insistently.  I was grateful I'd chosen the winter coat and not the lighter windbreaker I almost grabbed.  

I got up and started walking again, my usual neighborhood route, deciding not to hurry, but to keep a moderate, steady pace no matter the weather.  When I got to the intersection of my street where I would normally turn back home, I kept going up, up, up the gradual incline I'd already been climbing for two blocks.  My hair was wet. My fingers were cold in spite of my gloves.  I don't know why I decided to do another part of the route that I only do occasionally, a few blocks further on to a pocket subdivision near our home with its meandering, cul-de-sac streets lined with well-kept homes and generally not a soul in sight.  

It was quiet today too.  I noticed the rain dripping down my forehead, the wet fabric of my pants against my thighs, a little twinge in my left knee, the way my right foot seems to swell if I walk a long ways, as if the top of my foot rises up to hit the laces inside.  A slight pain shot down my low back to my butt and I reminded myself to do some yoga for sciatica when I got home.  I was aware of my body.  Aware of being wet, but not cold, not miserable -- just persevering.  

When I came out of the subdivision I turned right instead of left leading me to a footbridge over the roadway to access a huge forested park near us.  I went to the bridge, then turned back toward home, but again did not take the most direct route, but a longer one, one that put me two blocks further away and would require a short but steep uphill climb to my street.  All of this seemed like the most logical thing in the world to do.  (Plus my Fitbit registered 4.3 miles and 10,128 steps!)

I realized I was challenging my comfort zone.  I was building resilience muscles in my body.  I have tackled enormous emotional challenges lately, but this felt different and good.   I was learning lessons with my body that I've been trying to learn only in my mind.  

It's not like I was running a marathon or scaling Mt. Everest, but it was practice in allowing for discomfort, for accepting the "is-ness" of the moment, for realizing what we want and what we get are often very different things.  It was a lesson in perseverance and acceptance.  It was a lesson in no matter how much I wanted the sun to shine, what I was going to get was rain.  So, I decided to be in the rain, with all my awareness, and find my life there, alone, making my way.   It's what I need.

At least that's the view from here...©

MY DAY WITH AMMA, PART 2

For seven hours we'd been in the arena where Amma, the "hugging saint", was appearing when our group was called to line up for seating in the "Dharma Line".
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dharma  A volunteer checked our ticket (Group X) to ensure we weren't cutting in ahead of others.  She asked if we wanted to be hugged separately or together -- we did notice some couples and even families all got one big hug.  We debated this, thinking it could be a nice shared experience, but in the end I wanted my own hug -- both arms around just me.  I need all the help I can get!

We then were asked to sit in a line of two adjacent folding chairs along a center aisle, moving up to the next set of chairs in front of us for about 15 rows, as they were vacated by the folks ahead. Eventually we reached a little "holding area" with chairs in a circle just at the edge of the stage.  We were asked to remove our shoes and stow our backpack in a big blue plastic tub.  I could feel my heart start to pound with nervous excitement.  We were so close now and I wondered if indeed, I'd get the "bliss blast", if I'd collapse from the Amma energy field surrounding me, if somehow all would be revealed in just one hug from this amazing woman.

Everything seemed to speed up at this point.  We moved rapidly around the circle and soon it was my turn to ascend the stairs to the stage.  There were still about 4 more chairs to advance from there to Amma's arms.  The stage was jammed with people.  There were rows of folding chairs arranged on either side of Amma's perch, facing her.  People who'd already had their hug were invited to sit here for a time, soaking in the proximity to her, until they had to move off the stage to make room for the next people ascending.   The stage was also crowded with volunteers and attendants to Amma, all directing traffic and crowding around her, helping move people through the hug moment.

I got to the first chair, then was asked to kneel about three people back from my turn.  I got down on my knees (thank you yoga practice!) and felt hands on my back inching me forward as those in front of me got their hug and moved on.  It was very crowded and I felt like I was being pushed into the back of the person in front of me -- similar to getting into a rock concert where there is only general seating.


Then I was being pushed forward with a hand on the back of my head directing me firmly into Amma's bosom.  But not before I caught a glimpse of her white robes, stained at the shoulder with what I took to be smeared makeup, sweat, and general human facial debris left behind by those in groups A-W.  The thought that I should hold my breath flitted through my mind.

I felt Amma's arms enfold me around my shoulders and mine wrap around her at the waist.  She feels
like a mother should -- all soft and round, with a hug that is simultaneously firm and gentle.  And she smelled amazing -- a mixture of sweet and savory -- flowers and spice.

I tried to tune everything else out -- Hub behind me, the crowd of attendants, the other devotees, and

knowing my image was now projected on the big screens for the crowd to see.  I just wanted to be in  the moment.  She bent her head to my ear and whispered a Sanskrit phrase over and over, maybe ten times.  I wish I could remember it.  I know a bit of Sanskrit and I know one of the words or syllables

was "ma" or "mama", but there was another shorter consonant-vowel sound in between the repetition of "ma" that I just didn't get.  So, likely I missed the spoken wisdom, at least in a form I could understand.

And just like that, it was over.  The hug was maybe 30 seconds long.  At the end Amma handed me the traditional "sweet" and a flower petal.  Attendants sort of yanked me to my feet and turned me toward the stage seating area where I could sit and bask in the glory of the moment until it was time for me to depart from close proximity to Amma and return to the masses.

Once off the stage, Hub and I left the arena right away.  We both agreed that she is a good hugger.  We also both agreed that we didn't feel the "bliss blast", nor were we anywhere near collapsing from an overwhelming energy force.  We popped our "sweet" (a Hershey's Kiss) into our mouths and identified the tiny flower petal as having come from red geraniums.  We also agreed we were glad we came; glad we were among the millions who have flocked to Amma, as part of the spiritual phenomenon that has sprung up around her.

What sticks with me?

1.  I am deficient in the "guru worship" gene.  I think some people truly believe they find a guru who speaks to them and inspires them in a way that I have yet to experience with anyone.  So, maybe I'm missing out.  Or maybe I have a heightened degree of discernment.  I have held many people in high esteem, as teachers and role models, and most have disappointed me in some way if I put them on too high a pedestal.  I have then had to get over my disillusionment and realize that human foibles affect us all.  I gratefully take their teachings, often with humility, awe, and great respect, but I leave the over-all "guru worship" that is sure to disappoint.

2.  I realize I may not have gotten the full Amma experience.  Other friends of mine went to her Devi Bhava evening sessions.  At these there is a ritual for world peace and Amma provides mantras -- Sanskrit prayers for meditation.  She hugs all night long -- starting around 9:00 p.m. and going until the wee hours of 3-4 a.m.  I think the very nature of being up all night might heighten the altered-reality experience a bit.

3.  I most remember "the hug" as the one I gave Amma.  Yes, her arms were around me, but what is most prominently grooved into my mind is the feeling of my arms around her.  I can still conjure up how good it felt to hug her, to smell her, to hear the soft and strong sound of her voice in my ear.  I felt we were exchanging energy.  It was not a one-way hug for me.  I was not only "receiving"; I was "giving".  I've not heard anyone talk about this.  It's always "Getting a hug from Amma"-- an uneven exchange of energy.

4.  I came away thinking, "Well, that was nice, but not life-changing".   And yet...coincidence or the result of the energy field, I don't know, but for a few weeks (beginning before the hug and continuing since), I have felt a shift in my perspective.  Generally quick to judge, easily frustrated by people who "bug" me, I've become more accepting, less critical.  Whenever I see someone being weird, or jerky, I just say, "Well, I don't know their story."  If I am interacting with someone who is difficult, I maintain my own equilibrium and just keep breathing through it, detached and interested in the dynamic more than the outcome.  Whenever I feel my anxieties try to take over with "what if" thinking, I stop myself more quickly and just notice this is happening.  My fear seems to subside faster, my mindfulness practice seems easier, my mantra has become "Just Live!"  I appreciate the moments, the emotions, the sensual nature of life with more presence.

I don't completely credit my Amma hug with these shifts in awareness.  I have been on a spiritual and personal growth journey for most of my adult life.  The Amma hug was one among many profound experiences along the way.  I think self-awareness, growth toward spiritual attunement, and finding and enfolding ourselves in loving community to the benefit of all are why humans are here, what we are meant to be doing to further Creation.  Amma was a step on the path.

Still, I admire Amma.  I think she is truly a saint of humanitarian dedication, building an empire of good works in the world and all gratitude goes to her for the many lives she has touched with her vision and example.

But I think the bliss blast at Amma events is generated by a few hundred people gathered under one roof, in a loving state of mind -- projecting all of their own love energy onto a woman named Amma, perhaps not realizing this same bounty of love is within each of us all the time.  We are all hugging saints.

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