Kundalini Splendor

The Poem

It isn't how much.
It's what went in.

Say, the night
when the snow fell
and she turned to you,

the phantom horses

grazing in the distance,

mute creatures

of dream.

Or the long climb
up the mountain,
how pure the air

that summer afternoon,
the labial rocks,

the meadows glazed

with sun,

cascading purples and blues,
and then the clap
of thunder,
the sudden deluge,

scent of pines

descending.

Call it a mosaic,
or a tapestry.
Every piece in place.
Each moment
a distillation.

Dorothy Walters
November 11, 2008

Patricia and I have often talked of how every single experience, every encounter, every mental discovery of your existence goes into your creation--whether a poem or a photograph or your life itself which is also a work of art. For this reason, our mature productions often carry more weight than those of our earlier years. Likewise, our experiences in our later years are seen in the context of all that has come before. From a distance, we can see how it all fits together--and that is true of our kundalini awakening as well. Even though it did not seem to make sense at the beginning, eventually we realize that everything in our lives led up to this moment, and everything thereafter moved away from it (and on to new unfoldings.)

(Image from http://www.travelblog.org/-- found on Wikipedia)