Dear Friends, Yogis and Yoginis,

The Phenomenon of Amma

Note: I’m still looking through the lens of my Four on the Enneagram.

While our driver negotiated the festival traffic and “security guards,” our guide read to us about Amma. She has been considered a “saint” since she was 5 yrs old. Her religion, as she says it, is Love and Service, with which I naturally and deeply resonate. She has been recognized by world conferences for her work in serving humanity. Clearly, she is a great being with a necessary and timeless vision.

As our guide read this information, I could feel my heart squeezing and tears forming just behind my eyes. Granted I was probably pre-menstrual, but it was nonetheless touching me in a way I had not expected. I’ve never met an Indian saint or had a “real” darshan. Perhaps it would have all the power it was rumored to have and more?

I had a momentary concern about being hugged by her (she is the hugging saint). I feared the tears I registered upon listening to information about her might become all out bawling in gratitude and Love. (This response would be typical of the “deep-sea-diver” of the Four!) Lord knows I’m willing to be touched by Love and have often enjoyed a good cry with the right movie, piece of music, or expression from one human being to another. But I wasn’t sure I was prepared for this to happen publicly, in India.

The Pre-Event Music
The entire scene was a cacophony of sorts. Very loud and somewhat pleasing music was being played over extremely tall speakers while, almost matching in volume, and most certainly competing for the ear’s attention, a band of sorts was playing many loud cymbals, some kind of indecipherable percussion and occasional trumpets that only seemed to know one note. This music must be traditional and meant to evoke something more spiritual than my reaction! As a former trumpet player, I wanted to hear more melody from the trumpets. But I also wanted them to be in tune! Or only to play when the other music had ended. It gave me the distinct impression that “no one was listening to anyone else!”

The Devotees
Dozens of Caucasian women wearing all white flowing clothing arrived in different intervals to claim the plastic seats in front of us. Since Amma’s message is all about love and service, and since these devotees travel with her, I made an assumption that they would be “embassadors” of this love.

Now my One had a chance to really come out! (Fortunately, she does get softened by my base number, Four.) The judgments started to roll. Uncensored: You don’t look like you’re embodying Love. People who embody Love have beams of kindness coming from their eyes and they walk in a relaxed manner on the earth allowing Love to flow through them in spiritual waves of compassion to all beings. You have poor posture, darting eyes, and anxious, scurrying movements. (Did I mention that the One has really high standards?)

More considerate: The women look unhappy, unhealthy, and tense. They were not smiling, the did not exude joy. Their skin tone and posture looked tired. They hurriedly sought to claim their chair, sometimes brushing another person aside. Occasionally I could hear them speaking to each other in a way that I would label as rude.

One woman attempted to save a chair by placing an Amma brochure on it. This being so non-descript an action, one of my traveling companions picked up the brochure without registering what she had done. In the time she looked through it the original chair had been claimed by someone else and was promptly moved closer to the stage.

Ooops, we thought. We hope we have not just caused some trouble!

Sure enough, when the woman came back there were words to be had. Fortunately, she chose to have them with the women around her, those whom she suspected of taking her chair. She didn’t stop short of asking women to stand up so as to investigate if the photocopied brochure was unknowingly there underneath her butt!

A short while later, our guide left her seat with our Indian companion to go in search of the tickets that would let us in to the hug. A woman wearing white immediately swooped in on their seats, one for her, one for her young son, who was also wearing white. Moments later, when our guide and Indian friend returned to sit down again, the woman wearing white nearly yelled at them, exclaiming that you can’t leave your seat, it doesn’t belong to you, and since you guys don’t have tickets anyway, blah blah blah. She relinquished the chairs for our guide and friend and went back to her original seat, which was about 5 chairs down!

My dear friend and teacher, Catherine Ingram, has often said you can tell a lot about the guru by observing their disciples. We had plenty of time for close up observation. My disenchantment had begun.

Amma Speaking
Amma came on to the stage and, after several awards were given to remarkable poets, she spoke for almost an hour. I fell asleep several times. It was humid, crowded, getting late in the day (6 pm already!) and I was really relaxing into the Indian culture that sleeps whenever and wherever you want. Okay, so those are all excuses. Really, I could not understand a word she said as it was all in native language. And she spoke quickly and emphatically in a monotone voice. Monotone can put me under!

In the moments when I was awake, I did not see one disciple nodding knowingly, taking notes or resting into her teachings. In fact one woman was reading scripture while another was napping, head in hands. Behind me, I scanned the Indian crowd for some kind of recognition of what she was saying. Again, no nods or gestures or enrapt listening. This might be a cultural difference altogether but I missed the “Amens! Yeah, Brothers, and Hallelujahs!” (Not that my friends and I sit around talking and inserting these enthusiasms into the conversation, but I have seen it in movies and at rallies.)

Refreshed as I was by my dozing off, I had some energy for paying attention and decided I would simply take in her body language. She was definitely teaching something involving ethics or making personal change. It did not appear to be a message of simply remembering that God is your essential nature.

Later that night I would be able to ask our guide what it was she had been saying:

• If you are living “poshly” - as he put it, in other words, if you have 10 cars, or two houses, etc - it’s time to simplify.
  
• Be aware of the challenges facing humanity right now, from Katrina to poverty, theft and illness.
  
• To help heal the world, love and serve others.

Amen, I said.

Amma Singing
Well, since I had not studied up on my Indian saints, I was surprised and delighted when the kirtan began. The band was incredible. There were at least three tabla players, one harmonium, one keyboard, a male singer who sang with Amma and was outrageous, half a dozen response singers, and a very active pair of cymbals. I could not understand the words for any of the kirtans, until they sang Om Namah Shivaya, Shivaya Namah Om. But I thoroughly enjoyed the “authentic” Indian experience.

I amused myself from time to time with images of what the band practice with Amma must be like. Do they say “Take it from the top?”

A “Four” in the Crowd
(To my fellow Fours, and any one else with sensitivity tendencies, please excuse any unintended insensitivity on my part as I write this. It is written in the spirit of affection for and amusement with my own evolving process as an emotionally-oriented spiritual seeker.)

One of the disciples arrived quite late, after the talk and during the music. She was tall, blond, German perhaps, and either tense or upset. As she sat down (I was surprised she could find a chair!), I noticed some redness in her skin and tightness in her throat. (Yes, I was spying.) She swallowed several times. Then she sat piously (my judgment!) and seemed to be listening intently, as if it required enormous effort or produced an intent state of devotion. As I watched the tension around her eyes and forehead, I fantasized that part of the reason getting present required such effort was that she was locked into either a mental or emotional story that wasn’t about the present moment. And boy have I known that one!

A few moments later, I watched her face change again, swallow, swallow, and tears started to come. She clenched her jaw. Perhaps she was thinking “No, not here, don’t cry now.” Or, “I’m so moved and spiritual and this evokes such love and longing in me. Why aren’t the others getting how immense this Love is?” Or, “How dare he leave me when I am a beautiful blond woman of great spiritual depth?”

Moments later she popped out of her seat, rummaged through her bag, and hurriedly sat down again. I looked away out of politeness and growing interest in the music. When I looked back I was not surprised to find her journaling in an oversize journal with big scrawling handwriting. Clearly something had moved her, regardless of the movie I was making up about her; and writing seemed to bring relief.

It didn’t matter what she was thinking or writing actually, because the entire viewing was an opportunity for my own self reflection. Any one of those phrases would be the perfect Four slogan! I experienced a blinding moment of insight (not my first on this, but I apparently need them repeated) about how my family (not composed of Fours) and two previous boyfriends (who said my emotions seemed self-induced, bigger than the moment, and unnecessary) experienced me when I was in a “Four Spell!”

Such liberation!

Time For Hugs
Now that we were all juiced up from the singing, it was time for the experience everyone had been waiting for: the hugs. Except, our group was divided on whether or not this was still compelling. We admitted to not being impressed with the Love so far. Some of us had been bored and I was not the only one who napped. It was late and we were getting a glimpse of what the hugging might be like: People were crowding into a single lane pathway that reminded me of a cattle trough. They would come from both sides of the stage and, as they got closer to Amma, they were having their forehead, neck and face wiped with cloths (which I didn’t see them changing out after each use) by ready devotees (one of them the blond “Four“). There seemed to be a huge log jam and it appeared that a person got shuttled through, had a moment of embrace with Amma and was then scurried off the stage down a middle ramp, where more devotees would steady them, which I guessed people were needing because they were intoxicated by her hug.

The part of me that does not relish crowds wanted to leave. The part of me still curious to feel whatever possible shakti might be there wanted to proceed. The group split in two. Those of us who stayed were coaxed to the line ahead of our call time (everyone had a little ticket) thanks to the manipulative powers of our guide and the unexpected honor of being Westerners. (There seemed to be an assumption that we had traveled all this way from the West to see Amma.)

Indeed the pushing and the shoving was not my imagination. My face was wiped three times (once by the blond lady!); my bag was taken by a devotee with promises it would be returned as I left the stage; I had to take out my bobby pin in case it pressed against Amma’s face. Someone asked me my language, which I then heard repeated down the line each time I was pushed (literally) to the next position. “English. English. English.” Then I heard, “Hands down by your sides. Go, go, you’re next. English.”

Well, being pushed into a hug is not my idea of spiritual. And not having the use of my arms in an overcrowded situation where my legs feel unsteady annoys me (probably fear or a preservation instinct in case I want to push people away or catch my balance as someone is being pushed from right behind me too).

A moment later I was being “hugged.” They leaned me toward her, she held my head and put her mouth right in my ear and said something that had the letters M and/or D in it. But it certainly wasn’t English!

I was careened down the middle ramp while people yelled “Stage!” Which meant I was then herded up to the stage to sit a while as an honored guest, with the other one hundred, rotating honored guests. (We were honored because we came so far.)

I experience great resistance while sitting on that stage. It was now past my bedtime, it was hot, crowded, I had been pushed and shoved, nearly did not get my bag back, and felt nothing close to love when the Ms and Ds were being muttered in my ear. I’m okay with that aspect not turning out as rumored, since I wasn’t attached to it. But I did not want to then be “forced” to feel honored and holy by sitting on the stage.

Unfortunately, where I sat on the stage also gave me a direct line to the back of Amma’s head. And I could clearly see that while she was doing the hugging, she was carrying on a side conversation with two men who seemed to be helping push the head’s in. Even though I can’t read lips, they were saying more than “English, German, French.” This is where I really experienced liberation. The guru was multi-tasking. She did not seem immensely present with each person. In fact, she seemed quite distracted. I did not get any vibe off of the situation.

The liberation (a timeless, familiar theme): Love is always Us. We do not need a hug from a guru to remember, to feel, to awaken. You don’t need to leave home or travel at all to re-connect to the source of love. In fact, sometimes the effort only obscures the experience.

I later learned that what she had said in my ear was, “My darling, my darling, I love you.”

Amen. Yeah, sister.

Namaste,
Sarahjoy