Kundalini Splendor

This time, for the first time in recent years, my "inner teacher" was female. She was, in fact, a goddess, probably Cambodian, with a headdress of some sort (more like a tiara) but not the ascending coils of my (earlier) male teacher. She was seated with one leg extending down from her throne, the other curled underneath. She had many arms. She was the Mother herself, the Womb from which we come and to which we return at death. (Note: I think my inner teachers are mainly male because of the Jungian anima/animus relationship. Women are often led on the inner journey by male guides, and men by females, according to Jung's system. The animus is male aspect of the female, and the anima the feminine aspect of the male.)

Standing before Buddha, I moved only a little, mostly as micromovements of my neck and head from side to side. I think this is why the Eastern dancers rely so much on similar, but larger, neck movements. Each move sends sweet swirling energies through the body, often all the way to the feet. As always, I am convinced that this is how dancing began--from movements which aroused bliss, and then were incorporated into sacred dance. To dance in this way is to entertain the god/goddess in your body.

And, again, the experience was delicate, ecstatic, unbelievably subtle. It was like entering--and being entered by--a field of light. The vibrations seemed even higher than before, and as always, sensuous in tone, but not sexual per se. Once more I realized why these practices have been so carefully guarded throughout the centuries--one can stand in such a field only for a short time, and the unprepared aspirant might be seriously affected, even damaged, by such attempts. It is like entering the presence of an angelic being and sensing its incredible emanations--are we prepared to receive such love?

And then another image came up--this time it was a crone who was in fact an absolute hag, the state that all of us (at least the females) may arrive at should we live long enough. In other circumstances this might have startled me, but I remembered that the crone is the natural outgrowth of the mother (maid, mother, crone), and so I accepted the image as an indicator of the transitoriness of all human conditions, and indeed the ephemeral quality of all things. Like the Buddhists, I believe that all things are temporary and illusory, even the moment of highest bliss which would seem to confirm our notions of the sublime.

And at the same time these moments are infinitely real. They are the actual set against the temporal, the abiding reality shining through the veil of the transient.

They are the contradiction which rest at the heart of the Mystery itself.

Later on I went to see my doctor (a routine visit), a wonderful woman who loves dogs and horses. I tried to describe some of my experiences to her, since I feel it is part of the responsibility of those of us undergoing this still esoteric experience to inform as many caretakers as possible, so they can be alert to symptoms of others which often get misdiagnosed. Her eyes got wide and she listened sympathetically, but she didn't really get it. Virtually no one does who has not had the experience for themselves. After all, what do you say to someone who is telling you they make love with the goddess (or god) each morning in their living room?