Yielding to the Storm of Kali
Yielding to the Storm of Kali
This article, written in 1992, first appeared in Tattva-Sangarba, the journal of the Sringiri Shankaracharia Math, India. A portion was also published in
Tantra Magazine and Light of Consciousness. There’s a sacred wind blowing, heralding the dawn of mysticism. I feel it, my friends feel it, and the news
media has started writing about it. We are waiting with bated breath for the day to come when mystics will inhabit the world, when Christians, Muslims, Jews and Hindus get so intoxicated with love for the God of their heart that their differences melt into a giant pot of divine love. When I close my eyes and think
about it, I can almost taste what a world consummated by collective mystical union could be like.
Ma Bhavatarini KaliA mystic in my dictionary is someone who, over and above his or her spiritual and/or intellectual disciplines, is in perfect tune
with the consciousness underlying all-the very thing we all have in common and that which differentiates a live person from a dead body. Everybody is hooked into this life-giving consciousness, but only few enjoy its divine bliss and splendor. A mystic enjoys the glamour of God because he or she has managed to shake off the ego, which is the only thing that separates us and prevents lasting happiness.
We’re living in a time when things are getting ready for change. As we approach the millennium, suddenly old beliefs we’ve lain in comfortably for so
many years don’t hold any longer, baring the field of doctrine to a tempest which may reshape Western religious and intellectual thought.
On the spiritual side, there is turmoil. Organized religions have trouble keeping their formalities flexible enough to accommodate people’s desire for a
more personalized religion. I believe that people want to practice yoga whether they call it by this name or not. They want to have their own personal
connection with God and put sacredness back into every aspect of their daily lives. People are reaching out to spirituality, something that can be
substantiated by the fact that Pope John Paul II’s new book, Crossing the Threshold of Hope topped the best-seller list, bypassing Faye Resnick’s raunchy
tell-all book about Nicole Brown Simpson.On the scholarly side, there is turmoil. Faith in secular, rationalist humanism-with progress as the promise and
reason as the tool-is eroding for the first time since this philosophy germinated in the Renaissance. Rationalist humanism made us believe we could
discover the “laws of nature” through reason and, applying this knowledge, things would get better and better.
And since we’ve failed to harness nature over all these years, the voices of advocates of the chaos theory are now getting louder, undermining the
conventional theories of rationalist humanism. According to the chaos theory, we’re living in a universe of chaos where change is the norm, and where change without end does not necessarily mean we are progressing toward anything better.
As a lover of the Hindu Goddess Kali, I have no problem with chaos. I see it as Ma Kali’s divinely intoxicated dance. As the destroyer, Kali clears the
path for new creation. Shouting, “Off with the ego!” the great Queen of the Universe clothes Herself in chaos so awesome that our arrogance automatically
falls off, giving way to unconditional surrender.
Ma Dakshineswari Kali of Laguna Beach: This black goddess Kali is mysticism personified. As such, She has a tremendous unifying power. She intoxicates us, fermenting us into the same wine. I’ve been privy to gain first-hand knowledge of this. Over the past couple of years, I have sponsored public Kali pujas held in Laguna Beach, California, performed by Sri Haradhan Chakraborti, the main pujari (priest) of the Dakshineswar Kali Temple. So many blissful faces, so many diverse people worshipping side by side-Westerners and Indian, people from the Vedanta Society, SRF, Yoga Center, ISKCON and followers of a veritable rainbow of yogis and yoginis too numerous to list.The first time I felt like abandoning myself to the divine will was when I first saw Ma Kali’s face in the inner sanctum of the Dakshineswar Kali Temple, Calcutta, India. I was so awed that I forgot to ask Her for anything, not even to straighten out any of my problems. All I wanted was to let go of myself just like a child lets go of the string, releasing the balloon to ascend toward the vast blue sky.
Perhaps this feeling of wild abandonment was caused by the inexplicable ecstatic joy I fest at the time, or perhaps it was just the noise of my rapidly
beating heart that drove away my thoughts. Whatever the reason, this feeling came to me quite naturally and was not something I deliberately
manufactured.
Yet, what seemed so easy a thing to accomplish at first has turned into the hardest task I have ever attempted. Years have passed, and I still don’t know
how to completely surrender at Ma Kali’s feet. It’s a vicious cycle. The more I long to surrender, the deeper my understanding gets of what it means to
surrender to the Divine. One moment I feel I have done it; the next, I realize how much farther I need to go.
I found Kali-or She found me-in 1986 while I was traveling in India on assignment for a magazine. I was immediately overwhelmed by the very tangible
power one feels in Her presence, and I got frustrated when I could not find enough information on this mystical black goddess. I had so many questions and
could find no books written about Her in a language my heart could understand. So, I began research and wrote one myself.
The fuel for my passion that drives me to do all kinds of things-such as writing a book on Kali-is love. Life is boring without love. I think that
perhaps I need more love than other people do, because I don’t want to live without it. I remember my teenage years, which I spent mostly depressed. Though I got plenty of love, it was never enough to satisfy my hungry heart. I was a beggar for love, begging with outstretched hands: “Oh please, give me love, give me love, give me more love.”
Today, I am a lot wealthier. Ma Kali’s presence in my heart reversed, as it were, the current of love within me. Previously, this current flowed from the
outside in and made me depend on favorable external influences. Now, it flows from the inside out. When I stopped depending on people to love me and started listening to and feeling the love in my own exciting heart, the current of love reversed.
If only people would become lovers rather than wanting to be beloveds, there would be a lot less hurt and hatred in the world. It’s much easier to be a lover
because the ego gets less in the way. As a lover, I am more prone to love unconditionally, without expectations. As a lover, I seek happiness more for my
beloved than for myself. It encourages me to be unselfish. In my case, unselfishness did not come over night. I’m still working on it and have a long
way to go.
My ideal is Sri Ramakrishna, the Godman who lived at the Dakshineswar Kali Temple for 30 years. His passionate love and total surrender to Kali united his being with Hers, making Her will and his inseparable.“Surrender seems like such a passive act,” remarked my friend Tray during a recent discussion. “Yet, it’s really a lot of work.”
But it’s certainly worth it. The more I go about loving unselfishly, the deeper the feeling of satisfaction. It is my sincere belief that as long as I am unselfish and live in tune with God, my love will always be replenished. I’ll never run our of love, even if the people I love hurt me. I may not be immune to
getting hurt, but when I do, underneath the tears continues to flow a sweet current of bliss.
To me, surrender to God means to live constantly in tune with God. This is, indeed, a very hard thing to do. The belief that I am not the doer and Ma Kali
is doing something through me comes with practice. It shouldn’t be wishful thinking or come from an emotional sentiment that may land me in a mental
institution. When it is real and true, it is a tangible feeling beyond doubt.
I have met many people who I thought had attained great spiritual heights. But, after spending time with them, I discovered that their talk and behavior
was based on past spiritual experiences and learned behavior-which is certainly not bad. But, God cannot be realized in the past or future. God can only be
realized in the present.It is truly rare and great good fortune to meet someone who lives in the present moment and whose spirituality bubbles
spontaneously from the heart. When one lives constantly in tune with God, every word, every action is spontaneous. Even when one repeats God’s name a thousand times, each repetition is fresh and completely spontaneous.
Though surrendering to Kali means giving up the ego, depending on which Kali worshipper one talks to, one gets a slightly different point of view. I may long
to annihilate my ego but my friend Gita may not think this is the goal: “I believe the purpose of creation is to love God-realize one’s identity with Kali
but retain the semblance of separation so She can be loved,” said Gita. “It is Mother who gave us this ego and these desires in the first place. It’s up to Her
to take them away or fulfill them. She gives so much, even the things that lead to pain. We asked for them and She gives them to let us grow. When you realize that everything is Kali, the desires drop away and you just love Her.” My friend Jose does not worry about the ego. “I never made a conscious effort to bring God into my life,” said Jose. “God is doing everything. I am a Krishna devotee and had no intention of worshipping Kali. It’s Sri Ramakrishna’s trick. Somebody brought me an image of Kali, and I now worship Her every day.”
One thing all Kali worshippers I met have in common is a sense of fearlessness. I don’t have to be afraid of anything for I worship the Mother who
gives birth and destroys all things created. So, whom or what to fear? Ma Jaya Sati Bhagavati, one of the most vivacious American spiritual teachers I
know, has turned Kali worship into a most practical application. Ma Jaya gives Kali to people afflicted with AIDS. She tells them, “I can’t cure you, but I can
teach you how to die fearlessly in the Mother’s arms.” Ma Jaya, who is also an artist, activist and humanitarian, is the founder of the Kashi Foundation in
Sebastian, Florida.
One can read a lot about spirituality and surrender, but one doesn’t get the taste for it until one experiences it. It helps to spend time in the company of
the holy, people who have dedicated their lives to realize God. Their company stimulates sacred emotion, which, in turn, overpowers mere analytical
thought.
I owe India a lot. I have learned so much by just being there. In my book Kali, the Black Goddess of Dakshineswar, published by Nicolas-Hays, I tried to
convey to the reader what it feels like to stand in the courtyard in front of the temple. The following is an excerpt:
The closer one gets to the inner shrine, the louder one hears throaty shouts that echo from within the temple. “Ma, oh Ma, Ma go Ma! Jai Kali! Jai
Kali Ma! Jai Ma Bhavatarini ji ki jai!” One also hears the loud clanking of a bell that rings in spurts. Yet, one still cant see anything in front besides
heads and raised arms. The front entrance to the Kali shrine has three arched passageways. Because the middle one is blocked, worshippers enter and exit at both sides. Today, it is very crowded, and one is shoved through. Cold sweat stands on the forehead as one suddenly finds oneself inside a cool covered veranda. It is quite cool although there in no visible air-conditioning system. Toward the left, suspended from the ceiling, hangs a big brass bell. Every other pilgrim who is pushed past, reaches up and clanks it as loudly as possible at least a couple of times. Parents hold up their children to give them also a chance to clank the bell, thereby proclaiming to Ma Kali that they have arrived, that they exist. Countless bare feet shuffle over the cool, smooth marble tiles. Occasionally one steps on something slippery and wonders what it is. Perhaps it’s a flower, spilled water, something indefinable that is better not to know. Whatever it is, one will never know because there is no chance to see the ground. There are too many bodies, pushing, pressing and crowding like moths in the night toward a light that is still a little farther off.Everyone’s focus is on the lighted entrance in the middle of the covered veranda. A cast-iron gate prevents people from entering, so they crowd before it, half hanging over it, trying to get a little closer inside. Some people kneel, reach through the gate and touch the ground within the sanctum. Immediately behind the gate stand two priests keeping watch. There white dhotis bear the marks of their profession-red sandalwood paste, vermilion and flower stains. Their foreheads are marked with large vertical lives of vermilion, the signs of a male Shakti worshipper-women wear large vermilion dots. Pilgrims hand their baskets of offerings to attending priests, who take the hibiscus garlands and expertly fling them into the lighted inner sanctum at Mother Kali’s feet. Basket in hand, each priest disappears inside, utters some mantras over the basket and offers it to Mother Kali with reverence. A few sweets from each basket stay with Ma Kali in a box next to the altar. The rest of the offerings, together with flowers taken from the altar, are returned to the pilgrim. These returned offerings are called prasad and considered a great blessing. God has taken the first bite-eaten the subtle essence of the food-and the devotee, swallowing the gross elements of the food, takes the second. Anxiety has reached a fever pitch, and the short distance walk from the arched passageway to the lighted inner sanctum seems to take forever. But, when one finally stands before Kali, time seems to stand still. Everything stops. The people, the noise-all is mysteriously gone. One stares with wide eyes, forgetting even to blink. All one sees is Kali and nothing else.
Nobody can define Kali, the mystical black goddess. My book is just a blueprint, an attempt to take people a little closer to the realm of Kali. After a talk in a Berkeley bookshop, one person came to me and said, “When you talk about Kali, you talk about love, whereas I and my group look at Her as a militant, liberated woman. She kills all the demons single-handedly. How do you reconcile the two views?” Pointing to the garland of skulls Mother Kali is
wearing, I used an observation Betty Lundsted, my publisher, made some time ago. When you look closely at the severed heads, you see that they are all smiling. They are smiling because Ma Kali killed their egos. After they were liberated, only love remained.
The heart is such a small place. God and the ego cannot coexist there. If one is there, the other has no room.
This article, written in 1992, first appeared in Tattva-Sangarba, the journal of the Sringiri Shankaracharia Math, India. A portion was also published in
Tantra Magazine and Light of Consciousness. There’s a sacred wind blowing, heralding the dawn of mysticism. I feel it, my friends feel it, and the news
media has started writing about it. We are waiting with bated breath for the day to come when mystics will inhabit the world, when Christians, Muslims, Jews and Hindus get so intoxicated with love for the God of their heart that their differences melt into a giant pot of divine love. When I close my eyes and think
about it, I can almost taste what a world consummated by collective mystical union could be like.
Ma Bhavatarini KaliA mystic in my dictionary is someone who, over and above his or her spiritual and/or intellectual disciplines, is in perfect tune
with the consciousness underlying all-the very thing we all have in common and that which differentiates a live person from a dead body. Everybody is hooked into this life-giving consciousness, but only few enjoy its divine bliss and splendor. A mystic enjoys the glamour of God because he or she has managed to shake off the ego, which is the only thing that separates us and prevents lasting happiness.
We’re living in a time when things are getting ready for change. As we approach the millennium, suddenly old beliefs we’ve lain in comfortably for so
many years don’t hold any longer, baring the field of doctrine to a tempest which may reshape Western religious and intellectual thought.
On the spiritual side, there is turmoil. Organized religions have trouble keeping their formalities flexible enough to accommodate people’s desire for a
more personalized religion. I believe that people want to practice yoga whether they call it by this name or not. They want to have their own personal
connection with God and put sacredness back into every aspect of their daily lives. People are reaching out to spirituality, something that can be
substantiated by the fact that Pope John Paul II’s new book, Crossing the Threshold of Hope topped the best-seller list, bypassing Faye Resnick’s raunchy
tell-all book about Nicole Brown Simpson.On the scholarly side, there is turmoil. Faith in secular, rationalist humanism-with progress as the promise and
reason as the tool-is eroding for the first time since this philosophy germinated in the Renaissance. Rationalist humanism made us believe we could
discover the “laws of nature” through reason and, applying this knowledge, things would get better and better.
And since we’ve failed to harness nature over all these years, the voices of advocates of the chaos theory are now getting louder, undermining the
conventional theories of rationalist humanism. According to the chaos theory, we’re living in a universe of chaos where change is the norm, and where change without end does not necessarily mean we are progressing toward anything better.
As a lover of the Hindu Goddess Kali, I have no problem with chaos. I see it as Ma Kali’s divinely intoxicated dance. As the destroyer, Kali clears the
path for new creation. Shouting, “Off with the ego!” the great Queen of the Universe clothes Herself in chaos so awesome that our arrogance automatically
falls off, giving way to unconditional surrender.
Ma Dakshineswari Kali of Laguna Beach: This black goddess Kali is mysticism personified. As such, She has a tremendous unifying power. She intoxicates us, fermenting us into the same wine. I’ve been privy to gain first-hand knowledge of this. Over the past couple of years, I have sponsored public Kali pujas held in Laguna Beach, California, performed by Sri Haradhan Chakraborti, the main pujari (priest) of the Dakshineswar Kali Temple. So many blissful faces, so many diverse people worshipping side by side-Westerners and Indian, people from the Vedanta Society, SRF, Yoga Center, ISKCON and followers of a veritable rainbow of yogis and yoginis too numerous to list.The first time I felt like abandoning myself to the divine will was when I first saw Ma Kali’s face in the inner sanctum of the Dakshineswar Kali Temple, Calcutta, India. I was so awed that I forgot to ask Her for anything, not even to straighten out any of my problems. All I wanted was to let go of myself just like a child lets go of the string, releasing the balloon to ascend toward the vast blue sky.
Perhaps this feeling of wild abandonment was caused by the inexplicable ecstatic joy I fest at the time, or perhaps it was just the noise of my rapidly
beating heart that drove away my thoughts. Whatever the reason, this feeling came to me quite naturally and was not something I deliberately
manufactured.
Yet, what seemed so easy a thing to accomplish at first has turned into the hardest task I have ever attempted. Years have passed, and I still don’t know
how to completely surrender at Ma Kali’s feet. It’s a vicious cycle. The more I long to surrender, the deeper my understanding gets of what it means to
surrender to the Divine. One moment I feel I have done it; the next, I realize how much farther I need to go.
I found Kali-or She found me-in 1986 while I was traveling in India on assignment for a magazine. I was immediately overwhelmed by the very tangible
power one feels in Her presence, and I got frustrated when I could not find enough information on this mystical black goddess. I had so many questions and
could find no books written about Her in a language my heart could understand. So, I began research and wrote one myself.
The fuel for my passion that drives me to do all kinds of things-such as writing a book on Kali-is love. Life is boring without love. I think that
perhaps I need more love than other people do, because I don’t want to live without it. I remember my teenage years, which I spent mostly depressed. Though I got plenty of love, it was never enough to satisfy my hungry heart. I was a beggar for love, begging with outstretched hands: “Oh please, give me love, give me love, give me more love.”
Today, I am a lot wealthier. Ma Kali’s presence in my heart reversed, as it were, the current of love within me. Previously, this current flowed from the
outside in and made me depend on favorable external influences. Now, it flows from the inside out. When I stopped depending on people to love me and started listening to and feeling the love in my own exciting heart, the current of love reversed.
If only people would become lovers rather than wanting to be beloveds, there would be a lot less hurt and hatred in the world. It’s much easier to be a lover
because the ego gets less in the way. As a lover, I am more prone to love unconditionally, without expectations. As a lover, I seek happiness more for my
beloved than for myself. It encourages me to be unselfish. In my case, unselfishness did not come over night. I’m still working on it and have a long
way to go.
My ideal is Sri Ramakrishna, the Godman who lived at the Dakshineswar Kali Temple for 30 years. His passionate love and total surrender to Kali united his being with Hers, making Her will and his inseparable.“Surrender seems like such a passive act,” remarked my friend Tray during a recent discussion. “Yet, it’s really a lot of work.”
But it’s certainly worth it. The more I go about loving unselfishly, the deeper the feeling of satisfaction. It is my sincere belief that as long as I am unselfish and live in tune with God, my love will always be replenished. I’ll never run our of love, even if the people I love hurt me. I may not be immune to
getting hurt, but when I do, underneath the tears continues to flow a sweet current of bliss.
To me, surrender to God means to live constantly in tune with God. This is, indeed, a very hard thing to do. The belief that I am not the doer and Ma Kali
is doing something through me comes with practice. It shouldn’t be wishful thinking or come from an emotional sentiment that may land me in a mental
institution. When it is real and true, it is a tangible feeling beyond doubt.
I have met many people who I thought had attained great spiritual heights. But, after spending time with them, I discovered that their talk and behavior
was based on past spiritual experiences and learned behavior-which is certainly not bad. But, God cannot be realized in the past or future. God can only be
realized in the present.It is truly rare and great good fortune to meet someone who lives in the present moment and whose spirituality bubbles
spontaneously from the heart. When one lives constantly in tune with God, every word, every action is spontaneous. Even when one repeats God’s name a thousand times, each repetition is fresh and completely spontaneous.
Though surrendering to Kali means giving up the ego, depending on which Kali worshipper one talks to, one gets a slightly different point of view. I may long
to annihilate my ego but my friend Gita may not think this is the goal: “I believe the purpose of creation is to love God-realize one’s identity with Kali
but retain the semblance of separation so She can be loved,” said Gita. “It is Mother who gave us this ego and these desires in the first place. It’s up to Her
to take them away or fulfill them. She gives so much, even the things that lead to pain. We asked for them and She gives them to let us grow. When you realize that everything is Kali, the desires drop away and you just love Her.” My friend Jose does not worry about the ego. “I never made a conscious effort to bring God into my life,” said Jose. “God is doing everything. I am a Krishna devotee and had no intention of worshipping Kali. It’s Sri Ramakrishna’s trick. Somebody brought me an image of Kali, and I now worship Her every day.”
One thing all Kali worshippers I met have in common is a sense of fearlessness. I don’t have to be afraid of anything for I worship the Mother who
gives birth and destroys all things created. So, whom or what to fear? Ma Jaya Sati Bhagavati, one of the most vivacious American spiritual teachers I
know, has turned Kali worship into a most practical application. Ma Jaya gives Kali to people afflicted with AIDS. She tells them, “I can’t cure you, but I can
teach you how to die fearlessly in the Mother’s arms.” Ma Jaya, who is also an artist, activist and humanitarian, is the founder of the Kashi Foundation in
Sebastian, Florida.
One can read a lot about spirituality and surrender, but one doesn’t get the taste for it until one experiences it. It helps to spend time in the company of
the holy, people who have dedicated their lives to realize God. Their company stimulates sacred emotion, which, in turn, overpowers mere analytical
thought.
I owe India a lot. I have learned so much by just being there. In my book Kali, the Black Goddess of Dakshineswar, published by Nicolas-Hays, I tried to
convey to the reader what it feels like to stand in the courtyard in front of the temple. The following is an excerpt:
The closer one gets to the inner shrine, the louder one hears throaty shouts that echo from within the temple. “Ma, oh Ma, Ma go Ma! Jai Kali! Jai
Kali Ma! Jai Ma Bhavatarini ji ki jai!” One also hears the loud clanking of a bell that rings in spurts. Yet, one still cant see anything in front besides
heads and raised arms. The front entrance to the Kali shrine has three arched passageways. Because the middle one is blocked, worshippers enter and exit at both sides. Today, it is very crowded, and one is shoved through. Cold sweat stands on the forehead as one suddenly finds oneself inside a cool covered veranda. It is quite cool although there in no visible air-conditioning system. Toward the left, suspended from the ceiling, hangs a big brass bell. Every other pilgrim who is pushed past, reaches up and clanks it as loudly as possible at least a couple of times. Parents hold up their children to give them also a chance to clank the bell, thereby proclaiming to Ma Kali that they have arrived, that they exist. Countless bare feet shuffle over the cool, smooth marble tiles. Occasionally one steps on something slippery and wonders what it is. Perhaps it’s a flower, spilled water, something indefinable that is better not to know. Whatever it is, one will never know because there is no chance to see the ground. There are too many bodies, pushing, pressing and crowding like moths in the night toward a light that is still a little farther off.Everyone’s focus is on the lighted entrance in the middle of the covered veranda. A cast-iron gate prevents people from entering, so they crowd before it, half hanging over it, trying to get a little closer inside. Some people kneel, reach through the gate and touch the ground within the sanctum. Immediately behind the gate stand two priests keeping watch. There white dhotis bear the marks of their profession-red sandalwood paste, vermilion and flower stains. Their foreheads are marked with large vertical lives of vermilion, the signs of a male Shakti worshipper-women wear large vermilion dots. Pilgrims hand their baskets of offerings to attending priests, who take the hibiscus garlands and expertly fling them into the lighted inner sanctum at Mother Kali’s feet. Basket in hand, each priest disappears inside, utters some mantras over the basket and offers it to Mother Kali with reverence. A few sweets from each basket stay with Ma Kali in a box next to the altar. The rest of the offerings, together with flowers taken from the altar, are returned to the pilgrim. These returned offerings are called prasad and considered a great blessing. God has taken the first bite-eaten the subtle essence of the food-and the devotee, swallowing the gross elements of the food, takes the second. Anxiety has reached a fever pitch, and the short distance walk from the arched passageway to the lighted inner sanctum seems to take forever. But, when one finally stands before Kali, time seems to stand still. Everything stops. The people, the noise-all is mysteriously gone. One stares with wide eyes, forgetting even to blink. All one sees is Kali and nothing else.
Nobody can define Kali, the mystical black goddess. My book is just a blueprint, an attempt to take people a little closer to the realm of Kali. After a talk in a Berkeley bookshop, one person came to me and said, “When you talk about Kali, you talk about love, whereas I and my group look at Her as a militant, liberated woman. She kills all the demons single-handedly. How do you reconcile the two views?” Pointing to the garland of skulls Mother Kali is
wearing, I used an observation Betty Lundsted, my publisher, made some time ago. When you look closely at the severed heads, you see that they are all smiling. They are smiling because Ma Kali killed their egos. After they were liberated, only love remained.
The heart is such a small place. God and the ego cannot coexist there. If one is there, the other has no room.
Kali Ma - A Global Perspective
Kali Ma, called the "Dark Mother," is the Hindugoddess of creation, preservation, and destruction. She is especially known in her Destroyer aspect,
squatting over her dead consort, Shiva, devouring his entrails while her yoni sexually devours his lingam, penis. Kali, in this aspect is said to be "The hungry earth, which devours its own children and fattens on their corpses…" In India the experience of the Terrible Mother has been given its most grandiose form of Kali, which just is not simple imagery; it is the image of the Feminine, particularly the Maternal, for in a profound way life and birth are integrally connected to death and destruction.
Kali serves as the archetypal image of the birth-and-death Mother, simultaneously the womb and tomb, giver of life as well as the devourer of her children: the identical image was portrayed in a thousand ancient religions. Current psychologists face this image with an uneasy acknowledgement of its power. Apparently the image of the angry, punishing, castrating Father seems less threatening than the destructive Mother--perhaps because she symbolized the inexorable reality of death, whereas he only postulated a problematic post-mortem judgment. Perhaps this is one reason the Roman Catholics maintain the teaching of purgatory, to divert the final end.
The full importance of the profound meaning of the functions of Kali as the live-giver, preserver, and destroyer have been dismissed or destroyed over the centuries, as have been the aspects of other manifestations of the goddess. Many western interpretations of Kali in art and literature just depict the destructive aspect of this goddess, which tend to portray her as fearsome and evil. In the LondonMuseum is an image of her which is labeled "Kali-Destroying Demon." The Encyclopedia Britannica devotes five columns to the Christian interpretation of the Logos and dismisses Kali's part in the creation
of the world. This deity is mentioned in a brief paragraph as the consort of Shiva, and "a goddess of disease."
In Hinduism Kali's three functions are assigned to the gods: Brahma, the creator; Vishnu, the preserver; and Shiva, the destroyer. It is noted that Vishnu, who is thought to have brought the world out of the primal abyss, wrote the following about Kali: "Maternal cause of all change, manifestation, and destruction…the whole Universe rests upon Her, rises out of Her and melts into Her. From Her crystallized the original elements and qualities which construct the apparent world. She is both mother and grave… The gods themselves are merely constructs out of Her maternal substance, which is both consciousness and potential joy."
As a Mother, Kali was called Treasure-House of Compassion (karuna), Giver of Life to the World, the Life of all lives. Despite the popular western belief that she is just a Goddess of destruction, she is the fount of every kind of love, which flows into the world through women, her agents on earth. Thus, it is said of a male worshipper of Kali, "bows down at the feet of women," regarding them as his rightful teachers.
Some say the name Eve perhaps originated from Kali's leva or Jiva, the primordial female principle of manifestation; she gave birth to her "first manifested form" and called him Idam (Adam). She also bore the same title given to Eve in the Old Testament: Mother of All Living (Jaganmata).
Although referred to as "the One," Kali was always a trinity Goddess: Virgin,Mother, and Crone. This triad formed perhaps nine or ten millennia ago has been manifested in many cultures: the Celts with their triple Morrigan, the Greeks with their triple Moerae, the Norsemen with their Norms, the Romans with their Fates and triadic Uni (Juno), the Egyptians with their triple Mut, and the Arabian Moon-goddess. Kali can be identified everywhere. Her trinity is recognized in the Christian triple Godhead; some conclude this Godhead is all male, not nothing that in the Hebrew Old Testament the word for Spirit, ruwach, was of feminine gender.
Blood sacrifice was important in the worship of Kali as they were in the worship of the early Biblical God, the commanded that the blood must be poured on his alters (Exodus 29:16) for the remission of sins (Numbers 18:9), but there were differences. Jewish priests ate the sacrificial meat themselves
whereas the devotees of Kali were permitted to eat their own offerings as in Calcutta. Kali demanded only male animals be sacrificed; a custom dating back to the primitive belief that the male had no part in the cycle of generation. The god Shiva, Kali's sacrificial spouse, commanded that female animals must not be slain on the altar.
Kali was the Ocean of Blood at the beginning of the world; she might be said to be the primordial mass from which all life arouse; and her ultimate destruction of the universe is prefigured by the destruction of each individual, though her karmic wheel always brought reincarnation. After death
came nothing-at-all, which Tantricsages called the third of three states of being; to experience it was like the experience of Dreamless Sleep. This state was also called "the Generative Womb of All, the Beginning and End of Beings." Kali devoured Time, she resumed her "dark formlessness," which appeared in all myths of before-creation and after-doomsday as elemental Chaos.
The Tantric worshippers of Kali readily acknowledged and accepted her Curse; they willing accepted her terror of death as well as they accepted her beautiful, nurturing, maternal aspect. They knew the coin of life has two sides, life and death; one cannot exist without the other. Kali's sages
communed with her in the grisly atmosphere of the cremation ground, to become familiar with the images of death. Her devotee would say, "His Goddess, his loving Mother, in time who gives him birth and loves him in the flesh, she also destroys him in the flesh. His image of Her is incomplete if he does not know her as his tearer and devourer."
The name Kali Ma comes from Kalma, a hunter of tombs and eater of the dead, as she was called in Finland, also called the Black Goddess. European "witches" worshipped her in funeral places, for the same reasons, that the Tantric yogis and dakinis worshipped her in cremation grounds, as Smashana-Kali, Lady of the Dead. Former pagans adored her in cemeteries as the Black Mother Earth, where the Roman tombstones invoked her with the phrase Mater genuit, Mother receipt-the Mother bore me, the Mother took me back.
Sometimes Kali, the Destroyer, wore red symbolizing the blood of the life that that she gave and took back: "as She devours all existence, as She
chews all things existing with Her fierce teeth, therefore a mass of blood is imagined to be the apparel of the Queen of the Gods at the final dissolution."
The gypsies in their worship of Kali, the Goddess of disease, clothed her in red, the proper color of gypsy funerals.
squatting over her dead consort, Shiva, devouring his entrails while her yoni sexually devours his lingam, penis. Kali, in this aspect is said to be "The hungry earth, which devours its own children and fattens on their corpses…" In India the experience of the Terrible Mother has been given its most grandiose form of Kali, which just is not simple imagery; it is the image of the Feminine, particularly the Maternal, for in a profound way life and birth are integrally connected to death and destruction.
Kali serves as the archetypal image of the birth-and-death Mother, simultaneously the womb and tomb, giver of life as well as the devourer of her children: the identical image was portrayed in a thousand ancient religions. Current psychologists face this image with an uneasy acknowledgement of its power. Apparently the image of the angry, punishing, castrating Father seems less threatening than the destructive Mother--perhaps because she symbolized the inexorable reality of death, whereas he only postulated a problematic post-mortem judgment. Perhaps this is one reason the Roman Catholics maintain the teaching of purgatory, to divert the final end.
The full importance of the profound meaning of the functions of Kali as the live-giver, preserver, and destroyer have been dismissed or destroyed over the centuries, as have been the aspects of other manifestations of the goddess. Many western interpretations of Kali in art and literature just depict the destructive aspect of this goddess, which tend to portray her as fearsome and evil. In the LondonMuseum is an image of her which is labeled "Kali-Destroying Demon." The Encyclopedia Britannica devotes five columns to the Christian interpretation of the Logos and dismisses Kali's part in the creation
of the world. This deity is mentioned in a brief paragraph as the consort of Shiva, and "a goddess of disease."
In Hinduism Kali's three functions are assigned to the gods: Brahma, the creator; Vishnu, the preserver; and Shiva, the destroyer. It is noted that Vishnu, who is thought to have brought the world out of the primal abyss, wrote the following about Kali: "Maternal cause of all change, manifestation, and destruction…the whole Universe rests upon Her, rises out of Her and melts into Her. From Her crystallized the original elements and qualities which construct the apparent world. She is both mother and grave… The gods themselves are merely constructs out of Her maternal substance, which is both consciousness and potential joy."
As a Mother, Kali was called Treasure-House of Compassion (karuna), Giver of Life to the World, the Life of all lives. Despite the popular western belief that she is just a Goddess of destruction, she is the fount of every kind of love, which flows into the world through women, her agents on earth. Thus, it is said of a male worshipper of Kali, "bows down at the feet of women," regarding them as his rightful teachers.
Some say the name Eve perhaps originated from Kali's leva or Jiva, the primordial female principle of manifestation; she gave birth to her "first manifested form" and called him Idam (Adam). She also bore the same title given to Eve in the Old Testament: Mother of All Living (Jaganmata).
Although referred to as "the One," Kali was always a trinity Goddess: Virgin,Mother, and Crone. This triad formed perhaps nine or ten millennia ago has been manifested in many cultures: the Celts with their triple Morrigan, the Greeks with their triple Moerae, the Norsemen with their Norms, the Romans with their Fates and triadic Uni (Juno), the Egyptians with their triple Mut, and the Arabian Moon-goddess. Kali can be identified everywhere. Her trinity is recognized in the Christian triple Godhead; some conclude this Godhead is all male, not nothing that in the Hebrew Old Testament the word for Spirit, ruwach, was of feminine gender.
Blood sacrifice was important in the worship of Kali as they were in the worship of the early Biblical God, the commanded that the blood must be poured on his alters (Exodus 29:16) for the remission of sins (Numbers 18:9), but there were differences. Jewish priests ate the sacrificial meat themselves
whereas the devotees of Kali were permitted to eat their own offerings as in Calcutta. Kali demanded only male animals be sacrificed; a custom dating back to the primitive belief that the male had no part in the cycle of generation. The god Shiva, Kali's sacrificial spouse, commanded that female animals must not be slain on the altar.
Kali was the Ocean of Blood at the beginning of the world; she might be said to be the primordial mass from which all life arouse; and her ultimate destruction of the universe is prefigured by the destruction of each individual, though her karmic wheel always brought reincarnation. After death
came nothing-at-all, which Tantricsages called the third of three states of being; to experience it was like the experience of Dreamless Sleep. This state was also called "the Generative Womb of All, the Beginning and End of Beings." Kali devoured Time, she resumed her "dark formlessness," which appeared in all myths of before-creation and after-doomsday as elemental Chaos.
The Tantric worshippers of Kali readily acknowledged and accepted her Curse; they willing accepted her terror of death as well as they accepted her beautiful, nurturing, maternal aspect. They knew the coin of life has two sides, life and death; one cannot exist without the other. Kali's sages
communed with her in the grisly atmosphere of the cremation ground, to become familiar with the images of death. Her devotee would say, "His Goddess, his loving Mother, in time who gives him birth and loves him in the flesh, she also destroys him in the flesh. His image of Her is incomplete if he does not know her as his tearer and devourer."
The name Kali Ma comes from Kalma, a hunter of tombs and eater of the dead, as she was called in Finland, also called the Black Goddess. European "witches" worshipped her in funeral places, for the same reasons, that the Tantric yogis and dakinis worshipped her in cremation grounds, as Smashana-Kali, Lady of the Dead. Former pagans adored her in cemeteries as the Black Mother Earth, where the Roman tombstones invoked her with the phrase Mater genuit, Mother receipt-the Mother bore me, the Mother took me back.
Sometimes Kali, the Destroyer, wore red symbolizing the blood of the life that that she gave and took back: "as She devours all existence, as She
chews all things existing with Her fierce teeth, therefore a mass of blood is imagined to be the apparel of the Queen of the Gods at the final dissolution."
The gypsies in their worship of Kali, the Goddess of disease, clothed her in red, the proper color of gypsy funerals.
