Kundalini Splendor

(Here is the final segment of my account of meeting with Baba Hari Dass, as presented in "Unmasking the Rose: A Record of a Kundalini Initiation." Baba Hari Dass, now 85, heads an ashram/workshop retreat center in Northern California. He came to this country from India many years ago. In India, he lived in the jungle for many years, subsisting for some time on bananas alone. He was Ram Dass's yoga teacher there. The experience described here took place about l995.)

A Devotional Retreat

And then I went to Mount Madonna (Baba’s ashram, named for its location) to take part in a devotional retreat. About 50 of us (from outside) participated. We arrived on the evening of Thursday, May 27. Most of that night and also the following day were spent in explanation and instruction--how to do pranayam, what a mantra was, etc. We did a little practice, but there were many interruptions to explain, the rules of the ashram, etc., and apart from the Kirtan,there was little to inspire or lift the spirit. The food was good, the weather excellent, the company pleasant. I thought, well, this is a fine vacation, even if the transcendent element is missing.

Then, on Saturday, it began. I went into an "altered state" and took deep bliss from virtually every part of the day, from the ritual "arati" (fire ceremony to awaken Krishna, to bring his spirit into presence among us), to the hours of sanskrit chanting of the Gita, the pranayama, etc. Again the Kirtan (music) was ecstatic. Again, I felt as though I had stumbled into heaven, that perhaps this ashram was my true home.

Although Baba Hari Dass is silent, he at times takes questions from the group, which he answers by writing on a little slate board he carries with him. His assistant then reads his response aloud. Most of the questions had to do with moral attitudes and behavior, particularly with reference to sex or the acceptability of suicide. His answers were clear, to the point, and, for the most part, what we might expect from a devout, totally dedicated renunciant who wishes to give his flock sound precepts for living. Some questions had to do with sin, or maintaining the discipline of practice. Others asked about reincarnation, dreams, etc.

After careful thought, I submitted the following (anonymously): "Sometimes in spiritual practice, ecstatic feelings arise in the body, as, for example, the heart, head, and hands. When this happens, should the student seek counsel from the teacher or bear the ecstasy in silence"?
Baba's answer: "In spiritual practice, these things happen. It may be a sign of progress. However, there is a danger of getting fixated on them. Also, there is danger they will become sensual. Go beyond them."

So--Baba Hari Dass (whose name means "servant of god") does not endorse or encourage ecstasy as part of the spiritual path. He focuses on moral and physical "purity." His discussion focuses on ethics. I concluded that the yogic practices (asana, pranayama, chanting, ritual) open and awaken the energy centers. But never is the connection between these two levels (spirit and body) explored or made clear. If we wish to connect with god in a strictly mental, nonmaterial way, who bother to learn these various refinements and techniques? And, if we simply want to feel good physically, who worry about the moral imperatives?

What is "bliss of yogic union" if not a felt flow of rapture throughout the system--the divine piercing of the body, god essence entering every cell in an intimate merging? How can we be one , and not know it in our inner sensate being? How can we come to god if we do not open--totally, in every particular, in all dimensions--to the lover within?

Is this denial of the body's role (the subtle body, that is) more patriarchal condemnation of the feminine--of the realm of feelings, of joy, of rapture? Does it reflect the male fear that he will somehow go "out of control" and his reverence will give way to sensual passion? Is there a thin line (for many) between "sensual" (sexual) and sensuous (sensed, felt)? What, then, do we make of the passion of St. Teresa, the blade of love piercing her heart in Bernini's famous sculpture, her face rapt in near-orgasmic trance? What were the great saints of India--the Kabirs, the Mirabais, and their ilk--celebrating in their love songs if not their state of amorous adoration of the divine? Why did Rama Krishna go into overwhelming ecstasy, even when he tried to explain his state of mind to the others? And why did Rumi dance for weeks after the disappearance of Shams--surely his energies were raised to the highest pitch, reaching an intensity which demanded some release via the body’s ecstatic movement?

These admonitions to "slay the feelings" awaken uncomfortable reminders of the Puritans inveighing against the flesh--and they included in this sphere all art, beauty, ornament, movement, dancing. Are we back to gnostic rejection of the flesh as inherently evil, because it takes us out of the realm of pure thought and immerses us in the base plane of elemental feeling? Are we unable to make a distinction between a pleasure which is a fleshy thrill and a bliss which is a grace from god? Can we not discern the difference between that which primarily arouses us to sexual pursuit and that which begets in us the deepest love for self, god, and other--indeed, which reveals to us the scale on which we are ourselves embraced, thus enabling us to perceive our common identity with all humankind, whom we likewise reverence and adore?

Finally, if we are to undergo transformation "at the cellular level," will our cells not speak to us in love? Is our private joy not a minuscule taste of the ongoing cosmic rapture in which the divine is not "involved" but which is rather the continuing reality, the actual essence of the divine?

Who are we to reject the graces the unknown has bestowed upon us? Many had to defy the prohibitions of the parent to achieve initiation of the flesh. Now must we disregard the strictures of an over cautious, sense-denying religious "authority" to attain initiation of the spirit?

Today in meditation I saw an image of a corset--an old fashioned, straight-laced garment, designed to hold down and repress all the body’s natural capacities, even including the breath itself. I realized (with gratitude) that I was having none of it. I would follow my own path, even if it led straight to "hades" (which it doesn’t, believe me, unless one is unable to tell the difference between higher and lower realms).

Moreover, I want to maintain contact with this, the more usual, more ordinary mode of being (one which does not squelch the feeling aspect of self)--I do not want to climb to heaven on the broken bones of the senses.

I am not (never was) wanton, riotous, orgiastic. Quite the contrary, it has taken me a lifetime to contact this secret realm of the inner self, in which body and spirit conspire together, fusing into a unit of knowing that is neither one nor the other, but a totally new organ of consciousness. The world is vibration and I am that thing which allows and knows this divine energy as it streams into and through me, for I and it are of the same order of being.

Despite my almost irresistible attraction to Baba Hari Dass, I did not become a disciple. Something in me clung to the connection with my "inner guru," who had led me so expertly through my difficult journey. I visited Baba’s ashram once or twice again, but did not pursue a more intimate the personal connection.

On Thursday, I again talked with Andrew privately. He seemed a little taken aback that I would discuss ecstasy so openly. Again, there seems to be universal denial, even discomfort with this topic, as if one wanted to share the intimate details of one's sexual experience, or other basic biological functions. Andrew, too, feels that the rapturous state should give way to a sense of pure peace and tranquillity--where pain and pleasure no longer rule. But who wants such a passionless existence? Isn’t it better to allow the throb of bliss in the heart, to know love is part of a shared resonance, to feel the oneness with all which is external to self? Sometimes I wonder if the refusal to feel arises out of the "control needs" of the experiencer, or perhaps it is the consolation of those who have passed beyond this state into a less body-inclusive condition. I am reminded of old men who urge youth to be celibate. Or, libertines who say "Aha!" and wink when a prim maiden takes an innocent turn on the dance floor.

Those whose senses need reigning in, let them buy halters. For the rest of us, let us move forward freely, welcoming what awaits as well as the journey there.

The key, here, as always, is to attain a balance. Neither the ride of the Valkyries nor one of the restrained preludes of Chopin, but something strong, active, real--affirming and connecting self, other, world.