I Eat Flowers for Dessert. Not Ten Minutes Ago, I Got Smacked in the Face with Tree Branch... Coincidence?

I think not. When I was first learning to drive the golf cart, I hit two trees. I felt bad, but today, I think it was time for Nature to take some revenge. No bruise. It was funny. Getting smacked by a tree.

A few days ago, I tried to take a nature walk. I went along our major nature path called The Path. I've been using body oil mixed with LOTS of citronella. The mosquitoes here have gotten wise to my plot. They love the citronella. I spent my time communing with nature waving my arms and cursing. I decided to go to the library instead. The bites don't last forever. They just itch like they do. It's funny. I'm learning to simply put up with things that are only slightly uncomfortable. It will pass. In morning sadhana, there is a meditation that lasts for twenty-two minutes. You are in a position called the Warrior pose. Your left foot is up your butt and you sort of have your right leg out and bent for balance and then you chant. It's the single most uncomfortable thing I've ever done. Yet, each morning, I do it as if I've never done it before. As if I have no idea how crazily unpleasant it is to do. It makes me think of childbirth (the stories I've heard anyway). That brief stint of unpleasantness is usually the worst part of my day. It only lasts 22 minutes. And then it's over. And then I can go out and get smacked by trees, bitten by bugs, and hounded by people who want me to sing with them. And none of it bothers me because I know that come 5am tomorrow morning, I'll be really, really in a mild amount of pain. Chanting.

I've been here six weeks. Last week, I met Ammaji, the hugging saint. She's this little Indian lady who has reached Enlightenment and embodies Divine Love which compells her to go around the world hugging people. I saw a documentary about her one year or so ago. I wept the whole time. I wanted to get one of her holy hugs. So, Wednesday mornings, two friends and I set out to meet the Hugging Saint. One was a devotee. One had no idea about Amma at all. I was somewhere in the middle.

It was a good hug. She looked so much like my mom. I'd spent the day meditating and praying. I was in a good place. My old friend came to visit. Seeing people from your past while you are changing is always strange. I must have looked so weird to him. Barefoot. Bald. Wide-eyed. Waiting to hug a woman in white. He was having a hard time. Not with me, but with life in general. I was happy to be there for him and happier to see him, but it was kind of strange switchin gears from eager pilgrim to concerned friend. I'd spent the day in meditation. Problems take on a very different perspective after that much meditation. I went from talking to him to getting my hug. I was much more grounded by then. At the time, I wasn't really feeling earthbound, but in retrospect I guess I needed it. Had I been where I'd been all day, I probably would be in India now. With a tambourine. Chanting. Wait. I do that now.

The atmosphere was interesting. She seemed amused and bemused by all the attention, but she also had a definite bit of the diva about her. She managed the hugging, the reporters, the whole scene with the finesse I've come to recognize from all the moms I know. Multi-tasking is her thing.

We stayed until 3:30am. We spent the next two and half hours eating chocolate sorbet in a bodega across the street. It was like a slumber party. But holier.

I didn't expect one hug to change my life. But it did. I've decided to become a cantor. That didn't come from the hug, but it's a good story which I'll tell next time. I've also decided to teach Kundalini yoga. Also another good story to tell another time.