Could I meditate upon the mystic seed sound Ma, entrusted to me by my Cosmic Mom. ~ Ramprasad
From April 2 by April 11, Hindus will have fun the vacation Navratri, a joyful nine-day celebration of the goddess in all her types, together with Kali, Durga, Saraswati, Chandrika, and Kundalini. However the goddess is thought throughout all traditions. Christianity is aware of Her as Mom Mary, Black Madonna, Sophia, or the Holy Spirit; in Buddhism as Tara or Kwan Yin. The huge constellation of those types are completely different aspects of 1 God, permitting us the chance to attach with the types that provide us probably the most delight.
There may be an previous saying that whereas we’re on this earth engrossed in our pursuits and objectives, we’re like Mom’s youngsters contentedly enjoying with toys. We delight within the number of experiences, roles, and challenges of the on a regular basis world. Then there’s a second once we start to need extra from life—greater than extraordinary expertise can provide. As we begin to really feel the pangs of religious discontent, we throw down our “toys” and start to fuss and cry. That brings Mom operating, providing us Her grace and love, making ready us for the subsequent stage of our journey.
The easy phrase “Ma” evokes our intimate connection to the transcendent Mom who generously offers the facility, safety, and nurturance that we’d like on the religious path. Supply your devotion merely and freely to connect with the very supply of all that’s!
~Erika
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The Play of My Soul is Over
O blissful Mom,
the play of my soul is over.
My unusual dream of motion and keenness
is now full.
Ma! Ma! Ma!
I took this incarnation
to expertise your common drama,
but like a small little one,
I solely performed with mud.
O Daughter of the Sacred Mountain,
fountain of self-luminosity,
at this pregnant second
you will have introduced dying close to me.
My childhood handed in playfulness,
my later years have been video games of restricted love,
and now age has slowed my steps
until I not dance with delusion.
This poet supplicates ceaselessly:
“Holy Mom! Holy Mom!
Grant me pure love for you solely!
Merge me irretrievably
into your stunning black thriller.”
by Ramprasad Sen in Mom of the Universe, edited by Lex Hixon
