Amma brings unconditional love of Mother to Coralville, IA.  In her selfless devotion she hugs and comforts all of her "children," sick, sad, happy, disfigured, normal by the thousands, by the millions.  All are welcomed with love.  Sri  Mata Amritanandamayi picture,  "Sweet Amma," c. flikr, Praveen Damodaran's photostream.

I wanted to see her this time.  

Uma,  my friend from India, saw her  the last time Amma was in Iowa City.  She couldn't say enough good about the powerful experience of receiving darshan from this loving woman. Amma spoke with her, in Hindi I assume, for quite a while, as others waited for their hugs.  (Amma obviously does not have to account to our health insurance companies who restrict the amount of time a doctor or therapist can spend with any patient.)

I called Tom, my cohort in spiritual and ecological questing, and told him about the two days Amma would spend in Coralville on this American tour, inviting him to join me.  Tom and his partner Wendy looked over the information on Amma online.  She is quite famous, starts and manages in many charitable projects all over the world, and has addressed the United Nations on peace, besides touching and hugging over twelve million people in hugging marathons sometimes lasting over twenty-four hours continuously.  

She does not plan her projects but goes where she sees need. In Sri Lanka her charities are building housing and helping victims of the Tsunami.  She donated one million dollars to the Bush-Clinton Katrina fund.  She has built a medical education complex at her university that includes a medical school, nursing school, dental, and eye.  These are just a few of her projects which also include ashrams over the globe.

Tom is wonderful.  He called me at 6:45 to let me know he would pick me up at 8:00.  I leaped out of bed and tried to sound awake when I answered. He called Wendy, too, who is living with her daughter in Iowa City and said the he got her out of bed and she asked if we were going for breakfast. What a guy!  He is a lovely care-taker.

We knew we were getting close to the venue when a long haired student wearing white Indian tunic and pants crossed in front of us, walking in a quick and purposeful way.  People dressed in ordinary clothing, nice not casual with no shorts, miniskirts, or sleeveless tops, along with many in more traditional Indian dress came into the Coralville Marriott from every direction.

We were greeted immediately by a young Indian man wearing a white embroidered tunic and pants with a red scarf draped around his neck.  He gave us pamphlets on Amma, the program, and a brief orientation, finally directing us to the line where we would pick up our tokens for a hug from Amma.  The line was reasonable since we were some of the first ones there, arriving before nine o'clock.  We took off our shoes at the door and placed them on the eight foot high shelves next to the door.  

We were cautioned many times not to loose our token, since they could not be replaced.  We were then offered a yellow string necklace to designate that we would be among the first to see Amma.  Knowing the lines normally can take hours, we said yes.  The tokens themselves were more like post-it notes, a paper torn off a little pad.  When I nervously fingered mine, a volunteer cautioned me not to "play with it."  This was just part of the non-Western strangeness of the day.

Another tuniced attendant seated us immediately beside the table selling offerings to Amma, and next to a silk cloth laid on the floor with a heart shaped lei of flowers, rose petals, a ritual silver tray, water, kneeling devotees and photographers.  

The photographers were rather annoyed with us that we were trying to regain our seats, since they were trying to photograph what they told us was the "Welcome," but whenever anyone stepped on it they were chastised and shushed away.   It took me a while to realize that it was the "Welcome" for Amma, and we were right beside it.

 She came.  A short dark Indian woman dressed in pastel robes with a double dot on her forehead, red surrounded by white.  She smiled, stepping on the red silk scarf and stopping to receive the adoration. Around her, various followers bowed and chanted in a language we could not understand, throwing rose petals before her, lifting the tray and making a counter-clockwise circle with it, and washing her bare brown feet.

I could see Wendy sitting ahead of me smiling at the ritual.  This sort of thing is sooo NOT a part of American culture.  I could feel her scientific, systems-analyst mind running over the scene with doubt.  She later expressed doubts about the "cult of personality."

Tables are set up all around the back and sides of the giant room so those waiting can shop for everything from pictures, CDs and DVDs of Amma, to plants and seeds she blessed, calendars and books, to sparkly jewelry and Indian clothing, and various ankle bracelets and necklaces, relics of the Saint, she had worn and were thus more valuable.

 The extensive array was as varied as a spiritual shopping center, with all of the proceeds going to fund Amma's charitable projects.  There was no fee or donation asked for to touch, to receive Amma's blessing or healing. These "right work" side businesses, plus the organic lunch counters and tea and coffee stands outside the main room manned by volunteers, served as funding.  I did my part, eventually leaving with a packet of seeds, sparkly butterfly earrings, two pictures of Amma, and a blessed-by-Amma sacred basil, Tulsai plant to the tune of seventy dollars.  

This commercialism is something that raises eyebrows.  For me, I think that it is good.  It allows those who cannot pay the opportunity to receive blessing without feeling guilty or less than.  It gives those who can pay the opportunity to bring something home that contributes to the greater good of mankind and increases the love in the world.  Plus, shopping is still the great American past-time.

(End   Part 1.)