Kundalini Rising

When I was about 4 years old, my mind suddenly opened one day to hear the voice of the Divine. I called it Daddy, probably because my parents were divorced, and I was embroiled in a rather traumatic upbringing with a young, single, and quite unstable mom. Anyway, who can know what goes on in the mind of a kid just barely out of diapers?

My senses were always primed, whether due to the constant fight/flight mode I was forced into early, or because it was simply the natural way to be for a kid who hasn’t left Neverland yet, the senses beyond the five were active since as long as I can remember. But my intelligence didn’t know what it was experiencing yet.. I saw visions, moved in strange ways, made signs with my entire body. Later I would begin to seek expression through words and art, but I was young and could hardly reconcile my experience, much less communicate it accurately.

There was something going on inside, and around me, that nothing in society was speaking to. Not school, not mom, not even the church or temple (I was a Jew). The concept of God was interesting though. And yet, I knew the stories they were telling me about that weren’t even close to the truth. I knew this viscerally. This inner knowing would push me out into the world early, in search of the truth of such things.

Kundalini   

Kundalini is often described as a dormant spiritual energy coiled at the base of the spine, waiting to unfurl. Yet this common definition merely grazes the surface. The classical Tantrik tradition reveals a deeper truth—Kundalini is not merely energy but Shakti Herself, the Divine Mother, the breath of creation woven into the fabric of existence. She is the intelligence of Nature, both immanent and transcendent, ceaselessly guiding all life. When She stirs, She does not awaken, for She has never been asleep. Instead, She rises, seeking reunion with Shiva, the pure consciousness resting in the third eye and beyond.

I didn’t call it Kundalini when it screamed through me during my fifteenth year. By that time, I was just full to the brim with indoctrination, overloaded and overwhelmed. I had become one of the incorrigible youth – a street urchin. I was a rebel. I was pissed. Growing up in South Bronx, and South Miami, it seems everyone was pissed though. And everyone was in survival mode. And yet, I hadn’t succumbed to it entirely. One day at the rehab (I’d become a child of the courts, too), now in penalty mode scrubbing a rusty old steel staircase with a toothbrush for having lead a revolt that saw 15 of us jump the wall (well, out the window) several days earlier, I’d had enough. It was time.

Then, like an immortal Highlander’s quickening, the Force rushed through me like hurricane. I was changed in an instant. Supremely clear. I knew how I was going to take charge of my life, and get myself out from under the thumb of an authoritarian system that, honestly, had no authority over my freedom. A great insight had awoken in me, and I became one helluva an actor in order to obtain my freedom properly.

The Journey

The journey of enlightenment, of remembrance, is not a journey of forsaking the self, but of refinement. It’s a gradual dissolution of illusion. Through unraveling our narratives, recognizing the ego not as a tyrant but as a servant of autonomy, we cease to be entangled in habitual patterns and begin instead to wield the ego as a tool of clarity. As insight blossoms through practice, the field clears—allowing the Goddess to move freely and for us to witness and align with Her dance.

As Kundalini ascends, She dissolves stagnation and awakens dormant wisdom, often expressed through spontaneous gestures and movements. Mudras, sacred hand configurations, channel and sculpt the flow of energy, revealing the archetypal patterns that thread through all existence. Kriyas—unbidden sways, undulating motions, spontaneous yogic postures—manifest as the body yields to the intelligence moving through it. These are not chaotic spasms but an ancient language, a precise choreography of liberation. Across traditions, this phenomenon is known: the rhythmic rocking of Orthodox Jews at the Wailing Wall, the whirling surrender of the Dervish—each an alignment with the unseen currents that carry them.

Yet the ascent of Kundalini is no easy passage. She must pierce the granthis, the knots of consciousness bound by deep-seated fear, attachment, and illusion. The Brahma Granthi, nestled at the root and sacral chakras, binds us to physical survival and sensory longing. The Vishnu Granthi, in the solar plexus and heart, tethers us to identity, emotion, and control. The Rudra Granthi, seated in the throat and third eye, guards the threshold of transcendence, demanding the final surrender of ego’s sovereignty. When the last knot unravels, Kundalini no longer flirts with illusion. As the Tantrik texts whisper: “Then Kundalini will be united with Her Lord, Shiva, in the third eye, where they will be married (oneness), and She will never go down to flirt with lower self-identification again.”

Initiation

I spent twenty years in the Indian Himalayas on the path of classical tantrik-yoga. Initiated into a tradition that defines the subtle layers of awareness, gives them names, identifies them with cosmic resonances, called deities, engages with all kinds of practices whereby a person might come to know themselves, and their connection with the infinite. During this time, my body-mind mirrored the infinitely complex dance of nature and I experienced worlds few even dream of, great miracles of internal and external healing, and fantastic magics of manifestation and mysticism.

This journey of awakening doesn’t occur in isolation. The universe is a vast symbolic mirror, a truth known to the sages of all ages. Carl Jung recently spoke of this hidden language of the psyche, a wisdom reflected in sacred geometry, in the golden spirals of nature, in the mandalas that rise unbidden in dreams. The ancients—Plato, Pythagoras, the Kabbalists, the mystics of every lineage—sought to understand this structure of reality. The yogis of India created intricate yantras, geometric gateways to higher consciousness. These symbols are not mere abstractions; they are the pulse of divine intelligence shaping itself into form. Kundalini’s movement often brings visions of these sacred patterns, a silent teaching woven into the fabric of our being. Those who seek to explore this language can meditate upon mandalas, trace the curves of sacred geometry with mindful intent, or keep a journal of dreams and symbols, attuning to the way the universe whispers through imagery.

Practice

For those just beginning the path, there are ways to prepare the vessel before the current flows strong. Breathwork, mantra chanting, and grounding exercises create a stable foundation. Meditation, self-inquiry, and gentle yogic movement teach the body and mind to open, to trust, to receive. And for those who find themselves swept into awakening unprepared, overwhelmed by the flood of energy, grounding becomes essential. Walk barefoot upon the earth. Move the body with slow, intentional grace. Nourish yourself with wholesome food. Breathe deeply, with presence. Allow the rhythms of nature to steady the currents within. Structure and simplicity help anchor the expansion, ensuring that awakening is not an upheaval but a homecoming.

Across the wisdom traditions of the world, one truth echoes: surrender to the flow. The Daoist speaks of Wu-Wei, the effortless action of nature’s unfolding. The Tantriks call it Spanda, the eternal pulsation of divine movement. To walk this path is not to force, not to control, but to trust—to let go into the arms of the Goddess Herself. Kundalini does not need to be awakened; She is already awake, already flowing, already shaping us in ways seen and unseen. When we refine our awareness, when we listen, when we move in harmony with Her, we step into the rhythm of the cosmos itself, and the dance of the divine becomes our own.