Compassionate Schools Project

What is "Sun Salutation A"?

Sun Salutation A (Surya Namskar A) is a precise form of sun salutation that commences Ashtanga Yoga. A has 10 vinyasas which are pictured in the illustration.  "Vinyasas" are the counted movements beginning with Ekam (one).

Teachers who don't regularly practice and teach Ashtanga Yoga may not be teaching A correctly.  

Lately I've been to some non-Ashtanga classes in which the teacher announced "Sun Salutation A" but then proceeded to teach a sun salutation which is not Sun Salutation A, kind of like announcing “Virabhadrasana” and then teaching a lunge instead.  Let's be accurate about what we are teaching so as not to confuse the students.

Here is a simple, non-Sanskrit version of SSA for use in non-Ashtanga classes:

Inhale, hands up

Exhale, fold forward

Inhale, look up

Exhale, step or jump to push-up position (or go to the floor)

Inhale, upward dog

Exhale, downward dog.

count to 5: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5,

Inhale, step or jump to the front and look up

Exhale, fold

Inhale, hands up

Exhale, back to standing

I hope this alleviates confusion about Sun Salutation A. 

Here are the Vinyasas for Sun Salutation B.

The Poison of Worldly Existence

In Indian mythology, the Devas are the beings of light who dwell in Swarga, their sky palace in heaven, and the Asuras are the beings of darkness who dwell in Pataloka under the earth. There is constant conflict between them. The Asuras hoard the gold, silver and jewels buried in the earth, and the Devas are always trying to draw out the precious metals and jewels. Just because the Devas are sky-dwellers doesn't make them better than the Asuras. Both are greedy, selfish and arrogant. 

The mediator between them is Maha Yogi, Lord Shiva, who is impartial, favoring neither one over the other. He is the god to both, and accepts both with forbearance toward their faults.  He grants boons to both factions when they perform acts of austerity to win his attention and favor.  However, both Devas and Asuras perfom their austerities to win boons of personal power and wealth.  Rarely ever do they request boons that benefit others or the earth and its inhabitants.  In fact, their wars harm the earth, animals, plants and human beings - often the hapless victims of their conflicts. Lord Shiva rarely ever punishes them - he gives them freedom to learn from their own mistakes.  Even though they keep making the same mistakes over and over, Shiva is infinitely patient with them.

Sometimes the Asuras take over Swarga, the abode of the Devas. Sometimes the Devas lose everything they have, including their weapons and their wives, whom they abandon to the Asuras. Ultimately, the Asuras themselves lose Swarga due to their arrogance, their pride and selfishness. 

One time the Devas and Asuras came together in a great enterprise - they decided to churn the Milky Ocean to extract the Nectar of Immortality.  Lord Vishnu changed himself into a huge tortoise, and set the great mountain Mandara upon his back to form the churning rod. The great serpent Vasuki was wrapped around the mountain and the Asuras took Vasuki's head and the Devas took the tail and began to churn the ocean.  The first thing extracted was Halahala, the terrible blue poison that would have annihilated the universe except that Lord Shiva graciously drew himself out of his meditation to catch it and swallow it. With his yogic powers he neutralized the poison and saved the universe from calamity.  It turned his throat blue, which is why he is sometimes called Neelakantha (the blue-throated One) or Shreekantha (the beautiful-throated One). 

They kept churning and began to extract wonderful things which appeared out of the Ocean: the magnificent Elephant Airavata was claimed by the King of the Devas as his vehicle; the horse Ucchaisravas was claimed by the king of the Asuras, Vishnu claimed the Goddess of Wealth, the Rishis obtained the Wish-fulfilling Cow, the Wish-fulfilling Tree and Wish-fulfilling Gem.  Only Lord Shiva, the Great Yogi, took that which no one else wanted, the terrible poison. In the end they fought over the Nectar and much of it spilled out. The Devas managed to drink it and tricked the Asuras out of their share. Lord Shiva maintained the balance of power by giving the Asura guru the power to restore life to the dead. The conflict goes ever on.

This is a story about Yoga.  Churning the Ocean is a reference to the hard work of yoga practice. At first it seems like no progress is made, or sometimes we feel like yoga ruins our life (see video).  

If you keep churning, keep practicing yoga, great things come into our life, including the ability to swallow poison and turn it into a blessing. 

That's why the Ashtanga mantra reminds us: 

I honor the teacher
the one who shows us the way to the highest good,
awakening the pure bliss of the Self.
The teacher is like the jungle doctor 
who removes the poison (halahala) of worldly existence.

That's why we practice yoga. As my teacher Pattabhi Jois once said, "to have both a great life in this world but also spiritual liberation."

Janu Shirshasana - Head to Knee Pose

Anne Kosko demonstrates this classic seated posture using a folded blanket and a yoga strap. The folded blanket under the hips helps the pelvis to tilt forward to release the low back. The strap catches the foot. Pressing the sole of the foot into the strap while the hands pull back creates some resistance which helps to extend the hamstrings.  Over time with regular practice, a student can expect to be able to reach the foot while keeping the back extended and without over-stretching the hamstring muscles at the back of the thigh.

This benefits of this posture include easing low back pain and sciatica. It is a "hip-opener" which means it can help restore normal flexibility to tight hips. That also helps low back pain and knee pain.

Podcasts from the Vedanta Society

Jamie Turner would like to pass along information on podcasts from the Vedanta Society.  The links are below.  They post on the Gita or Vedanta weekly.  They are very clear and easy to listen to and understand. 

http://vedantasociety.net/

https://www.facebook.com/VedantaBoston/?ref=ts&fref=ts

Ahimsa - A Spiritual Journey by Kay Sanders

Like many Westerners, I came to yoga for the physical benefits.  In my mid-forties, I felt I was losing flexibility, or thought I would as I aged.  My dear friends Mark and Janet Causey had been attending classes with Lisa Flannery at Full Moon Yoga, and they invited me to join them. In my first class, I put my body in positions I had never experienced before.  Yet, once I understood what to do, my body cooperated well – except for the balancing poses.  After my first class, I felt great like I had had a chiropractic adjustment or a massage.   I continued taking weekly classes for months, then took an Ashtanga workshop one weekend.  Ashtanga was incredibly challenging, but fabulous at the same time; I was instantly hooked.  I continued taking Ashtanga classes once or twice a week as they were offered.  I tried to practice in between as I could, but wanted to do more.  I knew Yoga East offered classes six days a week, but the Mysore style was intimating to me, and I knew Yoga East was serious yoga.  Yet, when I got serious about doing Ashtanga regularly, I made the switch to go to Yoga East.

Even before switching to Yoga East, I had the realization that yoga offered more than physical perks; there was a spiritual element that could not be denied.  As I connected to the breath, the concept of yoga as union of body, mind, and spirit was very real for me.  I had considered myself health conscious, but as yoga became more a part of my life, I became more conscious of my food choices.  I significantly increased my vegetable intake, and my desire to eat meat went away.  I chose to become a vegetarian.  I connected to the idea of Ahimsa – non-harming; having always loved animals, I realized I could no longer eat animals.    Sometime later, it dawned on me that if I do not eat animals because it is harmful (death) to them, I could no longer wear leather.

Over the last few years, I have felt a much deeper connection to the idea of Ahimsa in my spiritual journey, as I have become vegan.  I wanted to explore the concept further, hence it is the topic of this paper - particularly in light of yoga.  While vegetarianism has been the tradition for many yoga practitioners, several famous yogis see no problem with eating meat, and few yogis see the need to become vegan.  As yoga has become main stream, vegetarianism is not necessarily the norm.

“Ahimsa comes from the Sanskrit verb hims which means to hurt, injure, or cause harm”.   (Dayananda, 2001).  Ahimsa then is to not cause pain or harm.  Swami Dayananda points out that vegetarianism is based on the Vedic mandate to “do no harm”, and in addition to the ethical issues, there is evidence that human bodies are better suited for a plant based diet than a diet that includes meat.   (Dayananda, 2001).  Dayananda (2001) goes on to say if one does not want to be eaten by another, then one should not eat another animal.
In her article in Yoga Journal, Kate Holcombe (2015) presents a different view. Holcombe indicates she tried to be vegetarian, but when she was pregnant, became anemic and was told by her doctor to eat red meat.  She states that the next sutra that follows ahimsa and the yamas in II:31 states jati desa kala samaya anavicchinna sarvabhaumah mahavratam – Patanjali says only those very rare individuals who have taken the “great vow” are able to always practice all five yamas.  Patanjali goes on to say everyone else must adapt these principles to one’s individual lives and circumstances.  Obviously, everyone must take care of herself/himself in the way that makes sense personally, and no one can tell another how to live.  A part of ahimsa is compassion to others even when they have different views or lifestyles.

Interestingly enough, in Light on Yoga, BKS Iyengar (1993) comments on this same passage presenting a differing perspective.  “The five components of yama are called ‘mighty universal vows’ as they are not confined to time class, place, time, or concept of duty.  They should be followed unconditionally by everyone, and by students of yoga in particular, irrespective of origin and situation, with a reservation concerning cultural phenomena such as religious ceremonies, vows, and vocations of certain people” (Iyengar, 1993).

Ahimsa is a core value as the first of the yamas.  Vegetarianism is a long held tradition for many yogis.  If one believes one should not harm another individual, then how does one justify killing an animal for food, when it is not necessary for survival or health?  Sharon Gannon (2008) says Pattabhi Jois stated that a vegetarian diet is a requirement for the practice of yoga.  She tells of a conversation with Pattabhi Jois in which she asked him why he first refused to teach Westerners.  He said “It was because they were not vegetarian.  If someone is not a vegetarian, they won’t be able to learn yoga.  They will be too stiff in their body and their mind”.  He told her he made assumptions about Westerners, but when he learned they were vegetarians, he felt they could learn and he started teaching them.

Avoiding meat seems to be a logical progression in applying the principle of ahimsa.  In addition to the killing of animals, the life of a farm animal is far from the ideal life one is led to believe.   Factory farm animals have so little space that they cannot turn around or lie down comfortably.  Conditions are filthy and antibiotics are given to make animals grow faster and to keep the stressed animals alive.  Most factory farmed animals have been genetically manipulated to grow larger or produce milk or eggs than they ever would naturally (Peta, 2016).  Some chickens and turkeys have breast so large that their legs cannot support their weight.  Even on organic and “humane farms” animals the outcome is still the same – death.  If they do not die of disease or injury, they are slaughtered alive.  (Peta; Robbins ,2011; Moran, 2015).

Americans have long been taught that milk and dairy products are necessary for calcium and a healthy lifestyle.    Yet, besides lots of scientific evidence to the contrary, the dairy industry provides a horrible existence for the animals.  We speak of cows giving milk, but in reality, cows give their milk to their calves, not to people.   Dairy cows suffer tremendous grief when their babies are taken away (within twenty-two to seventy-two hours from birth), often crying for days (Moran, 2015).   The males that are usually taken away for slaughter or raised for veal, living in very small spaces to restrict their movement, and often malnourished and anemic, to keep their flesh light to make their meat more profitable (Robbins, 2011).    Cows are kept pregnant so that they will continue to have milk.  Once a cow can no longer provide milk, she is no longer valuable to the dairy farmer, so she is slaughtered.

Milk is a key part of Indian cooking, with the cow considered sacred, and her milk holding a significant role in Ayurveda.   Many within the yoga tradition have felt dairy was a necessary part of their diet, with strong roots in Ayurveda.  In no way do I want to criticize their culture or thousands of years of a system that has worked for so many.  Certainly, folks much further on the yoga path than I have great wisdom and spirituality that I cannot even fathom.  Yet even Gandhi recognized a problem with the use of another animal’s milk.  His physician prescribed milk for Gandhi’s digestive issues, and Gandhi complied, but referred to his dependence on goat’s milk as ‘the tragedy of his life’ (Moran, 1997).

Talya Lutzker , a Certified Ayurvedic practioner, yoga teacher and professional chef proposes alternatives for replacing animal products in Ayurvedic cooking.  Lutzker (2012) in her book The Ayurvedic Vegan Kitchen, says that for every milk based food in traditional Ayurveda, there is a whole food alternative that provides a similar effect on one’s dosha.  Lutzker (2012) replaces milk, ghee, buttermilk, and yogurt with other nurturing foods such as coconuts, avocados, raw almonds, raw tahini, and coconut juice.  She replaces honey with brown rice syrup, dates, frozen fruit juice and other natural sweeteners. While I want to honor the long held traditions of Ayurveda, I feel ethically I cannot support an industry that causes such suffering.  Lutzker’s approach gives me an alternative.

The egg industry is horrible as well.  Chickens are kept in cramped cages, and even “cage free” or “free range” have little meaning.  There is no use for the boy chicks, so they are thrown away in bags to suffocate, or they are thrown into a meat grinder (Robbins, 2011).

As a yoga practitioner who wants to live the principle of ahimsa, I cannot support the harmfulness, and inhumane treatment of animals.  I had been naïve about the dairy and egg industry for years as a vegetarian, but when I became educated about the industries, I chose to become vegan.
In her book Yoga and Vegetarianism, Sharon Gannon (2008) addresses all the yamas in light of veganism.  She discusses detailed information on the horrible treatment of farm animals, and how contrary that is to ahimsa.  For satya, truthfulness, she talks about how the meat and dairy industries have hidden the truth from us, and how we have bought into the lie.  She talks of asteya - nonstealing- and sites how throughout history, animals have been enslaved for our use.  She sites taking milk from a cow which was intended for her baby calf as a prime example of stealing (Gannon, 2008).  In discussing brahmacharya, she says brahmacharya means “to respect the creative power of sex and not to abuse it by manipulating others sexually”.  She tells of the abuse of animals, not only by artificial insemination, but also the sexual abuse by farm workers (Gannon, 2008).  In her chapter on aparigraha – greedlessness, she says seeking the happiness at the expense of others is greed.  Certainly using animals for our own desires classifies as greediness, particularly at the volume we consume.  In addition to the land animals, Shannon points to the devastation of the oceans (2008).
Animal farming is also harmful to the environment.  Animal agriculture is responsible for 18 % of greenhouse gases – more than the exhaust of all transportation combined (Cowspiracy, 2014).  In addition, animal farming uses immense amounts of water; a dairy cow requires up to fifty gallons of water a day, and 683 gallons to produce just a gallon of milk (Peta).  According to Peta, “Animals raised for food in the U.S. produce many more times excrement than does the entire human population of the country.”  Runoff from factory farms is the main cause of pollution in the rivers and lakes (Peta).  In addition, animal farming has been responsible for much of the deforestation.

Many speak of ahimsa in terms of not harming ourselves.  Numerous studies point to animal products being linked to illness and disease.  While the meat and dairy industry lobby to keep such information  hidden, more and more studies show the benefits of a whole food plant based diet as preventing, and sometimes even reversing disease.  The China Study (Campbell,) and How to Stop and Reverse Heart Disease (Esselstyn) ,the more recent How Not To Die (Gruger, 2015) are just a few books highlighting such studies.  I became vegan for the animals as I tried to apply ahimsa to my life, and I am convinced a whole food plant based diet is the healthiest way to live.

Ahimsa involves developing an awareness in all areas of one’s life.  How can I avoid harming others in thought, word or deed?  How do my choices affect others and the environment?
Being vegan has been very much a spiritual experience for me.  Food is spiritual, and our choices should be mindful ones.  As I become more committed to living out ahimsa, I have become more compassionate, and more aware of other areas of my life to apply ahimsa.  Am I supporting fair trade (rather than oppressive businesses)? Am I being a good steward of the environment?  Am I taking more than I need?  Do I react from emotion, or are my reactions conscious, thoughtful, and compassionate?  I am certainly far from perfect, and have much work to do in many of these areas, but I feel living as vegan is helping me to examine these areas of my life as well.  I feel it is an authentic expression of living my truth to love animals, and live a life of compassion.

Om Lokah Samasta Sukhino Bhavantu

May all beings everywhere be happy and free, and may the thoughts, words, actions of my own life contribute in some way to that happiness and to that freedom for all.

REFERENCES
Anderson, Kip & Kuhn, Keegan. (2014). Cowspiracy: The Sustainability Secret.
Campbell, T. Colin, Phd. & Campbell, Thomas M.,II, M.D. (2006).The China Study: The Most Comprehensive Study of Nutrition Ever Conducted and The Startling Implication for Diet, Weight Loss, and Long Term Health.
Dayananda, Swami.  (1987). The Value of Values, 31-34.
Esselstyn, Caldwell B., Jr., M.D. (Prevent and Reverse Heart Disease: The Revolutionary, Scientifically Proven, Nutrition-Based Cure.
Gannon, Sharon. (2008). Yoga and Vegetarianism: The Diet of Enlightenment, 26-27; 77-98.
Greger, Michael, M.D. (2015) How Not to Die: Discover The Foods Scientifically Proven to Prevent and Reverse Disease.
Holcombe, Kate. (2015). Does Ahimsa Mean I Can’t Eat Meat?  Yoga Journal, 273, 30-33.
Iyengar, B.K.S. (2005). Light on the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali, 135-136.
Lutzker, Talya. (2012.)  The Ayurvedic Vegan Kitchen: Finding Harmony Through Food, 3-5.
Moran, Victoria. (1991). Compassion The Ultimate Ethic: An exploration of Veganism, 27-32.
Moran, Victoria.  (2015). The Good Karma Diet.  Eat Gently, Feel Amazing, Age in Slow Motion, 117-121.
Moran, Victoria.  (2012). Main Street Vegan: Everything You Need to Know to Eat Healthfully and Live     Compassionately in the Real World, 106-109.
People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals (PETA.) (2016). www.peta.org.uk
Robbins, John (2011).  The Food Revolution: How Your Diet Can Help Save Your Life and Our World, 182-     204.
Tuttle, Will, PhD. (2005).  The World Peace Diet: Eating for Spiritual Health and Social Harmony.

Pilgrimage to the Heart - Part 3

After having darshan (being in the presence of the Divine) at Kedarnath temple, Gail and I wandered through the stalls buying souvenirs. I was reluctant to leave, but I knew that we needed to think about going back.  Everyone was gathering at the heliport.  The two people who walked up had made it there that morning after spending the night in a shelter. They decided to walk back down and a few more decided to go back on foot.  A few more people from our group decided to take ponies back down.  All the rest of us took the helicopters, and I was glad for the ride.  I've never been on a helicopter before. I've posted videos on my Facebook page of the experience, which was pleasant and seemed perfectly safe.

We spent another day at our pilgrim camp at Guptakashi, visiting the Triyuga Narayan Temple. This is an old temple of Vishnu where Lord Shiva and Parvati married, two cosmic ages ago. The ceremonial fire has been kept burning since that time.

The priests argued with our guide Yoginder for a long time about the fee, but they finally did a ceremony for us. Sometimes the priests at the temples were very accommodating, and sometimes they seemed to want to gouge us for everything they could get.  At Haridwar at the Mansa Temple, a priest tried to forcibly pull me into a shine room to do a ceremony for me that I didn't want, and when I had to yank myself free and loudly said, "No!", looked around like, "What's her problem?"  Actually, I consider it my problem.  Sometimes I got tired and cranky and I wished I could have handled some situations better.  At one point a few people complained that the yatra schedule did not allow us to rest, and Robert, our leader, replied, "You should learn to rest while you're doing what you're doing!"  

And he's right. There were a few people among us that did not seem to get tired. Robert never seemed tired and neither did his (nineteen year-old) son Tejas and son's friend, Joseph. Okay, so they were only nineteen!  However, they were both very mature, helpful, dependable men.  Robert Moses was not a teenager, and neither was Yoginder Rana, Prem GaurangaDas, Radha KundaDas, Donna Howes and Stair Calhoun. These people I remember were all really energized most of the time. Prem and Radha were both ISKCON brahmacaris and they were cheerful, compassionate, and resourceful the whole time. Which is not to say that the rest of the group were slackers, because no one was. I feel fortunate to have been among a group of really interesting, nice people. 

Temple, priest is standing to left.

Sometimes the priests were also wonderful, and that was certainly the case at our next temple, Kartikswamy. I've written about this temple on my Facebook page. Something about this temple and its legend, drew me in, and I was eager to see it.

Sometimes, when we started out in the morning, Robert very cleverly told us NOTHING about where we were going. This is a good idea, because if he had said, "We are going to be hiking for six kilometers straight uphill through cow and pony poop..." probably not many would have gone. (That was Tungnath Temple.)  For Kartikswamy, Robert told us it was a short hike.  It was not that short, but it was about half the distance of Tungnath (3 km) and not as steep, although there were some steep parts that entailed climbing over rocks. Most of the way the path went through forest that was quite beautiful.

Yes, the temple is way up there!

The gateway and the bells.

The last part of the path goes on the spine of a high hill, and the last part is vertigo-inducing.

Kartikswamy is one of the few temples in North India to Lord Shiva's son, Kartikeyya, also known in South India as Skanda or Subramuniya, where he is worshiped as a god. In North India, his story is different.

In the legends from the epics (The Puranas), the gods of the celestial realms were opposed by powerful beings from the underworld.  One who was particularly powerful was Taraka. His name means Star, and he was an accomplished yogi, a powerful warrior, and a skilled magician.  By his austerities he had pleased Brahman and was granted the boon that he could only be killed by a being who was three days old.  Who could do that?!  Unopposed, he overthrew the celestial beings and usurped their kingdom. 

Only a son of Lord Shiva would be powerful enough as a three day-old to kill Taraka. Lord Shiva was implored by all the celestial beings to marry and beget a son. Lord Shiva was a renunciate and it was difficult to change his mind, but that's another story. 

He married the Goddess of the Mountain, Parvati and... okay... well, somehow a son was produced, but that's another story, too.  That was Kartikeyya and he killed Taraka. Lord Shiva had another son named Ganesh, the elephant-headed god, and Kartikeyya became convinced that Lord Shiva loved Ganesh more. Dejected, he came to this mountain and surrendered his existence back to Lord Shiva, and here is where his bones are.

The temple sits on a promontory surrounded by majestic mountains. The feeling of the temple is of deep devotion and sorrow. The priest here stood silently by while we were there. It was a beautiful, peaceful place.

Surrounded by hundreds of bells that echo through the peaks and valleys, the crest is reached by climbing a path through beautiful forests. As I climbed, I thought of Sharath telling us how therapeutic and replenishing it is to be in the forest. 

Pilgrimage to the Heart - Part 2

For me, the Heart of the Yatra (Pilgrimage) was the trip to Kedarnath.  This was our first look at the high Himalayas. We traveled to the Guptakashi area during the day, and the high mountains are hidden behind the lower peaks. We arrived during the night and were not able to see what was outside the bus windows. When we woke up the next morning, this was the amazing and breath-taking sight that presented itself to our eyes.

Kedar is one of the names of Lord Shiva, Lord of Yoga. Kedarnath represents Lord Shiva in His most resplendent and most serene form. Kedarnath is located at 30 degrees 44'05.78" N, 79 degrees 04'00.76" E, elevation 11634', in case you want to locate it on Google Earth.

The mountain itself has a garland of two glaciers around it like a necklace. They form the Mandakini River,  which is also one of the ancient names of the Milky Way, the Celestial River of Heaven.  The Kedarnath temple sits in the lap of the mountain. The two rivers run on both sides of the town, which is just a few pilgrim hostels. In Pilgrimage to the Heart - Part 1, I shared how Kedarnath was nearly destroyed by a catastrophic flood in 2013. The temple was built by people who really knew what they were doing.  Much debris remains from the flood devastation, and there were bulldozers there continually moving rubbles. The town itself is very small, only about 250 residents. Pilgrimage huts and tents are set up to accommodate pilgrims.

The town is empty during the winter months from Karittik Purnima, the full moon of November. Then the temple is closed, and the movable deity images are taken down the mountain to their winter home. The temple doors are locked and not re-opened until April when intrepid devotees shovel their way through several feet of snow to the temple. Sharmila told me that during the time when the temple is closed, the devas (the celestial deities), come to the temple for worship and keep the temple lamps lit.  When the doors are first opened in the Spring, thousands of people are there waiting to see the lamps still lit.

Kedarnath is very ancient, so old that no one knows how old it is. It was renovated by Shankaracharya, the great teacher of Vedanta in the 8th Century.  From this spot, he departed into the mountains and was never seen again.

Gail Minotti and I were very eager to visit here. There is no road to Kedarnath, only a 14 km path from Gaurikund, the nearest town.  Ponies and helicopters are available, but Gail and I wanted to walk it.  It so happened that the day before the Kedarnath trip, we went to the Tungnath Temple. I didn't realize this was a 6 km (one-way) uphill hike to a higher altitude than Kedarnath. It was certainly worth it, but it did me in. I was afraid I would not be able to handle the Kedarnath hike the day after Tungnath. Gail decided to go by pony. I haven't been on a horse since I was a teenager and I had serious doubts about this, but I decided to go with her.

I had been watching the weather at Kedarnath on the internet before we left Louisville, so I thought we were pretty well-prepared.  The day before I had gone slightly higher than Kedarnath to the Tungnath Temple wearing a light jacket and shawl and was very comfortable.  Still, I put on long underwear, wool socks, a jacket, and packed two shawls, an extra pair of shoes and socks. Gail and I both had rain ponchos and altitude sickness pills.

It started out badly. We arrived at Gaurikund and no one spoke enough English for us to be understood. After 30-40 minutes of fumbling around, we realized we need to get a permit to go up the mountain.  Pilgrims to Kedarnath must have a retinal scan (so they can identify your body later), a medical exam to determine if you are fit for the climb, and register for a permit.  A cluster of enthusiastic pony drivers helped us so that we would hire them.  Which we did.  So, we got all that done, got our permits and followed our drivers to the ponies, which were actually mules (not a bad thing!). Gail's pony tried to buck her off and kick her, but Gail seemed unfazed by that, which was very impressive.

We got started. It was horribly painful for me. After 30 minutes I was sure I would die, do permanent damage to myself and never be able to hold mula bandha again. I tried getting off and walking for awhile, but the air was so thin, and the pace of the ponies was so fast, I got tired really fast and had to get back on.

We passed a place where there was twisted steel wreckage. We later learned this was the location of Ramwara, a village that was completely washed away in the 2013 flood not leaving even one brick of the town. There were no survivors.  Even though we didn't know that as we passed it, the feel of the place was unusual.

We climbed continually upward. It was a very difficult trip, even on pony. The path was washed out and rough in many places. You had to really hold on to keep from being jostled off.  I couldn't take any photos for fear of dropping my cell phone off a cliff. The drop-offs at the path's edge were heart-stopping. In the beginning, there were many people working on the path to repair it and sweep it. Because of the ponies, there was a lot of manure and sweepers were continually sweeping to clean the path. It was amazing how many people were there to keep the path clear. Even the outhouses were clean and very well-kept.  Along the way we passed officials who asked us to show our permits and checked off our names on clipboards. It seemed very organized.

At some point, it began to rain lightly.  We stopped at a tea stall and had tea and put on our rain ponchos. The ponies began to roll around on the ground and mine still had my purse on it with my cell phone in it!  I managed to retrieve it, and my phone was okay. Then we continued on.  It began to rain harder.  Then it began to hail.  It hailed and hailed.  Soon the path was covered.

We passed a field hospital and many pilgrims had stopped there.  It was like pictures I had seen of refugee camps.  We continued on for perhaps another kilometer, and then it was apparent that we couldn't go on.  The precipitation was now coming down so heavily it was hard to see. It was a combination of hail, snow and sleet and it had covered the path. Footing was treacherous.  The ponies were slipping and sliding.  Our pony drivers led our ponies into an open-air shelter and indicated we should get off and go on by ourselves.  They pointed off into the distance into which we could see absolutely nothing and motioned that we should keep going. "One kilometer!" they yelled above the sound of the sleet and wind.  I looked around at the pony drivers in their light jackets and sweaters, some shivering uncontrollably.  I wondered how they would get back. Gail gave her hat to one of them.

Lightning and thunder started, very loudly and continuously.  We were in an open river gorge between huge peaks. There was no shelter at all.  There was nothing we could do but set off as quickly as possible into the Himalayan blizzard.  Already the ice and snow was about four inches deep and very slippery, and it was coming down so relentlessly that it was hard to see ahead.  The thunder rolled and echoed with a weird metallic clang that resonated through the mountains. It also gave our situation an awesome, rather heroic quality, as if we had a Wagnerian soundtrack for our ordeal.  My feet were soaked and going numb. I said to myself, "Put one foot in front of the other."  I walked on. Our friends Michelle and Gary, who had started ahead of us, had disappeared into the white-out.  I was getting very cold. I kept looking back to make sure Gail was there and just kept walking.

I don't know how long we walked.  I repeated my mantra and tried to keep my hands warm under the poncho, but the wind was whipping everything around.  I looked up, and ahead in the distance I could see some structures and right above them, I saw the roof of the Kedarnath Temple!  At that moment I felt I had wings and remembered Rumi's poem:

Who gets up early
to discover the moment light begins?
Who finds us here circling, bewildered, like atoms?
Who comes to a spring thirsty
and sees the moon reflected in it?
Who, like Jacob blind with grief and age,
smells the shirt of his lost son
and can see again?
Who lets a bucket down and brings up
a flowing prophet?
Or like Moses goes for fire
and finds what burns inside the sunrise?
Jesus slips into a house to escape enemies,
and opens a door to the other world.
Soloman cuts open a fish, and there’s a gold ring.
Omar storms in to kill the prophet
and leaves with blessings.
Chase a deer and end up everywhere!
An oyster opens his mouth to swallow one drop.
Now there’s a pearl.
A vagrant wanders empty ruins.
Suddenly he’s wealthy.
But don’t be satisfied with stories, how things
have gone with others. Unfold
your own myth, without complicated explanation,
so everyone will understand the passage,
We have opened you.
Start walking toward Shams. Your legs will get heavy and tired.

Then comes a moment of feeling the wings you’ve grown,
lifting.

--Coleman Barks, The Essential Rumi

I went back and told Gail I could see the temple. Then a man in a uniform with a walkie-talkie appeared out of the storm and greeted me smiling warmly. He motioned me toward a building. Inside, I saw our yatra companions. There was no heat in the building, but there was hot food and it was certainly more dry than being outside.

As it turned out, no building in the town had heat and many buildings still did not have power. Gail and I were assigned to a room that was dark, damp, cold and had no power. Already I was starting to shiver uncontrollably and I had no way to dry my feet. I tried to find something else warm to wear at the few stalls selling items. Joseph, one of the helpful young men on our yatra, went out and found me some wool socks.  I tried warming myself at the fire of some sadhus, but the fire was so small and so smoky it was not very helpful.  I told Yoginder, one of our tour leaders, that I thought I was getting too cold, and he said he would send a heater to our room.  However, Michelle and Oana didn't wait - they insisted I come to their room because they had power and hot water.  So I did. They and Jamie stuffed me into a sleeping bag and Michelle gave me her hot water bottle. It still took three hours for me to stop shivering and I slept a little bit that night.

Next morning, as soon as it was light out, I got up and found that my shoes and socks had dried out. I put them on and went to see about Gail. I found her coming down the path carrying my backpack. I was relieved that she was okay.  We went back up to the temple, which was not open yet.  Gail had gone to the evening arati (worship), but I had not been to the temple yet.  

At every Shiva temple, there is a statue of his bull Nandi out front, facing the image of Lord Shiva (the lingam).  In the ancient stories of Lord Shiva from the Puranas, Lord Shiva gave Nandi the boon that whatever a devotee whispered in Nandi's ear would be heard directly by Lord Shiva.  I had whispered into Nandi's ear at every Shiva temple we visited on our yatra, "Laura from Kentucky here, and tell Lord Shiva I want to see Him at Kedarnath."   I fell onto Nandi's neck weeping with gratitude... until another pilgrim brusquely shoved me aside so his friend could take his picture. But that's okay.

Thanks to the storm that Gail and I encountered, there were very few people there at the temple and we could spend a lot of time in the temple itself experiencing the divine Presence.  I tried to soak it in as much as possible, but it's still a fuzzy memory. I remember the priest repeatedly banging my head into the lingam saying, "Think of your parents! Think of your mother! Think of your father!"  I stood by the ancient wall, trying to fix the details of the shrine in my memory and watched others as they worshiped.   

To be continued...

Pilgrimage to the Heart - Part 1

A "yatra" is a spiritual pilgrimage.  In many spiritual traditions, visiting sacred places or holy beings is an important spiritual practice.  I've written about my 1986 trip to India in an earlier blog article.  In 1986 I visited some important pilgrimage places, like the town of Haridwar in North India on the Ganges River and the Grishneshwar temple in Maharashtra.  

I started planning my 2015 yatra on November 27, 2014. I was already in bed when I checked my email on my phone one last time and saw I had received an email from Namarupa Magazine describing a yatra to North India in October, 2015. Two things caught my attention: the first was that the yatra included a week-long Ashtanga retreat with Sharath in the famous pilgrimage town of Uttarkashi and the second was that the yatra included a visit to the Kedarnath temple.  I jumped out of bed to read the full email on my computer. I recalled that when Sharath visited Louisville in 2003, a student asked him if he had been to the Himalayas, and Sharath answered, "No, if I go there, I'm not coming back."  I understood why Sharath said that.  The Himalayan region is the birthplace of yoga. Many great yogis, yoginis, rishis and siddhas have lived and practiced in the Himalayas and experienced revelations there which form the teachings of the yoga tradition.  The thought of visiting these sacred regions was as alluring to me as it was to Sharath.  I had read about many of the temples and sacred places and I saw that the Namarupa yatra included several temples that were on my bucket list of places I wanted to visit. The temple at the top of the list was Kedarnath!  I immediately paid the deposit to reserve a place.

Kedarnath is one of the twelve jyotirlinga temples in India. Grishneshwar, which I had visited in 1986, is one of them and it had a big impact on my life.  I feel that my brief visit to this temple changed the course of my life.  The lingam is the main form of the deity in most Shiva temples. It represents the formless, transcendent aspect of the Divine as Supreme Consciousness. Sometimes mistaken for a phallic image, it depicts the Divine form of Shiva as an infinite column of light.  These temples to Shiva in the form of divine light are ancient, sacred places of worship and have attracted many millions of worshipers over the millenia. Kedarnath is the most remote jyotirlinga temple. 14 km from the nearest road, it can be reached on foot or by pony. Helicopter service is also now available from nearby towns.  Kedarnath sits in the lap of the Kedar peak, in a remote location. 11,755 feet high, closed by snowfall from November through the end of April, it is still visited by thousands of pilgrims every year. 557,923 pilgrims visited Kerdarnath in 2007. 

That so many people go there is all the more amazing considering that Kedarnath suffered a terrible disaster in 2013, the worst to hit India since the Indian Ocean tsunami of 2004.  On June 16, 2013, an unusual weather pattern combined with spring snow melt and monsoon rain. A heavy rain fell for twenty-four hours on the mountains above the town. The Mandakini River runs from Kedarnath peak and is a tributary of  the Ganga. Just after nightfall on June 16, the river flooded the town.  People fled to the temple, which is on higher ground, to take refuge.  Unfortunately not all could fit inside the temple or on the raised platform on which the temple sits.  During the night several buildings and an unknown number of people were washed away.  Survivors described their terror, listening the river raging on both sides of the town.  A few hours later just before dawn, survivors described hearing an even louder sound, the loudest sound they had ever heard.  The embankment of a lake on the mountain above the town collapsed and a wall of water hit the temple and remaining buildings of the town, causing further devastation and loss of life.  The official death toll was 5700, but the exact numbers are unknown due to large numbers of pilgrims being present. Over 100,000 pilgrims were stranded in the area. Footpaths, roads and modern steel and concrete bridges had been washed away.  It took several days for the Indian army to helicopter thousands of people to safety. Amazingly, the temple survived the flooding with relatively little damage.

At first the state government of Uttarakhand announced that the pilgrimage route to Kedarnath would not re-open for four years due to the damage to the route.  There were even proposals that the temple should be moved because the ground was so contaminated with the dead.  But the temple re-opened the very next year, 2014, but the area is not back to normal.  When our Ashtanga Sadhana Retreat took place with 150 participants, the local people told us that this was the largest group to visit the Uttarkashi region since the flood.  Those of us who took the ponies or walked the pilgrimage route in 2015 saw lots of construction and repair going on, but the destruction that remains is a very sobering sight.

The stories and history of the temple are unique. It is said to have been founded by the Pandava brothers, the heroes of the Mahabharata War (8th-9th centuries BCE). The Pandava bothers wanted to atone for the crimes they committed during the war and sought out Lord Shiva to obtain His forgiveness.  Unwilling to give them forgiveness so easily, the Lord eluded them in the mountains.  As they chased him, He took the form of a bull.  Diving into the ground at Kedarnath, he left a lingam there in the form of the bull's hump, his heart and arms at Tungnath, his hair at Kalpeshwar, his face at Rudranath, and his navel at Madhyamaheshwar. Pleased, the Pandavas built temples at these places.  Adi Shankaracharya, the great teacher of Vedanta venerated by Shri K. Pattabjhi Jois, renovated Kedarnath temple in the 8th century CE and disappeared from this spot into the high mountains.

Here is a description by Swami Akhandananda, on his pilgrimage there in the late 1880's. 

Kedarnath, October 21, 2015, early morning

When I first saw the entirely snow clad, huge and bright peak on which the temple of Kedarnath is situated, I was stupefied. ...The temple of Kedarnath was on the lap of a huge peak and the entire peak was now revealing itself before me. It was as bright as the glowing morning sun. Thousands of soft rays were emerging from the peak and they were all enveloping and overwhelming me. I thought to myself that I had come to this place of eternal light leaving the eternal darkness permanently behind. I could not look at the snow-white peak for long. My eyes became indrawn and the huge peak of the mountain appeared before me as an eternal uncreated symbol of Siva. This was no imagination. It was a divine experience. Nowhere else in the entire Himalayas you can see such a resplendent form of Siva.... To have such a vision is a great event in one's life. (Swami Akhandanada, In the Lap of the Himalayas, Sri Ramakrishna Math: 1980 103-104).

Before we got to Kedarnath, we stopped at Varanasi, Vrindavan, Haridwar, Rishikesh and Uttarkashi. These are holy cities with important Shiva temples. In Varanasi, we visited the Kashi Vishwanath Temple, one of the twelve jyotilinga temples.  You can read more about this temple on Wikipedia. We had to wait for quite some time to get into this temple. Over 3,000 people visit this temple everyday. On special holidays like Mahashivaratri, over 1,000,000 people visit in one day.  I felt happy about my visit here because, as I was waiting in line, someone pressed a cup of milk and flowers into my hand, and several hours later I was able to actually see the lingam and pour the milk on it before I was shoved out the door.

Even though we had to wait in line a long time, it was very interesting to see and interact with other devotees and the shopkeepers that line the narrow alleys. My thoughts are always, "Here I am standing in line waiting to see God, and all I can think is, "I hope I don't have to pee." It's the human condition. I know God understands.

Varanasi - the temple is unseen, beyond the ghat.

At Vrindavan, which is a town sacred to Vishnu in the form of Lord Krishna, we visited the Gopeshwara Temple. According to legend, Lord Kishna lived here and his most exalted devotees were gopis, the humble milkmaids who would leave their homes and families at night to dance with Krishna in the moonlight beside the Yamuna River.  Lord Shiva wanted to experience this for Himself, but only women were allowed to be present. Parvati, Shiva's consort, was accepted, but Lord Shiva was turned away.  He bathed in the river and assumed female form and dressed as a gopi. When he began to dance, however, he gave Himself away, for Shiva is Nataraj, the King of the Dancers. Krishna recognized Shiva and embraced Him. Shiva remained in Vrindavan as Gopeshwara "The Gopi Lord" and is the protector of this sacred realm. When entering Vrindavan, it is customary to visit Gopeshwara first to destroy your egotism and purify yourself.

Vrindavan, where the gopis danced.

Next we visited Haridwar, one of the sacred cities of India and a location of the Kumbh Mela, a huge religious festival that marks the places where the gods and demons fought and spilled the nectar of immortality. I had visited Haridwar in 1986, and it didn't seem that different to me in 2015. We had a great time here at the Ganga Arati and bathing in the river. I have posted videos of the arati celebration on my Facebook page.

A crowd begins to gather for the evening arati celebrations.

On our way up into the mountains we stopped at Rishikesh briefly to visit the samadhi shrine of Swami Sivananda. 

Samadhi Shrine of Swami Sivananda

This is where the remains of Swami Sivananda are entombed. Swami Sivananda was the founder of Sivananda Yoga, the first form of yoga that I learned.  Back in those days, 1967-1990, there were no classes that I could find and I could only practice it from a book which was written by one of his disciples, Swami Vishnudevananda.  One of our tour leaders, Robert Moses, had been a student of Swami Vishnudevananda. When we were still in new Delhi at the beginning of our trip, I had the good fortune of attending a class taught by Robert at the New Delhi Sivananda Center.  I enjoyed the class very much and was relieved to learn that I had practiced it correctly all those years.  I might still be practicing Sivananda Yoga except for moving to Louisville and meeting Maja Trigg, founder of Yoga East. Maja introduced me to Iyengar Yoga and when she retired I met David Swenson and began practicing Ashtanga Yoga.

I owe a debt to Swami Sivananda for giving me a wonderful start on the path of yoga. I certainly feel blessed to have found his teachings. I never thought I'd be able to go to his samadhi shrine, but there I was. 

Deodar forest on the approach to Uttarkashi.

At Rishikesh, the roads started to get pretty scary. A lot of the time they were barely one-lane, gravel, no shoulder, no safety barriers, sometimes partly washed away, and with drop-offs of a thousand feet or more. Plus, we were in tour buses. My heart was in my throat most of the time as we got higher and higher and the roads were more and more hair-raising. Finally we arrived at the town of Uttarkashi, the location of Swami Tapovanananda Ashram, where the Ashtanga Yoga Sadhana Rtreat with Sharath and Saraswathi would take place.  Uttarkashi also has a temple to Shiva called Kashi Vishwanath, like the one in Varanasi, and it was too remote to have been attacked by the Muslim emperors. While we were there, they were renovating part of the temple. However, my favorite place here was by the river, where it is called Bhagirathi. It doesn't become the Ganga until it joins the Alakhananda River at Devprayag.  

River bank at Uttarkashi.

A devotee serving lunch.

Gail Minotti, Karen Cairns and I shared a room. Karen and I joked that our family and friends back home probably visualized us sunning ourselves on the sandy banks of the Ganga, being served frosty glasses of bhang with trident stirrers by handsome young sadhus wearing loincloths.  No! The ashram was quite spartan. Frequently the power was out, and there was only hot water for a couple of hours in the early morning. The beds had mattresses like plywood boards, the hardest beds I've ever slept on. The food was very good ashram food, but simple - dal, rice, a vegetable, chapatis and tea.  There was no internet connection.  

It was difficult to get to the river because of the rocks and debris left from the flood.  One had to clamber over rocks.  I don't have many photos of the river because it was treacherous to get there. I didn't want to break or lose my cell phone. Once you got to the river it was cool and clear. One time I slipped and fell into an open sewer, but luckily I was able to wash myself off in the river.  

Saraswathi and Sharath arrived and they taught a led Ashtanga Primary Series class every morning in the meditation hall. Here is a photo of Saraswathi wearing the Kentucky Oaks T-shirt we gave her. (She is so cool!)  Behind us is a photograph of Swami Chinmayananda, a disciple of Swami Tapovanananda, and the guru of Swami Dayananda, with whom many of us studied at Arsha Vidya Gurukulum in Pennsylvania. 

View from kutir of Swami Tapovanananda

I purchased some books at their bookstore, and Gail and Karen and I spent time meditating in the kutir (hut) of Swami Tapovanananda.

.

Conference with Sharath by the river.

Sharath gave conference on the river and spoke to us of the importance of yoga practice, made all the more clear because across the river from us a funeral was in progress. As one of my teachers once said, we practice yoga not so much to have a good life, but to have a good death.  The lesson took on further meaning a few moments later when a member of our party slipped and fell on the rocks and broke her leg. Luckily, one of our yatris was an orthopedic surgeon and knew what to do.  She was flown back to New Delhi on a helicopter to the hospital, returned to the US and has recovered. She handled it all very gracefully - like a true yogini. 

Tungnath Temple - Guptakashi

To be continued....

Temple Tour 2014

Halebid - 2014

In the Summer of 2014 while I was studying Ashtanga in Mysore, I was invited to take a temple tour by Joe Autry. Joe is one of our Ashtanga students, a brilliant sculptor, a beloved yoga teacher, and one of our indispensable volunteer teachers. At first I declined because I've done the temple tour three times already.

The "temple tour" is a trip to Sravanabelagola, Halebid and Belur, three towns near Mysore which are the sites of important temples. The whole trip takes all day if you start very early in the morning.

The first stop is the town of Sravanabelagola where there is an ancient Jain pilgrimage site atop a hill. The site has a temple with a beautiful, ancient (c. 990 A.D.) monolithic statue of a Jain saint, Gomateshvara. It's necessary to go there first to arrive before the sun warms the stone steps up the hill.  The whole hill of mostly bare rock is a holy site and to get to the shrine on top, you must walk up barefoot. The 600 steps get very hot in the afternoon, and that's why you need to start in the morning. It takes about an hour to go up, an hour to come down, and you want to spend time in between. This is the place, incidentally, where Kim Esteran and I saw a wild cobra. As we were walking around the temple, on the back side is a bas relief plaque of a snake, and right below that carving was its live counterpart. I walked up to it to see what it was, and it was a King Cobra about four feet long.  Although its hood was open, it did not seem alarmed. It went into a drain hole and disappeared. My photograph of it is at the Kentucky Street studio on the wall in the small studio.

Gomateshvara

The Jain temple is austere, and there are just a few small sculptures other than the monolithic statue of Gomateshvara. (See above.)  This is the oldest monolithic sculpture in India, and the story behind it is that Gomateshvara, upon becoming enlightened, stood still for such a long time that vines grew around his legs. More information about this fascinating site can be found here on Wikipedia.

I first took the temple tour in 1999 during my first trip to Mysore. I went again in 2002 and 2003.
By contrast to the austerity of Sravanabelagola, both Halebid and Belur temples are riots of sculptures.  The first time I went to the temples I took quite a few photographs. The second time I took a few photos.  By the the third trip I was so jaded I mostly took photos of the people who went with me.  My brother is a sculptor and I have a degree in Fine Art, so I love and appreciate these temples, but I was not at all eager to go back to them a fourth time.  By the time one arrives at Belur late in the day, fatigue has set in and it becomes difficult to focus on the sculptures.

Laura, Karen and Dana at Halebid, 2003.

Dana (formerly Lindley) Christensen and Karen Cairns and I went together in 2003.  Our hotel arranged a car and driver for us.  The car broke down several times during the trip. Flat tire, no spare, no jack. Then the part of the engine that was in the trunk failed (I think this car was made in someone's garage from spare lawn mower parts).  By the time we arrived at Belur, the car would not go faster than 20 mph, and both the headlights and windshield wipers had stopped working.

We were all, including our driver, extremely tired by that time. During that trip I reflected on an NPR broadcast I had heard on Memorial Day the year before. I've tried to research this broadcast but have been unable to find it, but I think it was by Harold G. Moore, author of We Were Soldiers Once..., speaking about the horrors of combat and the true meaning of the term, "fey".  Fey meant "fairy-like", but originates from an older time when the concept of "fairyland" was dark and terrifying.  To become "fey" meant one has become so exhausted one loses the will to live. That was the last thing you wanted to see on the face of the person trapped in the fox hole with you.  At one point during our trip I had just seen a marker by the road that indicated we were still over 100 km from Mysore. I looked at the faces of Karen and Dana and saw that fey look, and I knew I had it, too. I thought we might never make it back to Mysore, but somehow or another we did, although very late.

With all of this in mind, at the last possible moment I decided to go with Joe. He assured me that he had a good car and reliable driver. It turned out to be a wonderful trip, and I saw the temples in a way I had never seen them before. I took almost no photos and spent very little time looking at the sculptures. Mostly I watched people. The temples were very crowded on this trip because it was a Indian holiday.  There were many families there. Children wanted to have their photo taken with me. Normally that would have irritated me, but on this particular day it didn't bother me. I was having fun posing with the children. They were so polite and delightful.  Seeing the fun we were having, mom and dad and then grandma and grandpa would jump in the picture, too. It was very sweet.

By the time we got to Belur I was still feeling energetic. It was later in the afternoon, and the crowds had thinned out.  I was able to look around the temple more and focus on the sculptures.  That's when I realized for the first time that Belur and Halebid are very different from one another.  Up until then, they had always been a mish-mash in my mind - just a blurry mass of sculptures.  The Belur temple was once described to me  by one of the guides as the "fashion" temple because the sculptures depict women who were temple dancers, and the temple carvings show hairstyles, ways of wrapping a sari and hair ornaments.  It's like a pictorial catalogue of fashion at that time. The Belur temple was financed by the Hoysala king, and the sculptures are frontal, formal, and elegant.  It's the "Vogue" of temples. Vishnu in the form of Keshava, the One with Beautiful Hair, is the deity enshrined at Belur. This temple is still active, used for worship.In researching the history of the two temples, I find they were built at the same time, in apparent competition with each other.  The Belur temple financed by the king, and the Halebid temple financed by wealthy devotees of Lord Shiva.

The bottom of the first photograph showing Joe with his camera.

The photograph at the beginning of this article is from Halebid, the Shiva temple. I was actually photographing Joe photographing the sculptures. The Halebid sculptures appear to have been created by hallucinating artists. The sculptured figures writhe as if trying to break free from the stone matrix. Although the temples have similar floor plans, the temple at Halebid has cul-de-sac dead ends in which one finds oneself surrounded by figures that are intensely grotesque.  Skeletal goddesses perform austerities to win the heart of Shiva. Goddess Kali with pointed tongue and fangs voraciously bites off the heads of her victims.  Shiva dances ecstatically with snakes, skulls and his frightening retinue.

Shiva is the god who lives beyond the boundaries of civilized society. Rules and rituals have little meaning for him. He inhabits the cremation grounds, the mountains and the forests.  As stated by Wendy Doninger O'Flaherty,

"Among ascetics he is a libertine and among libertines an ascetic; conflicts which they cannot resolve, or can attempt to resolve only by compromise, he simply absorbs into himself and expresses in terms of other conflicts. Where there is excess he opposes and controls it; where there is no action he himself becomes excessively active. He emphasizes that aspect of himself which is unexpected, inappropriate, shattering any attempt to to achieve a superficial reconciliation of the conflict through mere logical compromise."  

The temples themselves engender the fey reaction. To spend time with these temples is to immerse oneself in that dark, terrifying "fairyland", or in this case, to find oneself on the smashan, the cremation ground surrounded by the ghosts, ghouls, and goblins who comprise the ganas, the gang of Lord Shiva.

The temples are in a poor state of preservation.  Joe and I remarked on it - how unfortunate it was that there was not a complete photographic record of the sculptures.  Maybe there is a photographic archive of the temples, but I don't know of it.  As I reflected on it later looking at my photographs, the thought occurred to me that one could not photograph the whole temple, particularly Halebid, without going mad. The sculptures are not from our cultural context. Contemporary representations of Shiva in calendar and internet art depict him as a handsome blue-skinned, pink-cheeked man. The sculptures on the temples are different.

This sculpture from the Elephanta caves is 5th to 8th century and depicts Shiva spearing Andhaka. The sculpture has been very badly damaged, but you can still make out two of Shiva's hands above holding the flayed skin of the Elephant demon behind him like a cape.  One hand holds a sword, one hand holds a bowl with which he is catching Andhaka's blood. Andhaka is the one who is blind with anger, and he was created by Shiva Himself. Shiva holds him aloft on his trident for 1000 years until his anger is bled out and he repents.

 The Halebid temple is not an active temple, but in recent years the inner sanctum has been opened to show the lingam, the austere form of Shiva as the formless, transcendent column of light.  However, the lingam is set back so far into the shadowy darkness, that one can scarcely make it out.  Like God Himself, one cannot quite focus on Him.

I noticed, however, that very few people go to worship the lingam. Most people worship Nandi, Shiva's bull, who sits facing the lingam, and they reverently touch his face, which is close, touchable.

 It was only later, when I returned to Mysore and was posting the photos to Facebook, that I realized what I had inadvertently photographed. Above Joe's head is of a sculpture of Lord Shiva dancing the Tandava, the dance of the cycle of creation and dissolution. He dances on the demon Apasmara, the demon of Forgetfulness. Although being danced to death, Apasmara looks upon Lord Shiva's dance with wonder and appreciation.  The Lord of Yoga holds various objects in his twelve hands. From his proper right: the first hand rests on some unknown object, a rudraksha mala, elephant's tusk (?), sword, cobra, trident, arrow, door archway, banana (?), skull atop a staff (called a khaga), damaru drum and a mirror.  Most are objects associated with the myths of Lord Shiva. However, what strikes me most about this sculpture is the expression on his face of deep samadhi, total absorption in His own pure bliss.

Shiva's face in bliss.

O, giver of boons,

a great bull, a wooden club, an axe,

a tiger skin, ashes, serpents,

a human skull and other such things...

these are your sole possessions,

although simply by casting your glance

You gave the gods great treasures, which they enjoy.

Truly the mirage of sense objects cannot delude one

whose delight is in the Self.

-The Shiva Mahimnah Stotram