The Hugging Guru - Oct. 17, 2026

Amaji sits like a lotus flower,

upright in a chair on a stage,

prowling the audience with the eyes

of a mischievous child

two hours standing in a hot line,

my husband finally approaches

her assistants, kneels and bows

Don’t touch her,

she’ll reach out to you

wrapped in layers of pure white cotton,

she appears substantial, very unfrail

like soft taffy, embraceable,

she leans forward, hands wide

but it’s a half hug, a clasp of arms

with no chins or shoulders touching

no bodies pressing, heart in their spaces

when I hear this, I wonder what kind

of teaching is this, where love keeps

its distance, inside distinct walls,

never allowed to mingle or play

where payment is made hoping

love excites another’s heart

but delivers a worthless whisper