Tuesday, October 19, 2004
Kundalini: Unique and Universal
Kundaini is at once the most personal and most universal experience one can have. It strikes at the very heart of the self, touches and transforms it in every imaginable way, and leaves it in a state of unending change and adjustment. Each person undergoes the initiation process in a unique way. The beginning circumstances, the unfolding, the mental and psychological responses are decidedly one's own, unlike any other.
Often, the initiate's experience is framed in terms already familiar to her: Taoist alchemy, tantric yoga, native American spirituality, goddess lore--whatever has captured her imagination in the past now becomes the template for this overwhelming life event. And the discoveries which manifest during this critical juncture (whether mental or emotional) come as radically new insights, sacred mysteries revealed for the first time.
These revelations are precious, for they carry the initiate into the heart of the sacred, a world one has longed for but never before clearly discerned. The initiation is a gift to be treasured and revered.
At the same time, deep spiritual transformation is a universal human experience, one with a very long history across time and space. Whether it is the journey of the Christian mystic into divine union or the Sufi seeker yearning for the Beloved, the story of the soul's encounter with the inner reality carries certain features common to virtually all traditions and lineages. The classic account of these stages or attributes is found in Evelyn Underhill's "Mysticism," an indispensable guide for all engaged in the spiritual quest.
In addition to the traditional stages of the mystic path discussed by Underhill, there are also certain recurrent motifs or themes which seem to run through many personal accounts. Here are some which come readily to mind:
(Actually, some of these may overlap with Underhill's broader categories--I am simply reviewing certain features of my own experience which are echoed or mirrored in the descriptions of others past and present.)
The sense of loneliness before the moment of awakening. One knows that something is missing in one's life, but one doesn't know exactly what. One may have lived in essential isolation from the world at large, with a sense that one is "not of this time, not of this place."
The sudden and surprising nature of the opening when it occurs.
The feeling that one is now a "new being," whose transformed state is not perceived by the world, including one's closest associates. One appears to be the "old self," but in fact one is a "new self" in disguise.
The feeling that one has been granted a gift one has not earned. One asks, "How could this happen to me, of all people?"
The deep sense of anguish when the Beloved seems to disappear from one's daily life. Underhill says this is the true dark night of the soul. The saint who has known the presence of God suffers even more when that presence is withdrawn.
The sense that one is somehow unworthy when the process appears to fade, even temporarily. It is as though one has been tried, and found wanting. (But in fact it almost always begins again.)
The difficulty of expressing such ineffable experience in words. How can you adequately articulate the indescribable?
Questioning whether one is indeed undergoing authentic spiritual transformation or whether one is the victim of some abnormal biological or neural imbalance. (Am I awakened or deluded?)
Discovering that one has no personal control over the experience, which may return only after one has ceased to strive for its presence.
Deep hesitation over sharing such intimate and and unfamiliar experience with others. How could anyone else possibly understand? Further, such revelation might seem to diminish the sacred nature of the encounter, or, worse, appear as some form of "bragging" or ego inflation.
A sense that kundalini is itself a form of consciousness, one which seems to control the experience, now manifesting, now withdrawing, as if to give the initiate time to rest before the next move forward.
The sense that one's own experience is part of a larger process of universal change, planetary initiation, whose ends and purpose no one knows.
Often, the initiate's experience is framed in terms already familiar to her: Taoist alchemy, tantric yoga, native American spirituality, goddess lore--whatever has captured her imagination in the past now becomes the template for this overwhelming life event. And the discoveries which manifest during this critical juncture (whether mental or emotional) come as radically new insights, sacred mysteries revealed for the first time.
These revelations are precious, for they carry the initiate into the heart of the sacred, a world one has longed for but never before clearly discerned. The initiation is a gift to be treasured and revered.
At the same time, deep spiritual transformation is a universal human experience, one with a very long history across time and space. Whether it is the journey of the Christian mystic into divine union or the Sufi seeker yearning for the Beloved, the story of the soul's encounter with the inner reality carries certain features common to virtually all traditions and lineages. The classic account of these stages or attributes is found in Evelyn Underhill's "Mysticism," an indispensable guide for all engaged in the spiritual quest.
In addition to the traditional stages of the mystic path discussed by Underhill, there are also certain recurrent motifs or themes which seem to run through many personal accounts. Here are some which come readily to mind:
(Actually, some of these may overlap with Underhill's broader categories--I am simply reviewing certain features of my own experience which are echoed or mirrored in the descriptions of others past and present.)
The sense of loneliness before the moment of awakening. One knows that something is missing in one's life, but one doesn't know exactly what. One may have lived in essential isolation from the world at large, with a sense that one is "not of this time, not of this place."
The sudden and surprising nature of the opening when it occurs.
The feeling that one is now a "new being," whose transformed state is not perceived by the world, including one's closest associates. One appears to be the "old self," but in fact one is a "new self" in disguise.
The feeling that one has been granted a gift one has not earned. One asks, "How could this happen to me, of all people?"
The deep sense of anguish when the Beloved seems to disappear from one's daily life. Underhill says this is the true dark night of the soul. The saint who has known the presence of God suffers even more when that presence is withdrawn.
The sense that one is somehow unworthy when the process appears to fade, even temporarily. It is as though one has been tried, and found wanting. (But in fact it almost always begins again.)
The difficulty of expressing such ineffable experience in words. How can you adequately articulate the indescribable?
Questioning whether one is indeed undergoing authentic spiritual transformation or whether one is the victim of some abnormal biological or neural imbalance. (Am I awakened or deluded?)
Discovering that one has no personal control over the experience, which may return only after one has ceased to strive for its presence.
Deep hesitation over sharing such intimate and and unfamiliar experience with others. How could anyone else possibly understand? Further, such revelation might seem to diminish the sacred nature of the encounter, or, worse, appear as some form of "bragging" or ego inflation.
A sense that kundalini is itself a form of consciousness, one which seems to control the experience, now manifesting, now withdrawing, as if to give the initiate time to rest before the next move forward.
The sense that one's own experience is part of a larger process of universal change, planetary initiation, whose ends and purpose no one knows.
