If you are still waiting for a sign to go to Amma, this is it. I am serious, go there. Now. (Or tonight). Tomorrow it will be over and you have to wait another year or visit her in her ashram in Kerala.
I actually did not plan to write another Amma post, but for me her satsang last night turned out to be an inspiring lesson about life and connectedness in general and my current life situation in particular and I want to share this with you.
It wasn’t my first satsang with Amma – but it was the first time that I stayed for her embrace. Last year, I threw in the sponge around midnight. Having shown up rather late, I was looking at the perspective to wait until the early morning for the mother’s hug, until 2 maybe 3 am. I enjoyed the satsang, the chanting, the people – but at that point I did not think it was worth missing the last train home. I have been practical about it. I have been practical about a lot of things.
It’s not just a hug
“Why can’t she just do it during the weekend when trains go all night and people don’t have to work the next day,” my friend and I wondered during the hours we spend together waiting last night. Now, after I stayed I understand. It’s not just a hug. It’s about devotion. If you make an effort and go out of your way to wait until it’s your turn to meet Amma, you build a strong connection. You give meaning to the experience. As soon as you give meaning to something, it becomes meaningful. Abracadabra, it’s magic!
I wish somebody would just come and give us their tokens
Tonight at 11 pm, I still had not the slightest idea if I would stay or leave. “I wish somebody would just come and give us their tokens, so we can go earlier,” my friend mumbled tiredly. Three minutes later a girl I knew from yoga approached us and gave us her token that was in fact way earlier than ours. No shit!
At this point I decided to stay. Even if I would miss the last train. Even if my friend left without me. Even if I might have to take a cab and pay 20 bugs to go across town. If Amma can sit and hug people for hours, I can at least stay until it’ s my turn.
Missing the last train
So I waited and finally got embraced by Amma. Which was incredibly beautiful! “Meine Liebe, meine Liebe, meine Liebe” (my dear, my dear, my dear) the mother comfortingly mumbled in German, holding me in her arms, really seeing me – not with her eyes but with her heart. And I finally let go, tears running down my face.
It all happened so quickly. Her voice still in my head, “meine Liebe, meine Liebe,” I stumbled down the stage, got my coat, left the venue. I had no idea if I could still reach the last train, but I knew that whatever would happen, was supposed to happen. “Meine Liebe, meine Liebe”. I trusted it. When I reached Schlesische Straße, the train had just left. I won’t tell you in detail what happened next, but it was easy, unexpected and involved an old friend I haven’t seen in a while…
So here’s what I learned tonight. Voilà:
- It’s okay to miss the last train (or any other practicality you can think of that might block your way). In fact, it is good.
- Don’t worry!
- Just keep walking in the right direction and you’ll be taken care of.
Thank you Amma!
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