Kundalini Splendor

Kundalini Splendor <$BlogRSDURL$>

Sunday, August 31, 2008

Anam Cara Newsletter 

Here is the current newsletter from Anam Cara, the special spiritual center created amd overseen by Lawrence Edwards, Ph. D. I am honored that he began the newsletter with one of my recent poems, followed by announcements for upcoming workshops and retreats which he offers in New York state. If you have not done so already, I urge you to subscribe to this free publication, for what Lawrence has created both in words and spiritual offerings is a valuable gift for us all.
Ever Arriving

"At the still point of the turning world. . .
there the dance is. . .
Except for the point,
the still point,
there would be no dance,
and there is only the dance."
(T. S. Eliot)

I think of it
as the Swirling Radiance,
movement that never ceases,
ever arriving
from the last momentof eternity,
the plundered second
of all that will ever be.

And you, here,
are at the midpoint,
the demarcationof what has always been
and what is perpetually approaching,
your seeing is that which sustains,
carries forth,

You are the perpetual
heaven's link to time.

If you listen, you can
almost hear it swish
as it goes by.

Dorothy Walters
August 20 2008

Sept.-Nov. Programs
Anam Cara, Bedford, NY

Saturday Sept. 27th - Kirtan Night! 7 PM
With Satya, Ma, and Kalidas. Join us in this ancient and ecstatic practice of chanting the names of the Divine. Everyone is welcome!

Oct. 1-Nov.5, Wednesday Evenings, 7:15-8:45 (no class 10/22)
5 Week Course
Buddhist Wisdom Treasures for Non- Buddhists
Taught by Lawrence Edwards, Ph.D.
The Buddhist tradition offers great insights into the workings of the mind and how we can be free not only of the mind, but of all suffering. One doesn't have to be a Buddhist to gain the tremendous benefits offered by this ancient tradition of wisdom. Priests, nuns, rabbis, ministers, scientists, business leaders and people from every background have found the teachings of the Buddha enhanced their everyday lives and their spiritual practices. During this course we will explore the foundational teachings and practices that the Buddha offered to anyone who was interested in gaining greater freedom from suffering and gaining access to unwavering joy. There will be plenty of time to discuss how these teachings and practices apply to work, family, relationships, etc.

November 14-16, Friday Evening-Sunday Afternoon
Mysteries of the Divine Feminine and Kundalini Empowerment
Led by Lawrence Edwards, Ph.D.The extraordinary power of Consciousness that allows us to directly know the Infinite is called Kundalini in the yogic tradition. In this retreat you will be guided through ancient practices that awaken and unfold the inner power of meditation and yoga, Kundalini. Through this innate power of Consciousness we will explore the archetypal realms of transcendence, wisdom and grace. Through the power of mantra, chanting, breath work, and the profound tales of mystical traditions, including the Black Madonna, Inanna, Kali and Kundalini, we will further access the inner source of true knowledge and ultimate freedom. That source is the Divine within. Through this process you will be empowered to deepen and sustain your meditation practice at home. Many people take this retreat repeatedly in order to delve more and more deeply into the mysteries of true meditation and further unfold the power of Kundalini. Sharings from others who have taken the retreat can be found through the program link below.

Meditation Group
Every Tuesday Evening: starts promptly at 7:30pm at our center at SunRaven in Bedford, NY. All are welcome! Directions are on the Anam Cara website. If you wonder whether the group is being held on a particular Tuesday evening there will always be a message stating if it is cancelled on that night on 914-234-4800.Click here to find out more about the programs....

Dorothy Walters is a dear friend and a wise woman who shares the riches she has mined from the depths through her books, poetry and blog. I encourage you to delight in those treasures by following the links to her blog. Everyone has the heart to be a true friend of the soul, an Anam Cara. By embodying that ideal ourselves we may help another to find it in themselves. Our highest nature is always manifest in relationship - to our loved ones, to all other beings, to the environment, and in relation to our own body and mind. Becoming mindful of the quality of our relationships allows us to learn where the light shines and where it needs to shine more. The ideal of Anam Cara is to continuously endeaver to expand the depth and the inclusiveness of the loving kindness we bring into every relationship. If you have any suggestions, comments or sharings, for our newsletter please don't hesitate to e-mail me and I'll do my best to respond.

Anam Cara, Inc. is a 501 (C) 3, non-profit educational organization dedicated to teaching meditative practices. Our non-denominational programs are open to all. There are free meditation instructions and downloadable audio files of guided meditations on our website.Thank you for the many ways you have shown support for Anam Cara, Inc. Because of your gifts we can offer free programs and other supports for meditation practices.I look forward to welcoming you in person to our programs. With great appreciation and love, I thank you all.May all beings realize complete freedom from suffering and may all our actions reflect only wisdom, compassion, patience and loving kindness.Lawrence Edwards, Ph.D. Founder and DirectorAnam Cara, Inc.All newsletter contents copyrighted 2008email: le@anamcara-ny.orgphone: 914-234-4800web: http://www.anamcara-ny.org

Saturday, August 30, 2008

Hold Out! 

Hold Out

Don't squander your precious longing
On what could never fill you.
Hold out!
Hold out for the great heart's desire.
And then spend everything you've got;
Like a drunken sailor in port at last;
Like the river leaping wantonly into the arms of the sea!

- Larry Robinson

(To receive a daily poem from Larry, write to him at lrobpoet.sccglobal.net)

Friday, August 29, 2008

Crows and Waves 

Crows and Waves

It is said that when crows fly over long distances, they can remember every single item on the landscape below--trees, ponds, roads--all of it. Some of us are, I think like crow--we can remember detailed information pertaining to computers, maps, data of various kinds. Such folks tend to be computer whizzes or rocket scientists. They control and hold and relate well with the myriad details of a vast field of data. They sometimes have little awareness of overall connection of their own field of expertise and the larger world in which it is contained. They may have difficulty thinking holistically, for they are intensely focused on the particulars.

Others are more like waves. The wave dashes against the rocks, splays outward in a seeming frenzy of delight, and withdraws for the next effort. The wave does not remember the contours of the rocks, its various cracks and protrusions, nor does it recall its own shape as it flings itself forward and shatters in joy. It is given over to the process, and cares nothing for the minutiae of context. People like this are often artists, shamans, and priests (of certain select esoteric orders, the hidden Melchizideks among us.) They grasp the essence, not the miniscule components. They may take great joy in natural beauty, such as a waterfall, and are not concerned with, say, how many gallons pour forth each second, or what the mineral content of the water is. They are often quite "open" to their environment, and hence can frequently assume the shape (the feeling or vibrational tone) of whatever surrounds them--for better or worse. They often make excellent energy healers and musicians, poets and artists. They feel at a deeper level.

And the lucky few combine the talents of the both types. They are artists of the soul and artists of life, and can bring the two realms together gloriously in their own creative efforts. They offer us the many innovative and exciting sites now coming forth on the internet. They use technology to good purpose, bringing together imagination and technical expertise, inspiration and accomplishment. They represent the best of left brain and right brain fusion, and thus are in the forefront of the process we call “evolution of consciousness.”

Will we all possess such disparate capacities in future when the great quantum leap into new awareness occurs?

August 28, 2008

Thursday, August 28, 2008

Spanda Karika (poem) 

Spanda Karika*

And so here we are,
a small dot
on the rim
of an inconsequential
sometimes trembling
in joy.

Who would take notice
when we arrive,
when we go,
what our involvements are.

Yet it emerges,
something inside,
this flower that constantly

Only the pulsation
is real.

Dorothy Walters
August 25, 2008

The Spanda Karika is the name of an early text (ninth century?) of Kashmiri Shaivism, a belief/spiritual practice which began in ancient India. The term refers to the divine impulse or trembling which creates and sustains the universe. Many of its notions are remarkably similar to those of modern physics and suggest our own relationship to the overarching Reality. Here is an excerpt from the back cover of this text in the edition translated by Jaideva Singh and with a preface by Paul Muller-Ortega, published by the State of New York University Press:

Spanda is the vibratory dynamism of the absolute consciousness. . . .
Through modern physics we have grown accustomed to thinking of reality as waves of energy--as the matter-energy continuum. Tantric Shaivism presents the full matrix of energy pulsation of which physical reality is only a part. From the relatively superficial perceptions of the senses to the progressively subtle forms of inner awareness, a unified spectrum of spanda leads inward, until the most delicate and powerful tendrils of individuality merge with the infinitely rapid vibration of ultimate consciousness.

I believe that this fundamental text of Kashmiri Shaivism not only explains what is going on in the universe on a cosmic level, but also describes what happens within each of us as we undergo awakening into what we call “kundalini consciousness,” and subsequently move into “progressively subtle forms of inner awareness” as the process unfolds.

Who wrote this profound work so long ago? Many hold that it was divinely inspired, a gift of knowledge bestowed on the rishis of old by the ultimate source of all knowing.

(Image from http://hubblesite.org/gallery/album/galaxy_collection/+1

Credit: Walter Jaffe/Leiden Observatory, Holland Ford/JHU/STScI, and NASA)

Wednesday, August 27, 2008

Ever Arriving (poem) 

Ever Arriving

At the still point of the turning world. . .
there the dance is. . .
Except for the point, the still point,
there would be no dance,
and there is only the dance.
T. S. Eliot

I think of it
as the Swirling Radiance,
movement that never ceases,
ever arriving
from the last moment
of eternity,
the plundered second
of all that will ever be.

And you, here,
are at the midpoint,
the demarcation
of what has always been
and what is perpetually approaching,
your seeing is that which sustains,
carries forth,

You are the perpetual
heaven's link to time.
If you listen, you can
almost hear it swish
as it goes by.

Dorothy Walters
August 20 2008

(Image from Panhala)

Tuesday, August 26, 2008

This Practitioner (poems) 

This Practitioner

Perhaps I am Hanuman,
perhaps Shiva,
who is to say?

I am easy,
anyone can enter me.

But the one I wait for
is Paravati
she of the rounded breasts.


Blessing the Body

Light playng.
Light hovering
over cheek and brow,
flowing from hip
to crown.
Is this a butterfly
landing on my shoulder?


Someone Waiting

Whatever happens,
this has happened.

That music, the violin
drifting like scent
from the window
that sunny morning
in Rome.

Someone waiting
by the fountain
its libidinous nymphs
at play.

Cross light playing
over ancient stones
mosaic of rose and velvet.

None of it compares.

Dorothy Walters
August 25, 2008
(Image from source)

Monday, August 25, 2008

More on "A Cloth of Fine Gold" 

Naga Moon Rai never ceases to shower me with gifts. She has constructed a google site which offers more information, sample poems, and even an audio for "A Cloth of Fine Gold."

Here is the new site: http://sites.google.com/site/aclothoffinegold/

And, if you would simply like to hear an mp3 of my reading of poems from "Cloth" as well as my earlier volume, "Marrow of Flame," here is the site for this: (runs about 13 minutes)


Thanks again, dear friend.

Sunday, August 24, 2008

More on "A Cloth of Fine Gold" 

Description (from publisher's site):

These poems trace the spiritual journey, including its many stages of yearning, awakening, the dark night, and ecstatic union. Lovers of Rumi and Hafiz, Mary Oliver and Mirabai, will be drawn to these carefully crafted and heart felt verses, for they speak to deepest desires of the human spirit.
Dorothy's first book of poems ("Marrow of Flame, Poems of the Spiritual Journey") was enthusiastically received: "A massively experienced and authentic spiritual 'autobiography.' the record shameless but unhysterical of an extreme love affair with the Divine."
(Andrew Harvey, renowned author and spiritual teacher)

poems on poets
poems of ecstasy
kundalini poems
spiritual poetry
spiritual transformation
spiritual journey
sacred poetry
Listed in:
Religion & Spirituality
("A Cloth of Fine Gold" is available from http://www.lulu.com/content/2664202

Saturday, August 23, 2008

The Two Longings (poem by Larry Robinson) 

The Two Longings

Late August snowmelt,
Dropping down from the Crystal Range,
Feeding penstemon, pussypaw and lupine
Fills Barrett Lake, then cascades to a quiet pool.
The sudden arc
Of a rainbow trout, drawn upward, drawn homeward,
By a call it may not refuse and cannot fulfill,
Catches the eye, catches the heart, catches the imagination.
And the water,
Answering a summons of its own,
Supporting the trout even in its defeat,
Reaches down to the American River, the Delta,
through the Golden Gate... home.

- Larry Robinson
Larry Robinson is a wonderful poet and poetry lover who offers a daily poem from various writers of many traditions, mostly modern. To receive these is to discover what is often a new voice (or an old voice revisited) in your mail each morning. In this way, you can easily sample many poetic offerings and discover which you truly like. If you want to be on his recipient list, e-mail him at:
"Larry Robinson" lrobpoet@sbcglobal.net

Friday, August 22, 2008

Naga Moon Rai (poem and artwork) 


You are becoming yourself again,

pulling on your quirks and habits

like an old shirt.

You scratch at the limitations.

I stand back and watch you slip into the day

the way fog curls around trees.

All of the above--the phtograph, the painting, and the poem--are by N. M. Rai, one of my most admired and inspiring friends. Only occasionally in a lifetime do we encounter someone so gifted in so many areas. Naga Moon is more than gifted--she links her talent with devotion, literally painting, writing, or out taking her amazing photographs daily. In addition, she is immensely generous, encouraging others' efforts and as well as helping us in our struggles with high tech methods of getting our work out to a larger audience.

If it had not been for Naga Moon, I don't think I could ever have succeeded in getting my recent poetry book into proper form for publication. She showed amazing patience with a "pupil" who was nothing if not slow to learn.

Thank you Naga Moon, for helping me and who knows how many others struggling to make a way for our creations to enter the world. Some traditions speak of "hidden saints." I think there must also be "hidden artistic geniuses," those who work patiently in constant devotion to craft, without great expectation of fame or fortune, but through dedication to the inner spirit of creativity itself.

Here is what one reader said of her poetry:

N.M. Rai's poems are seeds of love in the air. Not a love of hearts and flowers but a love that waits by the side of a loved one as death threatens to take its inevitable due.These poems are about compassion, but not only the care of a care-giver, but the inner landscape of the one who must stand and watch illness ravish and consume; one who watches and records every emotional wave as slowly, recovery washes over both the cared-for and the care-giver. Seeds in the air but these seeds have come from a deep love and fall to the earth to grow beautiful poems for all to see. Quite simply, N.M. Rai has planted her experiences of tragedy and recovery for all to see through a great poet’s eyes.

Eric Ashford (poet)

See more of her work at:

Archive of Divine Muffins (photography)http://www.pbase.com/nmrai/divinemuffin

Book: "Small Rooms: Seeded Air"http://seededair.googlepages.com/

Paintings: Slideshow


Thursday, August 21, 2008

Some Morning Poems 

If you want

If you want to feel
the sweet light
flow over your body,
then give yourself to light.

Moth to candle,
straw to flame,
you are nothing but
materials for burning.

Sita Ram, Jaya Ram

She is dancing in
swaying to the sounds
of Sita Ram, Jaya Ram.

Don’t fret about the meanings.
Let the syllables speak to you
flow into your veins,
your hidden passages.

Then you will know
what the dancer knows,
the secret of secrets,
that which speaks
only in silence.

Whether you are standing

Don’t worry about
whether you are
or kneeling
or holding a sword
with a straight back.

She will find you
you do.

She is everywhere,
waiting in your chamber
even now.

If you want to see her
you must first turn
and say hello.

Dorothy Walters
August 21, 2008

(Often I am inspired to write poetry from reading other poets, but sometimes it is music which opens the word gates. I wrote these poems this morning while at the computer listening through headphones to the songs of Diana Rogers. She is an incredible musician, one whose voice is filled with shakti power. I recommend her strongly if you want to taste the nectar.)
(Photograph is of installation by Dale Chihuly)

Wednesday, August 20, 2008

A Cloth of Fine Gold-- (new poetry book published) 

My second book of poetry, titled A Cloth of Fine Gold: Poems of the Inner Journey has now been published by Lulu Press. (See link at side for site. It should also be up on Amazon in future.) My good friend N. M. Rai guided me through the many challenges associated with self-publishing, which proved to be much more daunting from a technical point of view than I had ever imagined. (My advice is don't try, unless you are a computer whiz--the mechanical aspects took much more time and effort than writing the poems themselves, but of course I am still a techno-novice). Naga Moon also provided the beautiful cover design and image.

This collection, like Marrow of Flame (my first published book of poems), focuses on the mystic journey, the path of all who seek closer union with the spirit of the Beloved Within. Many of the poems are inspired by such poets as Rumi and Mary Oliver. A Cloth of Fine Gold includes poems of yearning, pain, discovery, and ecstatic union, as well as some which are downright oracular and others which are more secular in tone.

This volume draws from verses written over the last several years, some of which have appeared on this blogsite, others not. I am pleased to have them now collected into a single volume available to anyone who wants it. The selling price from Lulu is $14.90, plus S & H (about $4.00) for a print copy, and $5.00 for a download.

I am also grateful to the many others who offered help and encouragement, including Gail Thompson, Karen Lester, Mary Ford-Grabowsky, Stephanie Marohn, and, of course, my very special friend Patricia Lay-Dorsey.

So--now that this project is finished, I am planning my next book--now that I have been through the process once, the next one should be easier.

Here are the Preface and some of the poems of A Cloth of Fine Gold:


These poems speak in many voices. Some are clearly of an overtly “spiritual” nature, and the debt to Rumi and other early writers such as Kabir and Mirabai will be obvious. Others are more secular in tone (poems on contemporary poets and artists, as well as nature), and still others are downright oracular, as if they were written by ancient priests or prophets. We poets take whatever gifts may come.

But all are serious in their way, and all are intended
as offerings which give us a larger perspective on how it is possible to live, even to experience rapture itself, in a world where the divine nexus so often seems to be broken.

As for the obviously sacred verses, they unabashedly allude to the connection of human and divine without trying to name the latter or present a fixed belief system. Sometimes the poet even uses the word “god,” but note the term bears no capital. In these passages, I am not speaking of the old god, the thundering patriarch who drove our ancestors near mad with his commandments and interdictions and who even today finds his followers. I am speaking of that other, softer, more hidden reality, who led Rumi to the sweet secrets of his poems, who met St. John in the darkness of night where they consummated their sacred love tryst, who danced with Mirabai on the roads. This “god” is, of course, also the goddess, for she is beyond gender. She is ultimate expression—the divine presence, the undeniable essence, the pulsating stream of love which informs everything that is, in blessing and joy when we open our hearts sufficiently.

All of us yearn for this holy embrace, to know more intimately the hidden mystery which hovers near. Sometimes we catch glimpses through the door, taste a sip of something a bit ambrosial, smell a whiff of some indefinable perfume. Traces of the Beloved.

At times, however, the transition is more abrupt. An unexpected event, a surprising occurrence triggers an awakening beyond all we have known before. Katherine Anne Porter called such pivotal encounters “the moment which changes everything.” Some years ago I experienced such a moment. For me, it occurred through what is called spontaneous Kundalini awakening, and its consequences have rippled through and shaped my life ever since. It was then that I discovered that the Beloved (the term which mystics so frequently use to express the Divine Presence) was not a metaphor, but a reality, a felt feeling in the blood, and a discovery convincing beyond all textbooks or words.

Union with the Inner Beloved may involve states of rapture unlike anything we experience in our ordinary life. The awakened energies are often quite sensuous in tone, though they are markedly distinct from sexual experiences. They can be intense or gentle and soft, depending on the circumstances. In the early stages, they can be quite dramatic, as the many feeling centers of the body open. As time passes, the sensations diminish, and ultimately they are more like light playing through the body or perhaps the echo from a peal of distant mountain thunder. The language which poets traditionally use to describe these profound episodes is that of human love. Some suggest that such experience is the end and goal of all spiritual striving, final embrace by Infinite Love.

As all mystics and seekers know, the spiritual journey (like life itself) does not always advance in a fixed, logical progression of say, longing, preparation, and final union. Rather, it shifts back and forth, oscillates between yearning and apparent arrival, often to lead once more to new beginnings and repeated struggle. So with these poems, for they mirror how things really are on the long inward journey.

This book contains both poems of the heart and verses of the mind, for both are needed if we are to discover the resolution we are seeking. This fusion of rapture and thoughtfulness will, I think, bring us to the next stage of our ongoing evolution of consciousness, and transform us and our world.

June, 2008/ San Francisco


You may think
that first lit flame
was the ultimate blaze,
the holy fire revealed.

What do you know
of furnaces?
This is a sun that returns
again and again, refining, igniting,
pouring your spirit
through a cloth of delicate gold
until all dross is taken
and you are sweet as
clarified butter
in god/the goddess’ mouth.


What the heart wants
is to follow its true passion,
to lie down with it
near the reeds beside
the river,
to devour it in the caves
between the desert dunes,
to sing its notes
into the morning sky
until even the angels
wake up
and take notice
and look around
for their beloved.


There will be an invitation.
It will not come tied in ribbons
nor a message streaming down
from the sky.

There will be no Roman candles
nor brilliant colors
exploding overhead.

Instead there will be a soft
in your ear,
something in a language
you once knew
and are trying to learn again.

In order to hear it,
you will need to
put down all your packages,
stop everything you are doing
and stand very still
then wait. . .
until something stirs inside.

Tuesday, August 19, 2008

All Those Who Claim (poem) 

All Those Who Claim

They have it wrong,
all those who claim to
have the ultimate answers,
who draw up a litany of rules
and say, “Follow these
and you will be spared
at the final hour.”

If you want to talk
about enlightenment,
don’t listen to those solemn
hierarchs in robes
or those who
drone behind altars.
Seek out the wise ones
in the mountains,
the hermits who live
beside the waterfalls,
the woman who is dancing
in candlelight
as she rocks her babe
to sleep in her arms.

Dorothy Walters
August 18, 2008

Monday, August 18, 2008

The Moment (poem) 

The Moment

I do not know
where it comes from,
what makes it arise.

But there it is!
Splendid, resilient,
the after glow
of a star
which has just passed,
the last gleam
of red which lingers
on yesterday’s

what is past,
or passing,
or to come.*

Dorothy Walters
August 18, 2008

(The quoted line in the last verse is from W. B. Yeats, “Sailing to Byzantium." Here it refers to the fact that each second is an interval between past and future, neither of which we can fully grasp, since the the future has not yet arrived, the past has forever vanished, and the "now" has already slipped into the past the instant we think about it.)
(Image from N. M. Rai)

Saturday, August 16, 2008

How Many Times (poem) 

How Many Times

How many times
I have told my secret,
in verse, in prose,
before sleeping,
at dawn,
to whom am I speaking,
is it to others,
this strange narrative I repeat
like a monk saying hours,
traveler’s tale of mystic realms,
exotic account whispered
into the listener’s ear
the unfolding of rapture
which some call by names
like bliss,
or am I simply rehearsing
the story to myself,
old silk taken out and unwrapped
to spread the familiar table,
repeated ritual,
over and over,
how can I ever
convince anyone
it is true?

Dorothy Walters
August 14, 2008
(Image from Wikipedia)

Friday, August 15, 2008

The Remembrance (poem) 

The Remembrance

That day
the mountain air was charged
and pure
as if an electric jolt
had cleared the October world
into immaculate wisdom,
as if we had entered
a realm
where nothing exists
but the untarnished self,
the clarified image
of who we had become
and the aspen
glistened overhead
in shimmering auras of golden light
and we lay down
in the flowering bed of green
and took each other’s photograph
as the single remembrance
of that day
which was, for the moment,

Dorothy Walters
August 14, 2008

Thursday, August 14, 2008

How the Story Goes 

How the Story Goes

It all depends on where you enter.

At first it is all roses and peach
ice cream—
you and your lover
picnicking on the lawn,
tantric moments in bed.
Surely this was the way.
Surely it would last forever.

Then devastation, loss,
You exist at the bottom
of a deep well where
light seldom intrudes,
there is little relief
from the sound of sobs,
which seem to come
from far down your own throat.
You never dreamt there
could be so much pain.
such suffering, as
if even god
had turned his back on you,
as if your mirror
turned grey.
You grow very thin,
for you reject
all comfort and nourishment.
Even if someone tries
to console you,
you will not listen.

Then one day, something unexpected,
a beam breaks through,
becomes a sacred image on the wall.
Someone (not a person)
is calling from above,
soft cathedral tones.
Slowly you make your way out.
You blink and look around at a world
which is still busily there
both strange and familiar
rushing to its elusive aims.
You rub your eyes.
You detect signs of beauty,
blossoms struggling into light.
Even the birds seem to be singing
lost hymns.
You pause, then stumble forward.
Your pace quickens
as you move.

Dorothy Walters
August 12, 2008
(This is a poem about the death and resurrection of the spirit, as life cycles through its inevitable changes. The "inner death" is especially poignant when it involves the loss of the "Beloved Within," that reality which formerly was a constant presence but now seems to have vanished. Evelyn Underhill in her great work "Mysticism" says this is the true dark night. It occurs after, not before, the initial awakening, when one endures a time of seeming separation from divine favor.)

Wednesday, August 13, 2008

The Climber (poem) 

The Climber

The mountain was steep.
Many had perished
attempting the climb.
But you went ahead anyway,
carrying your backpack
of provisions and tools.
This was the one
you had prepared for
for so many years.
You had planned every move.

At first it didn't seem
so difficult.
You went swinging along
admiring the view,
all the green valleys and towns
laid out below.

Then things changed.
The slope grew steeper,
the drops more intense.

And finally
you hit the ice--
a thick mantle
of gleaming skin,
rocks glazed
like sculptured glass.
Here it was grommets and pickaxe,
a struggle for every inch.
Caution was the word.
The glaciers were fickle,
rousing sometimes
like giant beasts awakening,
advancing in unpredictable ways.

The last stage was where
so many had fallen
into dark chasms,
off the unsteady bridges
or ever slickening surface
only to be discovered years later
dangling in some lost crevasse
or not at all.

In some versions of this story
this was where you too
plunged to your personal
the spot now marked with
stones where later travelers
pause for momentary tribute.

But in this narrative
(the true one)
although you once swung out
you quickly recovered
and clung to the ever
more vertical rock
like a figure painted on a canvas,
a thumbprint on a page,
until you hurled yourself over the rim,
rose and planted your flag,
then waved both arms in triumph
to the unnoticing world below.

Dorothy Walters
August 13, 2008

(Picture, Mount Damavand in winter, Iran, by Arad (from Wikipedia)
(Perhaps this poem deserves a bit of explanation. It is allegorical, depicting the arduous journey upward of the spiritual pilgrim, the climber to heaven. This traveler is a solitary adventurer, facing many obstacles alone, finally arriving at his/her destination, the place where earth and heaven meet.)

Tuesday, August 12, 2008

The Welcome (poem) 

The Welcome

Yes, I know,
your eyes are stinging
and your fingers
are beginning to hurt.

When the master of the house
sometimes there is too much
scurrying about,
too much rush and chaos
getting things ready.

And you, my dear,
are waiting oh so impatiently
in your chamber.
combing your hair once more,
adjusting your jewels.

Isn't this a small price to pay
for the moment to come?

Dorothy Walters
August 8, 2008

Monday, August 11, 2008

Getting Ready (poem) 

Getting Ready

Sometimes it hurts a bit.
Like a new bride
getting deflowered
over and over.
But do not fret.

You will soon get used
to all this pleasure.

Your cells will take notice,
tell each other
what to do.

Now you are like a vase
overflowing with blossoms
and too much water.

Dorothy Walters
August 8, 2008
(Picture is of art installation by Chihuli)

Sunday, August 10, 2008

The Photographer (poem) 

The Photographer
(for Patricia)

She has transcended body,
left it behind.
She lives in a brain-ferment,
a buzzing hive of mind,
a tossing sea of perception.

She gathers fragments
of the presented world
and translates them
into a new medium,
a cosmos of images
held in a different frame.

In this uncovered order sun
and darkness meet,
old and unaccustomed bleed into
one another's space.

She is the eternal creator,
eyeing, composing, unmaking,
turning life over
into new soil,
new beginnings,
unexpected revelation.

Dorothy Walters
August 9, 2008

Saturday, August 09, 2008

The God Particle (poem) 

The God Particle

If there's one truly extraordinary concept to emerge from the past century of inquiry, it's that the cosmos we see was once smaller than an atom. . . . Our existence, our entire universe, emerged from things that happened at the smallest imaginable scale. The big bang theory tells us that the known universe once had no dimensions at all--no up or down, no left or right, no passage of time, and laws of physics beyond our vision....Physicists have high hopes for Europe's giant new atom smasher-they want nothing less than to discover the god particle.
(National Geographic)

Tantric Shaivism would have us understand that the vibratory energies that comprise our physical reality are themselves condensations of ultimate consciousness: "the spanda is....the divine pulsation of consciousness, the ecstatic throb that stirs the stillness of the absolute." (Paul E. Muller-Ortega)

They call it the god particle.
No one has ever seen it,
but they say it is what
holds everything together,
the glue of the universe.

This all pervasive
binder of creation
can’t be located
though they keep searching
with their colliders
and fine instruments,
night after night,
through the long hours,
the many years.

Some claim they have detected
but the claim is
anecdotal evidence unconfirmed
by independent observation.

Maybe they are searching
in the wrong places, all this
insistent scanning of the
infinitely small
to explain
the infinitely huge.
How did this world
of things
emerge from the dark bead of nothing?
Have they not heard
of the original trembling,
the first heaving
of primal rapture?

Dorothy Walters
August 6, 2008

(Note: Early texts of Kashmiri Shaivism explain that the world of matter derives from supreme consciousness, which first vibrates at an infinitely high rate, then slows into progressively slower and thicker vibrations, out of which tangible, perceptible forms emerge. This "primordial and unimpeded light of consciousness...is totally free and pellucid, ever expanding into waves of completely new bliss." See "The Yoga of Vibration and Divine Pulsation," Jaideva Singh, foreword by Paul E. Muller-Ortega)
(Image from National Geographic)

Friday, August 08, 2008

On the Steppe (poem) 

Like a Mongolian

Now you are arriving
just anywhere.

Like a Mongolian herdsman
who tackles his bride
on the steppe
and plants his flag to say,
“Here we are!”

Your horse, my mare,
what a combination.

Dorothy Walters
August 8, 2008
(image from Wikipedia)

Thursday, August 07, 2008

Jai Ambe Jagadambe 

Jai Ambe Jagadambe*

Already the dancers
are moving in a line,
winding up the mountain
into the clouds.

Mothers and daughters
who become mothers
of daughters
who dance their way
to heaven.

Dorothy Walters
August 6, 2008

*(Praise to the Mother of the Universe--name of traditional song)

Wednesday, August 06, 2008

One Stroke (poem) 

One Stroke

All these words
to convince us
of the reality of emptiness.

One second in Presence,
one stroke of the sword,
would destroy mind
obliterate us
into great nothingness.

Don’t get lost in quibbles
and arguments,
abandon your dusty tomes.
Kneel down
in silence.
Offer your neck
to God.

Dorothy Walters
August 3, 2008

Tuesday, August 05, 2008

To Know It (poem) 

To Know It

Do you want to know It?
to taste it on your tongue?
Cast away your coins and treasures,
hurl them into the sea.

Be devoured by
that which is not,
candle's extinguished flame,
let the breath
of last night's wind
stroke your cheek alive.

Listen to what
is never spoken,
can't be held or heard.

Dorothy Walters
August 3, 2008

Monday, August 04, 2008

Advice for Pilgrims 

Advice for Pilgrims

Carry a heavy staff.
You will need it,
some of the roads are rutted and steep,
blocked with boulders
and fallen trees.

Take a large water bottle.
There will be springs
along the way,
but many have dried
with time
and are no longer shown
on the maps.

Walk in shoes you already
know about.
Let them carry you where
you are trying to go.

Don't read too many guidebooks.
The were written for
other travelers,
people looking for
caves and cathedrals,
renowned repositories
of the dead,
humming with visitors.

Keep to your own path,
bed beneath the trees.

When night falls,
count the stars over your head.
That will tell you
how many days
you still have to go,
how long to journey's end.

Dorothy Walters
August 3, 2008

Sunday, August 03, 2008

The Answer (poem) 

The Answer

Oh, my darlings,
there is no need
to memorize the hundred precepts
and cautions
or lose yourself
in the tangled wood
of ancient explication.

Nor must you break your spine
each day
to practice the thousand ways
to bow to god.

You hold the answer
like an invisible flower
in your hand.
The end of the journey
is where it begins.
Open your heart.
Let love flow in.

Dorothy Walters
August 3, 2008

Saturday, August 02, 2008

The Ribboned Self of Desire (poem) 

The Ribboned Self of Desire

"Desire can make anything into a god,"
as say, when I was young, and desired you
or you,
it was not your flesh I was after,
oh, no,
something else,
something less tangible,
like the aftertaste of an orange
in the mouth,
or the feeling of silk
which passes over your body
and then is gone.

But it was more than these.
It was a longing for communion,
as if a service were underway,
a yearning to enter in,
to know at the deepest levels,
to be made whole.

And I found you
there, waiting
in your radiant garb
again and again,
outside the library
or by the fountain’s edge,
merged with who
you were,
lost you over and over
as you returned to air
once more.

Dorothy Walters
August 2, 2008

(Beginning quote is from the poet Mark Doty)

Friday, August 01, 2008

An interesting video on kundalini 

This site offers an interesting video on the nature and types of kundalini, with some suggestions as to how to proceed.


This page is powered by Blogger. Isn't yours?