Kundalini Splendor

Toward Bethlehem

And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?
W. B. Yeats (1865-l939)

Yes, I know.
This is the time
of the second coming.
The great beast lurking,
the savage heart
beating once again.

Somewhere in the desert, yes,
that blank and pitiless stare.
The haunches moving.
The stealthy advance.

Shall we watch in horror and dismay?
Do we turn away
or witness in silence and despair?.

The vision falters,
the image fades again.
That distant struggle
in the clouds of dust--
is this the specter
we ourselves have made,
created from our inner dreamscape
of grasping and desire?
Are we ourselves
the approaching shape
of darkness drawing near?

- Dorothy Walters

This poem is written in response to W. B. Yeats' famous poem, "The Second Coming." The title of his poem refers not to the return of the Messiah, but rather to the appearance of a "great beast" with an expression "blank and pitiless as the sun" which is "slouching toward Bethlehem" to be born. He locates the appearance of the beast in the Middle East, and describes him as half human/half brute animal.

Yeats (one of the most renowned poets of the last century, one who was often considered one of the "last romantics") was himself very much interested in the occult. He went to seances, knew Madame Blavatsky, was connected for a time with the Golden Dawn (an esoteric society), and himself had various visions. He even wrote a book (actually, it was dictated by "spirit guides" to his wife, who transcribed their dictations through automatic writing). His book is called "A Vision.'' It is very complex and difficult to comprehend. Many of his poems were very affirming, for he looked to the glories of the past in myth and literature, and also wrote of his own longings and loves in extremely romantic (not realistic) terms. He sought to affirm the beauty in human experience, rather than exposing humanity in all its flaw and frailties, as so many contemporary "realists" do.

Yeats (who died in l939, just at the outbreak of WWII) was convinced that we were approaching a turning point in human history. He felt that each age was followed by its opposite, though each also contained the seed of the coming era. He represented these cycles of history by what he called gyres--based on the winding spools for thread in local factories. Thus, we are (according to him) now nearing such a turning point--the end of a Grand Cycle and the beginning of another. The new cycle will contain more violence and chaos, more devastation and dissolution of old structures.

When we look around us, Yeats' prediction appears to be true. We are ending one cycle, beginning another of vast destruction, with terrors committed by those whose faces are indeed "blank and pitiless as the sun." At the same time, the seeds of a different society are also present.

My poem asks if the destructive aspects of "the great beast" are in fact created by humans themselves, if we are not responsible (perhaps through greed and lust for power) for the devastation now overtaking the world.

This is a dark poem, one I wrote to express my concerns of the moment. However, I personally, do not believe that the future is totally bleak. I often say that the world is falling apart and rebuilding itself--through personal revelation and spiritual transformation--all at the same time. Kundalini, in my view, is an essential aspect of this process. Kundalini can infuse the individual and the world with love beyond measure and once the tipping point is reached--who knows?--we may be in for a massive transformation of the planet and the human species beyond anything we can imagine.

Perhaps this is why we have come here at this time in history--to help humanity survive this seeming holocaust and be reshaped into a new image.

Here is Yeats famous and frequently quoted poem that I refer to:

THE SECOND COMING

by: W. B. Yeats (1865-1939)

TURNING and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.

Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: somewhere in the sands of the desert
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again; but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

W B. Yeats