Having spent some years on traveling the Yoga Interior Map of Kundalini and the Chakras, one can get lost there, believing the map is the terrain. One can become an expert reading the map. You can teach classes on the map. But I don’t use these maps anymore. They didn’t help me navigate my everyday mind and world here in Blackstone. This is my home. Here there are no maps, Western or Eastern.
When I come upon a bump in my day, a sharp edge upon which I cut my mind, a snag that catches a thought, there is no map to reference it. I am in uncharted territory here, even though Blackstone is well Googled.
And yet I invite Kundalini to rise, not as a snake up my spine but as insight, as a creative response, and I invite the creative power to rise through my writing. Let my fingers move and undulate with worlds, let my body speak about this mysterious power. The map appears through surrender. There is no map but the one I write.