“ The moment you step into the foothills of Himalayas, a certain romance has begun between the youngest species in the planet, which is you, and the youngest mountain in the planet, which is Himalaya. Both are still growing, still struggling, still evolving, still wanting to touch their peaks…” – Sadhguru
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Even the rocks reach out to the heavens.
No wonder beings seeking divine
made you their abode
You, of gushing waters and rushing airs
towering presence of unsurpassable grace
The brave hands that crafted these paths
into your ceaseless folds:
a mighty effort, but miniscule
Many have traveled this labyrinth
that seemingly leads to your very womb
The womb that the courageous ones sought
to die and be born once again
These Dwijas – the twice born
of immeasurable wisdom
Left imprints that even
the final deluge can erase not
O deathless ones, your energies and wisdom
here lives through me
I have the keys to your grace and boundlessness.
Every beating heart claims to seek
As I peel to reveal
The weak-hearted ones run
to save their frailties
But a few lusty ones remain
Lust – lust for life – deeper life
is the only way to unravel
the bounty of nothingness
that is me and you
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‘It never occurred to me to be afraid of snakes. I don’t know why. Maybe I looked a little freakish to other people because of this. But just as I was comfortable with everything else, I was comfortable with snakes as well. They never alarmed me.’
In time, Jaggi developed a considerable reputation as a neighbourhood snake catcher and was paid handsomely for his services. ‘Generally, people fear snakes because they move very quickly. But that was never an issue for me because I had learnt that a human being can move much quicker. When I went to catch snakes, I didn’t go with a stick, wait for them to settle down, then hold them down before picking them up, which is what snake catchers generally do. I could go even to a provoked cobra and catch it directly. I did this for many years. I don’t know if I have the speed or coordination to do it today. But it was something I did with great confidence then.’
He was also able to intuitively discern the presence of snakes. ‘I developed a certain keen sense, which has gone out of my system these days because of a lack of application. I could easily track a snake in the wild. I would smell it and just go and catch it. If I went to some spot on Chamundi Hill, I would know under exactly which rock the snake would be at that moment. These days I have lost that sense. Too many people and too much city stuff around me these days.’
One day he caught a snake that had made its way into a local tube light factory—to the great relief of the factory workers. He couldn’t bear to be parted from his prize catch, however, and decided to smuggle it home and hide it under his bed. It soon became a close companion.
Inevitably, his strange ‘under-the-bedfellow’ was discovered in the course of time by his father, who decided to investigate the source of a fierce hiss. ‘When he heard that strange sound, my lather went down on his knees and looked to see what it was,’ recalls Sadhguru. ‘I had my snake in a big glass case. That tube light factory had given me a big laboratory jar, free of cost, which I could close partially. That allowed me to keep the snake in it. I’d keep him in the jar all day, and in the evenings, when I came back from school, I’d take him out somewhere and give him exercise before putting him back again. So my father looked at the snake, and he just freaked out! He was hopping mad when I came home. Of course, he was also terrified. Everyone at home was literally standing on chairs and sofas!’
Jaggi couldn’t understand what the outrage was about. It was true that his snake was a twelve-foot-long cobra. But it was a beauty —not to mention, a friend. He grudgingly relocated the reptile—flouting his family’s strict instruction that the snake be cast out of the house. He built a large cage and housed it on his terrace. It lived with him for three years. Thankfully, no one in the family ever visited the terrace in that period.
He was later to discover the source of his deep connection with snakes. It was, he realized, the legacy of an earlier lifetime. But there was more. The traditional veneration of snakes and cows in India, he often explains, is not a mere matter of superstition. All human beings, says Sadhguru, have lived out lifetimes as snakes and cows at some point in their journey of existential evolution. ‘One aspect is the symbolism of the kundalini energy and its nature—its similarity with the snake in terms of movement and stillness. But another important aspect is that the snake is a compulsory and significant step in the evolution of a being. As the monkey is a significant step in the evolutionary process of the body, the snake is a significant step in the evolutionary process of the being. So is the cow. That’s why in this culture, you are not supposed to kill either. If you find a dead snake or happen to kill one in India, you must give it a proper funeral and burial. A snake always gets a proper burial, because in terms of its being, it is very close to a human being. Killing a snake has always been seen as murder.’
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Ishafoundation.org
Lorem lpsum
Lorem Ipsum is simply dummy text of the printing and typesetting industry. Lorem Ipsum has been the industry’s standard dummy text ever since the 1500s, when an unknown printer took a galley of type and scrambled it to make a type specimen book.
LOREM IPSUM – SHARING
No images could have prepared me for the overpowering scale and surreal beauty of the Tibetan plateau. So mesmerized was I by the infinite horizons, and the dry and arid landscape that had no trees, no bushes, no birds and no butterflies; just remoteness – nomad’s land. I was not sure whether all this was real or if I was dreaming. We had started off from the Nepalese-Chinese border in off-road vehicles. After a few hours of driving, we stopped at a particular place to wait for the other vehicles in our group to catch up. Waiting in a land with endless infinite space, not going anywhere, not coming anywhere, where vision stops only at the deep blue sky with its innumerous mysteries, I was constantly reminded of the insignificance of this body which I call myself. Night had fallen when the last vehicles arrived and we continued our journey.
We reached Saga – a town somewhere midway between the Nepal-Tibet border and Kailash. Saga is the town. What do I mean? It is at Saga that high-altitude sickness really gets you. Dull continuous waves of pain roll through your head, and the stomach threatens to heave at the slightest excuse. The Tibetan guides told us that if we could make it past Saga without coming down with respiratory problems, the rest of the trip would be fine too. Thankfully our whole group made it through; nobody had to head back to Nepal.
One day he caught a snake that had made its way into a local tube light factory—to the great relief of the factory workers. He couldn’t bear to be parted from his prize catch, however, and decided to smuggle it home and hide it under his bed. It soon became a close companion.
Inevitably, his strange ‘under-the-bedfellow’ was discovered in the course of time by his father, who decided to investigate the source of a fierce hiss. ‘When he heard that strange sound, my lather went down on his knees and looked to see what it was,’ recalls Sadhguru. ‘I had my snake in a big glass case. That tube light factory had given me a big laboratory jar, free of cost, which I could close partially. That allowed me to keep the snake in it. I’d keep him in the jar all day, and in the evenings, when I came back from school, I’d take him out somewhere and give him exercise before putting him back again. So my father looked at the snake, and he just freaked out! He was hopping mad when I came home. Of course, he was also terrified. Everyone at home was literally standing on chairs and sofas!’
Jaggi couldn’t understand what the outrage was about. It was true that his snake was a twelve-foot-long cobra. But it was a beauty —not to mention, a friend. He grudgingly relocated the reptile—flouting his family’s strict instruction that the snake be cast out of the house. He built a large cage and housed it on his terrace. It lived with him for three years. Thankfully, no one in the family ever visited the terrace in that period.
He was later to discover the source of his deep connection with snakes. It was, he realized, the legacy of an earlier lifetime. But there was more. The traditional veneration of snakes and cows in India, he often explains, is not a mere matter of superstition. All human beings, says Sadhguru, have lived out lifetimes as snakes and cows at some point in their journey of existential evolution. ‘One aspect is the symbolism of the kundalini energy and its nature—its similarity with the snake in terms of movement and stillness. But another important aspect is that the snake is a compulsory and significant step in the evolution of a being. As the monkey is a significant step in the evolutionary process of the body, the snake is a significant step in the evolutionary process of the being. So is the cow. That’s why in this culture, you are not supposed to kill either. If you find a dead snake or happen to kill one in India, you must give it a proper funeral and burial. A snake always gets a proper burial, because in terms of its being, it is very close to a human being. Killing a snake has always been seen as murder.’
