I felt the call, to the bedroom, my temple.
I began the ritual by opening the Necromancer book to a page with a ritual on it, and began to read it aloud.
I called the dead. I remembered the dead who snapped twigs around me in the graveyard, calling them. Come to me. I called Anuas. There was a skull was before me. I placed my hand upon it. I called the dead to enter it. I called Anuas.
I fell into a meditative state. I saw frozen streets and yards, a winter scene in the city at night. As I felt the feelings of these images… and I felt the death in a frozen world. A form of death, the deep of winter.
This translated into a state of deepening meditation. Again I felt my state changed as I settled into the meditation of death.
I began to make little cries, they were mournful sounds, small at first. Eventually I made long and low keening sounds. At one point I beat my hands on my chest as I cried out.
I started to feel it, the furious fire consuming me. I saw and felt my pyre at Veranasi. The fire all about and through me was a furious churning of consumption as I was slowly burnt up.
I still made the sounds of mourning.
These were past lives, I realized. Lives of mourning death at the funeral pyre. Of being a corpse in the furious flames of the pyre.
I yawned loudly as the energies and emotions were released. Again and again.
My meditation became deeper and deeper. Like other times when my mind has come to a stop, this was like that, perhaps deeper still. Nestling deeper and deeper in the place below consciousness, I became still, and more still, then even more.
Again I felt the furious flames, but they were receding. Instead, I felt a little, so tiny rivulet of hope, of life. The waters of the Ganges were lifting my ashes so slightly, so gently, as I drifted in tiny little rivulets as ash lifted and mixed with the water, the ever flowing water, carrying the little ashes that were me away, purified and released.
I came back to the room, but my mind remained very still. I stroked the cat, who was laying next to me on the bed.
I came to my computer to write. My mind is so very still.
I have died. I have been purified. I have returned.
This night, and in past lives and memories, I have visited the various times and places of death. We are all called to these places. And yet we do not think upon them. We pretend to ourselves we do not know what will be.
The Left Hand Path sects of Hinduism, such as that of the Aghoris, face that which is most disgusting in order to attain freedom, the reality of freedom. I feel a similar power of change in all that I may face and experience as a practitioner of the Death Current. The fear and disgust of holding a human skull is the energy and power of my ascent.
And now I am done with this blog entry. I feel an incredible stillness. The sound of silence surrounds me, flows through me. I am in an altered state.
Death gives this to me. Pranam.
“Aghori rituals, which are performed precisely to oppose notions of purity commonplace in orthodox Hinduism, are typically macabre in nature.” ~ Wikipedia, Aghori
An Aghori Sadhu in the making is required to eat whatever is available. It should not matter to him if he is consuming decomposing garbage, feces, urine or the bloated carcasses of humans and animals – the more tolerance to the emotions of disgust and repugnance he shows, the closer he is to becoming an Aghori Sadhu and attaining moksha. During the more advance levels of meditation, the Sadhu is required to find a corpse and use it as his seat of meditation. The corpse symbolizes the shava, or the body of the Aghori Sadhu, and is ultimately consumed by the Sadhu as a way of removing it from the world of maya.
When asked why he would want to do some of the sickening things he does, an Aghori Sadhu would claim that he finds purity in even the filthiest of actions or objects. Everything, according to the Aghori doctrine of beliefs, will ultimately be destroyed by Lord Shiva when the time comes, regardless of whether ordinary people view it in a positive or negative light. The universe is a non-dualistic experience and no distinction exists between pure and impure. Everything belongs to Lord Shiva, and is therefore, pure. An Aghori Sadhu holds that society is an illusion that is perpetuated, generation after generation, by individuals who are either too blind or too unwilling to take the anarchic path to moksha, or final release. In his view, it is the society that does not belong to the universe, not him. He has already projected himself onto every component of the universe, and has long left our world of maya, or illusions, far, far behind. He lives in a mystical, drug induced world inside his head, free to roam through the infinite combination of space and time that is the universe, no longer shackled by the chains of memory.