The following narrative is the last 9 chapters of the book “unSpiritual: A Spiritual Journey “. It is being published here (link to next chapter at bottom) for those who would like to read, exclusively, Zzenn’s kundalini “Stairway to Heaven” narrative without the back story. Refer to the original volume for the whole story and all 19 Insight Keys.
The Entire Book – unSpiritual: A Spiritual Journey $16.95
The Exclusive Kindle Version – Kundalini: Triggered by a Famous Song $6.99
BEARER OF KUNDALINI – PART 5
“For I am I: ergo, the truth of myself; my own sphinx, conflict, chaos, vortex ― asymmetric to all rhythms, oblique to all paths. I am the prism between black and white; Mine own unison in duality.”
― Austin Osman Spare ―
The next morning I did my regular meandering around the house after the sounds of the birds opened my eyes. This meandering was a process of inward tuning to the current of the environment, the moment. There was a strong Zen-Buddhist feel in everything I did. Things had to be placed in a certain way aligned with other objects so that it visually looked balanced and felt tuned, much like a guitar string.
Use of the sound “hm” was consistent through the entire experience. This hm sound was the tuning mechanism for the energy within, sort of like a yes, no or maybe check of acknowledgment. It was the constant checking of things, within and without, in a state of unpretentious wonder. For example:
A light would turn on … hm!
Someone would cough … hm!
A loud car would drive by … hm!
A feeling would occur … hm!
A thought would appear … hm!
A desire would arise … hm!
Visualize a Zen warrior and you’ll get the idea.
It got contagious after a while as others started doing it. You would hear hm somewhere in the house and then a pause, and then someone else would hm after pondering the first hm ― it was hilarious.
The twin pulsing energy in the back of my head had increased and swirling spirals within my ears were extending into my brain as if some energetic surgery was being conducted. I felt to organize some things in the kitchen, make up my bed and lay down to focus entirely on this.
First there was pressure in the right side, two or three inches inside the head. The energy spiraled inward tickling the brain and then reversed and slowly spiraled into and through the ear, and then out, extending a few inches from the head. It felt like air was being released from my brain; then the left side began doing the same thing. The sound of bones adjusting and grinding in my neck and head was constant.
I could feel energy flushing up my legs. My body was literally squeezing the old self (the inner memory construct) out of the cells and bones and muscles, skin, spine and head through an opening at the top of my skull.
A process of breathing began, just like when a woman is in labor and pants and holds while pushing, but the pushing was the other direction ― through the top of head. The lungs would inhale and then hold, as spirals of feeling, slowly rotated from the lower body up into the base of the skull, then working through the brain, pushed toward the top of the head. Again, the sound of grinding was heard consistently.
If the way I’m describing this sounds like I had no free will in the process this is correct. There was about as much free will as there is when someone has to breath, defecate, urinate, eat, experience arousal.
Then, suddenly, my spine arched and with a violent grinding sound, from the tail bone up to the center of the chest occurred. The only way I can describe it is crrrrrruuuuuunnnnch. I’m very curious if it could have been heard externally. All the bones adjusted themselves to the initial crack at the base in one loud crunching, grinding swoop. Then, the raw feeling of tree bark instantly ran up from my waist and wrapped around my entire torso and over the shoulders positioning firmly at the limbic system (reptilian brain) or base of skull. The inside of my torso had changed feeling-shape.
The pulsing over the back of the head from the feeling of gills in the back of the jaw bones were integrated at this point. This increased the feeling of inner skin being pulled or squeezed out through the head. Like a snake shedding its skin, the inner emotional life construct of the old Self, was leaving.
The breathing continued for hours pushing a hole through the top of my head. With each inhale and hold, (again, just like a woman in labor) the energy would push through the brain to the top of the head and eventually through, resulting in an intoxicating feeling. The energy then flowed through the top allowing the entire unconscious within the cells of my body to dissipate into the air above my head.
If this process was made visual to someone in the room, they would have seen energy rising and dispersing into thin air once it left the top of my head with occasional gusher effect, sort of like when water is pouring out of a bottle or smoke rising.
Of course, this is not a physical hole but an emotional hole. How this connects to the physical soft spot at the top of an infant’s head upon birth, I have yet to be explore.
I spent hours doing the breathing and holding over a period of days. The first phase opened the top of the head and on the second day my tongue took on a life of its own.
Exhausted from hours of breathing and my body contorting into odd positions (which I discovered later were Kundalini yoga postures), I moved up from the lower part of the bed and rested my head on the pillow.
After a few moments, my tongue started moving by itself. I thought, “well, it has been strange enough so far, why not this?” My tongue began squeezing itself like it was pushing something out. This went on for about 20 min or so when a white gritty substance came out of its tip. The tongue would squeeze it out and then scoop it over the bottom front row of my bottom teeth onto my lips which would drool down onto the pillow.
As a subjective explorer, I was so enamored with this activity. The tongue continued emitting this fluid for about an hour, covering the length of my pillow (I would move my head back every time it issued the white substance). When this part was done and the substance was fully drained from the fleshy organ it curled up and, like a dog sniffing for something, found spots on the roof of my mouth. Once it found the right location it stiffened and pushed into the spot. When this happened it was like an electrical circuit was set up and other parts of my body and spine reacted allowing more residual energy to be released. It did this over and over for a short while.
I don’t recall the exact amount of days this process took but my guess is three to five. Sometimes it went into the evening with intermitted breaks every two or three hours.
The final phase of this shedding process happened in the afternoon. The breathing, holding and extreme body positions were consistent with occasional non-breathing episodes. Strange as it sounds, I experienced the perception of not needing to breathe when the in breath would extend past the normal hold period. At the peak of exhalation the desire to hold further into spasms would occur, causing the upper torso and head to gulp as if swallowing its own air. At this point I entered a state of pure silence and no breath. I don’t know how long this state continued, I just remember that I was already holding for long periods of time and this extended into an experience of “consciousness without breathing.”
For days, my entire head felt like a tight long sleeve was being pulled off the top while, simultaneously, spiral energies crawled through my neck, ears and brain causing the eyes to roll and neck to swing back and forth in a rotating fashion. From the outside, I looked like an extremely intoxicated person, and I was, but with no drugs.
Finally, the last of the sheath came off my head, accompanied with a long slow exhale, a golden light appeared all around my head. My eyes felt fresh, like seeing for the first time. My ears opened up as if hearing for the first time. The quality of sounds increased in magnitude, richness, texture. It was as if the sounds of leaves falling were within inches. Occasionally, I had to put my finger in my ears to quell the intensity.
The freshness of my head shedding the skin of its former self was spectacular … Spectacular!
I walked outside like a butterfly stretching its wings and turned my face toward the sun. With utter surprise I could stare at the sun with no pain in the retinae. Talk about superpowers, I did not have to blink and it felt comfortable gazing at the giant orb without the need to turn away for what seemed minutes at a time. Even so, I didn’t want to take the chance of a burned retinae so I kept the experimentation to a minimum.
After catching Duncan up on the Kundalini metamorphosis, I ask him “what next?” and he replied with “let’s go to the creek.” I thought that was a good idea. To plunge into nature with my new born senses.
When we got to the trail head the sounds of nature were so loud that I was hesitant to continue. The leaves cracking under our feet and the bugs buzzing by felt like speakers in my head. We pressed on and immersed ourselves in the cool waters of the creek for the remainder of the afternoon. Nature was in Technicolor.
In the evening hours I felt drawn to my bed by what felt like something more. As I lay there, residual energies were emanating from my spine spiraling upward with trails from different parts of my body. There was an emptiness inside I had never experienced. As I looked around within, sensing different locations, words and short phrases started appearing. With each appearance, I sent them out through the top of the head. For example, the word “hate” would appear and I would feel the word “out,” and immediately, it shot upward. This happened with every word and phrase until nothing was left. This went on for what seemed an hour.
Then, like an ascension experience, the last energies flowed out of my head in a moment of pure ecstasy, beauty, tenderness and bliss.
I saw my old-self, Christopher’s energy, (ghost or spirit) ascend in a spiral into the darkness above. With my eyes closed, I was able to look up and see the energy dissipating. Tears ran from my face as I knew it was he that was really leaving. My heart filled with unspeakable love and gratitude thanking him for fighting the good fight all of this life. For protecting me so that I could be born. It was Christopher’s journey that had protected the Inner Child and allowed the transformation to occur. At the expense of being ridiculed by family and friends, changing jobs and sudden relocations, he remained true to the intuitive quest even when he had no rational answers to give. It was he, the hero, who would not give up at any cost to deliver this child. This was the purest, most beautiful, moment of gratitude I had ever experienced.
Then, like the Swan Song, when the last thank you emanated from my mind, the energy disappeared into the deep dark above my head. As soon as that happened . . . a Star appeared as pristine and bright as anyone could imagine.
A Star? I was shocked. Are you kidding? Really? A real star above my head? I heard about following your North Star and read Crowley’s words, “You are a Star” but never imagined that it was a literal expression of the biology or Bio-Imagination. I thought it was exclusively metaphorical.
“When you wish upon a star”
― Jiminy Cricket ―
I got further confirmation when I came across an art piece from Austin Osman Spare (English artist and occultist 1886–1956) that visually depicted the Kundalini transformation just as I experienced it. Unless someone has gone through it I don’t see how they could see in that artwork what I was able to see. The new face emerging from the layers of old-self fading away and “the Star” appearing in just the right spot ― that could not have been made up from my perspective. Add to that, Spare was an occultists extraordinaire who was admittedly aware of this serpent power. There are specifics, clues, keys, just like a scientist, detective or investigator, which reveal insights to the occult mind.
Exhausted, I fell asleep for a few hours.
In the middle of the night, I was awoken by a sound emitting from my voice that woke Duncan up in the living room. It was a crying moan of a dying entity. I woke up to the eerie cry leaving my mouth and the sound of Duncan pounding on the door. I got up and let him in. We sat on the bed discussing what happened well into the morning hours. I told him it was the Swan Song of my former self.
Swan Song: A final gesture or performance, given before dying or retirement.
Interestingly, William Rimmer’s most famous painting, though not normally associated with him, Evening: Fall of Day, was the basis for the Swan Song record logo that Led Zeppelin used.20
Tired but grateful, I was comforted by knowing something extraordinary had occurred. The psycho-emotional skin, or spirit of the old-self, had left. The long road to metamorphosis had reached an epic milestone; and yet, another transformation was about to occur.