Continued...
A small, white meeting house of some kind was opened to visitors for this special event. Upon entering, I noticed that everyone was taking off their shoes, so I followed suit and then found myself a bit of floor to sit on, as everyone else was doing. There were no chairs in the room at all, but being young and flexible, this was appealingly easygoing.
After what felt like a long time waiting, there was a sudden commotion at the far side of the room and then everyone stood up. I couldn’t see anything for a while, and then the sea of people shifted and there She was, this tiny woman in white, smiling flamboyantly and walking toward the front of the room.
I hadn’t expected Her to be so small! I remember my first thought: “Oh, it’s just a little Indian woman!” And the next thought I had – oddly prescient, given that I did not yet have any experience of Her – was that if She weren’t wrapped tight in that white sari of Hers, She might just dissipate into thin air.
She sat on the small stage with Her entourage – four or five Indian men also dressed in white. With the help of one of the men, She led us in meditation, then in singing – but it was in an Indian language, and I felt adrift there – and then Ammachi (or “Beloved Mother”) sat in a chair to do what I had been told was The Best Thing On Earth: hugging. Or darshan, actually, which I was told meant “to see the guru”.
Ammachi’s darshan is historically unique. Most – if not all – of the great beings that have come to the earth to lift us out of our self-imposed muck will not allow themselves to be touched. In India, there is the added prohibition of being female. Amma, however, feeling so passionately that people Page 8 Mother Love Chapter One need to know the physical touch of a truly loving mother in order to heal, fl outs both of these prohibitions and takes us into Her arms to love us as only a Divine Mother can do. This is “darshan” of a unique sort; a blessing of a truly remarkable magnitude.
Well! In Ammachi’s second year visiting the U.S., there was no order about the proceeding at all. All of us – maybe 60 – started scooting towards Her on the floor from all directions, and I became furious. “We’re all ruining our clothing doing this! What on earth is going on here?” I was thinking.
I repeatedly thought of getting up and leaving – this was undignified! – but I stayed. I had been told about this hug of Hers, and I wanted to see what this was about for myself.
After what felt like a long time waiting, there was a sudden commotion at the far side of the room and then everyone stood up. I couldn’t see anything for a while, and then the sea of people shifted and there She was, this tiny woman in white, smiling flamboyantly and walking toward the front of the room.
I hadn’t expected Her to be so small! I remember my first thought: “Oh, it’s just a little Indian woman!” And the next thought I had – oddly prescient, given that I did not yet have any experience of Her – was that if She weren’t wrapped tight in that white sari of Hers, She might just dissipate into thin air.
She sat on the small stage with Her entourage – four or five Indian men also dressed in white. With the help of one of the men, She led us in meditation, then in singing – but it was in an Indian language, and I felt adrift there – and then Ammachi (or “Beloved Mother”) sat in a chair to do what I had been told was The Best Thing On Earth: hugging. Or darshan, actually, which I was told meant “to see the guru”.
Ammachi’s darshan is historically unique. Most – if not all – of the great beings that have come to the earth to lift us out of our self-imposed muck will not allow themselves to be touched. In India, there is the added prohibition of being female. Amma, however, feeling so passionately that people Page 8 Mother Love Chapter One need to know the physical touch of a truly loving mother in order to heal, fl outs both of these prohibitions and takes us into Her arms to love us as only a Divine Mother can do. This is “darshan” of a unique sort; a blessing of a truly remarkable magnitude.
Well! In Ammachi’s second year visiting the U.S., there was no order about the proceeding at all. All of us – maybe 60 – started scooting towards Her on the floor from all directions, and I became furious. “We’re all ruining our clothing doing this! What on earth is going on here?” I was thinking.
I repeatedly thought of getting up and leaving – this was undignified! – but I stayed. I had been told about this hug of Hers, and I wanted to see what this was about for myself.
Lori Kirstein • LKCopyArts@Gmail.com