The Path of Bhakty/the Mystical Marriage/the Mystical Bride

The Story of Meerabai

by Jyotsna Kamat
Page Last Updated: December 21,2007

Saint Mirabai (1547-1614 A.D.)

As the more famous (than Andal or Akkamadadevi) of the female saints of India, Bhakti Mira or Mirabai can be considered as one of the foremost mystics of the world. Worldly comforts never attracted these mystics. They have left beautiful songs and hymns to posterity which are sung to this day.

To Andal, Akkamahadevi and Mira, the soul was the eternal bride and the Lord their eternal Bridegroom the eternal Bridegroom . All the three excelled in the life of renunciation and divine realization. They lived in entirely different regions, wrote in their respective language in different age and Milieu, but became legends in their lifetime itself, by the austere life and single purpose of pursuit of God and finally divine attainment. This life is extremely difficult irrespective of gender to practice and attain salvation.



Mirabai was a princess of Rathod clan and belonged to Medath of Rajasthan. Rana Ratan Simh was her father. (Rana is the word for "Raja"). Even from childhood she exhibited spiritual traits. She was passionately attached to the idol of Giridhar Gopal, a form of Lord Krishna.

Refusal to Commit Sati and Marriage to Krishna
She was married to crown prince of Chittore. But shortly after, her husband Bhojraj and father-in-law Rana Sangh died. Mira refused to commit Sati, as was the practice among Rajputs. She was by conviction wedded to Giridhar Gopal, and death of "earthly" husband had no meaning to her. She spent all her time in praying, meditation, singing and dancing before her beloved idol, installed in the palace premises. The place started attracting many devotees, wandering saints and spiritual seekers. Mira found great solace in their company.

But this strange behavior was not acceptable to royal household and the ruling king, her brother-in-law. They thought of various modes of diverting her attention and save the glare of public. (Rajput women then and even now (year 2001) observe strict purdah) .Some songs of Mira reflect the agony and persecution she had to undergo. But her Giridhar Gopal always proved her savior.

"The Rana sent Mira a basketful of flowers with a snake inside. Mira absorbed in worship, put her hand into the basket to take flowers. Oh God! The snake had changed into a Saligrama! (Saligrama is a small round shaped black stone from the Gandaki river in Himalayas and is worshipped as a symbol of Vishnu).

Determined to kill Mira, the Rana sent a cup of poison. She prayed to Gopal and drank it. The poison turned into nectar. The Rana got a bed of sharp nails and Mira was made to lay down on it. But the nails turned to flowers. Mira was saved from all these dangers by none other than her Lord. Now intoxicated with immense love, she wanders all over in search of her Lord, dedicating herself to him entirely" she sang.

When many plots failed to kill Mira, it is said that Rana, the new king, cursed her "Why shouldn't this ignoble woman drown herself and die?"

Mira came to know about this wish and thought it would be a great relief to her royal relations if she put amend to life by jumping into the river. But in the nick of time divine voice addressed her. "It is a great sin to kill oneself... go to Brindavan."

So she undertook pilgrimage to Brindavan. It is considered sport field of Lord Krishna. Brindavan, a sacred place, was abode to several holy men. Jeeva Goswami had taken a vow never to see a woman--even her shadow! So, disciple of Goswami stopped her. "The Swamiji will not see any woman."

Mira laughed. "I though the only Man in Brindavan is Shri Krishan. now I see, there is a rival to him!"

In the Bhakti cult the love of the wife for her husband is said to be the best form of devotion. Hence all devotees in this world are women and God is the only man. In Brindavan the only man was supposed to be Krishna and other men and women were gopis, as gender distinction did not exist among real Bhaktas. If a devotee really felt as a gopi, he could never refuse to see another woman devotee. If anybody thinks himself a man it amounts to being a rival to god.

Mirabai's words stung Goswami and he at once understood the hidden meaning. He came out from cottage, bowed to the great lady and escorted to the hermitage.

From Brindavan she went to Dwaraka singing and praying. "I discovered the great secret in uttering the name and learnt it was quintessence of sastras. I reached my Giridhar through prayers and tears."

She gave many helpful suggestions to spiritual aspirants. "Oh my mind! You must do spiritual practice and worship.

"To love and live for Him" was the central theme of her songs. "Without pure love, the darling son of Nanda cannot be attained."

It is said that Mira got merged into the idol of Krishna in the temple of Ranchod at Dwaraka.

More than 400 songs ascribed to Mira known as Padas (lyrics) have been collected. She herself set tune to her songs and sang in soul-stirring divinely sweet voice. "Rag Govind" and "Rag Mira Malhar" are her creations. All her songs could be set to music easily and have become immensely popular throughout India, an indication to national solidarity established through Bhakti and through music.

Article Source : http://www.kamat.com/indica/faiths/bhakti/mirabai.htm

Initiations

Life is infinite and so is the spiritual journey. We are the All, so there is never a destination that is arrived at. I have been receiving mails from some of my readers, wondering why I am not writing. To those of you who do not know my unpredictable rhythms yet, I am always on the verge of moving into the 'cave'. Especially when I enter a very creative phase. Right now I am working on The Alchemical Journey of Everywoman - an exhibition that I am planning. I am also working on producing enough art for a very big artist market and another exhibition (which I have not even started on yet!) And to support me in this, my internet server crashed and my phone's battery died! And oh yes, my car also had a flat tyre! I am listening!

Over and above my creative life, my life as guide to a small group of students continue. As their journeys deepen, I spend a lot of time in energetic support, deep meditation and also facilitating initiations. You may also have noticed that my spiritual name has changed. And indeed, I myself, was initiated into another part of Tantra Yoga and blessed with the name of Bhaktymayi Ma, shortened to Bhakty Ma.

I will post some more detail about this path, the path of the Mystical Marriage. My devotion to this understanding has been very obvious in my writings and especially my poetry. More on this later.

Speak to you soon, blessings to you

A Meeting at the Well

Life Itself taught me that there is no separation between human and divine; that there is no separation between within and without, above and below.

It is only our minds and our belief systems (which we have been conditioned into over the ages) that make us believe otherwise. And our minds are incredibly powerful and we will see what we believe to be there. Thus, it can be very challenging and confusing at times, when this exact statement is used against you and you are taught that this also applies to the spiritual life and journey.

There is only one way to really Know and that is through personal direct experience. Until you experience directly, you will always follow the mind and its many theories and concepts. And even then, even after a direct experience, it still takes time and many changes to embody That which you have come to know. So all in all, it requires patience and commitment - every second of every day - and even your deepest Knowing will continually be challenged and opposed in order for you to expand and to embrace evolution of yourself.

Many other amazing incidents happened in Italy. All of those served to create my foundation in my own personal truth and from that trip onwards, life did change drastically. However, the challenges also became bigger and more subtle and the Trickster became much more devious!

I quickly learned that spirituality does not mean angels floating on clouds in heaven and nor does inner peace mean stagnant waters within. Being awake in your life is truly an awesome thing, in other words, something that inspires awe and therefore breaks down the status quo.

On my return I entered my sabbatical - my self-made entry into a life of contemplation. And then the depression assailed me. A deep dank darkness that I could not get rid of. I used a strict routine to help me cope with these unspoken and unspeakable feelings. My dreams were filled with visions and images, symbols and beings. I wrote these down and I journalled and painted the unfolding. I wrote poems and for each of my paintings, but it was as if everything conspired to drag me down into the depths of my own unconscious.

I started Jungian therapy and this led me to explore many other avenues, other than the alternative modalities and therapies. Eventually I found myself in the embrace of a small Roman Catholic community of healers - ex-nuns and ex-monks - who had embraced the alternative into their tradition. During this time I also experienced the old paralysis of my lower back and hip (more about this later). Also during this time, I experienced incredible dizziness and vertigo, even nausea at times and I became aware of an insistent sound in my ear. There was nothing wrong with my ear - I would at times sit and listen to the interesting sounds in my ear - they changed without warning and I noticed that when I meditated, I could focus on the sound to take me deeper into the vastness of the inner world.

All these physical and emotional changes and challenges are indeed part of the awakening and unfolding of the kundalini. And as I said previously, that which I knew about kundalini was not enough to explain this to me. Nor was I ever attracted to find out more about kundalini. At that stage I had not connected the dots yet!

Through the loving healing and support of this community, I started the practise of contemplation and meditation contained in the Cloud of Unknowing. The Book of Wisdom in the Catholic Bible became my mainstay: 'wisdom is brilliant, she never fades, by those who love her, she is readily seen, by those who seek her, she is readily found, She anticipates those who desire her by making herself known first, meditating on her is understanding in its perfect form, and anyone keeping awake for her will soon be free from care'.

I studied Sophian Theology and the many meanings of Mary. Raised as a Calvinist Protestant, this feminine approach, however slight as it is in the patriarchal religion, was like a breath of fresh air to me. I read every book ever written by Marion Woodman and the Jungian approach to individuation and the patriarchal just made so much sense to me. Very soon it became obvious to me that I suffered from the wound of the repressed feminine. You will see in my early writings, how strongly I felt about the patriarchal culture and the mechanisation of the feminine and how this has impacted and still continues to impact the lives of our souls.

During this time I was looking for something in an old storage cupboard and a calendar fell out. I perused through it and found an image and article on Vesta and Bridgid. I was mainly interested in the fire element and the beautiful images contained in the pages.

A few days later I was struck by an image on the counter of a book store. It was the front cover of a box of The Glastonbury Tarot. It had a striking painting on the box of the Tor and a structure on top. On the same day, I walked past another bookstore and a book in the window called me in. It was Glastonbury : Avalon of the Heart by Dion Fortune, which mainly called to me because of the cover of the book : a beautiful painting of the Tor and Tower seen through the walls of Glastonbury Abby. I bought the book, literally ran back to the first bookstore and bought the Glastonbury Tarot Deck as well.

And thus a magical part of my journey started. I discovered that the structure on top of the Tor (a man made mound) is the St Michael Tower. And I discovered that there are two images on either side of the arch of the Tower : one of St Michael and one of St Bridgid. Many other synchronicities followed and I felt called to travel to Glastonbury. During my last therapy session, the therapist said to me, 'may you in Glastonbury find the well that you are looking for'.

I will never forget my first sighting of the Tor - it took my breath away. The entire Tor had a very vivid but yet gentle pink aura. Great big balls of energy was clearly visible around Glastonbury and the energy radiated from the Tower. For the first few nights in Glastonbury I could not sleep at all and wheverever I walked in the landscape my mind was assailed with vivid memories. It also seemed as though the high energy in the area, kept the imprint of times past.

Glastonbury on its own is filled with wondrous tales and magic and it is a wonderful melting pot of all religions and traditions.

I spent hours and hours in the grounds of the old Abbey, lying on my back gazing at the incredible energy radiating from the Tor and Tower. In the town posters was up everywhere about a public performance that night forming part of the Goddess Conference. At this stage my knowledge of the goddess traditions was limited to myths and archetypes. I went to the musical performance and sat next to a very wise and experienced local dowser. He told me about the Michael and Mary leylines and this conversation made my hair stand on end.

The owner of the bed and breakfast at which we stayed was and still is a Priestess of the Lady of Avalon! So the bread crumbs was once again left for me all over the globe. Koko became my very good friend and was a co-presenter at the Goddess celebrations at my own Goddess Temple in 2008! (www.hertemple.co.za).

It was indeed exciting times for me - almost like reading a brand new book as a child, filled with magical characters and wondrous events that pop out at you! My one song to myself was, 'it is true, it is true'. That was the most eloquent way I could verbalise to myself the knowledge that my first and deepest knowing as a child, was indeed true, despite all that 'they', (the grown-ups I suppose) said. I never really stopped to analyse these thoughts; I treasured them to myself till they had seeded and became strong trees under which I could shelter.

Koko arranged a tour for myself of the local Michael and Mary sites as they appeared on the leylines in Glastonbury and Avebury.

Outside a tiny church dedicated to Mary I had my first truly numinous experience with Her. I stood outside the church, near the old well. The Mary leyline always followed the water and the wells and healers in ancient days lived on this line. Churches were later erected on these spots to harness the powerful energies. At this specific spot, the line flowed through two hillocks that looked exactly like two breasts, the breasts of Mary, according to the Avalon Temple priest that was our tour guide.

As I stood there, the wind, the hillocks and the light, all became one sound and one voice and one presence. It blew through me and I was the sound and the presence. Although I say 'voice' no words were spoken; it was more as though a knowing woke up in my brain which I afterwards interpreted as a voice. I knew this numinous experience to be the Presence of Mary, the divine Mother of All.

I felt very shaken after this experience and virtually out of my body. After this I lost interest in the rest of the tour including Stonehenge. I was no longer 'myself' and I just wanted to bask in this absolute feeling of infinity.

I had one day left in Glastonbury and I felt guided to a certain place in the ancient Abby. It was in a corner that I did not explore previously - I think there were too many people there at my previous visit and I preferred the lawns in the far off corners. And in this corner I found Mary's Well.

A meeting at the Well

Parched, dried out, desert

Stone on stone

Arid winds, white skeleton bones,

Skull bone,

bleached by the sun

Her body shrunk,

Skin pulled tight,

Stone,

bone,

crone

Waiting by the well

Like Mary of old

Emptied out

She stares down the dark pit

Of her

forgotten soul

Leaning forward, craning her neck

She smells the air

Hoping, yearning, longing

Water,

water

I need water

The cry sears through her heart

Burns her dry throat

The Siren Song of the Soul

Echoes and shakes

‘Pour Your eternal waters into me

Fill up my well

Oh my Lord

What have I done?

Hear my call

Echoing in my hollowed out bones’

She falls on her knees

Bone on stone

Waiting,

waiting,

To meet at the Well.

A Call to Prayer for Water by Dr Masaru Emoto

Please send your prayers of love

<http://emotopeaceproject.blogspot.com/>and gratitude to water at the nuclear plants in Fukushima, Japan!

By the massive earthquakes of Magnitude 9 and surreal massive tsunamis, more than 10,000 people are still missing, even now. It has been 16 days already since the disaster happened. What makes it worse is that water at the reactors of Fukushima Nuclear Plants started to leak, and it's cont aminating the ocean, air and water molecule of surrounding areas.

Human wisdom has not been able to do much to solve the problem, but we are only trying to cool down the anger of radioactive materials in the reactors by discharging water to them.

Is there really nothing else to do?

I think there is. During over twenty year research of hado measuring and water crystal photographic technology, I have been witnessing that water can turn positive when it receives pure vibration of human prayer no matter how far away it is.

Energy formula of Albert Einstein, E=MC2 really means that Energy = number of people and the square of people consciousness.

Now is the time to understand the true meaning. Let us all join the prayer

ceremony as fellow citizens of the planet earth. I would like to ask all

people, not just in Japan, but all around the world to please help us to find a way out the crisis of this planet!!

The prayer procedure is as follows.

*Name of ceremony:*

Let's send our thoughts of love and gratitude to all water in the nuclear plants in Fukushima.

*Day and Time:*

March 31st, 2011 (Thursday)

12:00 noon in each time zone

*Please say the following phrase:*

The water of Fukushima Nuclear Plant, we are sorry to make you suffer.

Please forgive us. We thank you, and we love you.

Please say it aloud or in your mind. Repeat it three times as you put your hands together in a prayer position.

Please offer your sincere prayer.

Thank you very much from my heart.

With love and gratitude,

Masaru Emoto

round-world.html>

Messenger of Water

http://www.youtube.com/user/WATERLOVEANDTHANKS=

VPHG0KLrA/U%406308631-iKYdgtGopMNYY>

Vesta

Vesta and the Vestal Virgins

Whilst in Rome, I went to the ancient city. I had one mission and that was to visit the temple of Vesta and her Vestal Virgins. In my seeking through the years I learnt that my name derived from Hestea (my grandmother's name). Hestea is the Greek counterpart of the Roman Vesta.

Two years before this trip, my daughter Claudia was born. She came nine years after her brothers and after so many things in my life had changed and she arrived in the wake of many new beginnings. After her birth one night, as I sat breastfeeding her in the soft light of the night, I had one of many visions of previous lives. Some were very clear, others were more impressions and feelings sensed.

In this vision I was buried alive. I know that many people have these kinds of memories or dreams or visions and that it was part of the history of mankind. After this vision some physical symptoms that I had been struggling with for a long time, disappeared!

When we arrived at the ancient city of Rome we discovered that we could not get to the temple of Vesta as major renovations were going on. I was determined though and paid a small fortune to enter the gardens above the renovations and climbed a very very steep hill. From there I could look down and see glimpses of the temple and the remainder of the statues. There was a row of statues of the priestesses ( all headless) and only the last one was still intact. However, her pedestal was defaced and the name scratched out. On my way down, I picked up a small leaflet about the temple of Vesta. Watch this video for more on the vestal virgins :

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yKgl3WrE5QI&feature=autoplay&list=QL&index=1&playnext=2

But what was an important clue for me in my adventure, was that one of the vestal virgins converted to christianity. She did this in secret, but was discovered. She was buried alive and her name was Claudia.

To me this is part of the Mystery. I do not believe nor disbelieve in the theory of reincarnation, past lives and karma. To my heart, it does not really matter. The puzzle never fits completely and nothing is as simple as a linear interpretation of cause and effect; neither are our experiences ever a direct product of what we do : we do not make things happen; they happen through us.

But more importantly, Archangel Michael and Vesta pointed me to the Tor in Glastonbury : with its Tower of Michael and two saints on either side of the arch, Saint Michael and Saint Brigid, the Irish counterpart of Vesta/Hestea.

blessings till next time

may Beauty accompany you

Beauty

Blessing as a way of life.

As I started to write this story, my mind, the taskmaster, started to make its usual noises. So I decided to take a breather and to listen. And so I did. I remembered the following.

That we are not separate. That the spaces between us are not 'empty', but filled with the blessings of who we are and who we are becoming. The eye has been trained to see our bodies as separate things, but at the same time our minds are very aware of the rich inner world, the experiences, the divine imagination and the passion that lives within. Never do these experiences 'belong' to one, but to all. Obviously we have our personal experiences seen through our personal lens. But in sharing our stories we evoke awareness and spiritual community. In sharing our stories, we remind one another that there is a world of between-ness (to use the word of John O'Donohue, the Irish poet) and that this is a blessing in itself.

Our stories are so complex, we can never write it all. Often, more is said by that which is left unsaid and the Mystery lives in the world of between-ness.

When we allow the cold, rigid intellect to own our stories, then the hidden will die. That which lives in the Otherworld and in Unseen, only exists when they are seen and heard by the Awareness of our Soul. And only through Soul can our potential lives be lived to its fullest extent and passion.

Thus the personal journey of individuation and remembering, becomes the thread and the cloth of blessings for all.

It is possible to live life as a blessing and it is also known as Love or Beauty. These are words that have become mere shadows of their true meaning; rather fancy than imagination, in the words of Kant.

Rumi says : Let the beauty we love be what we do / There are hundreds of ways to kneel and kiss the ground.

And my favourite poet and author John o'Donohue says : when we awaken to the call of beauty, we become aware of new ways of being in the world. We were created to be creators. At its deepest heart, creativity is meant to serve and to evoke beauty. Beauty is a free spirit and will not be trapped within the grid of intentionality. In the light of beauty, the strategies of the ego melt like a web against a candle. With swift, sheer grace, it is like a divine breath that blows the heart open.

And, so with an open heart I will continue with my story, sharing with you the deep footsteps that Beauty left on me, taking me into the Heart of Eros.

Miracles and other wondrous tales

Miracles and other wondrous tales

Before I embark on the next stage of the story, I would like to fill you in on some of the background leading up to this point in my life - this point where I realised that I am being asked to leave my father's house, metaphorically. I suppose some of it is my attempt to defend my resistance to what was to follow.

Such is the nature of our humanness. We become attached and invested in our lives and the way things are.

I was always known and I came to know myself as that, as the girl with the imagination and later in life, the over-sensitive girl. I have memories from very early in my life : from before I could walk. I can remember sitting on my mother's arm and feeling her fear and nervous tension. I can remember the exact detail of where we were standing, which way I was facing and what we were looking at. I can remember the texture of her clothing. I have checked all these details with her many times during the past years, always much to her amazement. I c an remember seeing a ghost for the first time. I was eighteen months old. I can remember speaking to my best friend who lived in the pink house behind us, much to my mother's chagrin, as there was no house, well, according to her. I can remember my frustration with her. This became a key element in my adult life - frustration.

I can remember speaking to the little people in the garden AND I remember clearly not to do so in front of my father who became very angry and impatient with all this nonsense.

But the most vivid memories, which sustained me through the tumultous years, were the ones of my Core. I do not have the words to describe this to you. Then I had no real separate sense of this knowing. I knew myself as an expanded 'being', an awareness and a knowing, which I in later life called Faith. From a very young age I regarded myself, Hettienne, as a character in a fairy tale and this Faith or Awareness used to 'oversee' her and her story, mainly through visions and dreams. When I felt particularly lost or overwhelmed, She would give me a dream or a vision of a fairy tale character which would soothe me, I suppose. It was not as though my intellectual mind grasped the significance of the archetype of the fairy tale, or the symbology. It was more a feeling of 'it's ok', this is the way it is and there is a divine unfolding. Also, a very real sense of detachment from the fairy tale and all these characters.

In my most of my visions and dreams, I was Snow White, usually in the coffin with the glass lid. I could see those outside of the coffin, but they could not hear me and they thought I was 'dead'. As I have said earlier, I felt like Alice living in Wonderland, never lost, but unseen and unknown to those living outside of Wonderland, and this feeling persisted through my entire life, until a few years ago, when everything became integrated.

I had one of my most powerful visions at 13. This vision became my North Star and through the years of seeking, I searched for a full understanding of its power and grace.

I was lying on my bed staring at the tiny little yellow flowers on the wallpaper next to me. I was lying on the bottom bunk. As I stared up, a scene formed. It was a dark night. I was outside. I was standing on a beach. I could hear the waves and smell the ocean. I could see the moonlight reflecting on the silver in the water. There was an enormous red full moon in the sky (a blood moon). I was one of a circle of women. They were all adults, I was the only young one.
We all wore black clothing with hooded capes. The wind tugged at our clothes. I felt a sense of excitement and also some awe. The moment felt heavy and laden with anticipation. There was an incredible presence amongst us.

One woman, clearly the leader of this group, was stirring an enormous black cauldron. Inside was a deep red liquid. She poured some of the liquid into a ceramic cup and held it up to the sky before passing it to the first woman. As the first woman drank the liquid, I could see her swallow, and I merged with her. I became her throat, her swallowing, but most of all, I became her memory. I merged with her life and her memories and her experiences became mine. In that moment, I became generations of women who walked this earth and I knew what they had known and what others after me will know. This process continued. Each woman ahead of me in the circle were given the chance to drink the red liquid. Until it was my turn. I was the last one in the circle.

She turned and looked at me. Her eyes are still burnt into my memory. She said ' and you : drink this poison and find the cure'. I can remember suddenly feeling afraid and laden with a sense of responsibility, almost a burden and an injunction, that I cannot escape. And NO idea what she meant.

And this vision became the wheel of my wagon as I set off into life looking for answers, wanting to know what did she mean? what is the poison she referred to and what is the cure? During my opening welcome at the Goddess Conference that I organised in 2009, I shared this vision with the audience, and indeed, She was the cure.

the miracle of the Presence of the Dove in my life /...