i understand that w/the greats, there must be balance, & it must be in the midst of goodness. however,
why can't the public ever make the distinction between what is great, & what reminds us of greatness?
Case in point: in the middle of the most pressure-filled, high stakes year of my life, one of my yogini friends called - (you may even remember her? i know i know it's been a while - more about that later. - the tantrika - see 'aphrodisiacs' within this blog) joyfully demanding in that special yogini 'hey! yes. you're doing this. be here @ this time. hurry up, now wait' way that certain spiritualists excell @.
& so i got to javit's center @ 5:30 - okay really @ 6, (almost) on time to get swept up in the living avatar/future orisha that is Mata Amritanandamayi, the hugging guru.
so cute!
she could be anyone's grandma, y'all. sweet-faced, gloss/frizzy haired, gentle eyes. she is absolutely the cutest thing that you have ever seen/experienced before ever.
years ago, when i was fired up to attend one of her pujas (ritual cleansing/honoring ceremony), my filmmaker friend Scandalous S, barked - 'are you serious. line up w/them corny motherfuckers for a hug that you can get from your grandmother. disgusting' & she's right. my (remaining) grandmother is one of my gurus. Amma is another.
you can call me corny. it won't be the first time. i HAD to see what all the fuss was about. & that's how i ended up waiting on line after line after line (my FAVORITE ting) for damn near 14 hours in order to get said hug.
i have a storied past w/this particular puja. i suppose one could call me a workaholic. ok i call myself that. b/c of shit like: for the last few YEARS, i have sincerely intended to go - but was loathe to pull from my 100 hour work week to do so. so dying to no longer feel that life was passing me by as i slaved in a temperature controlled box, i would believe that i could do it - bring friends, hang around for a couple of hours, then rush back to work.
3X is the charm. having quit said job, & refashioned my life around new career goals/my daughter's schedule, this year, guess what i had? a day off. whoooooooooooo-hooooooooooooo! a long time coming.
so it was a good time had by (almost) all, until...
stumbling around @1AM, after the tantrika's exit - (SO doll-pretty in her ritual clothes!!!) i noticed a tent/curtained off area that houses about 10 sleeping forms. eureka! a cold hard floor in the warm, quaint, wonderful heh-heh javit's center - just what i have always wanted - admittedly i was looking on the bright side -
thinking, 'i will sleep here until my letter is called' - there were @ least 1,000 people on line - i set my alarm, & lay down. there is something about sleeping in a public place w/a large group for an intended purpose. adventurous. half thrilled, half dreading the aching soreness that would surely accompany my nap, my head snapped up as a (non-Indian) sari-ed form pointed & barked @ me:
'you have to leave. i am doing a treatment in here.'
?
'i don't understand. i am trying to take a nap like everyone else in this room. i won't keep you from doing your healing.'
'but you are not sleeping.'
'that's true, ma'am. i am not sleeping b/c you are yelling.' @ this point, i am feeling decidedly non-yogic. & yelling, as well. really? takin' it to tha skreets @ a damn hugging guru session? tragic. - i refused to take the bait.
the woman w/her attempted to explain: 'she's w/Amma'. this made my head explode. her rudeness is ok somehow, b/c she's riding Amma's coattails? #shefunny.
'i hear you, however there was no question asked, no introduction just orders. i don't know who she is. & she made no effort to tell me.'
she smiled ruefully, & followed the woman, as she started whatever healing module - (lolololololololol - sign me right up to get a healing from THIS heifer) that they were exchanging.
presently, eyes got heavy & exhaustion outpaced adrenalin. relief.
until the sari'd clown kicked me. you heard me, she kicked me. yup. you know how cops kick the soles of the feet of homeless men? yup. (- ps - i always make a popping 'p' sound when i say yup. i want you to imagine this.) yup. this time all bets were off -
'listen. i don't know who you are, & @ this point do. not. care. so do not speak another word to me, & do NOT touch me again. stop it.'
'you're not sleeping'
'first of all i was -'
@ this point, 2 headwrapped devotees have appeared. except, they are telling me to be quiet.
' was quietly sleeping until she kicked me.'
@ which point sari clown was put on time out in her corner of the room. & i? bitchily did my own personal sit/lay-in, until she left. now i know, in a profound way, what it means to sleep w/one eye open.
which begs the question: what's up w/the ignorant/unlovely/mediocrity that attends greatness/brilliance/legend?
one of the lovely women @ the reception table after becoming incensed @ my description of events mentioned wisely that 1) it's merc wretched - & 2) she always knows when Amma's headed to town, b/c in her words. 'all around me, people start acting up!' lol.
another thought, though, is that our sages, no matter what form they take, are also healers. who needs healers the most? that's right the sickest among us. why may you love a teacher beyond reason, yet feel no need to follow them to the ends of the earth. i believe this is b/c you are good to go on the teachings that they give you when you see them. those who actually must travel w/the guru, & seek to alienate anyone not in their circle, is obviously suffering more than i could ever imagine. a soul is a terrible thing to waste, isn't it?
anywhoo, on such a trivial level, thank good Goddess that the food was official. the only thing that could have possibly healed me was poori/saag paneer:
these 2 recipies are adapted from my grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrl Madhur Jaffrey, a pure culinary genius.
PURI:
1 cup sifted whole-wheat flour (sift to take out some of the larger bran pieces) 1 cup all-purpose flour 1/2 teaspoon salt 2 tablespoons vegetable oil + more for deep-frying 1/2 cup water Put the 2 flours and salt in a bowl. Drizzle the 2 tablespoons oil over the top. Rub the oil in with your fingers so the mixture resembles coarse breadcrumbs. Slowly add the water to form a stiff ball of dough. Empty the ball on to a clean work surface. Knead it for 10-12 minutes or until it is smooth. Form a ball. Rub about 1/4 teaspoon oil on the ball and slip it into a plastic bag. Set it aside for 30 minutes. Knead the dough again, and divide it into 12 equal balls. Keep 11 of them covered while you work with the twelfth. Flatten this ball and roll it out into a 5-5 1/2″ round. If you have the space, roll out all the pooris and keep them in a single layer, covered with plastic wrap. Over a medium flame, set about 1″ of oil to heat in a small, deep frying pan (I used my wok). Let it get very, very hot. Meanwhile, line a platter with paper towels. Lift up one poori and lay it carefully over the surface of the hot oil. It might sink to the bottom but it should rise in seconds and begin to sizzle. Using the back of a slotted spoon, push the poori gently into the oil with tiny, swift strokes. Within seconds, the poori will puff up. Turn it over and cook the second side for about 10 seconds. Remove it with a slotted spoon and put it on the platter. Make all the pooris this way. The first layer on the platter may be covered with a layer of paper towls. More pooris can then be spread over the top. Serve the pooris hot (immediately).
SAAG PANEER:
2.5cm (1in) cube fresh ginger, peeled and coarsely chopped
3–6 garlic cloves, peeled
½–1 fresh hot green chilli, sliced roughly
6 tablespoons vegetable oil
150–200g (5–7oz) paneer
salt
¼ teaspoon garam masala
¼ teaspoon cayenne pepper (optional)
675g (1½lb) spinach, washed, trimmed, and very finely chopped
3 tablespoons single cream
Put the ginger, garlic and green chilli into the container of an electric blender or food processor along with 50ml (2fl oz)water. Blend until you have a smooth paste. You may need to push down with a rubber spatula once.Heat the oil in a large, wide, preferably non-stick sauté pan over a medium heat. Put in all the pieces of paneer and fry themturning them over gently with a slotted spatula, until they are golden brown on all sides. (This happens fairly quickly.)Remove the paneer with a slotted spoon and place on a plate in a single layer. Sprinkle the paneer quickly with 1⁄8teaspoon salt, the garam masala and the cayenne pepper. Set aside.Put the paste from the blender into the hot oil in your pan (keep your face averted) and fry it, stirring constantly, for about 30 seconds. Now add the spinach and ½ teaspoon salt. Stir the spinach around for 1 minute. Cover the pan, lower the heat, and let the spinach cook gently with the ginger–garlic paste for 15 minutes. There should be enough water clinging to the spinach leaves to cook them. If all the water evaporates, add 1–2 tablespoons and continue cooking.Nowadd the paneer and cream, stir gently and bring to a simmer. Cover and continue cooking on low heat for another 10 minutes. Stir once or twice during this period.
i don't usually love crepes, but the dosa specialist was so gangsta. watching her, i understood endurance/focus/perfecting. she did nothing but dosa for HOURS. & from the look on her face, from what i could glean, each one was the first one she had ever made. & it had to be perfect. b/c it was ritual food, made in the spirit of the feasts presented to gods. it is ritual, this type of repetition. it is mantra/coal-walking/trance:
| Ingredients 14 oz patna (an aromatic long grain) or other, such as basmati long grain rice washed in; several changes of water 7 oz urad dal 1 teaspoon salt 10 fl oz vegetable oilDosas: These nutritious pancakes from the Tamil Nadu region are versatile and can be eaten for breakfast as a light lunch or for dinner. They may be eaten plain with coconut chutney, or folded over potatoes. Soak the rice and urad dal in separate bowls of water for about 2 hours. The water should cover them by around 1 inch. Drain. Blend the urad dal with 6 fl oz water in an electric blender for 5 - 8 minutes until it is pale, smooth, light and airy. Empty the mixture into a large bowl. Put the rice and 6 tablespoons of water into the blender and blend until it turns into a fine granular paste. Add to the dal with the salt and mix gently. Cover and leave in a warm place like an airing cupboard to ferment for 24-26 hours. The batter should double in volume. Add 7 fl oz water fold in gently and leave in a warm place for a further 1 1/2 hours. Heat 1 1/2 teaspoons of oil in a frying pan and when hot, drop 4 fl oz of batter in the centre of the pan. Put the rounded bottom of a soup spoon very lightly into the center of the batter and using a slow, gentle and continuous spiral motion, spread the batter outwards with the back of the spoon until you have a pancake around 7 inches in diameter. Dribble 1/2 teaspoon of oil over the pancake and another 1/2 teaspoon round the edges. Cover and cook for 1 1/2 - 2 minutes, or until the dosa has turned reddish brown. Turn over and cook uncovered for a further minute or until the second side develops reddish spots. TIPS: Urad dal is a small pale yellow split pea. Buy it from Indian grocers or substitute the more familiar yellow split peas available in supermarkets. |
Black/Brown/Asian/Women: there is nothing on earth more healing than watching the leaders of the free world BOW DOWN to this humble, dark Black Asian woman from the underclass. & why? b/c her compassion is the truest thing they have ever felt/seen & it brings them to their knees.
on my hug: everything that has been said about her is true. my hug seemed to be over in a split second, although according to witnesses, i was in her embrace for quite a while. she whispered mantra into my ear. my spirit understood every word, though my mind has no idea. something simply twisted, & opened as she held me. & the tears poured out. this is so expected as to be a joke, & is no joking matter. real deal hollyfield, y'all.
she is a true devi & is already walking/levitating her starred path to saint hood.
it is said that there is a particular path to Orisha Obatala, who has been syncretized w/buddha/jesus/kwan yin:
Obatala Yemowo: she rules/owns eggs, as in ovaries, she forms the child in the womb, has dominion over all creative acts/arts & has extremely expressive hands. Obatala only draws to the inner circle the best of the best. this relates directly to Amma's habit of bringing male spiritualists/politicians/dignitaries to their knees, in sobs, begging for a hug...
Although, she also, of course, reminds me of Orisha Yeye-Omo-Eja: mother of all fishes, who, although she is often childless, grants pregnancies to those who wish for it, & claims omo-eja (all fishes/humans/) as her children. she walks/levitates on the seven seas, & visits each continent as casually as moving from one room of her house to another. & when she raises her hands either in prayer or salute, gold/silver/all the riches of the sea falls from them nourishing the hungry. welp, she could be in Africa today, Paris tomorrow, Asia the day after that. her devotees ensure that she is either carried wherever she goes, or walks on a bed of rose petals.
& there is an eerie hush before she enters any room.
i have no doubt that she is in possession of every single one of those forms in her ache/prana/chi. i highly recommend.
but what really had me in teary joyous shock was her philanthropy. this hugging shit is not. a. game. 'excuse me, US. you done fucked up w/katrina. but, i have $1 million to spare...here you go - no worries! more where that came from.'
& killing the US w/that type of kindness, children, is called putting down the mac. lmbao.
love her!
Empowerment???
niggas are soaring.
speaking of (DIS)EMPOWERMENT, i had to come out from the underground for this one: VERDICT, anyone??
thank goddess i was @ amma's or no telling. burnin/lootin? possibly. much more possible: a self inflicted brain-born bullet.
when we came out of Amma's into the early daylight & heard the news, sure, i was horrified. but not surprised.
the truth? for women, bowing down to the male principle has left us/our children terribly vulnerable to the whims of man. it's just like the mother who allows her children to be brutalized by her significant other, b/c she wants to remain attractive. it's disgusting. we have to engage in what is so obviously a turf war being waged in/on our plates/homes/streets/tv's/court systems/schools. we have to fight, we have to fight as women, w/a smile on our lips, joy, in our hearts, our arms wide open, even to our enemies. we cannot fight the way men do, as we have seen what a crushing failure this has turned out to be. we must fight injustice in the way we train our men to treat us. the way we raise empathetic, wise children. in the way we demonstrate to the world. that patriarchal cruelty can never stand up to enlightenment.
Fatboy killed the kid in cold blood. period. let us have a brief moment of silence. then pick up our tools & continue the fight: all is not lost, my friends: Zimmerman can still go down for violating Trayvon's civil rights:
http://front.moveon.org/sign-the-petition-open-a-civil-rights-case-against-george-zimmerman/#.UeMZr42siSo
sooner, rather than later, my dear friends.
i promise.
