Of mothers and the Great Mother

Images are tricky things. They can be useful, but also limiting. Listen to the poet:

My mind dreams up this image
I could make with clay.
But is Mother clay?
It's a waste of labor.
She has a sword, a necklace of skulls.
Is Mother then an image of clay?
Can an image of clay
Cool the mind's fever?
I've heard the hue of her skin is a dark
That lights the world.
Can an image of clay be made
That marvelous dark with a coat of paint?
And Mother's eyes
Are the sun, the moon, the fire.
What craftsman can render such eyes?
Kali cuts down evil.
Is this the work of straw and clay?

She will scour his mind
And show Herself to Ramprasad.

Grace & Mercy, poem 53, page 61.

There's a certain, dare I say bitter, irony that Navaratri this year started on what would have been the 94th anniversary of my mother's birth and ended during the 20th anniversary of her death. It was what is called a "wrongful" death since the paramedic didn't bother to check her vital signs before attempting to chemically kick start her heart. It had already restarted and the action was just too much for her.

The paramedic left town the next day. The attitude of others was basically, she was old and fat, she'd have died anyway, get over it. Sorry, no, but to quote one of my brothers, the one who first got "the call", "Gone, but not forgotten."

For me, the pain has faded and the hole in my heart has scabbed over mostly, but I still have zero tolerance for loud-mouthed braggarts who claim their work is "error-free" so they never check their calculations or run a spell check--and leave the clean up to others. I've worked with some of them--you know who you are.

Finally, since the Hallowed Evening is two weeks away, I'm posting this in honor of Opal Mary and CJ, our father, who joined her 19 months later. For those who believe Samhain/Halloween isn't complete without a spooky story, here's mine:

For years after I moved away from home, I'd receive quiet messages from the Beyond when I was drifting off to sleep. Usually it was a Voice whispering my first name, which I refused to use at that time. However, when I'd hear the Voice, I usually snapped awake. "Huh, what? What do you want?" And the connection vanished.

The evening of Mother's death, I was pretty much poleaxed and couldn't sleep for all the crying. The Voice called my by the name I preferred and said, "It's all right." That was just enough to let me drift into sleep.

Thanks to Whoever and help guide me from even inadvertently harming others.

So just where do we find the Great Mother?

Let Ramprasad Sen help you find Her....
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O Mind, do you still cherish this fantasy of yours?
What is Kali that you stare and haven't seen Her?
o, you know the Three World are the Mother's image,
You know, but do you really believe it?
What kind of thing is your heart that it makes Her likeness
In clay and then offers it up prayers?

Grace & Mercy, poem 55, page 63

___________________________________________________________________________________

You'll find Mother
In any house.

Do I dare say it in public?

She is Bhairavi with Shiva,
Durga with Her children,
Sita with Lakshmana.

She's mother, daughter, wife, sister --
Every woman close to you.

What more can Ramprasad say?
You work the rest out from these hints.

Grace & Mercy, poem 52, page 60

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Sing Kali's glory,
Make a happy racket,
Paddle this old boat of a body
As fast as you can.

What's the trouble
Of this world anyhow?

Hoist your mind
To catch the wind.
Death can just stand on the shore
And gape as you go spanking by,
Sail full of the southern breeze.

Shiva's no liar --
He'll make all these powers
Over which He has power
Yours.

Prasad says: Anyone
Who doesn't agree
Can just get out.

Grace and Mercy, poem 59, page 66

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Now can you answer my question? No need to make or find images, She's everywhere and in every woman. Best of all, She's within our hearts, if only we open ourselves to look for her. Once we find Her, the world will never look the same.

Jai Maa! Namaste' and Blessed Be!

Support comes in the strangest ways.

After putting up with some rather oblique personal attacks by a clumsy cyberbully, I was happy to see one of my horoscopes for today. Yaaay! Whether you believe in astrology or not, it's always nice to receive an "atta girl" on occasion, whatever the source.

Daily Planetary Overview
The Moon sextiles Uranus and then moves into Aquarius, bringing unusual new ideas and concepts into the open. This is a time to "let your freak flag fly high," celebrating your quirks and differences. A communal spirit permeates the day, bringing together people who are normally on opposite sides of the fence.

Your Horoscope - Today, October 15, 2010
You may get the feeling that someone is trying to rain on your parade, Esther. It is important for you not to forget who you are at this time. Don't be surprised if you tend to feel a negative pull from someone or something. If this is true, simply step away from the person or situation. It is not your personal responsibility to make everyone happy. Don't bring yourself down as you try to bring others out of the gutter.

The wild ride of devotion--Two more hymns from Ramprasad Sen

(A quick note before we start: Brace yourself, it's going to be bumpy! Ready? Go!)
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Does suffering scare me? O Mother,
Let me suffer in this world. Do I require more?
Suffering runs ahead of me and runs after me.
I carry it on my head and set up a stand
In the bazaar to peddle it.
I'm a poison worm, I thrive on poison.
I carry it where ever I go.

Prasad says: Mother lift off my load.
I need a little rest. It's amazing!
Others brag about their happiness,
I brag about my suffering.

Grace & mercy, poem 28, page 38

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All right, Death,
Here I am.

I've drawn a circle around me
With Kali's name.

The Great Death, Kali on His chest,
Has taken Her feet to His heart.

Remembering that Her feet
Cancel all fear,
Who needs to fear Death?

(Grace & Mercy, poem 50, page 58)


Bakhti is the yoga of devotion, a love so intense you join with the Divine. It's not for everyone nor is it an easy, safe or sure path. You can be full of ecstatic power one minute and the tiniest distraction will bring you crashing the next. Is it healthy? Possibly not, but it's honest and authentic. Besides, there's no hiding from the Divine.

Ramprasad's relationship with the Mother was one of extremes: love, tenderness, pride, anger, despair, and, if not hatred, there's sullen rancor. He examined all of these feelings and offered them back to the Source of his inspiration.

I had a teacher from another path who said that there's really only one true, proper sacrifice anyone can offer--ourselves, our lives in all their messy, scruffy, scraggly glory. And don't hold back, because S/He will know and, besides this is a transaction where honesty is paramount.

Take a close look at Kali Maa's ornaments. The necklace of skulls aren't trophies, they are gifts from Her devotees--our egos. The same does for Her girdle of severed hands--our actions. Her tongue laps up our imperfections, which She transforms by grinding them with Her teeth. But She never takes these from us without our permission, not until we say, "Please take them, Mother. I've been selfish and kept them from you for too long."

Jai Maa!

A Navaratri Offering to the Great Mother

The Nine Nights of the Mother is winding down, but I finally found my copy of Ramprasad Sen's Shakti bhakti verse and want to post two or three songs over the next few days.

First, these are reprinted from the 1982 edition of "Grace and Marcy In Her Wild Hair, Selected Poems to the Mother Goddess", by Ramprasad Sen, translated by Leonard Nathan and Clinton Seely, Great Eastern Press. Hereafter identified as "Grace & Mercy" with page and poem numbers.

This is one of my favorites. I'll comment in another post.

All right, You crazy woman,
Get down off the Great Lord's chest!

Shiva's not dead; He's simply
The Master Yogi meditating.

But poison has weakened Him,
He can't bear the force of Your feet, Mother.

Now, get down before His ribs cave in--
O Shiva's Woman. You're pitiless, pitiless.

He drank poison and survived,
Why should He die now?

Ramprasad thinks He's playing dead
Just to have Your feet touching Him.

(Grace & Mercy, poem 38, page 47)