In which I’m at the retreat in Puyallup.

Amped! is the coolest chick EVAR. She came to my motel all on her own volition, she chose a kick ass restaurant in Kent for brunch, she has the cutest baby, and she drove me (and Leela) to our Puyallup motel. I *heart* her, and it was way cool finally meeting her in person after knowing her online for four years. Plus the bitch can knit, let me tell you what. And make beer! And wine! And donuts! And cute children!

The Puyallup motel, on the other hand, leaves things to be desired. First of all, it’s a single – I wanted a double – and, of course, there’s this. Second of all, it’s farther from the program location than I’d wanted, and getting back and forth has been a bit of a hassle.

Yesterday afternoon I took a cab to the retreat because it was raining. (Seven bucks for 1.82 miles. Not bad. Dry, at least.) Arrived at the fairgrounds, followed the signs, registered for the retreat, bought a water bottle – apparently as an American I’m hardwired to respond instinctively to cross merchandising – and stuck it in my bag, then went to the snack shop for chai.

I sat in the hall for awhile and watched the local satsang and the tour staff set up. All that industry, and nothing for me to do. Next event on the retreat schedule? Three and a half hours away.

There’s no smoking inside the fairgrounds. Had to go stand on the corner outside the entrance and watch the traffic roar by. There was a wedding reception in one of the other buildings inside the grounds, and people were coming and going for that. I enjoyed watching Amma devotees in whites and hawt Mexican dudes in boots and tight pants self-sort at the gate.

I went back inside the fairgrounds. Wandered around. Found the food and the bookstore and the bathrooms and learned the general layout. Eventually, I joined the queue. I didn’t really make a decision to do so, I just didn’t have anything else to do.

An hour later I ended up with a good conversation under my belt – I was standing in line next to two first-timers who thanked me for what I’d had to say about Amma and said I should do stand-up comedy for a living – and the lowest darshan token number I’ve ever had in my life: B4. I went inside, put my bag next to the stage, went and ate dinner, hit the bathroom, and was in place half an hour before Mother arrived.

Made it all the way through satsang but had to get up halfway through bhajans and move around a little. I love sitting so close to Mother, but it kinda fries my circuits and I don’t think I’ve ever made it entirely through to arati without at least getting up and moving to the wall. Some years I’ve felt compelled to leave the hall altogether, so I’m getting better.

When darshan started, I went outside for a bit, then had a seven-layer brownie at the snackshop. (I love that coconut/chocolate shit. So teh yum!) When I re-entered the hall She was already at C2, so I packed all my crap into my bag, hid it under the side of the stage, and got in line for darshan. The line was on express and the next thing I knew I was next. I wiped my face to make sure I wouldn’t get oil all over Amma’s clothes, and the woman doing Lap Assist absently stroked the side of my forehead while the couple in front of me finished getting their hugs. There was a space in front of me, the devotee on Lap patted at the floor, I moved my knees, looked up, and my beloved Amma was reaching for me, smiling. I melted into the lap, so ineffably glad to be there after a year of being apart from Her. She murmured “My daughter, my daughter, my daughter” into my ear and my heart tried to break: a crack and a rush like bones breaking, and your chest sore and bright and aching, and you know She’s changed you again. When I sat back and She put my prasad into my hand and smiled at me again, I said, “Oh, Ma!” with my dry voice and She reached for me and hugged me again.

I went to sit to the left of Her chair. Within minutes of leaving the lap, I was stone cold exhausted. It took an hour to get a ride organized and I sat, deeply fatigued, mind utterly silent, watching Mother give hug after hug, being grateful that such beings even bother to remain enough in the world to do such great works.

It’s estimated that Mother has given over 30 million hugs.

This year is not so much about bhakti. I’m meditating a lot, and there’s no work for me to do because this isn’t the Iowa programs and I’m a guest, not a host: it’s all profound depth and silence and a sense almost of isolation, and maybe this is the year I learn to truly love to meditate. I don’t know, but this morning I didn’t even bother to go to the morning program. Leela got up at 5:30 to catch a ride to the yoga class with the chick from Dublin, and I’ve just been hanging out here by myself. I was tired, and The Curse is coming, and it just seemed perfectly fine to be here (I miss at least one entire program every year. It’s how I roll.) even though I’ve wasted utterly precious time I could have spent in the presence of Mother’s body.

I spoke with K for an hour after woke up around eleven, and naturally there was more mind-blowing synchronicity between us. I’m just gonna admit that I’m totally in love (and that if he’s full of shit, I swear I will dismember him and feed his remains to small, vicious fishes) and that he’s adorable and earnest and cute I wish he was here.

After I finish writing I’ll shower and dress and meditate, and keep watch out the window for a ride back to the program hall. I’ve had nothing today but coffee and I need some real food, and, of course, Mother’s going to be there. Plus it’s Q&A tonight!