Kali, Kali, Kali

“DARKNESS ALONE FILLED THE BOUNDLESS ALL, FOR FATHER, MOTHER AND SON WERE ONCE MORE ONE, AND THE SON HAD NOT AWAKENED YET FOR THE NEW WHEEL, AND HIS PILGRIMAGE THEREON.” ~~HPB

KALI MANTRA FOR INVOCATION~~

Sarvamaṅgalamāṅgalyē śivē sarvārthasādhikē . śaraṇyē tryambakē gauri nārāyaṇi namō’stu tē. Oṃ jayantī mangala kālī bhadrakālī kapālinī . durgā ksamā śivā dhātrī svāhā svadhā namō’stu‍tē

The DARK GODDESS has been the anchor of my soul in the turbulent seas of samsara. My support system, my provocateur, my muse, my melancholia…I could go on forever, for she or that energy exists in everything, everyone and every experience.

Sometimes, tears stream down my face and I think that WHEN IS ENOUGH ENOUGH! Is there any end to my avaricious wants, desires and needs? After going through so much, so much pain, am I still not done wanting more? Everything dies. Everything vanishes. Everything fades away. Confronted with my own mortality, thoughts cease to function with the same effectiveness.

Kali, listen to me, and stop this torture. Put an end to this 3D illusion, you DARKNESS. And please, by DARK, I DO NOT MEAN EVIL!

HPB discusses DARKNESS “…in the sense of the Unmanifested and the Unknown as the opposite pole to manifestation, and that which falls under the possibility of speculation. … it is not Darkness as absence of Light, but as one incomprehensible primordial Principle, which, being Absoluteness itself, has for our intellectual perceptions neither form, colour, substantiality, nor anything that could be expressed by words.”

Even the BIBLE states, “darkness surrounds the pavilion” of God!

Absolute Light and Absolute Darkness are interchangeable terms, as are Absolute Consciousness and Absolute Unconsciousness. Duality is the very harmonics of this resonance!

Kali’s bosom is my place of retreat and I can feel her embrace as I look at the dark night around me. The night envelops me in her arms and it is none other than my DARK ONE. How can I love the FORCE OF TIME? That random abstract principle? I cannot. I can only think of her as Kali.

Being Bengali, you grow up with a healthy dose of everything Kali. And there I discovered some of the most precious gems in the form of verses written by a Mystical Poet in Bengal. His name was Rajanikanto. Those verses echoed every single thought of my six year old brain. I used to know them by heart at that age.

How could a child grasp, to some extent this LARGENESS OF EMOTION. This gorgeousity of devotional fervour! I mean how? I don’t know. Even today I am perplexed. All I remember is locking myself in the room, listening to the cassette tapes again and again, sobbing my eyes out. It was like every word pricked my consciousness to remind me of WHO I AM.

Who am I? Who is Kali? What is this world? Why are we here?

See I bifurcate again. I was talking about those mystical verses. In one of them, the poet has written…

No one on Earth loves.

In fact, this Earth does not know how to love.

Take me away, to where there is only LOVE.

My heart craves for such a place…

Got me evaluating at a very young age. What does LOVE mean in the 3D realm of duality?

Seriously guys…what the fuck does love mean?

What does it mean to you? What does it mean to your family?

Who do you extend that love to?

The answers to these questions fester like putrid stuff in the quagmire of my mind. There is no resolution for there is no love. LOVE IS LOST.

Kali has taught me how to LOVE. By making sure that I break my conscious paradigm again and again, she has made sure that I AM LEFT WITH NO OPTION TO LOVE.

To be a child of Kāli, Rāmprasād asserts, is to be denied of earthly delights and pleasures. Kāli is said to refrain from giving that which is expected, I quote from Wiki, but trust me I know exactly what this means.

After making sure that nothing goes the way I want, Kali made me see that DESIRE IS INDEED THE ROOT OF ALL EVIL. Does that mean that I have no desires? I still do, the stupid 3D being that I am. Everyday is a lesson learnt. Life is not what I want it to be, because life is just the way it is meant to be.

Didn’t Lao Tsu try to drill this ACCEPTANCE part of existence into our collective consciousness? He failed. Human know nothing about acceptance. And I speak of myself…can I truly JUST BE? Think about it. A state of JUST BEING does not equate to a state of NON BEING.

Of course I will initiate karma in this world as my desires push me to, but then I have to accept that there will be DISAPPOINTMENTS and Kali showed me how to grow from that disappointment. All this pain, resentment and anger inside me, she, the COSMIC MOTHER soothed away. Like only mothers can. Who will stand up for this?

The father can never calm the baby the way a mother can. After all, it is her physiology that creates the child. The father is the seed. The MILKY WAY is a mother BTW. Yes she is feminine.

The Milky Way (feminine) and Andromeda (masculine) are simply a galactic expression of this principal. ~~http://moonbirdblog.com

They are the SHIVA/SHAKTI as galaxies. Whoa! Something to ponder about.

Yet, why is there rampant patriarchy ruling the Earth when indeed, she is feminine, just like her mother, the Milky Way. That is the imbalance.

Kali is the unrestrained, most secretive feminine principle that carries withing it eternal mysteries of fertility, magic, death, birth and regeneration! And that POWER is external as well as internal. Do not believe me? Everyone has an internal Kali. It is true.

AS ABOVE SO BELOW

In those mystical verses, the Poet sings…

Everything happens because you will it so,

You are the Will of the Universe, Oh Tara,

You execute whatever needs to be executed through me.

And the foolish think, it is my feat!

It is your INTERNAL KALI, that PRIMEVAL, CATACLYSMIC, SUPREME POWER that does what you need to do. Your karma or actions all arise from a deep spiritual unconscious that is manifested in 3D from the etheric fields as they SOLIDIFY.

Yes SPIRITUAL UNIVERSES solidify and become dense. That is when Universal forces of SHIVA/KALI come to play. And it is these forces that play through everything. The ETERNAL TWINFLAMES creating Universes to experience, grow, love, hurt, cry and die. Shiva/Shakti as mere mortals. As you and me.

This age is in dire need of Kali’s benevolence…OF HER DARK FORM.

“THE SEVEN SONS WERE NOT YET BORN FROM THE WEB OF LIGHT. DARKNESS ALONE WAS FATHER-MOTHER, SVABHAVAT; AND SVABHAVAT WAS IN DARKNESS.” ~~HPB

Do not be fearful of her wrathful emanation! Nobody understands Kali.

There is so much DISTORTION in her myths, so much SENSATIONAL YELLOW JOURNALISM done on her person(sounds familiar? Like any other woman),, that her story is lost to the world of patriarchy.

People are fearful of her. Even today, in India, I have had people see her image on the wall and comment how it is DANGEROUS to keep an image of her at home. I mean is every single Bengali household doing it wrong? Kali, whether she is worshipped or whether she hangs as a feminist symbol, can be seen pretty much in every house in Calcutta.

She is a part of our History. She is our guide. She is our mother. She is our consciousness.

Kali is ALL-CONQUERING! So whatever it is that you want to win over, there is no better YIDAM or meditation deity than her. So invoke her if you need to work with this SEVERANCE energy.

Kali is not a Vedic Goddess. She is a tantric Goddess and she is MAHAMAYA, the manifested reality. She stands on KALA, or ETERNAL TIME and become SPACE.

Space is dark, Kali is dark.

Kālī is the feminine form of kālam (“black, dark coloured”). Kālī also shares the meaning of “time” or “the fullness of time” with the masculine noun “kāla”—and by extension, time as “changing aspect of nature that bring things to life or death.” Other names include Kālarātri(“the black night”), and Kālikā (“the black one”).

The homonymous kāla, “appointed time”, which depending on context can mean “death”, is distinct from kāla “black”, but became associated through popular etymology. ~~WIKI

Tantra texts call KALI, KALASHAKTI, the REASON OF CAUSATION!

There is no stop to this play, this eternal play that is going on between the masculine and the feminine. They stop not for a moment. For if they stopped their exchange of energy, everything ceases to be. Nothing remains.

This HOLOGRAM, stacked UNIVERSES, Daughter Universes…everything manifests because of SHIVA/SHAKTI. Call them what you like! They are the binary!

The Kalikula (family of Kali) form of Shaktism is most dominant in Nepal, northern and eastern India, and is most widely prevalent in West Bengal, Assam, Bihar and Odisha, as well as parts of Maharashtra, Bangladesh and some parts of Kerala. Kalikula lineages focus upon the Devi as the source of wisdom (vidya) and liberation (moksha). They generally stand “in opposition to the brahmanic tradition,” which they view as “overly conservative and denying the experiential part of religion.” ~~WIKI

Kali is the principle deity. So you see, how she has been up in arms against the patriarchal Vedic religion which even denied women the right to become priests.

My Ancestors have a special connection to Kali other than just being from Bengal. My grandmother comes from a family which were the main Brahmin Priests and caregivers of Kali and her temple in Calcutta. They were Haldars and there is a street named after my ancestor. Everyone knows the HALDARS even today and our connection to the place is also no secret.

My grandmother’s grandmother used to take a dip in the Ganges first thing in the morning(crack of dawn) and open the temple with the aarthi. I have so many stories from my grandmother that I wish to share. Stuff she heard from her grandmother. And then of course what bonded us was the love we shared for Kali. It stretched across generations and mitochondrial DNA. So standing before you, a Priestess of the hoary past…:)

I will continue my saga of love for my DARK ONE and I suggest to you that if you have not researched her, then please do. See for yourself, if the DARK ONE speaks to you and let me know.

I will speak of Bamakhyapa, Ramnath Aghori, Paramhamsa Vishuddhananda and of course Sarada ma, Vivekananda and much more…but for now I leave you with a profound thought from the Sage Ramakrishna…

Kali is none other than Brahman. That which is called Brahman is really Kali. She is the Primal Energy. When that Energy remains inactive, I call It Brahman, and when It creates, preserves, or destroys, I call It Shakti or Kali. What you call Brahman I call Kali. Brahman and Kali are not different. They are like fire and its power to burn: if one thinks of fire one must think of its power to burn. If one recognises Kali one must also recognise Brahman; again, if one recognises Brahman one must recognise Kali. Brahman and Its Power are identical. It is Brahman whom I address as Shakti or Kali.

 

 

 

The Plan~~A Novel by Tinaheals

 

Help me Publish!!! Email ~ tina@tinaheals.com

http://www.tinaheals.com

Rajani and the twins moved from their gigantic ancestral home to a modest apartment,

He continued working, but had lost interest. Only two clients remained with him, the rest hired his son who now also usurped his office. So with a very modest salary he began to educate and care for his granddaughters. He became father and mother, friend and teacher; he became their anchor in the stormy sea of life.

It would be time for weekly nail cutting, ear cleaning, hair oiling sessions; amidst squeals and protests, he would pacify them singing, shohe na, shohe na, kande poranooo with dramatic eye movements and wild gestures, especially when they tried to tell him to stop, that had them rolling on the floor laughing.

Slowly but surely, the trio began to put the past behind them and move on. The girls taught him to laugh again, to live again; life had given him a second chance to bring up his two girls again, he just wished Sita could experience this life with him.
He took them to Benaras, BodhGaya, Hrishikesh and Haridwar; they went to so many places in their country, even remote ones where tourists don’t usually set foot.
They’d be lost in the world of Hanuman as he destroyed Lanka, they’d be crying as Ravana abducted Sita, they’d be deeply moved when Karna would be going to battle against Arjuna knowing he’d lose, they’d be fuming with anger when Duryodhana insulted Panchali and time would fly as dadu would read to them the Ramayana, the Mahabharata, the Bhagvadgita and other sacred texts. The way he could tell the story, the simplicity, yet, the profundity in them, deeply touched the girls. Even while imparting knowledge from the Upanishads, he tried to make it as palatable as possible for the children, tell me how do you explain Tat Tvam Asi to seven year olds, yet not only did he try, it’d be fair to say, he succeeded too.

He could see his daughter Mita in the girls, different attributes of her visible in each girl.

He loved Nina’s poetry, she had rawness to her emotions, something primordial to the way she described reality even in that young age; surely poetry was to be her meditation and so it was.

The chotto ektakar shingara and the radhaballi,

Breathing furiously.

Inhabiting my Sundays, my frenemies.

She’d written this haiku, barely aged seven and it made him laugh. She’d captured something of Kolkata in those lines; she’d grabbed a slice of their times together as they strolled down Sarat Bose Road on sultry lazy Sundays.

It’s absolutely true that nowhere except Kolkata do you get that tiny shingara or samosa for one rupee, it has peas in it and the Bongs cannot have enough of it. And what of the Radhabollobi? Try it, you’ll see. You may get acidity, but it’ll be worth it, vouches every Bengali.

Rajani loved these girls like he had loved their mother, but being a very enlightened soul he treated them all alike, even Arunava, but at times he was left wondering as to where he went wrong with that one. But Mita was his pet; he had a special soft corner in his heart for his eldest.

None had his spiritual depth except Mita and this bonded them immensely, every time he saw her, his heart wanted to embrace her. Khuku, he called her, his little girl and she was so much like him.

“Aye khuku aye…” he would play this song in the gramophone and Hemanta’s voice would flood the house.

She had his striking peaches and cream skin and almond shaped eyes like the goddess Durga, with abundant tresses swimming down to her knees and an hour-glass body which was as ageless as Time itself and looked like some Kumartuli’s sculptor was sculpting Maa Durga from clay. Shakkhat Maa Durga, people would comment.

Yes, she was breathtaking! Her intellect was sharp; she was thoughtful, critically questioning and deeply analytical. Many an afternoon was spent in discussing literature, philosophy, poetry and the scriptures of all religions. Her father enjoyed immensely the display of perspicacity while she explained some particular issue, idea or philosophy, her face shining red with passion and emotion. What radiance! Then she fell in love with Shubho at Scottish Church English honours class.
It was an exam. John Osborne’s play, “Look Back in Anger”, was the monster in question and 100 marks were at stake. Mita had not studied this play and her paper sat blank. She spotted Shubho in front scribbling away with immense concentration. She poked him a few times. He looked back and couldn’t take his eyes off her. In a state of suspended bliss, he handed her the paper. She took it with a squeal of laughter which thrilled him to the bone, and began to rewrite it in her words.
Now let’s fast forward, SHUBHO and MITA are married in Kartik purnima, the full moon beckoned a life of abundance and plenitude for them.

As Mita adorns Shubho’s neck with the baramala and the shubhodristi happens where they gaze into each other’s eyes, it’s like a dejavu. The breeze outside caresses his hair while he stands there looking at her, she’s carried on a piri by her brothers, uncles and cousins and her eyes are between two paan leaves and in that moment they both knew that no matter what life would bring it would be worth nothing without the other.

Mita gets pregnant which turns out to be pretty complicated with twins sharing the same amniotic sac and placenta, throughout the seven and a half months, she’s under strict supervision and spends much of her time reading, writing and talking to her daughters. During the course of her seven month pregnancy she almost dies twice and the lives of the twins are threatened, but she manages to trick fate into submission.

These girls, they had to see the sky wearing the bright blue cloak of a spring day, they had to experience the rain on their faces, caressing sometimes or slapping away, soft some days and as pokey as thorns on others. They had to see the cheetah run, they had to eat tangra macher jhol, oh, life in its complexity and multitudes had to be experienced by them, she thought.
Karma my dear friends had other plans. Mita and Shubho die tragically young, leaving behind only Rajani to take care of the twins. Their disappearance happened in Kedarnath temple during an annual pilgrimage they always undertook.
Rajani had to don the parent costume once again, this time for Nina and Zeenia and he was determined to play the role to perfection this time. As perfect as it could be! So now to get back to the story. Dadu is what Nina calls Rajani, the Bengali appellation for grandfather.
As she sits in front of this dead body, she thinks of her dadu. He would know what to do; he always knew what to do. Such were Nina’s thoughts. Delusion arises from anger, Dadu told her one day as she was furious with Joida, the Oriya driver who had not given her a minute to stand and chat with her friends after her Rabindra-sangeet class at Dakshini, to top it off he had the gall to speak rudely in front of them.

The dominoes fell,

The words like torrents

It was inevitable.

She’d written this haiku she remembered for the occasion.

Joida loved her as his own daughter and that was the excuse for the harsh treatment. She had almost wanted to slap Joida. But Dadu intervened. “Little one your mind is bewildered by delusion. You think that Joi is being pushy, but actually he is just trying to protect you. See, you lost your reasoning as your mind was bewildered…and one falls down, when reasoning is destroyed.” Dadu fell on the floor dramatically.
That made Nina smile even in her malaise as she sat in limbo, with dried blood on her hands. She deliberated with the thought of saying, “Out, damned spot,” but then decided against it. The dead body just lay there. Her hallucinations where he wakes up as some terrible ZOMBIE in a B-Grade film and chews her down bone by bone is funny, she observes. I can have funny thoughts, even in this scenario.
Then she notices that there were many parts of her, or no, there are many Nina’s inside of her, ambiguous and confused, each thinking that random thought while observing the others and then she notices that there is a Nina who’s also observing, but she has no thought as the others did, no opinion. She just watches. Not for the first time Nina could distinctly hear the separate voices- how diverge, how contradictory, how ironic were they, but this time there was a force to them that was lacking in the past. She tries to swallow, but her tongue sticks to her insides, parched and dry, it desperately needs some water.
The young housekeeping attendant is right outside Nina’s room and would have turned away, but a trickle of blood manages to seep outside. The attendant examines it carefully, and then thinks of what to do. Should he go and inform his supervisor? No he decides against it and taking a master key from his supply trolley, he puts it in the key hole and turns it.

The scene which greets his eyes chills him to the bone and a blood curdling scream escapes his lips shattering the quiet of the early morn. He looks ridiculous, scared out of his wits, barely coherent in his thoughts, he looked like a two year old who had seen a ghost in a Paranormal series on telly.
It’s Nina who surprises me. She didn’t even bat an eyelid at the shrill shriek. She just sits there, stares at her abyss. What did she see?? The abyss staring back??

the_twins-1382139739m

Image is not mine. Not my copyright.

Om Tare Tu Tare Ture Soha~~

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Who is Tara? Tara is the second manifestation of the MOTHER MATRIX and a part of DASAMAHAVIDYA. She is also refereed to as BHAVATARINI, as in she helps cross over this samsaric ocean.

Each MAHAVIDYA or aspect of the DEVI is related to a planet. TARA rules over JUPITER, the planet of good luck and EXPANSION!

Tara is the very embodiment of LOVE and she is the very same as KALI and KAMAKHYA according to the YOGINI TANTRA.

In Tantric literature, there are three manifestations of Tara~~ Eka Jata, who manifests as Kaivalya(ULTIMATE PEACE) or unity with the Absolute; Ugra Tara, who protects us from the miseries of existence and Nila Saraswati, who imparts Jnana or knowledge.

Tara is the presiding Goddess of Speech and the Shakti of Hiranya Garba Saura Brahma. Hiranyagarbha being a Sanskrit compound meaning “the Golden Egg” or “the Egg of imperishable matter.”

In Hindu cosmology, it refers to “the golden egg or womb” from which the universe was born. In the Vedas and Brahmanas, Brahma is not named, and Hiranyagarbha was the source of all things. In the Manusamhita, Hiranyagarbha was Brahma, who divided the egg into two parts, the heavens and the earth.

H.P.B refers to Hiranyagarbha as the MUNDANE EGG, androgynous or non-dual, after which it was divided into Viraj and Vach, the male and female principles. The Secret Doctrine’s Stanzas of DZYAN state that the Hiranyagarbha is in itself triple (Hiranyagarbha, Sakti, Sankara, or Brahma, Vishnu and Siva).

Tara is the very essence of all THREE- the TRINITY! And will in time bring about SURYA PRALAYA.

Pralaya (devanāgarī: प्रलय) is a Sanskrit word that means “dissolution” or “melting away” (from laya: “to dissolve” and pra “away”). In Hinduism it refers to a period where the universe is in a state of non-existence, which happens when the three gunas or qualities of matter are in perfect balance. The idea of pralaya is part of a cyclic model of the universe (present in several Eastern philosophies as well as in Theosophy) where the cosmos is said to appear and disappear regularly within the Absolute Reality:

As the sun arises every morning on our objective horizon out of its (to us) subjective and antipodal space, so does the Universe emerge periodically on the plane of objectivity, issuing from that of subjectivity—the antipodes of the former. This is the “Cycle of Life.” And as the sun disappears from our horizon, so does the Universe disappear at regular periods, when the “Universal night” sets in. The Hindoos call such alternations the “Days and Nights of Brahma,” or the time of Manvantara and that of Pralaya (dissolution). The Westerns may call them Universal Days and Nights if they prefer.

~~Theosophy Wiki

What is a SURYA or SOLAR PRALAYA?

A solar pralaya comes when seven Planetary Chains have been accomplished:

Within one solar period (of a p[ralaya]. and m[anvantara].) occur seven such minor periods [rounds], in an ascending scale of progressive development. . . . The solar period [is composed] of 49 rounds.

~~Theosophy Wiki

While immersing oneself in Tara sadhana, you must remember that you are calling upon the ULTIMATE FEMININE MANIFESTATION OF POWER, therefore be prepared to immerse yourself in her literature and dhyana or meditation.

When Tara is invoked successfully, we can truly see ourselves as the GREAT EXPRESSION OF DIVINITY we truly are. Creativity is supercharged when she is awakened in our beings. It is believed that Vyasa who wrote the Vedas wanted to immerse himself in Tara worship.

He tried and he tried, to no avail. Therefore he travels to Mahachina(Tibet), met Shakyamuni Buddha(yes the ORIGINAL dude) and learnt to invoke Tara correctly. He worked on the eighteen Mahapuranas after invoking the Tara energy. It was her grace.

Tara is above Maya as she is the CREATRIX of it all. One can achieve all material success with her grace, but she is the GREAT LIBERATOR. As in she shows us the way out of this MAYA or the GREAT ILLUSION.

Tara is surrounded by eight Yoginis: Mahakali, Rudrani, Ugra, Bhima, Ghira, Bhramari, Maharatri and Bhairavi. The Hindu Mahavidya Goddess Tara figures prominently in Tibetian Bhuddhism- VAJRAYANA BUDDHISM.

No one can be certain as to who invoked Tara first- Bengal  or Tibet? In Bengal(where I come from, the very heart of Tantra) Mahavidya texts such as Mahabhagavata-purana and Brhaddharma-purana originated and the SHAKTA or devi worship is very much a part of our psyche. Bengal is one state which practices no FEMALE FOETICIDE as we see our daughters as expressions of the GODDESS.

Bengalis are true FEMININE ENERGY worshippers and we birthed many refined forms of Goddess worship. Tibetan Buddhism had twenty forms of Tara. Of this White and Green Tara are popular. OM TARE TU TARE TURE SOHA!

I love Tara with all my heart, whether she is in Hindu form or Buddhist. I practice a lot of Vajraya meditations, so Green and White Tara are my absolute favourites. Black Tara provides hardcore protection if you need that and Blue Tara is NILA SARASWATI, a very esoteric form of Saraswati and the PATRON OF ARTS.

I have been invoking TARA since I have been a child and she has never failed to interact with me. She does so through numbers, colours, scents, memories and sometimes dreams. She is my companion when I enter meditation and I never leave my bed without saying the Tara Gayatri.

Aum Tarawai cha vidmahe

Maha ugrawai dhimahi

Tanno devi prachodayat.

 

These devotional or Shakta songs dedicated to Tara have made me cry and laugh so many times. They have such deep meaning and such musings…SUBLIME!!!

SHREE TARA STOTRA

!! Ghora roope mahamaaye sarvashatruvashamkari
Bhaktebhyo varade devi traahi maam sharanaagatham !! (1)

!! Suraasuraarchite devi siddhagandharva sevithe 
jaadyapaapahare devi traahimaam sharanaagatham !! (2) 

!! Jattajoota samaayukthe lola jihvaanukaarini
druthabuddhikare devi traahi maam sharanaagatham !! (3)

!! Soumyaroope ghoraroope chandaroope namostute
srishttiroope namstubhyam traahi maam sharanaagatham !! (4)

!! Jadanaam jadathaam hamsi bakthaanam bakthavatsale
moodatha har me devi traahi maam sharanaagatham !! (5)

!! Hum humkaarmaye devi balihomapriye namah
ugratare namstubhyam traahi maam sharanaagatham !! (6)

!! Ashttamyaam cha chaturdashyaam navamyaam chaikamanasa
shannmaasaei siddhimaapnoti naatra kaarya vichaaranaa !! (7)

!! Budhim dehi yasho dehi kavitvam dehi dehi me
kubudhi har me devi traahi maam sharanaagatham !! (8)

!! Indraadi devisha vrindavandite karunaamayi
tare taradhinaadhaasye traahi maam sharanaagatham !! (9)

!! Mokshaarthim labathe moksham dhanaarthim danamaapnuyaat
vidhyaarthim labhate vidhyaam tarkavyaakaranaadikaam !! (10)

!! Idam stotram padedhyasthu saubhaghyam labhate nara
tasya shatru kshayam yaati mahapragya cha jaayate !! (`11)

!! Peedaayaam vaapi samgraame japye daane tadhaa bhaye
ya idam padathi stotram shubham tasya na samshaya !! (12)

!! Stotrennanena deveshi stutva devim sureshvareem
sarvaan kaamanavapnoti sarvavidyaanidhirbhavet !! (13)

!! Iti te kadhitam divyam stotram saarasvathapradam
asmaat parataram naasthim stotra tantre maheshvari !! (14)

Namaste!

http://www.tinaheals.com

tina@tinaheals.com

Prologue~The Plan, a novel by Tinaheals


Publishing parts of my novel…help me publish!!! Fund me!!!

Prologue

The hunger in her soul, the song in her eyes, and the vibration of her heart called out to me from the hologram.

What hologram? The one you exist in my friend!

It’s the cosmic television, like the one you stare at for hours every day. What else do you do when you return home from work after a long tedious day? TELEVISION na?

That same kind of television; imagine it in a slightly grander scale, nope, maybe not just slightly, imagine it to be grander on an unprecedented scale!

A cosmic television! Aha!

You experience me and your three dimensional space as you do images on the T.V.

Listen listen, at this level, everything there is, was or could be exists as a super-holographic sequence. Everything exists simultaneously. The albatross of doom over your head?

Forget that bird, listen carefully. These lines exist now and have always existed, in a sense I have always been talking to you, you in the hologram, me in it, sometimes out of it, nope I’m in it too; she is a hologram.

I don’t know quite how to explain it,

Something in her craving for truth, something in the way she depicted existence called out to me. A very abstract, unquantifiable sentiment entangled the abstract in me. Things don’t usually impact me as they do you.

I am myself an abstraction concretized!

This Book of Life and Death may give you some answers. Are you looking for answers? If not then bandh karo and chalo.

A story it will be, yes definitely! Let it oscillate in your mind. Let it do the disco dancing.

The ouroboros of a story, without a beginning or an end!  Now you’re confused. Don’t be it’s just a story or is it? But while observing this story, remember, I take the artistic liberty to leave anything out, the very subtle nuances, the finer intricacies are often not done justice with words; soak the emotions up, let them begin to ferment in your mind and sprout ideas, thoughts, actions like a bean when soaked in water overnight; such strangeness does exist and such a strange narrator may or may not.

Time, time, time, cut its throat,

Ambiguity personified.

Derelict dreams, dysfunctional dilemma.

In the beginning was the word and then I appeared as the silent witness of all this mess, , the frequencies or sound in the light and the vibrations or light in the sound.

Mighty civilizations have appeared and disappeared without a trace, Zeno’s paradox has been thought of, if everything has a place, then place must also have a place, yes or no, to ad infinitum; the megaliths of Puma Punku have been built but now lie scattered as shattered memories of a bygone past that no one knows anything of, the dinosaurs have roamed the Earth and have been destroyed on the Western Ghats, the Kumari Kandam was lost to the sea taking with it a chunk of land from what you call India, and of course emperors, maharajas, kings, Prime Ministers have been assassinated, dethroned under my watchful gaze.

Listen to this, it’s her poetry. These few lines she wrote that had this stark honest, raw and original feel to it, yes, it made sense in all the nonsense and it made me want to collect this in the Book of Life and Death.

The human body is the war ground of Kurukshetra,

Reality lies is the five senses,

I see you, I hear you, I feel you, I smell you and I taste you!

In the world of dreams there are no differences,

I still see you, I still hear you….you get the gist!

The dream world is full of thoughts,

They are like drops from an ink pen, falling blot after blot,

They are like smoke from an incense, here one minute, gone the next.

They are like lightning, you see it for a nano second,

They are like thunder; you hear it, loud and clear, but then just the sound of the rain.

I am vexed!

These thoughts, they are my defence, my escape, my dream.

It was her grandfather, a kriya yogi, one of Babaji’s very own crusaders, who told her this truism as she crunched autumn leaves under her feet; the sound thrilled her to the very bottom of her soul- crunch, crunch, crunch!

Yes the human body is the esoteric Kurukshetra, more on that later. Who is Babaji? Even I don’t know.

 

Think about it, think long and hard,

Of the fragments, the notes all jarred,

The way things are designed, the way things feel,

In reality, there are no eyes, no ears, no mouth, no tongue, and no touch!

Is this a little too much??

Only electrical stimuli interpreted by our brain,

Do not ridicule this concept, do not think it insane!

You’re definitely wondering how you got stuck in here? Reading these lines and for what…do not despair my friend, it’ll be well worth your time, just read on, enjoy a writer’s psychosis.

There is no material reality,

I am asleep, I am dreaming, I do not realize,

That all is just perception!

These words they create just the sensation, an awareness of stimulation!

Now I wake up from this dream,

I seriously think I have entered another one,

The so-called real life, I hear it scream!

What is this life, but a dream? Do not for one minute think that your dream world is any more real than this solid physical world you inhabit, in fact the Sun, the Moon and the real you are all hidden away; it is every bit as real, yet, unreal. Makes no sense, it probably never will, but just read on…sapna, sapna, sapna…

Now this, it seems as true as my dream world,

How am I to know the difference?

My reality is blurred, it swirls and twirls.

This world is nothing but a habit,

Our belief, our dogmas, our prejudice!

A futile edifice, a worthless emphasis, an abject sedative

Of Nothingness!!!

Form = emptiness, emptiness = form
Emptiness is not separate from form, form is not separate from emptiness…all is nothing and nothing is all.
Whatever is form is emptiness, whatever is emptiness is form, you know that the atom that you’re made of is empty, yes, my friend, mostly empty. Hulk-like we stay in the understanding that the body is solid, but it’s not.

 

The brain is not the Perceiver or the Perceived!

Who am I?

What is this world?

Who are you?

Who thinks these thoughts?

Who is this ME?

Who is writing these words?

To what avail?

 

I’m just a ghost in the machine,

An echo of an echo of an echo,

Reverberating through time and space!

Who is this seer?

Who contemplates this Universe to be unreal?

Who has all these thoughts in the head?

Only questions and never an answer!!!

A man and his thoughts are indefinable, and why so, because in the beginning he is nothing. His identity is shaped by what he can conceive of for himself; imagine all the poets and novelists creeping through the alleys in the urban atrocities looking for inspiration, staring at hollow faces coveting their neighbours meals or wives, the morbid fascination to see accidents, CSI shtyle. The flâneurie you take, to clear your mind, but there are questions and more questions…how is the human reality carved out from this nothingness?

Yoni shariram- the form appears from the vagina of Gaia,

Of Dharitri, of Zemia, of Erde, of Terre…

She is the mother, the sanctum sanctorum of creation.

This human body is the cause of such conflict,

There is segregation, separation and destruction,

In her very womb, we have been tricked by addicts of violence.

 

For a split second during meditation,

Comes the realization-

It is the Atman,

Matter has no self governing existence,

All things perceived, interpreted and seen,

Is a dream within a dream, a dream within a dream…?

 

The Indian subcontinent is the setting. It’s an oxymoron really- the youngest country, the oldest civilization!

The Sapta Sindhu is the beginning point in this case, then mutated to the India you see today the children of Lord Macauley, yes, you; at one point it was taken over by the East India Company, it’s holy books misinterpreted, unbridled fabrication of its history by so-called scholars who sought to assuage the Imperial agenda. The modern Indians, good little examples of Macauley’s vision; Pygmalion of the British Raj, just perfect, innit?

Bapuji Gandhi, assassinated, yup shot through the heart by Godse, GOD SAY?? Subhas Chandra Bose taken out of the equation, “Give me blood and I’ll give you freedom,” his naares did not do him much good, Delhi chalo, a flop show. The resilient cries of Vande Mataram drowned to the gunfire of the English army; what else could be expected? The British crown required the Kohinoor, which was just a drop in the pond, but you see why they had to control Bharata. Silks, spices, treasures, ancient texts, secrets, UFO anti-gravity technology and what not!

And then the finale- the unrestrained Anglicization of a country steeped in timeless tradition and time-honoured culture where every Indian was made to feel ashamed of their skin colour, clothing, customs, mores, literature, traditions, values and hoary heritage. Brownies were good as kerani, slaves, considering themselves as babus, who were created to suck up to their English civilized lords, the great white civilization.

Sycophants gathered in large numbers to appease the egos, fill up the stomachs and pockets and offer their heads and arses (maybe not literally, bloody buggers) in return to the Angrezi Babus. For what? Goods, ideas, concepts from vilayet! Aha! What amazing things they had and yes it was deemed to sell off the country piece by piece for these lovely things and for progress.(???)

 

The body of ancient Bharatvarsha hacked to create Pakistan and Bangladesh, its bleeding remains termed as secular India.

A new era began with the corporate takeover and rampant Americanization, you’re all living in America, HAARP and underwater nuclear detonations creating Tsunamis, the death industry of Macdonald’s and KFCs, fast food bhaiyaji, engineered famines with the Monsantos of the world, Islamic jehadis and Durga Vahinis, unrest and suspicion, religious intolerance and forced conversions, death and destruction, Nehru’s dynasty and Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi’s legacy of khadi and molestations, Congress under an Italian and BJP under the butcher of Gujarat as the country jostled and elbowed its way into the twenty-first century to sit at that table with the big white boys; witness, I was to it all and will continue to be….

The H-Bomb at work almost destroyed what you humans built, but do you seriously think this was first time in history that such a disaster occurred- nuclear weaponries have been used before in this very subcontinent. Yes my friend…Now I am become Death, the destroyer of world, yes Opperheimer, you can be the key to destruction of your world in your times. I have seen it happen and we’ve all been destroyed by it until another dawn awakens to the call of the creator. A new hologram is fractalized!
The watcher must now be a narrator and I must say it as I see it, Time for you right now is anthropomorphized.

Impatient kya boss? What about the story?? It’s coming, wait for it or you want it instantly. In this age of instant coffees and instant karmas, do you want an instant story as well?

Let’s do some akkar bakkar for a little bit more; arre don’t be so grumpy, chumpy. Humour me. Tick, tock, tick tock, it goes on and on in your psyche. Think hard, who am I?

Got it? Or no? Well…

You are in fact my slave, from the aam admi to the Prime Minister with his acche din slogans, from Mr. Mukesh Ambani cocooned in his billions of dollars Antilia, to the hungry beggar on the street. I rule your life, your little everyday existences.

I keep everything from happening at once. You can’t even imagine what chaos that is. Measuring me through the clock or your wrist watch all day, do you now know who I am, can you at least guess. I think you’ve got it, so do you know me?

But of you, I know all, every little detail.

Your little human condition, your little miseries, your tiny triumphs, your pathetic tears, your belly rumbling laughter, does have a way of making the world go round the Mulberry bush, you get the drift?

Well I have all the time, so let’s begin.

Funny concept, can time have time? Can an infinity be greater than another infinity? You smirk, but trust me the world is far magical than you have been made to believe, haan ji haan, sure it’s about cheque books and Kaun Banega Crorepati, but it’s also about altered states of consciousness, states you cannot ever envisage. Life is not about black and white or green and red, it is shades of colour you cannot ever hope to see with your eyes, life has colours you can never hope to smell, taste or touch. Yes colours can be felt in those ways, just not in your world! And in some worlds I am not as relevant as yours, and in some I have no relevance! I do not exist!

Do not go all freaked out on me, can you not imagine TIMELESSNESS; but it exists, I warn you, especially those OCD freaks out there, desperate to control everything.

Enough of meandering….
So who am I? Let me formally introduce myself. I am TIME and as promised I do have a story, a juggernaut of a story, an unstoppable monster and you’ll be forced to submit like wide-eyed little chunnu-munnus listening to your nanis at bedtime.
 

Twins. Rape. Murder.

Bollywood, breast augmentation, brainfart.

Poetess, plastic surgeon and the Sleeping Beauty.
Titillated?

Come on now, I know I have you! A violence-loving society like the one you’ve built starts salivating at all these contextual concepts when thrown at you. Murder is sweet, but mutilation is sweeter.

Blood and gore thrills you, outrageous humiliation of the body sends tingles through your spine, so stop this bourgeoisie sensitivity where you appear dismayed by such plots, but deep inside you can’t wait to curl up with your Sidney Sheldon! or Shobha De!! or Chetan Bhagat!!! by your bed side, reading about sex, rape, murder, call centres where Arun is called Aaron leading to a suppressed pathological schizophrenia, cheating on your spouse, wife swapping with keys and other new born urban atrocities.
It’s not every day that TIME tells you a story, a story about infinite probabilities.

A bit about me, saale, haramzade, time waste mat kar! A note in the Book of Life and Death!
I have existed for eternity. To you the word eternity probably will have some signifier, what can a finite mind grasp of the infinite?? Still I ask you to think about it. Think of something that never ends. Is that even possible, you ask?? The cogitation must never cease.

You think, therefore you exist, right??? Or you eat and defecate, therefore you exist, or is it copulation which cements your existence?

But what is the point of a process if it never ends; you will think to eternity about one question or be involved in sexual intercourse for all times(it’s not even a possibility) or eat yourself to death.

Does that mean you exist or not? Is it just the process of cogitation or copulation that makes you “exist” or is it the cogitative/copulative subject that’s important?

The journey or the result? A particle or a wave? Or a bubble?

Haramkhor time, procrastinating must have been my invention.
Mankind has managed to fall from an incredible level of sophistication to a dark age of barbarianism, like the age you’re an inhabitant of. It is a cycle- civilization and destruction!
Anyway, even though you did not exist, TIME was always already there! There is no escaping that idea.
I was born too you know, not as a babe from a mother’s womb, but as a concept from your mind.

To let you into a secret, I did not always exist. All I know is that this visible world is finite and periodical and so am I. I exist because of you.

I am born and then just like you gone with the wind; believe it or not, you and I are same in this way- WE ARE MORTAL!

This cycle of birth and death of TIME is the alpha and omega of recreating worlds. So in truth, you and I are finite, but IT, infinite.
A linear sequence of events is how you’d describe Time, but what happened when you were not there to count, the Big Bang baba? How did I exist?? So in a way, my dear friend, I exist in your memory and expectations, so essentially I live with you and die with you. Do not think this idea to be so far-fetched, even I can be put to death in your mind! Baap re baap, yes sir! I am fearful of my obliteration, of my extinction. I am born from you and I die with you.

I am your slave!
Well now I have your undivided attention to be sure. You humans love to know you are important in the equation. Am I right? But then you are, right?? God’s greatest creation. Hah!!
A plastic surgeon. A Poigant poetess, Phd student. A wannabe Bollywood starlet. No it’s not one of those haikus she writes.

Cadence of morning breeze-

Lofty silences-

A cup of tea.

Haikus she writes…
Yes I know Bollywood, the Bacchans, the Khans, the Kapoors, I hear the little whispers here and there, I see the deals done under the table, I know of the clandestine fornications in the back seats of SUVS, I know of which homes were wrecked by whom, and all the jazz! That’s some serious junk info. I’m the official knowitall bhai, for now I’m Mumbhai.

The Book of Life and Death is not a conventional book as you understand the definition, it is ever changing, an entity in itself, capable of conscious thoughts and feelings.
This story has come to my interest inumerous other worlds I inhabit.

Yes, you are there too and if I look, I will find you. The difference between you and them is that they know about these worlds, their consciousness shifts from one to one and they have observed me observing! Maybe it’s my imagination. In the many-worlds that exist, all the possible outcomes of a quantum interaction are realized.

You know all that you see around you, the world, the stars, your family, your lover, the Universe, it’s actually not just a Universe, and it’s actually a multiverse. Imagine the hairs on your skin, your world is one such hair on the body of abstract space, the evolvement happens in a deterministic style, embedding all thinkable possibilities within it.

So these twins- NINA and ZEENIA are moving through the arrow of time. They are moving to a fixed point, in one reality and to another point in a different world. Momentum and position are never constant, they’re all probabilities. But you get an omelette from an egg, not the other way round, the same way radio waves disperse from the antenna, never converge into it.
So now finally let’s cut to the chase and begin at the beginning. Not the conventional beginning point, but the very beginning of our story.
to be continued….

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http://www.tinaheals.com

tina@tinaheals.com

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This is not my cover image. Image is not my copyright.

The Wolf Goddess~~

What a sight you are!

A true Goddess of your own creation.

The holy red gushes down your legs.

You stand naked, bare breasted.

The defiance in your eyes.

The slight smile on your lips.

They magnetic sway of your hips.

They ridicule you and laugh at you.

Your raw power scares them.

You know how to CONNECT.

You know how to join together.

You are a natural leader.

And that scares them.

They call you a sinner.

Never will you be a saint.

Even if you have fed the last morsel to them.

They have burnt you over and over.

But from those ashes have you arisen…

Again and again.

With different names.

In different countries and cultures.

The guilt they have bred in us,

Is not to be found in you.

The palpable fear is also absent.

For you seek no validation from them.

You don’t care to play by their rules.

Holiness in every ounce of your blood.

Every Goddess of every culture,

They reside in your body.

You are holy, the Creatrix!

You are not afraid of pleasure.

You know what to do with pain.

You are here to liberate other sisters.

You are not looking for personal gain.

Never have you controlled the urges,

That women have been taught to do.

Instead you have transmuted them into alchemy.

You have transformed them into divine inspiration.

You have ignited the fires of passion.

And made magic with the man you held.

For a God he was when you made love to him.

You are his Goddess.

You are  our Goddess.

Your mission is to tell the others.

To activate the powers of the Womb.

This FEM-FORCE will steer us into a new awareness.

Let them worship the sacred blood of your menstruation.

For that is the only atonement from their end.

To have defiled and demonised the sacred life force of the menstrual blood.

They say you are a whore.

What does it matter if you are Madonna or a whore?

They have raped, pillaged and tortured,

The mother, maiden and the crone.

No one is safe.

They will find the Wild Ones.

Silenced they must be.

But how can they be shut for life?

In their voices is the fem-force of life and death.

We will be told we are evil.

We will be told our magick is for the devil.

The Devil is but Lucifer, the bringer of Truth.

The apple is the process of initiation.

It is you, yes you as Eve,

Who initiated Adam.

It is you Sita, who burned Rama’s sins,

In the fire of your sacrifice.

Wild Woman you will make us eat time and again,

From that sweet apple of knowledge and passion.

Run like a She-wolf and howl at the moon.

You are the Matriarch, the very crux of civilisation.

Tonight under the Full Moon, you will rub the damp earth on your body.

And make love to the Earth.

She is as wild as you are.

Soul lovers through infinities.

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Image by Alexandra Banti

 

Yin-Yang

This is the green meadow,

Where I have stained my lips with dew,

With precious morning dew.

This is the sacred space,

Where the blades of grass long,

I have grown.

This is my sanctuary where I dance naked,

Under the twinkling stars.

No one to shame me.

No one to defame me.

Just me in my nakedness,

In my solitude.

Combing my long, long hair.

That has all the experiences

Stored in each strand.

Suffering and misery, blessings and happiness.

I light a candle in your name.

And I drop the hot wax on my body.

That day I bled on this grass.

All alone.

That day I dropped the wax on my breasts.

Bereft and broken.

That salt I sprinkled.

Because they were watching.

They were talking.

Of my sacred blood.

They were making disgusted faces.

And I could smell their lust burning.

There was nothing for me to hide.

For wild women cannot be shamed.

Wild Women will bleed unto the Earth.

Because it is their sacred duty to.

Whether you call her a witch or a mother.

The Wild Woman will not be shamed.

Her blood will draw him to her.

As wild as she is- an expression of yang.

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Bagalamukhi Invocation and Prayer

“The symbol of Goddess gives us permission. She teaches us to embrace the holiness of every natural, ordinary, sensual dying moment. Patriarchy may try to negate body and flee earth with its constant heartbeat of death, but Goddess forces us back to embrace them, to take our human life in our arms and clasp it for the divine life it is – the nice, sanitary, harmonious moment as well as the painful, dark, splintered ones.

If such a consciousness truly is set loose in the world, nothing will be the same. It will free us to be in a sacred body, on a sacred planet, in sacred communion with all of it. It will infect the universe with holiness. We will discover the Divine deep within the earth and the cells of our bodies, and we will lover her there with all our hearts and all our souls and all our minds.”
― Sue Monk Kidd, The Dance of the Dissident Daughter

What powerful words! How true they ring to my ears.

I have always been a worshipper of the Dasamahavidya and have used these ten archetypes to meditate on and gain clarity and wisdom. Invoking the Devis have changed my life completely every time, with every prayer and every invocation. In fact my latest obsession is to create a tarot deck on the Mahavidyas, the great Tantric Goddesses.

Yes I speak to my Goddesses who come to me in different forms. They play with me, teach me, love me and are a HUGE part of my life. But then so is Mary Magdalene whom I meditate upon and invoke as well, like Ishtar, Diana, Freya and many more.

I have been lucky to have performed many Bagalamukhi homas, Mahakala and Chinnamasta homa as well with Dhumavati beej. Ok this is probably sounding gibberish to you. But please don’t flake off.

Hang on! There is much to be gained today when we invoke the Goddess archetype into our lives. And I introduce to you Maa Bagalamukhi who is one of my favourites. In fact I have been initiated into her sadhana for a few years now by one of the most eminent sadhaks alive today.

I am going to simplify her Sanskrit long prayer, give you her beeja and explain her worship. But I have adapted her worship and it might seem totally different from Bagala sadhana practised conventionally.

Some of you may be aware that the occult Navaratri is taking place now. Nine when when ten aspects of the DIVINE MOTHER are venerated. These “aspects” are Kali, Tara, Shodoshi, Bhubaneshwari, Bharavi, Chinnamasta, Dhumavati, Bagala, Matangi and Kamala. Don’t worry about the names, you can google them up in your leisure, but just concentrate on Bagala for now.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bagalamukhi

That is the Wiki article. Peruse through it and get to know her.

You can sage your house and create your sacred space. You may use her image on your altar or you might use any golden stone like Pyrite. You can also use her Yantra which is the representation of this energy in a sacred geometry pattern.

After you have created your space and brought your psychic energy to full focus on whatever object you are using to invoke this energy. Start by invoking Ganapati by saying Om Vakratundaya Hum!

Then keep reciting Ling as many times as you like. Ling is her sacred beeja or seed sound. Ling! Keep saying it and notice how you feel. Close you eyes and say it. Say it loud and feel the vibrations inside your body. Whisper it and feel the resonance and also chant it silently. Try to feel the vibrations deep inside.

After a certain time, you will begin to vibrate with energy. The Goddess would have entered your consciousness through the symbol you are choosing to activate. Just remember to observe the feelings inside as you keep saying ling.

You may or may not use vermillion and til seeds, sandal wood powder and flowers to offer while you keep chanting ling. Once the ling is vibrating inside, then sit in silence. You can close your eyes and call the Goddess. You may have an internal dialogue with her.

After you have bathed in the Goddes energy, begin to sing hymns. You can do it as a recitation or just say it mentally.

Start by saying- Om Ling Bagalamukhing divyayi svaha!

That is her moola mantra as in her invocation phrase.

Om Hleem Bagalaamukhi Sarvadushtaanaam Vaacham Mukham Padam Stambhay Jihvaam Keelay keelay Buddhim nashaaya ling Om Swaha ।

Now say the following prayer…

Goddess Bagala I invoke you to protect me from all obstacles.

May all negative words about me stop, may all negative actions against me be stopped, May I never sway towards negative ways and may all negative attention on me cease.

May all negatives be reversed into positives.

May all my DIS-eases be ended.

May I serve the Earth and all her denizens with a selfless heart.

Chant ling again, as many times as you want.

Then sit in silence after lighting a yellow candle. Carve Ling in it if possible.

Sit and watch the candle burn. Feel the presence of the Goddess with you.

May she bless you and all of the Universe!

Email me if you have any questions…

tina@tinaheals.com

http://www.tinaheals.com

Bagalamukhi by Mattias Fahlberg

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