I love to hug. Friends, family, and strangers alike. The embrace is surrender of body. It is humble. It is a sign of equality between two persons. I tend to hold hugs too long. I am often blind to the discomfort and anxiety caused by human contact for some people. We should hug more. And more often. I can't wait to give my ma a hug. Force hug out of my nieces and nephews who bend to parental demand. Hugs are great.
When I hugged Amma, or should I say Amma hugged me she said, as I heard it- MELATONIN- in a husky hot lip to ear whisper. Hmm? I thought to myself- well then... I guesse we can leave now. I didn't have a rush of mothergy encapsulate my body. No visions of Krishna. The experience reminded me of the time a Catholic priest came on tour to St. Andrew's in Brainerd when I was about 12. He preached the gifts of tounges and the laying on of hands to recieve the Holy Spirit- very eccentric performances for our conservative church. He led the congregation in a cacophony of tongue twisting. Somehow he got the self-conscience and quiet Catholics to hand themselves over to God and be part of something beyond them.
After the spirit led tongue speak we all lined up to recieve the Holy Spirit through the priest's outstretched hand on head. Just like on TV. Old ladies and children alike fell down caught by hands waiting to break the gravity. Some people were allowed to croppie flop for a second or two. Waiting in line I wanted it. I wanted it so bad. I wanted the rush. The Holy Spirit high. When it was my turn, I closed my eyes and waited. Felt the priest's hand on my forehead... and waited. After a minute or so I was guided backwards with stiff arms. I understood the demand- lie down.
Gretchen and I decided to spend one night at Amitrapuri, Amma's ashram in Kerala. It is a large campus with many multi storied living quarters. We stayed on the top floor of one on the 16th floor. There is also a temple/ashram headquarters with bookstores, internet, and management offices. This looked like an average South Indian temple painted blue and pink and a million other colors. On the top of the temple was a statue of Anjuna and his chariot pulled by 5 horses.
There was a huge worship area the size of a convention center with a stage up front where musicians sat Indian style. Amma had an elevated platform to sit on. Above her was a giant portrait of herself. Everywhere around the ashram were portraits of Amma. Everywhere.
At the night worlship there was a lot of singing. Amma would spontaneously throw her hands in the air. There were a few middle aged men hippy dancing on the side of the sitting area. It reminded me of a mega church without the preaching. The mix of people was about 50-50 Indian-Western. A lot of Americans. Californians. Some families. A lot of young women. People chose to live at the ashram for months- if not years. Everything you needed was there. If you didn't like the Indian meal slopped out twice a day from industrial sized pots there was a variety of Western food available for purchase. The coffee and bakery items were a treat.
When I hugged Amma, or should I say Amma hugged me she said, as I heard it- MELATONIN- in a husky hot lip to ear whisper. Hmm? I thought to myself- well then... I guesse we can leave now. I didn't have a rush of mothergy encapsulate my body. No visions of Krishna. The experience reminded me of the time a Catholic priest came on tour to St. Andrew's in Brainerd when I was about 12. He preached the gifts of tounges and the laying on of hands to recieve the Holy Spirit- very eccentric performances for our conservative church. He led the congregation in a cacophony of tongue twisting. Somehow he got the self-conscience and quiet Catholics to hand themselves over to God and be part of something beyond them.
After the spirit led tongue speak we all lined up to recieve the Holy Spirit through the priest's outstretched hand on head. Just like on TV. Old ladies and children alike fell down caught by hands waiting to break the gravity. Some people were allowed to croppie flop for a second or two. Waiting in line I wanted it. I wanted it so bad. I wanted the rush. The Holy Spirit high. When it was my turn, I closed my eyes and waited. Felt the priest's hand on my forehead... and waited. After a minute or so I was guided backwards with stiff arms. I understood the demand- lie down.
Gretchen and I decided to spend one night at Amitrapuri, Amma's ashram in Kerala. It is a large campus with many multi storied living quarters. We stayed on the top floor of one on the 16th floor. There is also a temple/ashram headquarters with bookstores, internet, and management offices. This looked like an average South Indian temple painted blue and pink and a million other colors. On the top of the temple was a statue of Anjuna and his chariot pulled by 5 horses.
There was a huge worship area the size of a convention center with a stage up front where musicians sat Indian style. Amma had an elevated platform to sit on. Above her was a giant portrait of herself. Everywhere around the ashram were portraits of Amma. Everywhere.
At the night worlship there was a lot of singing. Amma would spontaneously throw her hands in the air. There were a few middle aged men hippy dancing on the side of the sitting area. It reminded me of a mega church without the preaching. The mix of people was about 50-50 Indian-Western. A lot of Americans. Californians. Some families. A lot of young women. People chose to live at the ashram for months- if not years. Everything you needed was there. If you didn't like the Indian meal slopped out twice a day from industrial sized pots there was a variety of Western food available for purchase. The coffee and bakery items were a treat.
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