There is a desperate kind of "ambush" that happens when a writer reaches the end of their stock. When the arrows are depleted and there is nothing left to say, one is left holding onto the hope that some heavenly liquid will replenish the soul and save it from perennial penury. In those moments, I am scared and dumbfounded by what might emerge from the unknown, hidden caverns of the mind.
The Vulnerability of the Stream
In stream-of-consciousness writing, there is no preparation. You are baring yourself, nearly naked, for the world—or at least the AI—to see. It is a terrifying exposure of the unseen recesses and the skeletons hidden deep in the closets of the psyche. Yet, it is strangely therapeutic.
This feeling is identical to the one I experience during Amma’s Darshan. In that space, no false self, no ego, and no polite pretenses can stand. They are blown away like dust in a gale. I feel like an open book, held wide, where every secret is visible to the Eye that sees all.
The Encounter with Divinity
It is the strangest feeling one can have: a terrifying vulnerability that can only be survived through total humility. You must acknowledge that you are nothing, and that the Being before you is unlike anything you have ever conceived.
As if to confirm this, She will lean in and send a glance your way at the exact moment needed to resonate with your internal thoughts. In that instant, you know you are approaching Divinity herself.
The Pranic Wind
I felt this same power once before the shrine of an Avadhuta in Poonthura, Trivandrum. It is as if a powerful gust of energetic or pranic wind hits your chest—the spiritual heart. But in Amma’s Darshan, you aren’t just hit by it; you are completely engulfed.
