In many ways the demon Raktabija represents our fears. In life we are always told to hold back. In martial arts one of the most difficult things to teach a student is to hit without holding back. We are conditioned to only go so far when it comes to our own destructive abilities, and this follows through in other things in life. Our fears make us hold back. When it’s really time to fight, our sense of morals, civility, or simply the idea that we must keep our emotions in check makes us hold our true power back. Like the gods who are willing to wound Raktabija but not to deal a death blow, we often face our fears only so much before backing off, only to find that the problem, like the demon who spawns more of his own kind when wounded, has grown tenfold. While the gods hold back, Kali is not chained by such restrictions. She knows you cannot win unless you commit to total war, an unfettered commitment of overcoming the obstacle at hand. Kali does not just wound the demon as the gods do—she has the audacity to consume his blood. Without hesitation, she does whatever is needed to reach her goal, knowing that it’s not a matter of if she will win but when. She is time, after all. All things must succumb to her. Kali takes the power out of fear, symbolized here by drinking the demon’s blood. She takes the fear within herself and uses it to give herself the strength to overcome it.
Our own fears are no less paralyzing than Raktabija is to the gods. If we face them without holding back, if we unleash the divine force, the divine rage within us, to overcome them, then like Kali we become unstoppable. David Kinsley describes Kali’s untamable nature as a lesson that reminds us that the world is not always as orderly and civil as we think: “Kali puts the order of dharma in perspective, perhaps puts it in its place, by reminding Hindus that certain aspects of reality are untamable, unpurifiable, unpredictable, and always a threat to society’s feeble attempts to order what is essentially disorderly: life itself.” 35 Sometimes our inhibitions, the fears that hold us back, keep us from making breakthroughs. We think that the world is supposed to be orderly and that we must make ourselves fit into certain boxes and roles. We forget that parts of ourselves are as untamable as Kali and that it is those parts of our souls that when unchained lead us to our biggest breakthroughs.
Devotional Work and Offerings for Kali
When I do devotional work with Kali, I often offer her things that are red or black. For offerings that involve moving past my own self-made limitations, I will use a lancet to prick my finger and offer her my own blood, usually by anointing the statue or her image with it. Red wine or dark red juice, reminiscent of the color of blood, are other offerings I use, as well as red flowers.
If Kali had a motto, I’d like to think it would be Aut viam inveniam aut faciam, Latin for “I shall either find a way or make one.” Supposedly, this was Hannibal’s response when his generals told him that it was impossible to cross the Alps by elephant. Kali has that kind of resolve. She will find a way or make one with an earth-shattering dance of destruction. When she wishes to accomplish something, she does it devoid of fear. Call on her to shed fear and spark determinations within. After I make offerings to her and sometimes when I do meditation or journey work with Kali, I will sit with my hands making the mudra gestures she is often shown doing in Indian artwork. One hand I hold at waist level to the side, palm facing upward, symbolizing blessings. It looks very much like holding your hand out with your fingers together and flat for someone to place something in that hand. The other hand I hold in the mudra for “fear not,” hand upward at about shoulder height with the index finger touching the thumb to form a circle.
Invocation to Kali
Kali
Shyama, dark one
You dance untamed
You dance through madness
You dance with resolve
Unrelenting time
Uncompromising when faced with a goal
Kali
Lend me your wildness
Let me dance unchained
Let me be without restraint in my battles
That I may drink my own fear
Like honey wine
And be the stronger for it
Kali, dance with me
Kali, be one with me
A Song Poem to Kali
by Ivy Neel
O fierce Kali, O Dark Mother
I feel the pulse of every beat in this world
With your blood-red tongue
And demon-skulled necklace
You showed me what it is
To know every breath in this world
O great goddess, O Kali, O Kali, O Kali Ma
You are beyond time
O Dark Mother primordial
I humbly lay myself down before you
With my eternal gratitude
I promise to bear your arms
I shield myself from the faces of demons
Singing sweetly of desire never-ending
Nectar of temptation full of highs
I walk away and hold these arms up
Heavy on my back, the task is at hand
Slay the demons, and ride home at last
Ritual to Kali to Overcome Obstacles
This ritual is simple and can be done in front of an altar to Kali or be incorporated into a full ritual. If you are doing it with a group, choose one person to dance and embody Kali, while the rest of the group can continue to chant, Kali Ma! Creator, Destroyer, dance, Kali, dance! and visualize Kali destroying the obstacles that lie before them until the energy has peaked.
You Will Need:
Red flowers (or another offering of choice to Kali)
Red wine (or cranberry juice)
Earthy primal music (optional)
Leave the flowers on Kali’s altar as an offering. Then pour some of the wine in a libation bowl or vessel you have for that purpose on her altar. Stand if you are not doing so already, and allow your hips to sway. If you choose to, you can play music in the background during your ritual; something earthy and primal works well. Allow yourself to dance, seeing yourself transforming into Kali. It does not have to be choreographed but can be stomping primal movements. See the fierceness of Kali flowing through you with each movement until you are humming with power. Say these or similar words:
Kali,
Dark one
Mother of destruction
Mother of mankind
Dance with me, Kali
Dance with abandon
And trample all that lies
Between myself and my goals
Be the fire that burns clean the ground
To make way for new growth
Burn bright burn strong, Mother Kali!
See yourself crushing your obstacles beneath your feet. They shatter and are powerless and insignificant in the wake of Kali and yourself. When you feel the energy has reached a peak and you have put enough energy into destroying the obstacles before you, slow your dance and become still before that altar. Say,
Kali Ma!
Creator, Destroyer
Dance, Kali, dance
The obstacles that lie before me are trampled down
Let it be so, Mother!
Pour some more wine for Kali as an offering.
Kali Invocation Welcoming Ritual
by Ivy Neel
This is a simple but effective way that I like to open a ritual or make an offering to Kali. In this case, you are inviting Kali into your home and honoring her presence.
You Will Need:
Small bowl of milk
Red hibiscus (optional; you may also substitute an image of the flower or use a different red flower)
Sandalwood or Nag Champa incense (or any incense you like)
Image or statue of Kali (substitute a red candle or a Kali candle if neither is available)
Gather the small bowl of milk, the flower, and incense in front of the Kali statute or image. If you are using a red candle to represent Kali, light it now. To begin, ground and center for a few minutes.
Then light the incense. At this time, close your eyes briefly and take a few deep breaths. While you’re breathing, allow yourself to see her image. As the image becomes clearer and clearer to you, chant out loud or silently to Kali. You can use Om Jai Ma, Om Kali Ma or this, which I like to use sometimes: O Primordial Goddess, O Dark Mother, O Demon Slayer, O Great Kali, I honor you.
Once you feel ready, open your eyes and offer Kali the bowl of milk and the red hibiscus in your own words, and then put your hands together in a namaste as you ask for Kali’s blessings. Extinguish the red candle or incense. Leave the milk offering as long as you wish for the day. I left mine overnight before offering it back to the earth the next day. Offer the flower to the earth the next day also if used.
[contents]
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32. Thomas B. Coburn, Devī-Māhātmya: The Crystallization of the Goddess Tradition (Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass, 2002), p. 108.
33. Lynn Foulston and Stuart Abbott, Hindu Goddesses: Beliefs and Practices (Eastbourne, UK: Sussex Academic Press, 2009), p. 39.
34. Ibid., p. 36.
35. David Kinsley, Hindu Goddesses: Visions of the Divine Feminine in the Hindu Religious Tradition (Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1988), p. 129.
11
Eris
You find yourself on the stone steps of a great temple. The steps are smooth, polished marble, as are the pillars that frame the temple’s wall. The stone of the temple seems white at first, but you notice it has veins of black running through the stone. At the temple’s doorway there is a basin of water held up on a metal tripod, and you bow your head and wash your face and hands before you enter into the temple itself.
As you step inside you are immediately greeted with plumes of incense wafting through the air. The inner temple is dark, almost giving the illusion that the smoke is rising from the floor and the black veins of marble in it. There are murmured voices in the dark corners of the temple, and you know there are other devotees leaving offerings and making petitions to the goddess who calls this temple home. Their words are muffled, and despite being aware of their presence, you feel as if you have the temple to yourself.
As you walk deeper and deeper into the temple, past elaborate pillars, you become aware of an altar in an alcove to one side. You are unsure why you did not notice it before. There is a metal brazier burning with sweet-smelling incense. On the wall is a beautiful painting of a goddess. On the walls beside the altar are scenes of war and conflict mingled with scenes of competition. The goddess herself looms above the scenes, large wings on her back. Her hair is wild, a dagger in her hand, and she flies above the chaos. Her shoes have wings as well, and her clothes are torn in some places, yet she has an almost blissful expression on her face. Below the artwork, a crimson cloth drapes over a stone diadem with a single item upon it. It is unclear if the apple is an offering left by another devotee or something else entirely. Stepping closer, you see it is made of solid gold, yet it is so lifelike you were at first glance fooled into thinking it was a real apple. Entranced, you bend closer and admire the craftsmanship of the thing. On it there are letters, though not in a language you recognize. You pick up the golden apple and trace your fingers over the letters. Tē kallistē, it says, “to the fairest.” And suddenly you think of all the reasons that does not describe you, although you wish it did. You think of why others have not deemed you to be good enough and the mix of feelings that comes with it. You both believe it must be true and rebel at the same time, wishing it were not. Why should you not have this apple? Why is anyone else worthy and not you?
The wave of jealousy and emotions is heady, but it passes just as quickly as it came over you. You straighten up, no longer holding the apple possessively. You look at it once more, still beautiful, and set it down once again on the altar. With a deep breath, you look at it and the image of the winged goddess above it and say, “I am enough. Just as I am.” And the last dregs of that heavy wanting feeling are washed away.
Someone places a hand on you. Startled, you turn and meet the dark eyes of a woman. Her hair is loose and flowing with a few strands braided and pinned around her head. She wears flowing robes of black and red with regal golden fringes. Her lips are red like wine and turn up in a knowing and somewhat mischievous smirk. “Not everyone can resist the apple,” she says. She scoops it up off the altar, playfully tossing it from hand to hand. “All of life is about wanting and desire.” Her voice is silky, and the smoke from the incense in the temple swirls around her like phantom wings.
“What we do with desire matters. We live on the very edge of a blade. Can we walk it without faltering? Or will our desires turn to jealousy? Instead of striving to be better, to carve out our own desires from the world, will we always think that what someone else has is better? That what someone else thinks is more important than what we think?” She smiles and extends out the apple, offering it to you. “We are all the fairest. That is the secret. The trouble is we forget that the only person we should let judge our worth is ourselves. Craving the judgment of others will not make us the fairest—it will only quiet the fear in the pit of our stomachs that says, ‘You are not worthy.’ It is the poison that twists our drive in life to jealousy.”
She welcomes you to take the apple, and you do. The form of the woman, who you know must be Eris herself, begins to become less substantial. As if she is fading into the dark and smoke as she speaks. “I challenge you to know your own worth. And if you don’t, I’ll be there to break down every wall, to tumble you into chaos and strife until you know it deep in your heart. The heart that has never known strife has no true measure of its worth or the worth of others. Know your own full measure, and do not mourn the chaos that gave you the fullness of that wisdom. Celebrate it for what it is. Knowledge, even the most painful kind, is greater in worth than any gold.”
And with her words, she fades in the darkness. The temple begins to fade as well. All that is left in your vision is the shining golden apple in your hands.
Eris is the Greek goddess of strife, daughter of Zeus and Hera, though she is alternatively named the daughter of Nyx. In ancient depictions Eris is shown with wings, her unbound hair flowing from her head, a dagger in hand, and often in torn clothes. She is sister to Ares, the god of war, and Homer equated her to the war goddess Enyo, perhaps because she often accompanied her brother in his chariot. In The Iliad Homer tells us that Eris’s “wrath is relentless, she the sister and companion of murderous Ares, she who is only a little thing at the first, but thereafter grows until she strides on the earth with her head striking heaven. She then hurled down bitterness equally between both sides as she walked through the onslaught making men’s pain heavier.” 36
She is attributed by Hesiod to be the mother of most of the less desirable traits of humanity, with the exception of Oath:
And hateful Eris bore agonizing Toil,
Forgetfulness, Famine, and tearful Pains,
Battles and Fights, Murders and Manslaughters,
Lawlessness and Recklessness, who share one nature,
And Oath, who most troubles men upon Earth
When anyone willfully swears a false oath.” 37
While the last trait, Oath, sounds harmless, noble at times even, Eris perhaps reminds us that false oaths are often given and that many break their oaths no matter their intent when they first gave them.
Eris is perhaps best known for her role in causing the Trojan War. When the gods were invited to the wedding of Peleus and sea nymph Thetis (who would later be the mother of Achilles), Eris was not invited, most likely due to the troublesome spheres she held sway over. Not to be slighted or ignored, she tossed a golden apple inscribed with, or “to the fairest,” into the area in which the guests gathered. Hera, Athena, and Aphrodite all claimed it was meant for themselves. Zeus, not wishing to judge who was the fairest among them and end the quarrel, appointed the mortal Paris to choose amon
g the goddesses. Each promised him a different reward for choosing her, and in the end Paris found Aphrodite’s offer of the most beautiful woman in the world to be the most tempting. The discord continued after Aphrodite was named the fairest, as Helen, the most beautiful woman in the world, was already married. Paris inadvertently caused a war by claiming his prize. As the events of the Trojan War unfolded, even the gods picked sides, some aiding the Achaeans and others favoring the Trojans. In all senses, mortal and immortal worlds were thrust into conflict and strife.
The story of the apple paints Eris as spiteful and dangerous, yet at the beginning of Works and Days Hesiod describes Eris as being dual natured and sometimes useful to mankind: “There was not one kind of Strife alone, but all over the earth there are two. … For one fosters evil war and battle, being cruel. … But the other … set her in the roots of the earth: and she is far kinder to men. She stirs up even the shiftless to toil; for a man grows eager to work when he considers his neighbour … and neighbour vies with his neighbour as he hurries after wealth. This Strife is wholesome for men. And potter is angry with potter, and craftsman with craftsman … and minstrel of minstrel.” 38 In this light Eris has a dualistic nature, one side bloodthirsty, inciting the jealousy and battle, while her benevolent side as described by Hesiod inspired healthy rivalry and urged mankind to not be idle. As much as we don’t like to admit it, strife is at the very heart of the human experience. It is what allows us to learn and find a will to overcome the obstacles in our path. If we never had any obstacles to begin with, we would never know our own limits or strive to grow. Our trials, our most difficult experiences, shape us. Eris in this light becomes less petty and more of a goddess that rules over a difficult truth. We must suffer to learn, and some lessons can only be learned through pain and hardship. There is also a very competitive side to Eris. The strife that Hesiod describes is the strife that comes from competition. Craftsman against craftsman and minstrel against minstrel in a struggle to hone their craft, to better themselves through the drive created from conflict. Each wanting to be, like the three goddesses, recognized for being the better at something. Anyone who has a competitive nature or who has gone to a sporting event with adamant fans understands how this kind of strife can be a driving force.
Dark Goddess Craft Page 14
