Trek to Divine Heights

I'm walking across a Himalayan high meadow, up to my ankles in wild flowers and mud. Shrouded in mists, the pine trees and boulders seem to be alive, wishing as I am for some shelter from the pelting rain.

But the thunder roars in surround sound, the rain intensifies, and even the path, a six inch wide ledge on the mountain's edge disappears from sight. We need a miracle I am thinking in high drama mode, and I am beginning to get really scared.

I am thinking back to the lovely worship I made, only an hour earlier, at the ancient Cobra-Goddess temple on the side of a small pond at the edge of an oak grove.

The incense was so sweet and the sound of the bell penetrated my heart and went on flowing through my veins, spiralling into my centre. Cobra queen, mother of death and renewal, lady of the unspeakable mysteries, I felt her coil round and up my middle, and it was good.

(I also liked it that the Indian guide, his friend who came along, and the assorted other Indian trekkers who were there thought that I was quite cool and wonderful for knowing so much about Hindu puja. So the pleasure was doubled, and that's the truth.)

There have been many small shrines and temples on the way through this neck of the woods, and I have properly enjoyed them all. Some, no more than a black stone surrounded by an odd assortment of tridents, seem to have so much power that even a glance in their direction is electrifying.

Some, usually where concrete and plastic paint are involved, seem a bit flat but the bells, the sweet smoke, the chance to rub some ashes on the forehead continue to tempt me, to give me bliss.

I am in pagan mode baby, and I like it.

And now, as I pass through a valley and my guide is far ahead and I have tripped three times already and my right knee really hurts, and the rain is coming down harder than before and there are many kilometres to go till we get to any kind of decent shelter, now I am feeling scared, and suddenly it ain't funny any more and I have kids at home for goodness sake and this danger needs to stop now.

And I start to think of whom to pray to, and of who is in charge of this and of who can do anything about it and I know without doubt that it is the One God and that this One God cannot be worshipped properly anywhere else but deep inside me and that it is the same One God that I have known since the beginning of time.

And God is asking something of me. S/He is asking me to forgo my illusions, we both know what s/he means by that, and when I resist, the rain comes down harder still and I think of the prophet Jonah and I am filled with an incredible….

I am filled with Awe.

And I am shaking, and I know what I am being asked here and I am wishing that I could give it, swear my loyalty once and for all to the only truth which exists behind all the veils, but I know my fickle heart and I don't want to swear in vain.

"Thou shalt not have any other Gods!" thunders the sky, and the air around me, and the unsolid ground beneath my feet. "I am thy God! I am thy true and only God!"

And I thought "Are you trying to bully me into believing in you? Into promising you my monogamous love?" and the answer came "I am showing you the bare truth, and inviting you to wake up to it."

And then the rain calmed, it did not stop but it let up enough so that I did not feel I was in danger anymore, and my heart was flooded with thankfulness and relief.

And at our campsite, two shaky hours later and in the very last moments of light, there was a shrine.

In a small round clearing, a carved black stone pointing up to the sky, surrounded by at least fifty tridents tied with soggy red ribbons, each one put there by a true believer who made this climb to show his love for the divine.

The power and the love that radiated from the shrine were overwhelming, but I kept my distance, I barely dared to look lest the storm attack us again. I leaned back on a tree and  waited for my shaking to subside. The drops pouring down my cheeks must have been dripping down from the needles of the giant fir, and I pressed back into her, daring to look to her for comfort as we started our journey into night.

"God of the heights and the depths we bring to you
Those driven into the desert,
Those suffering from difficult decisions
May they choose life.
God of the light and the darkness we bring to you
Those lost in the mists of addictions
Those dazzled by the use of power
May they choose life.
God of the wild beast and the ministering angel,
We bring to you those savaged by others greed,
Those exhausted by caring for others.
We bring ourselves too,
Tired, excited, anxious, drained,
May we know your healing touch,
And your presence in all things."

Arohanui