Religion is such a strange beast.
Something which should provide solace and a sense of meaning can be turned to such strange purpose.
I grew up a Hindu, learning about the ins and outs of Hinduism, all of its countless stories of gods, goddesses and adventures. I went to temples and participated in all of the rituals because that is what one does. I never really questioned it too much, other than the occasional question that a child comes with, about motivations and lessons and things like that.
It wasn't until I saw the seedy side of religion that my opinion of it changed.
A few years ago, on a family trip to Delhi and Agra, we decided to stop in Vrindavan, which figures predominantly in the god Krishna's childhood adventures. Now, I don't know what I was expecting and I will fully admit that part of the ensuing fiasco was due to my naivety, but after a run-in with a corrupt guide and even more corrupt priest who attempted to emotionally blackmail my mother into donating to the temple if she wanted my life to be good, I was ready to wash my hands of organized religion in general. In fact, I was furious. It infuriated me.
For the longest time, I absolutely loathed organized religion. To this day, I still question why we have to go to temples and perform certain rituals, if one of the tenets of Hinduism is that god is everywhere and in everything, including ourselves. To commune with an ever-present deity by going to a particular place and doing a particular thing doesn't really make much sense, does it?
Recently, I think I've rediscovered my religion. Over the past few months, medical school (and other stressors) drove me to the point where I felt ready to jump out of my own skin. I was profoundly uncomfortable and dissatisfied with myself and the way my life was going. I reacted to everything emotionally and uncontrollably.
Then I discovered Kali. And I explored her.
At first glance, she is blood-thirsty and ferocious, perhaps even off-puttingly so. On closer examination, however, she represents one's emotions and the destructive power that they contain. Yes, Kali is necessary. When other methods fail, Kali must be unleashed against one's enemies, but it is just that, she is not ever-present, she is controlled and when she must act, she acts without fear, without scruples, without any worldly attachment. She does what needs to be done and she does it completely and utterly fearlessly. She does not dissemble. She is who she is and it is up to others to approach her or run in fear. On the other side of the coin, she cannot be allowed to run rampant for long, because she will destroy the world.
She drew me, irresistibly.
I have never been the calm-water-like personality, forever adjusting to the world, that is so loved by my introspective, peace-loving religion. I am more like fire. It can warm and protect and comfort, but it can also rage and destroy. The other side of the coin is ice, in which nothing is felt by the deepest heart of hearts, even after insults that would make other hearts weep. I have always been that fire and ice and trying to be like still water felt like a personal betrayal of a sort. Kali exemplifies that fire-and-ice dichotomy. She has no husband or children. Her occasional consort is the god Shiva, but truthfully, his spouse is the mother goddess Parvati (of whom, Kali is but an aspect). She encounters the world on her own terms, when she wants to. She is not tied to it.
As I explored the nature of Kali more, a strange thing happened. I began to feel a little more comfortable in my own skin. I felt more sure of myself. Certainly I am not 100% like her (for one thing, a taste for blood is something I've never acquired... fortunately), but reflecting upon her has brought me further along the path of self-realization than I ever expected to be.
So, in the end, it doesn't matter what deity you worship, it matters how you worship them. Develop a personal bond with them. Reflect on them. As long as you get to that inner place of self-assurance and confidence, it doesn't really matter how you get there in the end.
Something which should provide solace and a sense of meaning can be turned to such strange purpose.
I grew up a Hindu, learning about the ins and outs of Hinduism, all of its countless stories of gods, goddesses and adventures. I went to temples and participated in all of the rituals because that is what one does. I never really questioned it too much, other than the occasional question that a child comes with, about motivations and lessons and things like that.
It wasn't until I saw the seedy side of religion that my opinion of it changed.
A few years ago, on a family trip to Delhi and Agra, we decided to stop in Vrindavan, which figures predominantly in the god Krishna's childhood adventures. Now, I don't know what I was expecting and I will fully admit that part of the ensuing fiasco was due to my naivety, but after a run-in with a corrupt guide and even more corrupt priest who attempted to emotionally blackmail my mother into donating to the temple if she wanted my life to be good, I was ready to wash my hands of organized religion in general. In fact, I was furious. It infuriated me.
For the longest time, I absolutely loathed organized religion. To this day, I still question why we have to go to temples and perform certain rituals, if one of the tenets of Hinduism is that god is everywhere and in everything, including ourselves. To commune with an ever-present deity by going to a particular place and doing a particular thing doesn't really make much sense, does it?
Recently, I think I've rediscovered my religion. Over the past few months, medical school (and other stressors) drove me to the point where I felt ready to jump out of my own skin. I was profoundly uncomfortable and dissatisfied with myself and the way my life was going. I reacted to everything emotionally and uncontrollably.
Then I discovered Kali. And I explored her.
At first glance, she is blood-thirsty and ferocious, perhaps even off-puttingly so. On closer examination, however, she represents one's emotions and the destructive power that they contain. Yes, Kali is necessary. When other methods fail, Kali must be unleashed against one's enemies, but it is just that, she is not ever-present, she is controlled and when she must act, she acts without fear, without scruples, without any worldly attachment. She does what needs to be done and she does it completely and utterly fearlessly. She does not dissemble. She is who she is and it is up to others to approach her or run in fear. On the other side of the coin, she cannot be allowed to run rampant for long, because she will destroy the world.
She drew me, irresistibly.
I have never been the calm-water-like personality, forever adjusting to the world, that is so loved by my introspective, peace-loving religion. I am more like fire. It can warm and protect and comfort, but it can also rage and destroy. The other side of the coin is ice, in which nothing is felt by the deepest heart of hearts, even after insults that would make other hearts weep. I have always been that fire and ice and trying to be like still water felt like a personal betrayal of a sort. Kali exemplifies that fire-and-ice dichotomy. She has no husband or children. Her occasional consort is the god Shiva, but truthfully, his spouse is the mother goddess Parvati (of whom, Kali is but an aspect). She encounters the world on her own terms, when she wants to. She is not tied to it.
As I explored the nature of Kali more, a strange thing happened. I began to feel a little more comfortable in my own skin. I felt more sure of myself. Certainly I am not 100% like her (for one thing, a taste for blood is something I've never acquired... fortunately), but reflecting upon her has brought me further along the path of self-realization than I ever expected to be.
So, in the end, it doesn't matter what deity you worship, it matters how you worship them. Develop a personal bond with them. Reflect on them. As long as you get to that inner place of self-assurance and confidence, it doesn't really matter how you get there in the end.
kol hakavod. religious or spiritual introspection is a foundation stone of knowing thyself, i think.
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