In which there’s driving, shopping, laughing, getting lost, and delicious Indian food galore!

I went to see Mother in Chicago. Actually, it was Oak Brook, not Chicago, but whatever. The drive there was fairly stressful toward the end; I spent practically two hours in 5-mile-an-hour traffic on the tollway, which sucked. Plus tollways in general stress me out because I’m always afraid I won’t have the change and will back up traffic and people will honk at me.

Crusing along 294 I was seat-dancing and obviously singing along to An Easier Affair (on repeat!) to keep myself awake and cheerful. Two cars passing me on the left slowed down to my speed for awhile and the drivers — one a blonde woman in a late model sports car, the other a man driving a pickup — went out of their way to grin over at me before moving on. In between those two, a trucker pulled up on my right and tried to get my attention for a bit but I could never see his face because of the height differences between our vehicles. All that attention had me quasi-freaked that they were trying to tell me something (like maybe my car was on fire or I was getting a flat) but once I assured myself that the Exploder was not in actual fact alight I was amused by the attention.

When I finally got to my exit I stopped at the first gas station I found for a pee, then I went to find the Marriott. I parked, walked in, got a darshan token, and Mother was still singing bhajans! Sweet! I’d forgotten there was a time change, so it was an hour earlier than I’d expected and I saw most of the bhajans and the arati and everything.

After the satsang, I went and ate yummy Indian food. Then I bought incense, a new nose ring, and a wrap-around skirt at the bookstore. I think I got darshan around two in the morning, maybe later, then I left to find a place to sleep. (I’d been looking for someone, anyone I knew, who would let me crash on their floor there in the Marriott but I didn’t have any luck.) Ma gave me an awesome hug and called me her daughter and wrinkled Her nose at me.

I left the Marriott and drove around until I found a motel, but they wanted $110 for the night so I kept going until I found a Motel 6. That place was creeeeeeepy, let me tell you. One of those places that makes you suspect they’ve got hidden cameras in the rooms. I slept from three until about nine. When I was in the shower, housekeeping tried to come in but I’d set the bolt before I’d taken my clothes off because I’d had a feeling.

I rolled out of there around eleven, then spent the next 25 minutes being totally lost because I was looking for Midwest Avenue but where it intersected with Roosevelt it was called Cass. I finally made it to the morning program a bit after noon.

I went in, looked at Mother for a bit, then went to the snack shop and had a Madras coffee, which tasted somewhat like the cardamom lattes I make myself at home. Then I had idli and sambar and lots of mint chutney and some pakora. I went to the darshan hall and sat as close to Mother as I could for awhile, meditated, browsed the bookstore again… and at the end of the program I had more idli. And another coffee.

Then I went and slept in the Exploder in the parking lot for a few hours.

At six-thirty I went back inside, got a token, and was seated for the atma puja. I ended up seated with two people who had never seen Mother before. They wanted to know what a puja was, how long I’d been seeing Amma, why I’d been seeing her every year for ten years, how long the puja would be, when they’d get their hugs… I tried to be circumspect and not lay my opinion down, but toward the end of the conversation I finally said, “She’s an Avatar, an incarnation of God. Like Christ. Or Buddha. In my experience, anyway. Your mileage may vary: I’ve seen people burst into tears the first time they meet Her, and I’ve seen other people have no experience at all.”

The man said, “So you’re saying one has to be open to it.”

“Sure,” I replied. “If She’s your guru, you’ll probably know it. If not, that’s cool too. I know people who come to see Her for a hug every year because they think it’s nice, and it goes no farther than that. I come to Her because she’s my Satguru.”

The woman seated across from me was astonished that the darshan would go on all night. She didn’t like the idea of having to sit on the floor for an hour and a half for the satsang and puja, but when I explained there were chairs for those who found the floor uncomfortable, she waved the idea away. She told me I speak very well, that I was articulate. She was 52, blonde, attractive, and dressed entirely in pink, from collar to socks. I kinda liked her.

Halfway through the satsang, she got up suddenly and left the hall. I have the feeling she wasn’t into the experience, and the chanting hadn’t even begun yet. (Chanting “Om Parashaktiyai Namaha” one hundred and eight times with three thousand people is a blown experience for any Westerner, the first time.)

Edit: Apparently I never finished this post.