T-minus four days until the move and I am already exhausted. Add to that the world's worst timed case of PMS (thank you hormones!) and you have a recipe for me being short tempered with Hubby and the kids as I limp through a week that includes taking all three kids to the doctor for checkups, staying up until one in the morning wrapping presents and decorating the house for #1's birthday, followed by a day in the city to celebrate at American girl, and a three hour Girl Scout leader training last night during which four of the planet's dumbest women repeatedly asked, "Wait, who do I give this form to?", apparently unable to read a tree diagram.
My impatient behavior over the last week was brought into stark relief this morning as I watched a segment on Amma The Hugging Saint's visit to NYC. This woman travels the world preaching about peace and understanding and at the end of her engagements, offers a healing embrace to those who need one. The footage showed thousands of people lined up before this diminutive Indian woman, with a peaceful smile, who was not give out mere arms-length-greeting-at-a-cocktail-party style hugs, but enveloping embraces where she brought her face over the recipient's shoulder to whisper blessings in their ear with a beatific look on her face. In my progesterone-riddled, sleep-deprived state, it made me tear up and made me want a hug.
How do people like this exist? Were they born perfect? Were they perfect children, sleeping through the night since birth and never having a No-I-don't-want-to-leave-the-park temper tantrum? It made my own behavior seem that much more monstrous by comparison. And I began to wonder, Amma's a woman, does she ever get hormonally bitchy? Does she ever tap her foot impatiently in line behind some old woman taking forever to write a check for cat food at the grocery store? Does she ever almost go blind with rage when she realizes, after driving off with all her kids in the van, that Mobin forgot to put two Splenda in the iced coffee she so desperately needs? Does she ever sit and drink too much wine with her husband and mock the prematurely baldly contestant on The Bachelor? (Kippton, will you accept this Rogaine?) Does she ever obsess about her roots, or her thighs or whether her bindi is on right? I'm guessing no, which is why she's, you know, a saint.
So I switched off the TV, trudged upstairs to take my post-workout shower, and pledged to be nicer to my husband, my children and the world in general today. It didn't last more than ten minutes, of course, as I came into the bathroom to find H's hair products all over the counter and the bath mat soaking wet and I felt my blood pressure go up thirty points. But I guess that's why I don't have thousands of people coming to see me looking to hug it out. I'm not perfect, I'm not a saint. I get pissed, I judge people. I'm human. And if I had to hug some of those grungy looking college kids with dreads I saw in line for Amma, they would have been given a smile, the Heisman, and been told, "Go in peace. And the universe wants you to wash off some of that patchouli."
1 comment:
haha. several people i know in california worship Amma like a god (shock shock).
the last time my friend chief got a healing hug from amma, amma started coughing and holding her chest like she was in pain. chief said amma was trying to get her to quit smoking, which she did on the spot.
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