Kundalini

From The Path of the Mother

On my first trip to India I stayed for ten days in the small village of Sringeri in the mountains of Karnataka, the home of the Shankaracharya Jagadguru mentioned earlier. Before dawn every morning I went to worship in Sri Sharada temple. I watched Hindus bathe in the cold, crystal waters of the Tunga river before entering the gray stone sanctuary. In the spacious dimly lit building some thirty Indians clustered around the life-sized, ornately decorated, black granite image of the goddess. A priest chanted in the ancient Sanskrit language while most of us sat cross-legged on the smooth as glass, polished rock floor. After about half an hour, another priest came out of the small enclosure that housed the Goddess and rang a bell non-stop for several minutes. We all stood up and with joined palms gave our obeisance to the feminine deity while another priest waved a flaming camphor lamp from head to toe, up and down, around and around the Mother Goddess. Her black stone shimmered, rippled in the play of light; her primeval eyes seemed to move as if in an ancient dance. The hair on my body literally stood on end when musicians blared forth with piercing, primitive sounds on larger than clarinet-sized double reed instruments and accompanied by a big drum, the mridungam. To my Western ears there was no obvious hallowed tune, yet my belly and my heart vibrated with their own knowledge that we penetrated into a core of sacred that went beyond sweet and lovely, which until then had been my primary association with holy music. These bellowing, syncopated rhythms fractured all preconceptions, and awakened in me the vast, great silence of the Mother herself. Every day filled my senses beyond their normal capacity. I was inundated with sights and sounds to which I was totally unaccustomed: the temple echoed with the chanting of fifty boys reciting Vedas for several hours every morning as part of their priestly training; women spread colorful saris on the ground to dry near the sacred river; a mother elephant and her baby stood outside the temple, occasionally kneeling and trumpeting upon the commands of their keeper; priests smeared honey, milk, water, and coconut oil onto Shiva lingams, huge black granite phallic images protruding out of stone yonis. My brief visit culminated during an overnight stay on India's Arabian Sea coast, a stopover in a small but busy city before my flight home. As I lay on my hotel room bed reading, I heard the sound of boys chanting, a faint reminder of the same voices I had heard in the temple in the village a few days earlier. Now I experienced the chanting as a miracle and, in my reverie, didn't fully understand its source. Unable to move from a deep meditative state induced by the drone-like choir, I mentally searched the room for a possible origin of the voices: perhaps the humming of the fan vibrated like chanting. My book fell from my hand as I entered more deeply into a trance-like state. Gradually I became aware of an agreeable sensation pulsing below the base of my spine. In the small part of my rational mind with which I still had contact, I was aware that Kundalini Shakti, the coiled snake goddess, had been stimulated. The tingling feeling gathered strength, gently undulated with a pleasant sensuality, a gentle orgasm, up the front side of my body in the form of a double helix or interspiraling of two energy forces. I had never heard of Kundalini rising up the front of the body, but that was my experience, which lasted for at least forty-five minutes. After the sensation faded, I lay immobilized, body lightly throbbing, vibrant, and with a sense of being suspended in space. When I was able to move I got up to look out the window, where I saw matter-of-factly that my hotel room was located at the corner of the building, one of four rooms that had a view onto the garden of an adjacent priest school. The sound of real boys practicing Vedic chants had tipped my senses just far enough to awaken one small part of Mother Kundalini's force within me. It was an extraordinary experience. Unsought. Neither deserved nor undeserved, and totally unexpected as a Kundalini experience often is. Since Mother Kundalini had only tickled me, had not risen up in a permanent joining with Lord Shiva, I was aware that I was susceptible to one of the greatest hindrances to spiritual growth: Letting the mind slip away from the Divine Mother and into arrogance. It is an easy attitude to fall into when She has gifted us with one or a series of experiences that change our lives forever. It is tempting to lapse into disregard as to who is the source of our ecstasy. We even might think that we are special, or worse, that we are powerful in and of ourselves, forgetting that the Mother is the cause of all and is the only source of true power. So, before going on to explore Kundalini Shakti - the Mother in our bodies - and the inner universe of chakras, here's a little Hindu story about how pride can impair vision. ***** There once was a great king who became puzzled as to the underlying cause of the universe. After observing the behaviors of countless learned men who seemed to lack faith in the divine, the king, in order to clarify his own doubts, sought the wisdom of a sage. The revered wise one responded by telling the monarch about an ancient conflict between the demons and the gods. The world had been in danger of being destroyed. By the mercy of the Devi, the deities won the battle. Not remembering the cause of their victory, the gods became proud and haughty, vainly repeating stories of their great conquests. Upon seeing that the gods had become deluded, Devi took pity on them. She appeared before them as a great and holy light, resplendent like ten million suns, yet cool like ten million moons, and dazzling like ten million lightning flashes. They all wondered what this bright and incomparable light might be. Indra, lord of the heavens, in order to resolve their quandary, sent the mighty fire god to question the light. As the fearless fire god approached the light, a heavenly voice called out and asked him who he was. He announced to that great light that he was the strongest being in the universe, and that through his strength alone he was capable of burning everything. The brilliant light showed the fire god a piece of straw and challenged him to burn it up. When he was unable to burn this dried fragment of grass he quickly returned to the devas, told them to give up their pride, that their sense of supremacy was false. Still not satisfied, not understanding the source of the light, Indra asked the stupendous wind god to go to the light and discover what was. Once again, as the wind god came close to the magnificent light, a celestial voice spoke and asked him to identify himself. The wind god told the blinding light that by his indomitable power he could move anything and that it was because of him that the universe is alive and brisk with movement. The light challenged him to move the piece of straw that was lying at his feet. When he could not budge that weightless strand of straw, he gave up his pride and retreated. He told the hosts of devas to renounce their vanity, that it was not possible to know the nature of that holy light. The gods gathered together, still curious, and pleaded with Indra himself to go to the light. The king of the heavens accepted the challenge and marched boldly towards the light. Much to his dismay, as he approached the phenomenal light it disappeared. Unlike the others whose were humbled quickly, Indra was unable to give up his sense of superiority; he was afraid to go back to the assembly of gods and admit failure. Instead he took refuge in the great light. Out of the darkness a voice spoke to him, telling Indra to chant certain sacred goddess syllables. Since he was too ashamed to return home, the great and powerful Indra succumbed to her request and did as the voice had commanded. After nine months of repeating the names of Devi, the light appeared to him in its original brilliance. Within the mass of light Indra saw a youthful virgin whose beauty was beyond any he had ever seen. When Indra saw this radiant goddess, the hairs on his body stood on end, he swooned with ecstasy, and his eyes filled with tears of love and deep devotion. Full of humility and awe, he fell prostrate at the feet of that exquisite and magnificent Devi. After singing hymns of praise, Indra asked, "O Fair One! Are you that great mass of light? If this be so, kindly state the cause of your appearance." She answered, "After creating this universe, I enter into it as the internal controller of all; it is I that impel all individual souls to perform their actions; because of me the wind blows and the sun moves in the sky; from my power alone the fire god, the death god, and, you, Indra, do your respective duties. It is through my grace that you have obtained victory in the battle. All of you gods are merely parts of me. Therefore banish from your heart all your vain boasting and idle prating. With all your head, heart and soul, take refuge in me; come unto my blissful and absolute form and be safe." And so it was that Indra, the lord of the heavens, experienced both from within and without the power of Kundalini Shakti, the vision of Devi, which caused him to swoon in ecstasy, and bow down in humility. "Kundalini" (Continued) Details about The Path of the Mother Order from: Barnes & Noble MORE EXERPTS Stage One Begins Amma the mystic Amma's Life Story Amma's Life Story Amma's Life Story The Mother in Hindu Mythology Hinduism and the Mother Kundalini Kundalini Kali Six Stages in Summary Copyright © 2000 by Savitri L. Bess. All rights reserved