Night Of The Cat Postscript And Commentary
I realize, having read over the essay "Night of the Cat," that I may have written it in too much haste, and left out many useful details, which might invite more questions than it answers.At the time of my first experience, and for years after, I was a strong (and perhaps wishful) believer in ghosts and spirits as autonomous and separate entities. It is for that reason I thought I'd had an encounter with some kind of spirit. In fact, the thing I described has shown up often in the descriptions and folklore of shamans the world over. I recall a Native American (Hurok) medicine man quoted in an old issue of SHAMAN'S DRUM magazine, describing a kind of supernatural attack by what he called "shadow complex" entities, which appear briefly in ones vision and sometimes take the form of cats. They attack by pouncing, or punching victims in the chest.
My own interpretation of these and similar events, is that the human brain can only build on what is familiar, and any sudden encounter with something unprecedented, anomalous, or indistinct has to be "translated" in those terms, lest the shock of the new paralyze us. Encounters with external energies, such as powerful geomagnetic or electromagnetic forces, or internal forces such as Kundalini, are converted by the brain synaesthetically into colors, images, and physical sensations. Many mystical vision, preternatural sightings, and ecstasies can be accounted for in this way. Many may disagree with my "functionalist" interpretation, but I maintain that for survival purposes, the brain must use this method to effectively process novel perceptions, much as dreams are used to occupy us as the mind organizes the day's experiences. Thus, the visions and sensations triggered by Kundalini should be considered nothing more than symptoms, pleasant or unpleasant side effects.
I did not, in my essay, go into much detail about the physical and visual aspects of my experience other than the most striking symptoms, such as the "lightning" sensation, and my subsequent changes to personality and states of health. So I shall flesh it out a bit more, for the benefit of those who may want to more closely interrogate my claims.
As with many others who've had "dysfunctional" awakenings of their Kundalini currents, I have found myself alternating between "heaven" and "hell," but even at my worst, I've had some kind of deep intuition that ultimately what I've been going through is good. But I am not always at those extremes. Most of the time things are stable, and there is a feeling of a kind of milky light (best way to describe it) flowing sluggishly up my spine. I feel a large cold spot on top of and slightly above my skull, like the top of my head is wet with a cool breeze running across it. I get a stiffness in my spine and neck, despite flexibility exercises. My digestive system protests too much to the foods I eat. If we are to accept the ida-pingala-sushumna model of Kundalini, it could be said that my "hot" current is arrested just below my heart (screwing with my emotions, appetite, and digestion) and my "cold" current has risen all the way to my head. The two currents are not united, and seem to be in conflict with each other. The unsettling effect is that I suffer frequently, but I feel a deep calm and peace at my core. If I can unblock the "heart chakra" (simultaneously a very real and very illusory obstacle), which I am attempting, then I might be able to get closer to a balanced state.
Other unusual perceptions I've had: some days I feel like a walking nervous system, independent of flesh and bone. Like a stick figure made up of electrical sparks. I recall some utility company used to have as a logo a mascot character of a little lightning man. That's sort of how I've felt. It's bizarre, and not particularly pleasant. Another thing I used to get all the time, and it stopped, curiously enough, after I had a sinus infection, was a perception of "auras" around people. They manifested as iridescent, webby tissues of liquid energy radiating from people, like moth wings, with finer strands going off in all directions. Some people had fewer strands. And there were incorporeal things moving among them, of similar energy, but more spider-like, tending to the auras and strands, and sometimes damaging them. Maybe these are what people think of as "guardian angels." As disturbing as these visions were, I'd prefer to think they were projections from my own mind attempting to deal with Kundalini.
I mentioned in an offhand way that I had cancer. I doubt that it was in any way an effect of "messing around" with Kundalini, but there were some interesting moments in that episode wherein the energy seemed to play a part. The cancer in question was a rather large malignant tumor in one of my testicles. When I had an ultrasound as part of my diagnosis, I had a glance at the ultrasound "picture" of the afflicted area. Both testes appeared in the image, filling a round screen. One was pale, the other was solid black. Yin and Yang. Though I should have been appalled, I was amused. The treatment, which included surgery and radiation, was no picnic, but I maintained high spirits throughout because I felt like I was getting a lesson, an education, and I felt that the experience was vital to the process I was going through.
My feelings about the social function of Kundalini may or may not differ from those of the majority of Kundalini scholars. I do feel that this energy does create geniuses and great people. However, not all geniuses and great people are Kundalini-inspired, and not all Kundalini-awakenened people are geniuses or great people. And Kundalini does not make a person necessarily enlightened or holy. I recognize Hitler and Mao Tse-Tung as being motivated by their Kundalini, but they are monsters. Fully active Kundalini gives us resources, but it is up to us to utilize them as we see fit. And some people are simply disabled, crippled, made insane or killed by their Kundalini.
So why do we try (those of us that do)? Perhaps it is because of the inspiring examples. Just as not every little boy or girl who wishes to will grow up to be an astronaut or the president, so too only some very small minority of those who experience Kundalini activity actually become a Mohandas Gandhi, a Jiddu Krishnamurti, a St. Francis of Assisi or Nicola Tesla. It is considered worth the risk. Admittedly some people go into it out of a desire to simply end their own suffering, or to possess siddhi powers. And some in whom the process was started by accident simply have to see it through before it harms them.
And while there are now a growing network of support groups, therapists and teachers willing to facilitate the process, many students of yoga, martial arts, tai chi, and other traditions feel abandoned by their teachers when a full-tilt spontaneous awakening occurs. I myself have had the experience of signing up for a yoga class and having to fill out a disclaimer form freeing the center of any responsibility should any physical or other problems arise during the training. Implicitly this includes Kundalini arousal. I doubt that the teachers, who have at best rudimentary knowledge of such things, would know what to do, or how to recognize the symptoms. How many yoga students have been sent to the emergency room and given diagnoses ranging from epilepsy or stroke to anaphylaxis, drug overdose or heart attack? Not to mention those admitted to psychiatric wards and promptly administered anti-psychotics or tranquilizers. I am sure some readers can relate to these problems.
With all of the complexity and diversity of experiences, motives, religious beliefs (or disbeliefs) of those who undergo the awakening of their Kundalini currents, simple notions such as "infusion with the grace of god" simply don't hold water. I am not altogether a scientific materialist though. I accept the possibility that all life on Earth is continuous and shared, and even consciousness may be somewhat interconnected. I will not speculate on the identity of a "creator" in this essay. However, with regard to Kundalini, it is my suspicion that it arises within ourselves, responding to our sensitivities to the needs of the Earth, life, our species, and our communities. It gives us the opportunity, and the means, to assert some control over the collective destiny, for better or worse, of life on Earth. It is a kind of gift, and like any kind of gift, however powerful, it can be used constructively, destructively, or ineffectually.
If I have to impart advice to others going through some kind of difficulties with their Kundalini, it is as follows: First, as much as you might want to crawl under a rock and suffer alone, the only way to get out of that rut is to get out of yourself, stop with the self-pity, and cultivate your compassion. Use your suffering as a tool to help you relate to and relieve the suffering of others. Improving your compassion and communication skills can most often stimulate further progress in the process. Second, look for precedents to what you are going through. You can learn what to do, and especially what not to do. And it's also helpful to know that you aren't crazy and there are others undergoing similar changes. Third, your Kundalini should allow you to make more transparent the clockworks of society and all its false and manipulative symbolism.
Use this ability to benefit yourself and others. And if you've stripped away all the illusion and exposed a pure and silent void where words have no value or meaning, don't recoil. . .
© Copyright C.P. McDill 2006