Friday, March 19, 2004
The Anniversary
Each year, around the end of May (the date of my original awakening), I experience a renewal or revisitation of the original energies. For the most part, these are now quiet through the year, with only a few occasional stirrings . So I had more or less assumed that the process was now virtually complete, that I could settle into a comfortable state of equanimity, my psychic system functioning more or less as "normal," except for these occasional reminders.
But two years ago, as the anniversary date approached, I began to notice some unusual happenings. For one, my upper spine itched mightily for two or three weeks, and I had to scratch with a wooden fork. Then, on May 19, Cheela, Autumn, and I met for our first session of study of the ancient text of Kashmiri Shaivism called Vijnana-bhairava (The Yoga of Delight, Wonder, and Astonishment.) When Cheela did some Sanskrit chanting, I noticed with delight that pleasurable sensations were awakened within, as if something long dormant was stirring. A few days later, I again noticed blissful energies playing here and there. So I decided to do some of my familiar "practice" from earlier times. I put on some Sanskrit chanting (Guru Mai, actually) and quickly fell into a transcendent state. I stood quietly before the speakers and made very slow movements, mostly with my arms and hands. Then the energies came in full force, running up and down the spine in exquisite bliss, traveling here and there throughout the body. I put on Vyaas Houston's tape of chakra meditation, and found I could in fact raise the energies through the chakras one by one, all the way to the top (usually I can't do this). I also could trace Sanskrit "om" on my left palm, with the fingers of my right hand positioned about two inches above it. The energies were, in fact, in many respects, as rapturous and intense as those of the beginning, as if the initiation were repeating itself.
Well, I thought, what a nice anniversary celebration. Maybe I am not finished yet with delight.
About a week later, I went to my friend Helen's house for a birthday celebration. Soon after I arrived, I noticed that the energies of this house were very sweet--in fact, I seemed to breathe the sweetness in and out as I stood there near the kitchen counter. Both Helen and her partner Richard have done serious Buddhist practice. They have even gone trekking in Tibet. They are both very loving, spiritual people. Then, the rest of the guests arrived, and I no longer noticed the special atmosphere.
I practiced occasionally for the next week, and had some flowing energies. During this period I printed up some material on Vasugupta (one of the early rishis of Kashmir Shaivism) and noticed that sweet energies were running even from this small connection with the ancient holy one. It was that day that I discovered that Unmasking the Rose was now published, though no one had informed me ahead of time. I suddenly felt abandoned, as if I were about to cross a threshold (reveal my most private experience to the world) but with no one to support or guide, no helping hand. I was, in fact, terrified.
I felt as though I had stripped naked in public, and now was frantically groping for a sheet--but it was now too late, of course. Finally, I played a tape of Hildegard of Bingen, and felt the intensely subtle and very high energies of that music. I sent forth prayers for the many I know who are undergoing extreme agony and loss in their lives. After only a few minutes, I stopped, but felt better, more grounded.
It was cold and overcast in San Francisco that day, not at all like the sunny Kansas morning in 1981 when I received my initiation. But the experience itself was similar in many ways--energy in the root as well as elsewhere, flowing sweetness when I lifted my arms slowly to begin "chi gong." I also tried a bit of yoga on the floor, and found I was too stiff to do much at all, but there was indeed some bliss. Now I have a backache from my exertions.
These energetic stirrings were clearly related to the anniversary as well as anticipation of the upcoming publication.
And, I experienced a similar (but shorter) period of anxiety and excitement (as well as slight illness) when I began this blog site. Going public to an unknown audience isn't easy.
-On Kundalini and Growing Older-
When I was younger, I said it was difficult to distinguish between the symptoms of kundalini and menopause. Now I say much the same about kundalini and the aging process. Who knows which is which? Am I younger or older in my body because of the kundalini experience? Is it more or is it less difficult to sustain the energies? Have I harmed or helped myself by my prolonged experience? Would I be better off--able to make a more effective gift in return--if I were now 40 (or 50 or even 60)?
What will people think when they see me, with all the attributes and manifest imperfections of age? What will they make of the fact that my physical energies are limited, and other difficulties are apparent (stiffness, slowed movement, etc.)?
I am not a perfect specimen, either from the standpoint of health or appearance. I look like an ordinary woman, with ordinary features for a person in her seventies. So--where does all this lead?
The psychic who did a brilliant phone reading for me a few years ago spoke to this concern in that early session. He said people would be willing to listen to me because no one--absolutely no one--was less pretentious, less intimidating. That part seems to be quite right.
The bottom line: I must, like anyone else my age, do whatever I can to "sustain the vessel," to maintain good health and well being in order to fulfill the rest of this curious destiny, which I have chosen, or which has chosen me.
I think I have reached the age when I am more ready to take risk. Why not?
But two years ago, as the anniversary date approached, I began to notice some unusual happenings. For one, my upper spine itched mightily for two or three weeks, and I had to scratch with a wooden fork. Then, on May 19, Cheela, Autumn, and I met for our first session of study of the ancient text of Kashmiri Shaivism called Vijnana-bhairava (The Yoga of Delight, Wonder, and Astonishment.) When Cheela did some Sanskrit chanting, I noticed with delight that pleasurable sensations were awakened within, as if something long dormant was stirring. A few days later, I again noticed blissful energies playing here and there. So I decided to do some of my familiar "practice" from earlier times. I put on some Sanskrit chanting (Guru Mai, actually) and quickly fell into a transcendent state. I stood quietly before the speakers and made very slow movements, mostly with my arms and hands. Then the energies came in full force, running up and down the spine in exquisite bliss, traveling here and there throughout the body. I put on Vyaas Houston's tape of chakra meditation, and found I could in fact raise the energies through the chakras one by one, all the way to the top (usually I can't do this). I also could trace Sanskrit "om" on my left palm, with the fingers of my right hand positioned about two inches above it. The energies were, in fact, in many respects, as rapturous and intense as those of the beginning, as if the initiation were repeating itself.
Well, I thought, what a nice anniversary celebration. Maybe I am not finished yet with delight.
About a week later, I went to my friend Helen's house for a birthday celebration. Soon after I arrived, I noticed that the energies of this house were very sweet--in fact, I seemed to breathe the sweetness in and out as I stood there near the kitchen counter. Both Helen and her partner Richard have done serious Buddhist practice. They have even gone trekking in Tibet. They are both very loving, spiritual people. Then, the rest of the guests arrived, and I no longer noticed the special atmosphere.
I practiced occasionally for the next week, and had some flowing energies. During this period I printed up some material on Vasugupta (one of the early rishis of Kashmir Shaivism) and noticed that sweet energies were running even from this small connection with the ancient holy one. It was that day that I discovered that Unmasking the Rose was now published, though no one had informed me ahead of time. I suddenly felt abandoned, as if I were about to cross a threshold (reveal my most private experience to the world) but with no one to support or guide, no helping hand. I was, in fact, terrified.
I felt as though I had stripped naked in public, and now was frantically groping for a sheet--but it was now too late, of course. Finally, I played a tape of Hildegard of Bingen, and felt the intensely subtle and very high energies of that music. I sent forth prayers for the many I know who are undergoing extreme agony and loss in their lives. After only a few minutes, I stopped, but felt better, more grounded.
It was cold and overcast in San Francisco that day, not at all like the sunny Kansas morning in 1981 when I received my initiation. But the experience itself was similar in many ways--energy in the root as well as elsewhere, flowing sweetness when I lifted my arms slowly to begin "chi gong." I also tried a bit of yoga on the floor, and found I was too stiff to do much at all, but there was indeed some bliss. Now I have a backache from my exertions.
These energetic stirrings were clearly related to the anniversary as well as anticipation of the upcoming publication.
And, I experienced a similar (but shorter) period of anxiety and excitement (as well as slight illness) when I began this blog site. Going public to an unknown audience isn't easy.
-On Kundalini and Growing Older-
When I was younger, I said it was difficult to distinguish between the symptoms of kundalini and menopause. Now I say much the same about kundalini and the aging process. Who knows which is which? Am I younger or older in my body because of the kundalini experience? Is it more or is it less difficult to sustain the energies? Have I harmed or helped myself by my prolonged experience? Would I be better off--able to make a more effective gift in return--if I were now 40 (or 50 or even 60)?
What will people think when they see me, with all the attributes and manifest imperfections of age? What will they make of the fact that my physical energies are limited, and other difficulties are apparent (stiffness, slowed movement, etc.)?
I am not a perfect specimen, either from the standpoint of health or appearance. I look like an ordinary woman, with ordinary features for a person in her seventies. So--where does all this lead?
The psychic who did a brilliant phone reading for me a few years ago spoke to this concern in that early session. He said people would be willing to listen to me because no one--absolutely no one--was less pretentious, less intimidating. That part seems to be quite right.
The bottom line: I must, like anyone else my age, do whatever I can to "sustain the vessel," to maintain good health and well being in order to fulfill the rest of this curious destiny, which I have chosen, or which has chosen me.
I think I have reached the age when I am more ready to take risk. Why not?
