We never call God by Its name, but rather, by adjectives and epithets. Ishvara, Bhagavan, etc. are all descriptors-as-titles. One such name associated with Shiva is Pashupati, Lord of the Animals. This is also one of his earliest names, dating to prehistoric times.
No human is without animality, no animal without divinity. We are bound in responsibility to animals, nature, humanity. In this work, we become more of ourselves.
Recognizing one’s own animal includes recognizing our innate drives for eating/sleeping/sex. In becoming aware, we can start to reflect and decide how much we use these activities to weigh us down versus to increase our intellect, love, sense of purpose, etc.
“Shiva looked at the suras [deities] and said, ‘It is not a disgrace to recognize your own animal. Only those who practice the rites of the brothers of the animals, the Pashupatas, will be able to overcome their animal nature.’ It was thus that all the suras recognized that they were the Lord’s cattle, and that he is known by the name of Pashupati, the Lord of Animals. Through the animals, forest spirits, satyrs, nymphs, faeries*, and protective spirits of creation, Pashupati is revealed in all aspects of the natural world.
“All those who consider the Lord of Animals as their God become brothers of the beasts. The most sacred Pashupata Yoga, the Yoga of the brothers of the animals, [through which the unity of living beings is realized], explains the structure of the universe and its ephemerality.”
(1st quote – Shiva Purana. 2nd quote – Linga Purana. Both trans. Alain Daniélou in ‘Gods of Love and Ecstasy: The Traditions of Shiva and Dionysus’)
*I don’t have the original sanskrit for names of these different creatures, but I love the mix of European and Indian fantastical imagery, so I’ll leave it like this!
When we are born, we do not yet have the ability to communicate verbally, and have very limited abilities to see and hear. Our first mode of communication is through touch. We sense changes in tension, shape and movement flow in our mother/caregiver’s body. We learn how to interpret the meanings of changes in sensation, and consequently learn how to communicate through our bodies. Babies learn very early on how to arch their back away to avoid something, how to soften and melt their body into somebody they love. They understand when the person who is holding them is anxious or scared to be with them through the tension felt between bodies, and even changes they might feel in pulse. In fact, a large component of this understanding may be instinctual, not learned.
We never really lose this ability to communicate through touch. We learn to value verbal expression as our primary mode of communication, but we never really lose the ability to learn about how others feel about us and to communicate how we feel to others through touch. For example, by placing a hand on somebody’s shoulder from behind to get their attention, we can often detect what their mood or expression might be before we even see their face. It is the most primal way we learned to build relationships, learn our own value, seek affection and care, and build social interactions.
Thus, the world’s earliest religions communed with the divine through a physical relationship with the world. Rituals, via their property of physical touch, developed as a way to communicate with and make sense of what early humans must have believed was a very chaotic world. However, this sense-making is not the same as abstract philosophization. Ritual is not an attempt to predict and deconstruct through the mind, or logical and analytic faculties, as much as it is a means to grow intimacy with that which is unpredictable, unknowable. Continue reading
I’ve always been a slow transitioner. I marvel at people who can wake up, and almost instantly hop out of bed to begin their day. First, my alarm rings. I turn it off, with my eyes closed. I keep my head under my pillow. Then, after about thirty seconds, I start to slowly take deeper, longer breaths. Then, I bring my head up above the pillow. After another few minutes, I shift my body to a different position, usually onto my left side. Finally, I open one eye, my right eye. My right eye has slightly weaker vision than my left, so I think that maybe if I open this eye first, the extra few minutes of looking at the world that it gets will make it stronger, somehow, over time. (This probably is not true.) After another minute or so, I open my left eye. This entire ordeal, from waking up to opening both of my eyes, takes fifteen to twenty minutes. After another ten minutes, I am ready to get out of bed.
My best friends know this about me. They tell me thirty, fifteen, and five minutes before we need to leave the house before going out. I don’t know why I didn’t take this into account when writing this article – I knew it was going to be a lot of work, that it would take a lot of internal questioning and moments of pause, but I thought I’d have it done within a couple of months. I began in late June of last year, and it is now June again.
This past year has been filled with transitions for me. I wanted to write something about transitioning from childhood to adulthood, but being in that period of time myself, I felt unsure of which experiences of mine I could trust, how to pull together all of the ideas I was getting from my academic research and from my spiritual knowing. Was spiritual knowing even something I could trust listening to? At the same time, I have had a lot of different changes in relationships since last June. Many relationships have been broken, some healed, some still in the process of healing, some may not be healed ever, or for quite some time. A slow transition indeed. Continue reading