Kundalini Splendor

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Monday, June 28, 2004

Boulder Poems 

I have just returned from a visit to Boulder (Colorado) and will be posting some of the poems I wrote there in the next few entries.

I noticed that during my trip the Kundalini spoke occasionally (as a very soft "brightening" in the root or head.) The first time was on the plane going from San Francisco to Denver. A couple with a very small child sat next to me. As the mother and child sat down, I noticed a very pleasant sensation in my head--not ecstatic, but a gentle sense of rightness or quiet release. I sensed that her energies (or else her child's) were very well balanced, and indeed, she was a delightful travel companion.

Then, in Boulder, I noticed a sweet opening in the root when I opened an older translation of Hafiz in a bookstore. Of course, with that signal, I purchased the book. A similarly pleasurable (but subtle) opening occurred when I perused a journal published by a local ashram (and I bought that too.) And, once again, the same thing happened when I stopped to listen to a street musician from Chile or Peru playing the "high energy" music of the Andes, with the pan flute and small stringed instrument. He was quite wonderful.

I am always surprised and pleased when the energetic presence makes itself known in such subtle ways, as if to say, I am here too, with you and guiding you, part of your own inner consciousness and connection, even when you are mostly unaware.

The Truth About Chakras

Do not say,
This part is
this spiritual,
this one is higher,
this lower--
Quit trying to find
new ways
to cut yourself in two.

When god made you
he blessed every part,
head, soles and everything
in between.

Then he kissed you again
all over
as you were being born.

Now something lives within,
shy serpent self
who stirs and awakens only
from his constant need
to pierce,
to claim,
and let his hidden sweetness

copyright, Dorothy Walters

More on the Chakras

Who is to say
which is the higher,
which the lower?

Everywhere is
a receptacle
brimming with joy,
like basins of different
shapes and colors
set out to gether rain.

When god
that insistent suitor
drops in
he doesn't care
which door
he enters by,
which vessels
collect his love.

copyright, Dorothy Walters

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