Coiled

David has been warning me about snakes in my greenhouse and out in the backyard garden beds. Wear shoes, he says, and brings out mothballs. It's timely, then, that I'm studying Kundalini yoga today. Kundalini means "coiled," and the serpent/snake is revered.

(image borrowed from Meditative Mind

This banished creature (St. Patrick's work in Ireland?) is a subject of fascination for me, and one of my favorite poems is "The Snake" by D.H. Lawrence, in which the speaker engages with a snake at his fountain, experiencing admiration and revulsion in equal parts. Part of what makes the poem delightful is Lawrence's expert use of the "s" sound throughout. You'll want to read the whole thing, but here is the beginning:

A snake came to my water-trough

On a hot, hot day, and I in pyjamas for the heat,

To drink there.

In the deep, strange-scented shade of the great dark carob tree

I came down the steps with my pitcher

And must wait, must stand and wait, for there he was at the trough

            before me.

He reached down from a fissure in the earth-wall in the gloom

And trailed his yellow-brown slackness soft-bellied down, over

            the edge of the stone trough

And rested his throat upon the stone bottom,

And where the water had dripped from the tap, in a small clearness,

He sipped with his straight mouth,

Softly drank through his straight gums, into his slack long body,

Silently.

(Isn't it marvelous?)

(painting by LauraInkSetter)

There is an intensity in the speaker's attention to the snake. Similarly, the snake shape works in Kundalini practice as the idea of moving upward in the chakras, giving full attention to each. A sense of warmth rises in the body as this happens successfully.

("Kundalini" painting by Meghan Oona Clifford)

Each chakra is also associated with a deity. For example, the god of destruction and transformation, Shiva. In the mythology of Shiva, we can better understand how even when something seems destroyed, rebirth will occur, and we can begin again. 

(This Shiva is not to be confused with the Jewish practice of the same name, the first seven days of mourning for someone beloved. Each deserves contemplation.)

"After the burial, mourners return home (or, ideally, to the home of the deceased) to sit  for seven days. Shiva is simply the Hebrew word for seven. During the shiva week, mourners are expected to remain at home and sit on low stools. This last requirement is intended to reinforce the mourners’ inner emotions. In English we speak of “feeling low,” as a synonym for depression; in Jewish law, the depression is acted out literally."

(image from Interfaith Family and 18 Doors)

If you are interested in art that combines faiths, as I am, you may enjoy spending some time reading and viewing the work of Siona Benjamin.

"Jewish art tends to be associated with European painters like Chagall, Liebermann, Pissarro, and Soutine. But Bombay-born painter Siona Benjamin, whose art combines Jewish, Indian, and American elements, shatters the misconception that Jewish art is essentially Western."

Have I lost track of the snake in this serpentine post? Well, sir, there will be no snake-handling in the Church in the Greenhouse, nor any snake worship. But what if, metaphorically ... or spiritually, we might charm the snake? 

What if we dance the snake charmer's dance? and own our personal magnetism? What if we tune in to fascination and wonder as part of our personal church?

Today, I will be dancing...

Tamara