KALI MA

Dharma is a word one hears often in Asia for there is no other word that expresses so completely the fact of the basic unity of all life. Its Aryan-Sanskrit root is “dhar,” to support, uphold, sustain and has been rendered into English as duty, virtue, law, truth, justice, righteousness, form, etc. We can trace its basic meaning to the Latin forma, that which makes for an orderly arrangement of parts which makes a thing what it is. The English equivalent would be good form, that conduct appropriate to any given occasion. It would not be good form and against my true nature to turn back because of fear, lack of trust or any other negativity. That would be adharma, or against dharma, any state that disrupts or perverts the current flow of one’s existence. I felt beyond a shadow of a doubt that this was my true vocation, which I was born to seek and thus discover the answers to the secrets of the universe and everlasting life.
So there we were, breathing rarified air, sometimes getting dizzy, a slight tinge of blue on the lips, shortness of breath but never once did we think about stopping or turning back. The dharma of the sun is to shine, of the warrior to fight, of the philosopher to seek the answers to the secrets of life and death. To go back would have been against my true nature and Yogondos as well for I had come to appreciate his quiet strength and determination to see our quest through to the end and deposit me at the entrance to the Valley of Blue Flowers safe and sound. Whatever cosmic force arranged this expedition also included him as part of the grand design, I was convinced.
We came to a small wooded area, incongruous in the setting of ice and boulders that we had just stepped out of. Perched on a small overhang that looked down into the valley was a handmade cabin of rough wood and stone, pristine, immaculately clean and well tended and on the small deck that extended out from it sat a figure. As we came closer we saw that it was a woman; dark, beautiful and very wild appearing with unkempt, matted hair and clothed in animal skins. She was of indeterminate age and fire flashed from her black eyes as we approached cautiously for her energy was a powerful vortex even from a distance.

“I am Kali Marie, and those who know me call me Kali Ma. Do not hesitate big white man, come closer and let me look at you. I am only a little brown woman, I do not bite very hard,” she said
I came closer and introduced myself.
“Why do you come to this desolate place, Senor?”, she asked.
“I go to the Valley of the Blue Flowers and I seek the secrets of the universe,”
I replied. She had a strong animal smell, wild and earthy and very sexual.
“Ha!!”, she cried, “another stupid white man. Here is the valley of blue flowers and within it you will find the secrets of the universe,” and with that remark she spread her legs and the blue tinged lips of her vagina to expose the flower of her womanhood vibrating a primal shade of blood blue.
Needless to say I was flabbergasted and at a complete loss for words. I was also fascinated and attracted to this beautiful and enigmatic, wild little woman and as I trembled she looked deep into my soul and discerned my weaknesses, saw into my mind and heart and completely enveloped me within her field of power. I felt trapped in the den of a wild and other worldly creature and I instinctively knew that resisting was useless. That too was part of the plan.

How long I stayed is difficult to tell. One does not look at the clock when the volcano is erupting; a day, a year, a lifetime, an eternity, all time ceases during moments without self, when ego, resistance, defense is dropped and one is carried along with the cosmic flow in perfect tune to the rhythms of the universe.
It doesn’t last long when it does happen so one learns to trust and allow it to happen even when knowing the teaching to be a difficult one.
And it was difficult. One cannot hold on to ego when one is in the maw of the goddess, one must surrender completely and trust that you will not be eaten alive. Propitiate the goddess and know that whatever happens will be for the best even if it means being used and abused, kicked while you’re down and thrown out into the street like an old rag.
She drew me into her lair, warm and dark and redolent with the aromas of sweat, garlic and sex and I succumbed without a whimper. It was basic and primitive like she was and the main focus of attention was the bed which consisted of a large pile of extremely soft animal skins. A pot was suspended over a fire pit in the corner, a small table was set for two with a candle and a bottle of fiery country liquor. Had I been expected?
I drank as if mesmerized, knowing and seeing what was to come in exquisitely painful detail but unable to change the course of events in the least. I was being pulled and pushed into the furnace of longing, the arena of self sacrifice, the temple of life and death. Blood transports prana, the life force that we breathe. To offer one’s blood to the deity, to the goddess, is like offering your life force, your very life. I didn’t know if I was ready for that. The goddess Kali delights in the sacrificial flesh of all animals and especially that of man who represents infatuation and pride of worldly things. Chains that bind us to the world must be severed if we are to be independent and whole and sacrifices to Kali Ma are one way to help break those chains. Whatever we give up we will be freed from and the time had finally come for me to give up my self and my lust. Her consciousness was entirely in her genitals; a warm, wet, pulsating blood dance that beckoned my own primal, atavistic urges. Only by going into them would I accept, understand and overcome them, I realized. Only then is there transformation, from the sensual to the sublime, from the goddess to the godhead, the transformation that follows understanding.
So it was time to fight my beast that had appeared in the form of the goddess.
A beast is in bondage; to the senses, the instincts, the body or the mind and it was time to let them go; the learning, the sophistication, civilized refinements all meant nothing there, just my naked self on the altar of sacrifice.
Yogondo, a man of rare perception, immediately saw the situation and proceeded to make his camp some distance away but close enough to be there when needed. He was in for the long haul and would be there when I came out, tattered and torn an eternity later.
It has been said that there are only two kinds of man-woman relationships; those that are of the soul family and those that are of lessons to be learned. Kali ma was definitely in the latter for it had plunged me into an existential abyss that knew no bounds, into my lust and possessiveness, my sensuousness and guilt. It was a teaching that served me well as I continued my journey into the mountain of ten thousand peaks and the Valley of Blue Flowers….

Thus ends the Hakim’s story for he left his body and few hours later. It is now my turn to carry the maps and walking stick. I, India Jones, and will continue the journey that will eventually lead me back to the Hakim, the sacred valley and the secrets of the universe.