Kundalini Splendor

I just successfully posted my poem on my FB page. If you want to read it with proper line breaks, it is available there.

The previous entry was written as a poem. Then blogger editors removed all the line breaks and ruined it. Why did they do this? Are they prejudiced against poetry? What is going on? I used to have no trouble of this sort. Now I am thinking of getting off blogger and trying another site. Why did they try to fix something that was not broken?

What Happened (with apologies to Mary Oliver) I once believed in the reality of thinking things true as proved by equations and pronouncements by authorities. Then one day a surprise occurred and indescribable bliss went racing up to my head and I fell into a trance of love. I quit trying to explain all this to others: no one understood and I had no real words, just these rare and exquisite sensations of lovemaking with the invisible. Where were these unknown raptures coming from? Was it angels making love with me? Frankly, I wouldn't believe any of this strangeness, if it had not happened to me. Dorothy Walters January 30, 2021

Those of us who undergo deep spiritual awakenings know that from that moment forward our lives are totally changed. On the one hand, we bear the legacy of our previous lives--outwardly conforming to the rules of society, paying our taxes like a good citizen, reaching out to contribute what we can as viewers of regular upheavals in our society, signing petitions, grieving when we find in the obituary columns another name we recognize, whether of friends or celebrities as another significant piece of our personal identity quilt unravels and drifts away. Those who do not know of our secret, hidden life assume that we are the same person they have always known, someone who shares their own values, who can be counted on to discuss the latest volume of poetry or prose, the most recent political outrage as the country falls deeper into universal chaos. But alongside this persona, the public personality, exists the shadow (hidden) self, the authentic being who constantly yearns for connection with another realm, the one that guides us into ever deepening waters of belief or experience, who directs us to embrace notions unknown to the world at large. Here we may speak with like minded others of such ideas as the divine human, evolution of human consciousness, even planetary initiation. These terms likely mean little or nothing to those caught up inmaya, the world of human affairs and universal social happenings––the doers and activists who dedicate themselves to human betterment in various ways. Our inner world cannot be satisfactorily described to others. It can be approached through diverse avenues, from meditation to chanting to rapture begotten by deep listening of ancient melodies. It can be a very solitary experience as through the thrill of Kundalini energies in the body, or communal, as by group approaches that invite the mysteries to appear. It demands intense concentration as one experiences evident shifts of consciousness that lead into another world, a kingdom of amazing transformation where love and beauty reign supreme. Here one drops the mantle of dedicated citizen and becomes the universal seeker, the one who wants only connection with Source, ever undefinable but easily recognized when it occurs. How can one be both, active participant in the world's external affairs and secret practitioner open to divine connection to a divine reality? No longer does the disciple seek refuge in caves and forests, immune to the chaos and confusion of the outer world. One partakes of the hustle and bustle of the marketplace, but one also engages in the greater project: redemption of the species through personal dedication to Source, the power that brought us here and tells us how to go forward, as we together, evolve into our next configuration as the New Human. Dorothy Walters January 23, 2021

Humpty Dumpty

sat on a wall.

Humpty Dumpty

had a great fall.

And all the king's horses

and all the king's men

could not put Humpty

together again. 

 

The Seeker's Journal

There are many mystics

and each has his own design:

Blake and his Albion,

Yeats and his gyres.

Somewhere Buddha

lifts his flower,

the rishis chant their truth.

Christ rises again

and a yogi

dissolves in rapture

and pain.

We thread our way

among the labyrinths

of thought,

hoping to discover

the key,

the password to

the ultimate unnamed,

that which we are seeking

and do not find,

though we sometimes

catch vague glimpses

but are never quite sure,

until love grips us

in his implacable arms

and gives us a kiss

that has no words.

Dorothy Walters

January 10, 2021