Thursday, October 3, 2013
It was the full moon of Savan, and I was burning up. The cottage where i stayed was on the pradakshina route, and on this sacred day one could see from morning through night the whole road lined with seemingly unending people. And though I walked that mandala before, on this day it was not possible, and yet walk i did, in most pure form...and that assurance was a grace which touched me. A fever burned through me which harkened back to our arrival at this holy hill. Tiruvanamalai is a medium sized city in the state of Tamil Nadu, and looming over it is the hill/linga named Arunachala. It is Shiva. It is Mahakaal. The surroundings are undoubtedly a pure and complete mandala. When the unmanifest perfection meets the manifest form, then we say this is a mudra or a Mahamudra. But words like Mahamudra, mandala, Arunachala, and Shiva were just running through a mind consumed with fever, but in there true expression found resonance outside of any lable. Indeed, one must find that which is imperveous to any discriptor, whose truth touches something uncontained in any language or paradim born into.