Wednesday, July 15, 2015

Kundalini And My Dad

My father died recently at a venerable age (96), a respected man, and "Australia's Oldest Bush Dancer." (Bush dancing is a vigorous Aussie version of Irish and Scottish reels and jigs.) Dad was still waltzing young girls of eighty off their feet well into his ninth decade.
He and I were diametrically opposed on the question of whether there is or isn't a transcendent reality, and the fact that awakened Kundalini is this transcendent reality taking charge of the body. A polite and cultured man, Dad could turn the air blue with what he thought of "She who goes upwards, and is outside the universe." The only "She" (with a capital S) he ever acknowledged was Mum. A passionate "you've-only-got-one-lifer," he was determined to live his one life well.

The irony is that, with the positive way he approached everything — even dying, he was a supporter of "Doctor Death," Australia's medical advocate of assisted suicide* — Dad proved himself wrong. He proved that dying is something that you do. It's the deepest form of action. It doesn't just happen to you. It isn't passive. No matter how many tubes or drugs or comas force themselves upon an inert body, dying itself is a deed, an accomplishment (even death by violence.)

So who, or what, accomplishes this deed? A transcendent being free in the energy continuum — Dad would say "bullshit" — but he's wrong. I saw it.

*For a moving account of unassisted, intentional suicide, see Wake Up Running by David Egee, pp. 189-194.

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