An astonishing energy, known as kundalini, is said to lay coiled at the base of the spine,
dormant, like a sleeping snake.
This serpent energy can be woken from its slumber by the practice of certain yoga postures,
breathing exercises, and mantras.
Aroused by these practices, kundalini surges upwards through an invisible network of nerves,
and pierces six lotus-like chakras, releasing waves of ecstasy.
When it reaches a magnificent, thousand petalled lotus at the crown of the head, kundalini
is said to merge into pure consciousness and endow the practitioner with enlightenment.
What is this extraordinary yogic practice and its so-called serpent energy?
And where did these esoteric teachings come from?
My name is Swami Tadatmananda.
From 1981 onwards, I studied under a traditional Indian guru, Swami Dayananda, who ordained
me as a Hindu monk.
I'd like to invite you to join me for this unique exploration of kundalini yoga.
We'll seek out the roots of this tradition and explore the intricacies of its practice.
We'll examine certain controversies and misconceptions.
And I'll share my own personal experience of practicing kundalini yoga.
For almost 30 years, I've taught the profound spiritual truths of Advaita Vedanta, the complexities
of Sanskrit language, and meditation.
Because meditation helped me so much, I developed a great love for leading others to discover
its benefits.
Over the years, I learned that that no single meditation technique is equally effective
for all meditators.
Every person is unique.
For this reason, I teach a wide variety of meditation techniques.
But somehow, I've never taught kundalini yoga.
Why?
There are two main reasons.
First of all, my guru strenuously warned us about a problem he called 'experience seeking.'
He said that conventional life is driven by the never-ending pursuit of new and better
experiences.
People love to watch new movies, dine at trendy restaurants, and travel to exotic places.
But experiences like these can never lead to perfect peace and contentment.
As a young man, Swami Dayananda observed the problem of experience seeking when he lived
in Rishikesh, a sacred town in the foothills of the Himalayas.
In the 1960's, he was sought out by American and European hippies, who had indulged in
sex, drugs, and rock and roll, and now, they wanted to experience meditation!
But, if meditation is just another experience to be enjoyed, then it's not so different
from sex, drugs, or anything else.
In this way, some practitioners of kundalini yoga might merely be seeking exciting new
experiences, instead of seeking spiritual growth.
It's easy to fall into the trap of experience seeking, especially when this yogic practice
seems to hold the promise of bliss and ecstasy.
The other reason I've avoided teaching kundalini yoga is that I'm completely turned off by
the way it's been distorted and misrepresented by contemporary Western yogis.
I'm tired of seeing dazzling, rainbow hued chakras and bodies emitting fountains of light
from every pore.
Images like these portray a practice that has virtually nothing in common with its ancient
origins.
Yet, people seem drawn to glitzy illustrations and trendy new-age beliefs.
On the other hand, kundalini yoga is an authentic spiritual tradition whose roots go back at
least two thousand years.
In ancient India, the holy sages, known as rishis, sought enlightenment by exploring
within their bodies and minds to discover the supreme divinity hidden deep inside.
Their remarkable insights and the special techniques they devised were recorded in Sanskrit
scriptures called upanishads.
A total of 108 upanishads are included in the Vedas, the main scriptures for all Hindu
religious and spiritual practices.
Twenty of those upanishads are dedicated to the theory and practice of kundalini yoga.
Those yoga upanishads are the ultimate source for the entire body of teachings on kundalini
yoga.
The separate tradition of Advaita Vedanta, which I follow, is based on twelve other upanishads,
which are focused on gaining spiritual knowledge rather than yogic practice.
All 108 upanishads contain the sacred revelations of the rishis, so it seems hypocritical for
me to study only the twelve vedantic upanishads, and to ignore the twenty yoga upanishads,
as I have for decades.
I had to admit the narrowness of my studies, and this led me to begin a research project,
a project that developed into the film you're watching now.
This project has two parts.
First, to thoroughly explore the teachings of kundalini yoga, relying exclusively on
the 20 yoga upanishads, and studying them in the original Sanskrit, along with their
Sanskrit commentaries.
By setting aside all yogic teachings that evolved later, I can focus on what the rishis
themselves taught.
The second part of the project is to personally undertake the practice of kundalini yoga,
exactly as the rishis conceived it.
When I began this venture, I wondered, what will I discover?
Will I hear celestial sounds and see inner visions like some practitioners?
More importantly, I wondered if my inquiry would confirm or contradict the teachings
of Advaita Vedanta I've followed for so long.
Right now, I don't know what the outcome of this experiment will be, but, that's the whole
idea of an experiment, isn't it?
This is the book I've been studying in preparation for this project.
It contains all 20 yoga upanishads and their commentaries.
It will serve as a travel guide for the path we're about to explore.
I haven't started my formal practice of kundalini yoga yet, but when I do, I'll share those
experiences with you.
Kundalini yoga became well-known in the West largely as the result of a 1967 book in which
Gopi Krishna described his amazing experiences of kundalini.
Gopi Krishna was a government employee from North India whose intense meditation had awakened
his dormant kundalini with astonishing and sometimes harrowing results.
His book reached the shores of America just at the time when the hippies had taken great
interest, both in Hindu mysticism and in psychedelic experiences from hallucinogenic drugs like
LSD.
Gopi Krishna's mind-bending encounters with kundalini seemed to resemble the LSD experiences
of the hippies, and this perhaps, attracted them to kundalini yoga.
As a rebellious teenager, I also experimented with LSD way back then, but I didn't read
Gopi Krishna's book until years later.
When spiritual teachings leave the lands of their origin and are retold in different cultures
and in different languages, they're subject to being revised or altered in various ways.
Some changes are necessary, like the translation of Sanskrit scriptures into English.
But other changes can muddle or distort the meaning of the original texts.
And, all too often, spiritual teachings become totally corrupted when they're misinterpreted
by people whose perspectives are utterly foreign to the originals.
For example, a famous book on the seven chakras written by C.W. Leadbeater was filled with
Western occultism and doctrines of the Theosophical Society of which Leadbeater was member.
Carl Jung, the famous psychoanalyst, gave a seminar on kundalini yoga as a method for
individuation, which is a special therapeutic process he devised.
More recently, Yogi Bhajan brought his highly personalized version of kundalini yoga from
India to the United States, replacing its traditional Sanskrit mantras with others from
his own Sikh religion.
Swami Muktananda also introduced kundalini yoga to Westerners, teaching a version extensively
adapted by the Kashmiri Shaiva tradition to which he belonged.
Now, I don't mean to imply that all these derivative teachings are useless.
Many spiritual seekers have benefitted from them.
I myself meditated with disciples of Swami Muktananda as a young man.
But, these modern spin-offs are not at all in alignment with what the ancient rishis
taught, and as a result, something of great value has been lost.
As kundalini yoga became more and more integrated into Western culture, it began to lose its
original identity, and eventually, it was totally reshaped through the process of cultural
appropriation.
When a native American war bonnet is donned by a famous model, or when bindis, which are
sacred to Hindus, are worn by a popular singer, these cultural forms are appropriated and
adapted, without due respect for their time-honored traditions.
The original meanings of these cultural forms are stripped away, and replaced by current
fashions.
Kundalini yoga has also fallen prey to cultural appropriation.
Westernized versions of the chakras present them in hues of the rainbow instead of their
traditional colors, and associate them with emotions, which the rishis never intended.
Chakras even get mixed up with other cultures, like this Greek symbol and this ancient Egyptian
figure.
The New Age movement has commodified the chakras, using them to advertise crystals, colorful
stones, scented oils, and self-improvement seminars.
On a more serious note, a very damaging adaptation of kundalini yoga has arisen due to the problem
of experience seeking we discussed before.
There's an interesting story about this.
Years ago, my guru asked me to drive him to an ashram in New York State to meet an elderly
swami who taught kundalini yoga.
We were invited into a large room where the guru and his students sat in meditation.
After several minutes of perfect silence, one of the meditators suddenly shrieked, and
her body jerked violently.
Swami Dayananda was so startled, he almost fell out of his chair.
Over the next half hour, several other meditators had similar reactions.
After our visit, I asked Swami Dayananda about this.
He said, these students were taught that whenever a chakra is pierced, kundalini will produce
spontaneous vocalizations and body movements.
This isn't taught in the yoga upanishads.
But when students are led to believe that occasional shrieks and jerks are sure signs
of progress, a suggestion is planted in their minds that can trigger reactions later.
Psychologists say that suggestions like these work in the same way as placebos.
A patient's trust in a doctor enables a placebo to actually produce desirable effects.
Similarly, student's trust in a guru enables meditation to produce reactions like those
we observed.
Swami Dayananda was highly critical of the way kundalini yoga is usually taught, and
he put the blame on the problem of experience seeking.
He said, many modern gurus put far too much emphasis on gaining spiritual experiences,
and not enough emphasis on gaining spiritual wisdom.
All experiences are temporary, including experiences of kundalini.
After a powerful spiritual experience comes and goes, you might remain utterly unchanged,
unless you actually learn something from that experience.
That's exactly what happened to me when I experimented with LSD as a reckless teenager.
I had transcendent experiences and a sense of complete oneness with the cosmos.
But after the drug wore off, I found myself no wiser than before.
I failed to learn anything from those experiences.
For this reason, the ultimate goal of spiritual practice is not to produce short-lived experiences,
but rather, to reveal the true divine nature of the consciousness within us.
According to the ancient rishis, our true nature is divine -- it is eternal, limitless,
and untouched by worldly affliction.
If that's so, why are we still subject to suffering?
The problem is -- the inner divinity is covered by a veil of ignorance that obscures it and
prevents us from recognizing its nature.
The goal of spiritual practice, then, is to remove that ignorance and discover the innate,
ever-present divinity within.
Look at this passage from the Yoga Tattva Upanishad: Suffering is due to ignorance.
Spiritual knowledge frees you from suffering.
And that knowledge is to discover the true, divine nature of your own consciousness.
Enlightenment is the personal discovery of your innate divinity.
This discovery takes place when the veil of ignorance is removed.
And removing that ignorance requires spiritual knowledge, because knowledge alone destroys
ignorance.
But then, where does kundalini yoga come into the picture?
If enlightenment is gained through spiritual knowledge, then what's the point of raising
your kundalini and piercing your chakras?
To answer this, we have to discern two distinct factors that are required to accomplish anything,
factors the rishis called primary cause and secondary cause.
If you want to make rotis for lunch from flour and water, the primary cause is fire, since
a fire's heat can bake bread.
A stove and pan are also needed, but they don't produce heat, so they're considered
secondary causes.
For any goal, primary and secondary causes are both necessary; without a fire, stove,
or pan, you won't have any rotis to eat.
This demonstrates an important point: Spiritual knowledge is the primary cause for enlightenment,
because it can remove the veil of ignorance and reveal the divinity within.
But yoga is the secondary cause.
So,without yoga, enlightenment is impossible.
Both spiritual knowledge and yoga are required, as the Yoga Tattva Upanishad says: Without
yogic practice, how can spiritual knowledge free you from suffering?
Without spiritual knowledge, how can yogic practice free you from suffering?
Both are required for liberation.
Many kinds of yogic practices can help you gain enlightenment, including karma yoga - selfless
service, raja yoga - meditation, bhakti yoga - devotion, hatha yoga - postures and breathing
exercises, and of course, kundalini yoga.
Another important yogic practice, closely related to kundalini yoga, is pilgrimage,
traveling to a sacred place.
The goal of pilgrimage is to be blessed by the deity residing in a sacred place, usually
inside a special temple.
Yet, the rishis taught that the divinity residing in each temple also resides in you, inside
your own body.
And they envisioned sacred places in the body to be visited through an inner pilgrimage.
This inner pilgrimage is a meditation practice in which you deliberately imagine particular
deities and sacred places within your body.
The Darshana Upanishad says, The Himalayas are at the top of your head.
Lord Shiva dwells on your forehead.
The sacred city of Varanasi is between your eyebrows.
Kurukshetra, where the Mahabharata war was fought, is in your chest.
Prayaga, where sacred Ganga and Yamuna rivers meet, is in your heart.
The practice of kundalini yoga is a kind of inner pilgrimage.
It begins at the muladhara chakra at the base of your spine, and concludes at the sahasrara
chakra at the crown of your head.
During this pilgrimage, you are to meditate on the deity residing in each chakra and receive
the blessings needed for your onwards journey.
Long before modern medical science, the rishis mapped out the life-force in our bodies using
their powers of intuition.
Their pre-scientific model called this life-force, prana, and identified five kinds: prana, in
the heart, apana, in the trunk of the body, vyana, pervading the body, udana, in the throat,
and samana, in the stomach.
These five pranas circulate throughout the body following specific routes called nadis.
Nadi is often translated as nerve, but it's not a physical tube or conduit.
The nadis and pranas are not material in nature; they're subtle, non- tangible.
Your brain is tangible; it weighs about two pounds.
But your mind is not tangible; it has no size or weight.
In the same way, the nadis and pranas are non-tangible, subtle, unlike the nerves and
blood vessels in your body.
There are three main nadis, the sushumna which rises inside your spine from its base to the
crown of the head, the ida, which terminates at your left nostril, and the pingala, which
terminates at your right nostril.
There are many other nadis in your body.
They're said to number 72,000 altogether.
The sushumna nadi links together all 7 chakras.
Chakra means wheel, but they're usually described as lotus flowers.
According to the Yoga Cudamani Upanishad, The muladhara chakra at the base of the spine
has four petals.
The svadhishtana chakra above it has six petals.
The manipura chakra at the navel has ten petals.
The anahata chakra at the heart has twelve petals.
The vishuddha chakra at the throat has 16 petals.
The ajna chakra between the eyebrows has two petals.
And the sahasrara chakra at the crown of the head has 1000 petals.
Since the chakras are like flowers, they're actually turned upwards, not outwards.
Lotus flowers symbolize purity.
Even though they're rooted in the slimy, stinking muck at the bottom of a pond, their pristine
beauty remains untainted.
And even though chakras are located inside an impure human vessel, their sanctity remains
untainted.
Before we examine the seven chakras in detail, there's an important question we have to consider.
Do chakras and nadis actually exist inside our bodies, or are they just concepts envisioned
by the rishis long ago?
When addressing this question, many scholars and practitioners fall into the trap of treating
nadis and chakras identically: either both are real, or both are imagined.
But, this assumption turns out to be incorrect.
First of all, nadis belong to a pre-scientific model of
the human nervous system, but the seven chakras are not part of that model, because chakras
are not involved in channeling prana throughout the body.
Nadis direct the flow of prana, not chakras, which serve a very different purpose.
To understand how chakras are different, consider this: Nadis are widely referred to in all
108 upanishads, but chakras are mentioned mostly in the 20 yoga upanishads.
This shows that that chakras have a more specialized role than nadis, a role specific to the practice
of kundalini yoga.
What is that role?
Chakras are richly symbolic forms that have been envisioned by the rishis and deliberately
superimposed on the body for the sake of meditation, like the deities and sacred places in the
body imagined during the practice of inner pilgrimage.
Deliberate superimposition, of this sort, is widely used, like when we superimpose the
God of the cosmos on statues standing barely three feet tall, or when we superimpose monetary
value on little bits of paper.
Such symbolism is powerful and useful, as it is in kundalini yoga, when chakras and
their associated deities are deliberately superimposed at locations along the spine
to serve as focal points for meditation.
Now we can see the difference between nadis and chakras.
Nadis are part of a model for the human nervous system, which obviously exists.
Chakras, on the other hand, are deliberately superimposed on the body, and are to be visualized
during meditation.
To explain this difference, scholars say we have to differentiate between
descriptive statements and prescriptive statements.
Descriptive statements describe the nature of existent things, whereas prescriptive statements
prescribe or specify what we should or shouldn't do.
When we interpret scriptures, it's crucial to correctly determine which statements are
descriptive and which are prescriptive.
But, it's not always obvious.
One upanishad says, The human body is a leather sack filled with stinking pus, urine, and
feces.
This is not a descriptive statement because its intent is not to give a factual description
of the body.
This is a prescriptive statement because its aim is to prescribe detachment towards our
bodies and those of our loved ones.
When the rishis portrayed the seven chakras, their intent was not to describe objects that
actually exist in the body.
Rather, they prescribed a practice in which chakras, deliberately superimposed on the
body, were to be visualized for the sake of meditation.
Of course, not everyone agrees with this.
Many modern practitioners believe that chakras truly exist inside their bodies.
Fortunately, this belief is extremely helpful in the practice of kundalini yoga.
To believe in the divinity of a three-foot tall statue on an altar helps people pray.
To believe that these little bits of paper are valuable helps us buy things.
And to believe that chakras truly exist inside the body helps practitioners meditate.
All these beliefs are helpful.
The value of a belief is not in its veracity, but in its ability to help us.
Beliefs are not right or wrong; they are helpful or harmful.
And to believe in the existence of chakras is an exceedingly helpful belief, one that
need not be challenged or dismissed.
The word kundalini means coiled and shakti means power or energy.
The rishis prescribed visualizing kundalini shakti as a powerful serpent coiled up at
the base of the spine.
Why a serpent?
Because they're powerful: without arms or legs, they move swiftly and strike fiercely.
And, snakes are deeply revered in Hindu culture.
After shedding their skin, they're figuratively reborn, and therefore associated with the
rebirth of human souls.
Serpents also play important roles in many popular mythological stories.
Kundalini shakti is best understood in its philosophical context.
The creation of the universe is said to result from the union of Shiva, the masculine principle,
and Shakti, the feminine principle.
Here, Shiva and Shakti are not the four-armed deities familiar to Hindus.
Shiva is the fabric of reality that gives existence to everything, like clay gives existence
to pots and bowls.
Because clay is inert, a separate creative force is needed to transform it into various
objects.
Similarly, Shiva lacks the creative force needed to produce the universe.
Only when Shiva is accompanied by Shakti's infinite creative power can the universe arise.
Shakti infuses everything in the cosmos with energy, including every atom in your body.
In this way, Shakti is present within you, and it is this inner presence that is called
kundalini shakti.
If kundalini shakti is dormant, sleeping at the base of your spine, then, how is it to
be awakened?
The Yoga Kundali Upanishad says: The sleeping kundalini is awakened by agitating it, like
hitting a snake with a stick.
It then stands erect and enters the sushumna nadi, like a snake entering its burrow.
To awaken kundalini shakti, the yoga upanishads prescribe a variety of asanas, pranayamas,
and muscle contractions known as bandhas.
It's interesting that a method known as shaktipaat is not discussed anywhere in the upanishads.
Shaktipaat is a special blessing from a guru - like a mantra, or even a mere touch or glance
- that is said to immediately awaken your kundalini.
The use of shaktipaat is widely accepted by modern teachers, even though the rishis never
mentioned it.
Once kundalini shakti has been awakened and starts its ascent, some practitioners, like
Gopi Krishna, report having amazing experiences -- mystical visions, celestial sounds, ecstasy.
But, if the chakras and kundalini serpent were deliberately superimposed by the rishis,
and don't truly exist, then how could these experiences arise?
For practitioners who strongly believe that the chakras and kundalini serpent actually
exist inside their bodies, the mind's marvelous power of suggestion is certainly capable of
producing such experiences.
The practice of kundalini yoga reaches its climax when kundalini finally ascends to the
sahasrara chakra.
The Yoga Kundali Upanishad says: Having pierced the six chakras, kundalini shakti merges with
Shiva at the thousand-petaled lotus at the crown of the head.
That is the supreme state.
That is the cause for liberation.
This verse is easily misinterpreted, unless we bear in mind our earlier discussions.
Some contend that kundalini yoga is a self-sufficient means for liberation or enlightenment.
But, all forms of yoga, including kundalini yoga, are secondary causes for enlightenment.
To get enlightened through kundalini yoga alone is like making rotis with a pan and
stove, but no fire.
The primary cause for enlightenment is spiritual knowledge, which removes the veil of ignorance
and reveals your true nature.
Kundalini yoga helps you gain that knowledge by leading you to a state of meditative absorption
known as samadhi.
Samadhi is the goal of many meditation techniques, and for good reason.
In that state of absorption, all distracting mental activities are removed, and all that
remains is you, your true nature, stripped of everything that's not you.
After emerging from samadhi, you have an opportunity to grasp a life-changing lesson from that
unique experience -- that your true nature is pure consciousness, utterly independent
of your body, mind, and the world around you.
In this way, the state of samadhi produced by kundalini yoga can be a gateway to enlightenment,
as the the Trishikhi Brahmana Upanishad says: A yogi whose mind is absorbed gains liberation
as effortlessly as a fruit already in the palm of his hand.
We've just completed a rather complex inquiry.
Next, we'll focus on the actual practice of kundalini yoga.
So far, we've been studying the guidebook for the inner pilgrimage mapped out by the
rishis.
Now, it's time for us to begin the actual journey, and follow in their footsteps by
practicing kundalini yoga as they themselves conceived it.
This is where I meditate every day.
I usually start with prayer and devotional meditation, which help balance the lofty Vedantic
meditations I practice next.
Starting tomorrow, I'm going to set aside this routine and focus exclusively on the
practice of kundalini yoga.
You can join me in this practice by using the teachings that follow as a guide.
I'm eager to begin this new adventure.
But when I reflect on my guru's negative comments about kundalini yoga, I feel a bit uneasy.
If he were still alive, I might not have undertaken this project.
Our inner pilgrimage begins with the muladhara chakra at the base of the spine.
Mula means root, and this chakra is the root or starting place for this practice.
Each of the lowest five chakras represent one of the five elements known in ancient
times - earth, water, fire, air, and space - from the most gross, earth, to the most
subtle, space.
Inside the muladhara chakra, the element earth is represented by a yellow square.
It's interesting that the yoga upanishads specify colors for each of the five elements,
but they say nothing about the color of each chakra.
The colors used here are based on later scriptural traditions.
You'll often see Sanskrit letters adorning the petals of each chakra, but these letters
aren't mentioned in the yoga upanishads; they were a later addition.
The yoga upanishads do specify mantras, not for the chakras, but for each of the five
elements.
Lam is the mantra for the element earth.
Chakras are often depicted with these mantras drawn inside, but mantras are for recitation,
not for visualization.
Each chakra is the abode of a particular deity to be meditated upon during one's inner pilgrimage.
For the muladhara chakra, the deity is Brahma, God in its aspect as creator of the universe.
So, the muladhara or root chakra is associated both with the element earth, the root of all
matter, and with Brahma, the root of existence itself.
In meditation, Brahma is to be visualized according to the scriptures: seated on a lotus,
with four arms and four heads.
I've just finished my first meditation.
For many years, I focused my attention between my eyebrows, so it wasn't difficult to concentrate
on the base of the spine instead.
With my attention fixed there, I visualized the muladhara chakra while reciting the earth
mantra, lam.
I reflected on how the element earth is the basis for my physical existence, for every
atom in my body.
Then, I imagined Brahma residing in the chakra, and I settled into a deeply prayerful mood,
feeling God's divine presence within me.
The ability to become deeply absorbed in devotion is one of the many benefits of regular meditation.
I find this prayerful state very nurturing and healing.
In that state, I sought Brahma's blessings for success on the journey that's just begun.
In order to proceed, we have to consult the Yoga Chudamani Upanishad which says, Within
the muladhara chakra is a yoni, and within that yoni is a great linga.
The words yoni and linga often denote the female and male sex organs, but here, yoni
means kundalini shakti, the feminine principle we discussed before, and the word linga signifies
Shiva as pure consciousness, the masculine principle.
In the muladhara chakra, kundalini shakti is depicted as a powerful serpent.... and
Shiva is depicted as a rounded linga encircled by that serpent.
Intimate contact between the serpent and linga is said to generate heat or fire.
According to the rishis, certain yogic practices can kindle that fire until it becomes hot
enough to wake up the dormant kundalini serpent and drive it out of the muladhara chakra,
upwards, into the sushumna nadi which emerges from the top.
To kindle the fire in the muladhara chakra, the yoga upanishads prescribe several asanas,
pranayamas, and bandhas.
One, is mula-bandha which entails contracting the muscles at the anus.
Another, is a type of pranayama known as bhastrika, which involves rapid, forceful exhalations,
together with pulsations of the abdomen muscles..
These techniques are said to force prana into the muladhara chakra, fanning the flames,
so to speak, to produce enough heat to force the kundalini upwards.
In tomorrow's meditation, I'll try these techniques.
While meditating today, I visualized a roaring fire inside the muladhara chakra as I practiced
mula-bandha.
After each inhalation, I briefly retained my breath and contracted the sphincter muscles.
After a while, those muscles got tired, so I switched to bhastrika pranayama.
It's often called bellows breath, because of its vigorous exhalations.
Bellows are used to force air into a fire to raise its temperature.
Bhastrika pranayama certainly raised my temperature; it's very energizing.
With each exhalation, I also pulsed my abdomen muscles, which shook the organs inside the
trunk of my body, where the muladhara chakra is located.
This shaking is said to help wake up the serpent sleeping there.
Have you ever noticed how sensations like itches, hunger and thirst become stronger
when you focus your attention on them?
That's due to the power of suggestion, which can actually be used as an valuable tool for
meditation.
Long ago, I found that by concentrating my attention anywhere in my body, like between
my eyebrows, I could produce various sensations there.
Today, as I visualized a fire blazing away in the muladhara chakra, I began to feel a
sense of warmth at the base of my spine.
This physical sensation arose due to the combined effects of mula-bandha, bhastrika pranayama,
and the power of suggestion.
Since kundalini yoga is based on chakras that have been deliberately superimposed, the power
of suggestion is crucial for its effectiveness.
Skillful meditators intentionally wield this power in their practice.
For those meditators who believe that chakras truly exist inside their bodies, the power
of suggestion works unconsciously, and, it's actually strengthened by their beliefs, making
their practice more effective than for someone like me who doesn't share their beliefs.
Such is the nature of the power of suggestion.
Each day I practice, the sense of warmth at the base of my spine seems to grow more intense.
So today, I shifted the point of my concentration upwards, away from the muladhara chakra and
towards the svadhisthana chakra above it.
Not surprisingly, the sense of warmth at the base of my spine also moved upwards.
Could this modest experience be the initial ascent of kundalini shakti?
Shouldn't it be something more dramatic?
Some practitioners report having intense, and even tumultuous experiences when kundalini
begins its ascent.
But every practitioner is different.
Besides, what rises from chakra to chakra is energy, like heat, not a snake.
The snake is a deliberate superimposition of the rishis who prescribed that meditators
should shift their point of concentration upwards, from one chakra to the next.
Yet, for many practitioners, kundalini seems to begin its ascent spontaneously, and continue
to rise without any deliberate effort whatsoever.
All such experiences could certainly be brought about by the mind's power of suggestion.
Today, I began to meditate on the svadhisthana chakra.
Since my kundalini has apparently begun its ascent, there's no need to kindle the fire
in the muladhara chakra anymore, so I stopped practicing mulabandha and bhastrika pranayama.
Instead, I visualized the svadhisthana chakra, also known as the sacral chakra.
Svadhisthana means the seat of existence, and this chakra is fittingly located at your
seat, the sacrum.
It has six petals and is associated with the element water, which is represented by a white
crescent moon.
Vam is the mantra for the element water.
The deity abiding in this chakra is Vishnu, God in its aspect as sustainer of the universe.
Just as the element water sustains life, Vishnu sustains the world.
Vishnu is generally depicted with blue skin and four arms.
I visualized the svadhisthana chakra while reciting the water mantra, vam, and reflecting
on how water sustains my life.
Then, I imagined Vishnu residing in the chakra, and once again, I settled into a deeply prayerful
mood.
Today, after visualizing the svadhisthana chakra as I did yesterday, I became aware
of the sense of warmth at my sacrum.
The sensation grew stronger when I focused on it more intensely.
And when I shifted my attention upwards, towards the manipuura chakra, the sense of warmth
also climbed upwards.
I'm a bit surprised to progress from chakra to chakra so quickly, but it's likely that
all my prior meditation practice has helped me a lot.
For the past two days, I've been meditating on the manipura chakra.
Manipura means abode of gems.
It's also called nabhi chakra, because it's located behind the nabhi or navel.
It not accurate to call it solar plexus chakra, because that plexus is located well above
the navel.
The manipura chakra has ten petals and is associated with the element fire, which is
represented by a red triangle.
Ram is the mantra for the element fire.
The deity abiding in this chakra is Rudra, a fierce aspect of Shiva, usually depicted
as a warrior or hunter.
In meditation, I visualized the manipura chakra and recited the fire mantra, ram.
When I reflected on the element fire, it became obvious how the expression, fire in the gut,
made its way into the English language.
This region seems to be associated with power, will, and assertiveness.
I could sense these qualities with my attention focused there.
It's no surprise that a powerful deity like Rudra abides in the manipura chakra.
For me, meditating on Rudra is like watching a violent thunderstorm that evokes great awe
and respect, mixed with a little bit of fear.
In today's meditation, after visualizing the manipura chakra, I focused on the sense of
warmth behind my navel.
As before, the more I observed it, the stronger it grew.
Then, I shifted my attention upwards, to the center of my chest where the anahata chakra
is located.
The sense of warmth rose from the navel and gradually expanded, filling my chest.
For three days now, I've been meditating on the anahata chakra, the so-called heart chakra,
located along the spine at chest level.
Anahata means that which cannot be struck, injured or killed, referring to one's soul.
This chakra has twelve petals and is associated with the element air, aptly so, being near
the lungs.
The element air is represented by a smoky, six-pointed figure.
Yam is the mantra for the element air.
The deity abiding in the anahata chakra is a beneficent form of Shiva, depicted as looking
in all directions simultaneously, to bless everyone.
Shiva is often called god of destruction, but it might be more accurate to call him,
god of transformation, purification, and growth, since all these depend on the destruction
of a prior condition, so a new and better state can arise.
When I visualized the anahata chakra, my attention was drawn to the air passing into and out
of my lungs.
Air is constantly in motion, and it's this movement of air that fills us with life.
When I meditated on Shiva, I felt deeply grateful for the gift of life we receive with each
and every breath.
In today's meditation I focused on the sense of warmth that filled my chest.
Once again, it grew stronger and rose when I shifted my attention upwards, to my throat,
where the vishuddha chakra is located.
I've completed two more meditations, focusing on the vishuddha chakra, located at the throat.
Vishuddha means pure, untainted.
This chakra has sixteen petals and is associated with the element space, which is represented
by a transparent circle.
Ham is the mantra for this element.
The deity abiding in the vishuddha chakra is the bi-gendered form of Shiva, whose right
side is male and left side is female.
This form of Shiva reminds us that none of us are exclusively male or female; nature
is exuberant in its diversity and avoids such absolute divisions.
Meditating on this form helped me accept feminine qualities which are as much a part of me as
the masculine ones.
In today's meditation, I observed the sense of warmth in my throat, and as before, it
moved upwards when I shifted my attention to the ajna chakra, between my eyebrows.
Ajna means a command or order, which shows this chakra's association with the mind, our
so-called command center.
Even though the ajna chakra is located between the eyebrows, to call it third eye
chakra is problematic, since the yoga upanishads make no references to a third eye.
The ajna chakra is completely different from the others.
It's not associated with a particular deity or any of the five elements.
And since it's not associated with an element, it has no mantra, although later traditions
associate it with the mantra, om.
The ajna chakra stands at the threshold between the five elemental chakras in the body below
and the transcendent sahasrara chakra above.
From muladhara upwards, each chakra has an increasing number of petals, but the ajna
has only two.
The yoga upanishads are curiously silent about symbolic meanings for these petals.
In fact, the rishis provide surprisingly few details about any of chakras.
Many of the details and the elaborate symbolism that exists today was established by later
generations of yogis, and compiled into Sanskrit texts, like the famous sixteenth century work,
Exposition of the Six Chakras.
The rishis seem to have deliberately left many details up to the imagination of practitioners,
and this suggests that the rishis' creative use of deliberate superimposition could legitimately
be used by later practitioners as well.
Based on this, modern adaptations, like rainbow-hued chakras, could certainly be considered acceptable,
so I have to reconsider my earlier condemnation of what I called, distortions and misrepresentations
of contemporary Western yogis.
If a particular adaptation is truly helpful for practitioners, then it need not be criticized.
But we can't be naive; not all adaptations are helpful.
Some might even be detrimental, like modifications introduced by unqualified teachers or by gurus
with ulterior motives like those who charge a fee for shaktipaat.
Ok.
Let's return to the ajna chakra.
Even though the rishis don't specify a deity for this chakra, they do prescribe visualizing
a linga of light, by which they mean a form of Shiva as pure consciousness within the
ajna chakra.
I'm back on familiar ground now, because meditating on pure consciousness is central to advaita
Vedanta.
But there's a misnomer here - you can't actually meditate on consciousness because as the meditator,
you are that very consciousness.
You can only meditate on objects in your mind which are illumined by the light of consciousness.
So, in Vedanta, to meditate on consciousness means to meditate on the meditator, that is,
to reflect on your own essential nature as pure consciousness.
Today, while visualizing the ajna chakra between my eyebrows, I reflected on how my mental
image of a two-petaled lotus can be observed by me because it's illumined by consciousness,
the same pure consciousness which is my true nature.
That consciousness is utterly independent of the mind, body, and world; it transcends
them all.
Having reached this lofty perspective, I think I'm ready for the final stage of practice,
when kundalini shakti ascends to the sahasrara chakra.
Sahasra means one thousand, which is the number of petals in the sahasrara chakra at the crown
of the head.
The rishis give no further details about this chakra.
In fact, in many texts, the sahasrara is not considered a chakra at all.
It lies beyond the chakras, outside the body; it's usually depicted on the outer surface
of the head, not within it.
In Hindu scripture, the number one thousand stands for infinity, suggesting that the sahasrara
chakra is infinite in height and breadth, infinite in brilliance, infinite in splendor.
When kundalini shakti finally reaches this limitless expanse, it's amazing journey is
complete.
According to the rishis, after ascending to the sahasrara chakra, kundalini shakti merges
into pure consciousness and loses its individuality altogether.
But, the rishis say little about the meaning and symbolism of this climactic event, because
its significance is best understood through meditation itself, not through words.
I began today's meditation by visualizing the ajna chakra and focusing on the sense
of warmth between my eyebrows.
I allowed that sensation to grow stronger, and then shifted my attention upwards, towards
the top of my head.
As before, the sense of warmth moved upwards, but while rising, it changed into a brilliant
light that seemed to fill my head and body, and radiate beyond as well.
Then, almost immediately, that light faded and my mind became profoundly silent.
I fell into a state of absorption, samadhi, just like I had many times before using other
techniques.
Samadhi is somewhat like being blissfully immersed in deep sleep, except that you remain
fully awake.
When you wake up from sleep, you know you slept; when you emerge from samadhi, you know
you were absorbed.
Anyone who experiences samadhi for the first time will find it a great achievement.
And anyone who discovers their true nature to be pure consciousness, utterly independent
of the mind, body, and world, will find this recognition to be absolutely life changing.
Without doubt, many practitioners of kundalini yoga have reached these great heights and
were blessed by their efforts.
But my prior practice has already blessed me in these ways, so my experience of kundalini's
triumphant ascent seemed to lack the tremendous intensity that other practitioners describe.
Also, I have a hunch that if I firmly believed in the actual existence of chakras, my experiences
might have been far more intense.
But then again, the ultimate goal of this practice is not to produce rapturous experiences,
but to support the attainment of spiritual knowledge, enlightenment.
I've learned a lot from this experiment.
I've discovered how advaita vedanta and kundalini yoga are actually complimentary to each other.
I've learned to be less critical of modern adaptations like rainbow colored chakras.
And I've made friends with this often misunderstood serpent.
Will I start teaching kundalini yoga to my students now?
I don't think so.
This technique is rather complex, so it needs lots of time to learn and practice.
More than that, kundalini yoga seems like a difficult way to gain a state of absorption
that can more easily be reached through other techniques.
But then, if there are easier paths to samadhi, why is kundalini yoga so widely taught?
Its popularity is very likely in response to the problem of experience seeking.
The pursuit of worldly experiences can prevent people from seeking spiritual growth.
But, if kundalini yoga promises them exciting new experiences, they might consider practicing
it.
Then, their practice could lead them to realize that something far more valuable than exciting
experiences is within reach.
Such a recognition could wean them away from experience seeking, and incline them to pursue
enlightenment instead.
This so-called bait and switch approach might have lead many practitioners to find perfect
peace and lasting contentment.
If so, the ability to convert worldly experience seekers into genuine spiritual seekers could
be the most extraordinary feature of kundalini yoga.