Support in Times of Trouble by Karuna Poole The experience of pain is a necessary part of the human experience. Since we are imperfect beings, we all do things (intentionally or unintentionally) that cause pain for ourselves and others. As nothing is permanent, relationships come and go, ending either through separation or death. Each loss makes the way for a new beginning. Pain creates discomfort that provides us with the opportunity and the motivation to learn and grow. As our resistance to pain decreases, our ability to experience joy increases. While pain is inevitable, the support we receive from others can make it more bearable. I have experienced many painful life events during the ten years I have been a devotee of Mata Amritanandamayi (pictured above, and also known as Ammachi or Mother). As the years go by, I am more and more aware of the role she has played during those difficult times. While I could give a multitude of examples, perhaps the most remarkable occurred in the time frames surrounding the deaths of my mother, brother, and father. Before I share those experiences, let me say that mine is a highly fractured family, with whom I have had little to no contact since I left home to go to college in 1966. In 1992, within days of returning from a visit to Ammachi’s ashram in southern India, I received a phone call from one of my brothers saying that my mother was in a coma and near death. Every time the coma lifted, however, she would call for me. This was a surprise, as she had instructed me years before that when she reached the end of her life I was not to come to the hospital, nor was I to attend her funeral. My father, firmly rooted in prejudice, had disowned me in 1971 when I married a black man. He had not spoken to me since. My mother gave me those instructions because she knew that my presence would upset my father. Now her death was imminent and she was calling for me. When I arrived at her bedside a day or two later, my mother wept with joy and relief. During the next week, I visited her daily at times my father would not be present. I knew that if he found out I was there, he would refuse to ever see her again. I wondered what I could do to help my mother’s passing. I felt drawn to buy her a Walkman and two tapes, Alleluia and Om Namah Shivaya, both by Robert Gass and the Wings of Song. When I played Alleluia for her, she started to cry. When I played Om Namah Shivaya, her immediate response was, "I have heard that before." I knew enough about my mother and her life to think it highly unlikely that she had heard that song before, at least not in this realm. My sense was she had "heard" it while she was comatose. I sensed that Ammachi was nearby, helping prepare my mother for her journey Home. I felt very grateful that these events were happening during a time that I felt filled with Ammachi’s love. I also sensed that my recent visit to the ashram allowed me to be more open to the direction of Spirit than I would be otherwise. My mother died a month later, after I had returned to Seattle. When I attended her funeral, my brothers’ invitation having overpowered my father’s disapproval, I was told that my mother had listened to the Om Namah Shivaya tape constantly from the time I gave it to her until her death. The nurses would wheel her into the atrium of the hospice with the Walkman and headphones accompanying her. She and my brothers listened to the song together in her room. I was told that one of the nurses would sit with her, and together they would sing along with the tape. She died listening to Om Namah Shivaya. I was exceedingly grateful to have been able to participate in my mother’s dying process in this way. My brother had been diagnosed with cancer five years earlier. After my mother died, his health began a rapid decline. I expected that he would pass over prior to Ammachi’s arrival in the United States for her yearly tour. (She tours the United States in June and July of each year; her programs offer the opportunity to hear her teachings and her ecstatic singing and to receive her darshan. During darshan, Ammachi individually hugs all who come to her.) As the time for the tour came closer, it became obvious to me that he would die while Ammachi was in our country. That year, I traveled to Vancouver, B.C. to attend the first of Ammachi’s North American programs. Next came the Seattle retreat. On the last day of the retreat, as I was sitting out in an open field listening to a tape, my son approached me and said that my brother had died. He put his arm around me and I cried. I was aware of how Ammachi/Spirit/God had taken care of me once again. My brother had died when I was at a retreat where most of my friends were present and available for support. At this time I could also be in Ammachi’s arms, receiving the massive love she bestows. Later, when I made plane reservations to attend his funeral, I felt even more cared for. Unbelievable as it might seem, my plane would return to Seattle at the same time Ammachi would be in the airport waiting for the plane that she would take to continue her tour. I was able to walk off of my plane and, moments later, be in her arms! The third example happened in January of this year. I was in Ammachi’s India ashram when I received a phone call saying that my father had unexpectedly died. Once again, I was able to go directly to Ammachi after having received the news. When I had attended my mother’s and brother’s funerals, my father had been unwilling to speak to me. In both instances, he had left immediately after the services to avoid any possible contact. Clearly, he would not have wanted me at his funeral, so leaving India was unnecessary. I felt grateful to be in a place where I could have Ammachi’s support and the support of many friends as I grieved the loss of the fantasy that he would eventually be willing to engage with me. I was in awe of the timing of this experience. There have been other losses and traumas that have occurred during the past ten years. So frequently, they have occurred just before, during, or immediately after I have spent time with Ammachi. Consistently experiencing her physical or spiritual presence during these times has increased my faith, allowing me to trust at ever-deeper levels that she will be there for me when I need her. As my faith has increased, my ability to surrender to the will of guru and Spirit has grown. I love this adventure called life. I am in awe of the love and support that is available within a guru-disciple relationship and am exceedingly grateful that this is the spiritual path I have chosen.