where chaos principle and power have been revered for millenia.
And for the people of those places, a certain yielding to uncertain chaos is seasonally prescribed for global, integrative health of the individual and collective psyche.
Such a place I frequent yearly in the ruddy, lush backwaters of Southern India. A place where many a Hindu home is a temple unto itself, erected to fortify awareness of the correspondences between micro and macro cosmic forces. It's a place where smiles break quickly and widely across the faces of those gazing in love at all the omni-facets of their chosen divine.
Foot paths, fringed with palms in motion, lead to the beloved grove sacred to snakes where the village community plunges as one body into the primordial ceremony of the serpent oracles.
We tread bare sole on sand. The sunlight is caught and carried with us in silken threads and jewels. We walk, women and girls in a sinuous line around and around their ancient family temple. As we wind our way we chant with voices swelling with power: Naga! Naga! Naga! We call them forth, the supernatural presences of infinitude and as the tidal surge of energy oscillates within, the sea-salted space hosting us all shimmers and warps.
In front of the hallowed snake stone a sanctified diagram had been drawn out with rice flour and filled with the grains of turmeric, burnt rice husks, leaf powders and dry saffron. This is the field of invitation, like a mirror. Invitation through patterned reflection. Drawn on the earth are intertwining serpents to draw upon from subtle realms, their corresponding serpentine forces.
Musicians from the tribe of naga worshippers pluck, drum and drone until extraordinarily seductive vibrations have fully, consistently penetrated and bathed our spinal cord and brain centres. For those who remember how to allow, bodies sway like palm fronds. Torsos convulse rhythmically, supple and yet integral as bamboo spires.
All eyes are on the virginal bodies of the meditating girls as they prepare to yield to the tremulous awakening of the serpent power. Each minute pulsation has a magnitude of impact on the ones literally thrumming in tune with the cadences of wonder.
And it wont stop. And we don't intend it to stop. We intend to break until broken. And these are the English words that roll unceasing from my mind as I align by nature with this indigenous blueprint for conscious engagement with chaos: “Break It! Break it! Break it!”