The Serenity of Keesar and Yadagiri Gutta

 

Travelogue:

I went to a beautiful quaint little hillock on the outskirts of Hyderabad city recently. The place had a very deep and sensual aura to it, and as usual I was not expecting anything much for it was a religious place for hindus.
Its named keesargutta, gutta in Telugu mostly translates into a hillock, and keesar is another name for hanuman. The legend goes that; after the avatara for good (or something) Rama goes and kills his counterpart Ravana in Lanka, he feels that he has to atone for the sin/karma of killing a learned person (brahamana or whatever!). So he comes to near Hyderabad (actually he settles in the holy jyoti-linga at SriSailam- which is some 100 odd km from hyderabad), and he asks his devotee and friend the monkey god hanuman to go and get him some 101/108 shiva lingas, so he may worship them and atone for his “sin”
Hanuman sets forth and for some weird reason, he is not able to get the shiva-lingas in time and when he returns, he sees that rama has already begun his worship on some other lingas (probably present at SriSailam) on his own. This infuriates hanuman, and he throws these holy-phallus’ away, they land here at keesar gutta.
The temple is ancient, and its blended perfectly between the even more older hillocks around. There are tons of shiva-lingas; all of them which are well built and probably quite pristine and old strewn around this hillock. Some of them are still worshipped by people who come to see the power place, while many are in neglect, because they remain further away inaccessible due to being shrouded by bushes and more recently human plastic garbage *what a blasphemy*
I could see the main shiva linga at the temple and it seemed that many a generation had done worship on it. There was a certain serenity which i could find, and in fact that is the only gyroscope which I use when ‘seeing’ any supposed religious or power place. I landed up on diwali morning and was expecting a huge rush but to my pleasant surprise; there were very few people... perhaps most were enjoying the much deserved holiday in the middle of the week and also because through time I have personally seen, that almost all shiva temples remain barren marring a few important shiva festivals held every year (like shiva ratri and such).
There is a huge hanuman idol as well, which to my best guess was very recently made, but seeing the monkey god is always a heart’s joy; in whichever form and disguise. And needless to say, the entire hill is plagued by this generations hanuman- the Indian recess monkeys, always on the prowl to scare some poor housewife or kid to steal the prasad or even their personal belonging which could be returned in exchange for food.
The fact that surprised me through my visit was that there were such beautiful sights just on the outskirts of hyderabad, and without the normal tourist distractions, the hillock and the adjoining areas reminded me of hampi.. this region has similar landscape to the neighbouring state north karnatakas landscape. rocky and barren and generally very very dry and hot throughout the year.
There are certain other places which one can see near keesar gutta, there is a small temple dedicated to the lord hanuman in the form of Panchmukhi- 5 faced hanuman, which is considered extremely powerful and auspicious to remove any troubles faced especially through supernatural entities. There is some sort of museum adjoining to this area, which has been recently built.. which has a steep entry of some Rs 250/- but one can go in to see some 300 odd main temples of india rebuilt in similar fashion with their history written as well. Of course I did not visit this museum temple zone, mostly because I have travelled to most of the shrines which were probably remade in this museum and i do not like to visit places to see something man-made, I get intense kick of seeing places where man has made some sort of tribute to nature or to power in general.
There is also an old boingir fort nearby keesargutta, I saw the place though I could not climb to marvel its view (its located again on top of another hillock) for want of time, and its a difficult trek up, as the locals informed me later, and I am sure it would be fun for any nature enthusiast to see a ruin atop a hill.
I also had the time (not on the same day though), to visit another religious shrine on a hillock near hyderabad recently, that is called yada-giri-gutta. The place too is steeped in religious fervor and this time for one of the avatars of lord vishnu- the Narasimha/Man-lion.
Narsimha here has come forth in five avatars, mainly and of the avatars is again taken and kept under the cave area by lord hanuman. It seems hanuman has spent quite some time in this region in fervor for his lord.
Narsimha here comes forth in svaymbhu form. He has come forth from a rock which looks exactly like his beautiful ferocious face and body (this was found which was originally a part of the cave on top of this hillock).
He is supposedly the god of physicians and the reliever of all ailments, and many people come here to get cure from their chronic diseases, they stay here for months on end till a cure is achieved at the hand of the loving man-lion form of the divine narayana.
Here too I was expecting the usual temple crowd; the millions of people with no cure in sight coming to experience power and the transformation that might take place.
But I found the entire temple empty, devoid of the stinking flesh and the hope (lessness) it carries. There was a beautiful serenity; a glimpse of true inner peace. The deity was beautiful, a part of the mountain present inside a secluded cave enclosure. The temple priest was exceptional, he had an aura which most of his counterparts do not possess in this day and age irrespective of the god or religion they preach for. The priest explained in simple terms the lord and his forms/rupas/bhavas here. Here is he is fire/agniand the anger/ugra, the consort and union/lakshmi narsimha and divine/yogananda as well as gandabherunda (this is the one which hanuman is said to have installed).
The view from the hillock is amazing; there is a certainty of peace here for sure. Not because of some extended religious fervor but plainly because of the power this place possesses. People still boast that there are lots of saints meditating on hills close by. On the beauty of the lord!
I strongly recommend people visiting these small hillocks on the outskirts of Hyderabad whenever they get the time. Religion or faith is not the question here, the true question is only whether we can withstand the power of peace.
Peace

Shloka For the Neo Dawn

 

The expressions so many. I am already heaving under their fire. The lightness they propound me into. Just an expression of this divinity.

---------------------------------~Meditate~----------------------------------

This experience; the moment now between us, must be revered oh sweet soul. Not in words; but in the sweeter silence. This moment between us…. Oh! and I have spoken too much already~

It seems, strange enough *?* that Death does not make a difference only to those who have lived in the first place. It havocs those who have never glimpsed life ever / Psy world?

I have taken myself for a ride, all across this space. Only to swirl myself endlessly like a sufi in ecstasy, stopped to find myself changed here and forever.

You believe in organized god. An organized civilization;race. I only see consciousness mirroring itself in infinite different ways. I only see…. followed by endless laughter merrily dancing away!

I am interested. Only In God, for it tells me what your mind is trying to negate, trying to condense or compose. Your deepest fear is god. The source, womb which we escaped only to wait for it to encapsulate us again. Non existence is the neo god. Annihilation of I in the fire of conscious. Killing of our god, to become who we were.

I am preaching the love for the forest, the beings sentient. who do not require a mind or lust to sense life. I am talking being who we are, meant to be. Are in reality.

We are not distanced from the earth. Oh you people of digital domain. We are born from the sand and vomited back on the surface of this glorious mother, Earth; a sickening rock in Brahamanda of darkness.

The heart of this planet glows, and we recognize, re organize, and re mould the concept of I, inseparable from the earth and sky. from the conscious earth’s boost; we explode into inner space. We fly like eagles and crawl like snakes. To reach no particular destination or experience. To be who we are.

A part of nature and this earth. This lonely rock amongst the darkness all mirroring with alien interference of intelligence, of interspace consciousness, which is again not defined in any dimension like space or time or ego or will.?!?

See what it is; the shloka for defining you and I. Us in this very fragile time of insecure superficial peace, and the calamity of atrocity. The sense; the love; the dance. Where is it now my friends? Drink and fall into the endless pit.

The damned end, but there is none.. that is why I maintain. The less that is said of the holy. Revelling in silence, dancing under the banyan on a full moon night. That is the work of consciousness. That is the melody without a musician divine!

Peace.

ITS ALRIGHT SON

 

I just realized something so simple yet so difficult. I apologize; most of the times I keep myself and others in an endless loop; for no good rhyme or reason.

Its not a big deal to die.

Its not a big deal to die.

I find such liberation in these simple words; which hit me out of nowhere.

We all indulge in killing of live beings every single day from roaches to ants to what not, sometimes knowingly and other times unknowingly. I have seen people die in front of my eyes... right from alive to phat! dead…                     Believe you, me. Its not a big deal to die!

I find such joy in these simple thoughts which now I completely understand, there is no loss, there is no gain, there is no meaning and there is no pain.

There is no end, as there was never a beginning. There was nothing wrong in the first place for us to be born. There is no need, for us to be here. There is no master plan which is gonna get us out of here (too).

There is no love as there is no life.

And its alright son, for it is no big deal to be not alive…

Its insignificant, your destiny and mine. There is nothing significant or poignant in us dying.

No one will care, No one will be surprised cause well you all know, its no big deal to die.

I am happy to take the plunge, I am happy to take my life. cause I finally get it. There is no need to be alive…

No way will I change my mind, No way shall the path divide, for where I have walked. Only thorns have kept by my side. I suffered without rhyme, I cried for a dead god. I mourned for a dead love, for a life gone wrong. I wished to end it all, never to begin it again.

My only sincere hope now as ever before; is to be never be born again.

Only Psychedelic Life

 

Every psychedelic experience, is not an end to itself. It is to build a macroscopic picture. Take another look; revisit another land; place yourself in absolute trust; and mother nature will walk with you holding your hand.

Every single human being; goes through life and experiences at times or sometimes or maybe all the time!? experiences which cannot be labelled, or slotted into one compartment in the brain. Though we try very hard. Look very hard, deep within since the time you can remember, the time you were born. And I assure you; that you will find something strange in your own life indeed.

But what is the point to some sort of normalcy and spurts of events and experiences which sometime make us mourn, sometimes rejoice and sometimes be just gratefully thankful?

The times are tough indeed, and that is the true test of the psychedelic experience, people who indulge on it volutanrily are terrible at heart. for they have seen the pain of life and existence itself, something hidden where everything should be gracefully seen and overflowing!

Well, we all indulge in this mass crusade, to hide the truth from ourselves. We mask it by repressing anything out of the ordinary, anything which conflicts with our thinking of who we are. In psychiatry they call it mental models. Mental models are built and sustained. But they can be changed too. And they are, continuously being changed. Sometimes we care to acknowledge their existence; most times we do not even pay attention to what is really going on.

This is the true psychedelic experience, inducing yourself to remember that every trip we take and make in our lives, is to practice. To practice the extraction of serotonin from our own brains. Our brains daily producing amounts of the soma-ras which keeps our world forgetfull and an illusion, a common illusion which we all can delude ourselves and try to be happy. But how can one be happy when one does not know his.her own source. The well which is true potential of being. The truth. Why should we mass hypotize ourselves to live lives without point and invent things to keep our attention at bay from the sea of our true existence?

The psychedelic experience, moulds mental models cleverly; without the mind even knowing it. The mind actually would know it not at all, if it were to live as if it itself did not exist. The state of no-mind creates the true psychedelic experience of living zen. Where we are who we are, graciously overflowing all the time. Without limitations of being and freedom. We are who we are.

This if practiced all through life, through any and all means possible leads us to become masters. Cause we have practiced since time immemorial; not to suppress what truly is reality. But to invent and reinvent it, to create it from our own source, as a source of truth and beauty. Without contempt of indifference.

This is the nature and path of psychedelic life. The pinch of salt is that most times we delude ourselves with the path and the goal so much, that we lose all innocence of living and loving. Free without boundaries. And that I tell you; is the real and only psychedelic experience in this entire creation (or what not) of ours.

Try and practice a ascetic life. Not that I am asking anyone to give the source of their current joy; but to multiply and amplify it, not by the greed and need for more. But by sheer acceptance of reality and who we are. Without boundaries; existing in a sea of now.

Namacivaya

Peace and Love.

Baraka

  

Hey Look over here; There is this sudden change in the demenour, of the nerves and bones. There is inflow like never ever witnessed before. I crawl out from the hinges of reality; like a spider, poking my sight through the physical walls, through the sky.

I sense there is great achievement to be had; and well so does everyone if they can see it. There is change so perpetual and insistent, changing our perception and tune of things, changing whatever may be. Lying between here now and eternity.

This is grace! Baraka! my spider mouth jumps up in joy and sings, I become a lucid dreaming snake, strolling in between the jungles of my mind. The confusion and demogogory ends; and has left behind the cool gentle water stream trickling down my eyes.

Such a divine sight; to behold, when I look upon my affectionate care; my former needs vanish and am now propounded into every new being, with a throbbing passionate heart. The heart cries out oh so many times; over and over… in joy and freedom, towards the agony of not knowing or being why?

Baraka my soul! Wishing for what is given for free. Without limitations of space body or even time. She waits in grave silence, waiting patiently and grabbing those rotton apples (oh yet they taste so sweet from the inside), which cannot be eaten or spoilt anew by the changing winds of life.

Come beloved noor; come beloved moon; come ye’ all who are looking at humanity trying in vain to seek grace without a clue in sight. Come and celebrate in my arms tonight; for grace has sought me out! and I shall never leave her gaze even in a million lifetimes!

My sense overwhelms me; I become the cosmic serpent flickering my tongue and tasting the invisible presence of soft smelling ether. Omnipresent and devoid of form. The music invades me and makes me dance to its graceful loving tune.

I dance like a ecstatic sufi! A loving silent mauni of the observation without point! The center of the eye of the storm, and the violent storm raging everywhere right now!

I feel it is time, to let the cat out of the bag and let hell break like baraka.

I only wish that this mood extends upon one and all with the passage of time. For this is the time; the only one, where there is chance of meeting of souls. to stop time and forever let it be in each others eyes. Truth and grace.

Namacivaya!

Trapped Under Steel / The Castle

 

The feverish trappings of mortar and brick, all spewed out from the concrete mixer onto the side of the road. The night wears on and the construction crew starts to unload. Everything has been working like clockwork, and the ‘castle’ must be build before then end of dusk. The owner is a merciless tyrant; waiting for one to collapse and fall onto the pavement. He revels in the agony of his workmen, every breadth cursed out, every dew drop of sweat and sweat makes him chuckle in some sort of victory. That his ‘castle’ has been built from pain, that its worth the lives of many, that it is the grandest detail of life in entire history of existence. How wrong would he be?

The moon beckons everyone for a smoke and rest. But the churning and noise evaporates all such desires, The concrete mixers now belch out smoke and dust, the boiler close by chuckles out soot and fumes. The entire field around the site is alive with some sort of anxiety. More and more trucks are making their way to the desolate site. Where some sort of monstrosity is being constructed from bare hands of those way too tired to live.
Aron, one such worker; now in his prime, has seen what his work and toil would yield to become, would materialize as some lunatics victory cry/ How un-important his efforts would seem in reality. In the passage of time, he would be forgotten for building this marvelous castle, no one would even acknowledge his efforts. He would be called a thief for actually help erect this architects masterpiece.
The siren went off, and people huddled together at last, running past their construction equipment to come to get a cup of steaming coffee, the glasses clanged the metal container, and in the cold mist; every one remained just their shadows. Aron saw them all, and finally joined the line albeit last to get his cup of coffee too. Somehow the usual routine did not seem to work for him today. He felt the pinching of divine doubt which could not be concealed any longer. It was bursting forth from the seams. It was completely covering his entirety.
The owner came with his symbolic whip, the register he carried forth. he brought it out and called out a few names, the lucky few who would get their daily weekly wage today. Aron was not lucky again; he twitched and moved to ask the owner once done, when his turn would come!
“Bugger off, you lowly scum and if you once again ask me then i would beat you till never’s end”
Aron had had enough of these endless gruelling days and nights. The past was the filth and the present seemed like a coffin with nails, There was no peace even once dead? Was there?
He moved like shadows amidst shadows, He kept invisible and spoke less and the next whole week he kept about his business more so than usual, none of his fellow workmen could see any change in him probably because everyone was wearier than usual. The castle was rising, abominable in its structure and impressive beyond recognition.
Something is brewing deep within; there is no way that this could be solved by anyone or could it?
Aron had for long been brewing; and brooding. His close friend, simon tried to offer him some reprieve.
“ This is what bums like you and I are meant for; the world is uninhabitable. It is not for the poor or the rational. It is only for those who have sold their soul to the devil. It is for those who have become hypocrites; even to themselves”
Aron knew what simon was dragging towards; everyone in this wretched plant mirrored their lives on the same lines, no individual left; only a mass collective hysteria. It was funny how the capitalistic system which perched on the ideals of every individual to become who they chose to be; actually created this in turn. The present state of events, where everyone worked for only one person; The Man.
Aron had come to the conclusion; after many other repeated attempts to set himself straight. There was no way out of this; other than rapid dramatic change. Change brought upon by real chaos. Real fear bringing upon change in the mentality of the owner. The castle had become the refuge for idiocy and ignorance. And Aron would not take it any fucking more.
He worked perilously and almost invisible. He collected those things which would make him a god in his own eyes. He met with his underground friends; the type of people most would not see in broad daylight. They remained in solitude talking on esoteric subjects in dingy pubs and motel rooms, Aron frequented them now more than ever, though he knew through his being what they were discussing; he himself was never party to their sophist driven debates. He knew his being, and understood perfectly.
But there was deeper melancholy in him now; he sought a solution, a permanent fix to the monstrosity called the ‘castle’.
His friends too picked up on the castle, they talked vulgar about the construction of brick which had no life and yet sucked the life of million others, like the great Egyptian pyramids or the constructions of hindu temples or even the Mayan edifices. To construct something inorganic which took the life of the many others living here and now. What could be a more heinous crime than this in the face of this world?
Aron asked them what to do, even though he knew all along what must be done.
He knew the answers were right when it poured in unison from his anonymous friends.
“The castle must be burnt! The castle must be buried! The castle must be cast back to where it came from! Back to eternal darkness!”
Aron collected invaluable items over the next couple of weeks, something which could make an explosion. Something which would be potent enough to remove what man was endeavouring to create in the first place
Some say that the architect, the mason, the builder have the power of god. They can create beauty and harmony in a world which resonates only with intent of dark chaos.
Some say that the creator is overflowing with the will of divine. Creating what cannot be seen or known until done so already!
Aron did not feel like this now. His home made device was ready; sweat and effort overpowered. Nights working at the dismal castle and days spent in the hope of something fruitful coming about. The day destroying the night. The way it should be.
Aron knew that what he was doing was right. There was something which was pushing him; his will to do this. Though no action in this world is justified or right; but some actions are more willed than others. That is what was happening now.
He piled the explosives at dawn, with the sun rising behind him. There was no one left; most workers drowned in their efforts had already left to get what little sleep they could muster up before being beckoned to the ‘castle’ yet again.
Aron looked at the giant construction; not of some god; but of some sure evil; the owner standing at the parapet of one of the floors of this endless construction. The sun dawning now behind him, and he all gloating and all knowing the suffering of everyone around. Became somehow even more powerful in this... Aron could sense this.
This was the god of old. The Ra and Indra of ages gone. The god which demanded of man, not giving freedom but draining his will and attention against his will, so that something beautiful might come out of it. For what use? For whose emancipation?
Aron lit the match; and continued to look at the evil owner. A spineless creation of the damned, the owner saw him now clearer; and he saw what aron had been up to. Yes he now understood; how the under dog had swept past him; and his impenetrable castle. How one single could cause the cancer, and free the body whole!
That day, even the sun’s glory was felt inseparable to the blast which caused the castle to fall. The castle which only moments before was standing tall. Standing proud, now was piles and piles of brick and mortar. Steel and blood. The owner came tumbling down; and verily he was trapped under steel. The same steel he once thought would become his home. The same steel which once offered him to be distanced from the common, from the downtrodden or the fallen. Now was the source of his own downfall.
The blast was dramatic, the smell of smoke and sulphur made everyone wake up from their homes with a jolt. The day has just begun. And yes it was truly a glorious one!
The castle we build sometimes are in thin air (of our own imagination), these are hopes dreams and loves which we hope to create and/or reconcile in one single lifetime.
The castles which men create; when they become old and fixed in some sort of life routine, are indeed dangerous surmountable to fatal. These castles are fixed in false notions of power. That somehow glory and immortality remains in the physical / material plane. For some it is indeed a physical castle, their home or their work. For some it is the false notion of passion and lust.
I have indeed cancelled many such castles which I had hoped to create. I have indeed raised them to the dust where they shall remain. For I rather be free from the false notions of security in this transiting life; than be doomed to spend eternity trapped under unforgiving cold steel..
Peace

THE MAGIK OWL OF VARANAD!

 
Oh what beauty there is at the feet of nature, where every single cell is singing a divine song, carrying on a divine role. For every other being’s happiness.

Oh what an act every creature plays in this divine play; A dance worth dancing to. A song worth listening to. Humbled I remain; at the feet of glorious life! Always unlearning what I thought was permanent. Always changing when I thought I had seen it all.
Kerala is god’s playground, the immense downpour of perennial rains; the rich diversity of Flora and fauna. The humility of nature overflows even in the remotest corners.. even in man’s conscience and heart. The people adapted to nature worship for many ages now; everything useful is from nature and extremely eco-friendly. This most applicable to their modes/methods of worship and even the object of their devotion.
Kerala has remained for ages now; the center ground for shakti cult and worship. For people there shakti, and mother *devi* worship is a part of the grand whole of nature. There is no mother and goddess if there remains no nature. This is the simple and age old truth people of kerala have realized.
I had the great fortune of travelling to one such locality in kerala, near the famous Venice of the east *allepy*; some 40 odd kilometers from there is the quaint town of Chertala. Chertala is famous for a number of reasons, apart from it being on the banks of the grand “Vembanadu” lake which spans like a sea almost (as it is actually the backwaters stemming from the Arabian sea), the lake beautiful and pristine has also given birth to communism and the feeling of brotherliness. Chertala is the hub of also goddess worship and I had the excellent opportunity to witness this.
There are two famous temples dedicated to mother goddess here, though I was able to visit only one of them (close to the place I was staying), the temple is in the district of vazhipad; and the devi is called Varanad Amman.
Varanad amman has the form of ‘Bhadra Kali’ , she is in her extreme mood here, unlike her sister goddess located a distance away, where she is not as ferocious. When we describe mother goddess in different forms, it is mainly a mood of nature we are worshipping. A mood or a state of creation or dissolution. Here the mother is stronger than the rest, here she remains in perpetual state of dissolving everything she has created, and at the same time upholding all things till the time comes for them to merge back.
Oh She is divine, par divine! I have never witnessed anything such. The eyes of mine; overflowing with tears expressing love and gratitude at everything she has every done for me. She knows what a spoilt brat I am, always challenging existence and energy. I have never taken anything from her but her grace. Oh she knows my inner being; Oh she saw me that day when I first set my humbled life in front of her, oh she knew it that day when my unworthy gaze set upon itself the divine miracle that were her beautiful awe inspiring feet!
I flew into Ecstasy at arriving upon the little sanctum sanctorum of the vayanad mothers home. Most temples in kerala are not really creations of kings or men who have glimpsed some little power in their life. These temples are generally sources of power where medicine men and tantrics have ‘seen’ power emanating unusually ‘more’ than the rest of the surroundings. So sometimes the temples are extensions from what used to be homes of the priest who lived close to these sources of power, sometimes they are in pristine natural habitat inside jungles, where there might be outpouring of spirit and such.
The vazyipad temple is almost on the banks of the huge lake, now a big temple; i can easily imagine how it might have been in the past; perhaps a humble shack which withheld such insane beautiful energy, there are thousands of ravens close by. The mother kali’s vehicles. They seemed to me as some sort of spirits, who have been close to her for a long time now. There were some 100 odd families of ravens where I was staying. They all used to start screaming their lungs as soon as night fall came about. Which was so strange to say the least, cause birds go to sleep by twilight, and these were completely different. All perched on tall coconut trees, and they immediately felt ‘my’ energy; for the very first night i spent in my accommodation over there was the loudest and strangest. They were up all night calling and screaming at some invisible force for all i could fathom (this was when I did not know that there was this temple close by); perhaps they were urging me to come and see the beauty that was Amman; located so near.
The next day I ventured and saw the beauty divine manifested in gold and metal. The goddess’ face emanates some sort of ethereal energy. She is maha-kali here; she is extremely ferocious and completely un-tamable. And yet; she exudes such motherly love; I cannot fathom even to describe it in words and human understanding. She holds a cup with divine knowledge in one hand, and in the other a divine all seeing cleaver. Which is used to cut one’s head from material attachments. What energy! What power! and I was on the floor in divine rhapsody; howling from within, at what I was at her feet. A miracle of existence and nothing else. A cell glowing from within; the fire emanating her grace~
I went there everyday from that day onwards for the period of a week which I was there( I was there due to some work; otherwise I might have permanently settled over there). The temple exudes power and simple serenity. Oh how can I describe this to the city folk; who believe clubs and busy shopping areas are centers of power and serenity!
Divine mother was magnanimous enough to arrange for my own mother to come and see the temple and meet me as well during the week, my mother had some work in trichur due to which she had to fly down during this time and we were fortunate enough to witness the power and love of Amman together, we both met only for a period for perhaps half and hour; which we spent in contemplation and content inside the temple premises. It was truly peaceful with eternal mother watching over eternal mother.
One of the evenings I went to the temple; and I was taking my usual self around the sanctum for a stroll; and as I completed my first round around; I saw on the stupa which is outside the temple- facing the mother; sat a very beautiful cute small white owl.
The owl was truly gorgeous. It was from another world. Yes it was! It had its eyes open wide; and was staring at me the whole time, and I felt blessed yet again! It was so beautiful to see the idol of mother goddess in front of the stupa inside the temple; and the owl sitting right near me outside, with its eyes wide open staring deep into the seat of my soul!
It really did feel exactly like that, I do not know how long I stood there (it was quite a while) and yet the owl was not threatened nor did it move away, its eyes ever present on me. It was somehow sizing me up; my person and my qualities. Perhaps it was seeing what all had to be removed or remodelled so that I could better serve my mother.
I loved the moments I spent with my magik mother; my magik totem; the animal more powerful than any other. The sacred magical white owl of varanad amman!
It is truly a special place to visit; south of the country especially kerala; where constant- increasing amounts of shakti worship is instigated from ages past unknown. For anyone who has ever felt the love of their mother to be somewhat therapeutic, or perhaps freeing. It is a sure shot bet that visiting any of the shakti-piths in god’s favourite country would enhance such feelings umpteen times more!
Wishing you peace and love unconditionally forever; across space time and dimensions.