“When love renounces all limits, it reaches truth,” she says.
What does that look like?
I read social media offal all the time that says stuff like, “Just cut those toxic people out of your life,” or “Sometimes we just grow out of people,” or even, “I’m on a spiritual high vibe path and those low vibe people just aren’t at my frequency yet.”
First off, if you’re kicking ass at spirituality, low vibes won’t bring you down. Low vibes and high vibes are just a thing that exist and you bring your own vibes. But we all need time to establish what low and high vibes are for ourselves. There’s nothing wrong with walking away from what makes you unhappy. But, for me, there’s a middle ground in communication missing from the high vibe/low vibe dichotomy that was reflected in my own life this last year.
Does love knowing no bounds look like staying with the six pack a night alcoholic who says he’ll try to get sober but shows no sign of stopping any time soon?
Alcoholic sounds scary, but he was harmless to everyone except himself. I left a man last year who, while he had been my friend for a long time and while I cared about him, didn’t care about himself. The fact we were together in the first place shows how little I cared about myself too. In pursuing self-care, I tried to communicate to him that going to bed beside someone who was passed out drunk while I was trying to get sober was not easy. But hell. I did it. It was my hope that getting sober might help him try too. And bless him he tried.
But we had grown apart long before that and sobriety is not an issue that should come between love, but it does. We probably shouldn’t have even dated in the first place. This is the kind of relationship that comes from hopelessness maybe. A sense of being lost, of not caring where you’re going or how you’re going to get there but hoping along the way you have a companion. And then finding a care to improve one’s self, a train the other won’t jump on, or can’t; if we had been happy ever, maybe, but we had been drunk and then more drunk and then sobriety showed a sad picture that I knew was going to have to change for myself anyways.
And that’s how that went.
A carelessly formed relationship can go either way. People have an immense capacity to love one another, but there were too many things about life with him I did not like to envision in my future. I tried to communicate to him that I was unhappy, that getting out of the house to do something other than play cards or go to a bar would have been cool. I tried to communicate a need for some form of bonding that wasn’t over a beer. But he had a routine and I worked nights and he was passed out drunk when I got home.
And by the time I admitted I was unhappy, the damage was long done. There had been signs.
We say that don’t we. There were signs.
I’m not going to preach about love or say what was right. Boundless love is supposed to be boundless and I left him for someone else instead of breaking it off clean. Love has a way of dropping in when one least expects and I had consciously chosen to pursue happiness for my own sake even if the alkie wouldn’t share in it. I just want to say that the biggest road block I ever found in love–either in loving someone else or being loved–was a lack of self-love on either side.
Love someone’s everythings. Love them even when they don’t love themselves. Especially when they don’t love themselves. But there comes a point in any one-sided battle when one must concede to the pathetic. There is no glory in sacrificing the self to save someone who refuses to try. And walking away even though you don’t want to give up on someone because they won’t try, while heartbreaking, is a form of love. In fact hoping they will try to become someone they aren’t because you want them to is perhaps a violation against their identity.
What about this: accepting someone for who they are instead of hoping they’ll change at all…that’s real love. People change. They change all the time. Real love doesn’t fixate on that one image of their identity that made you fall for them. It embraces the changes like one does the coming of seasons. Inevitable and beautiful to witness. And sometimes terrible. And I had to understand this to find my love.
I didn’t know that the drinking habit was going to be a problem after a couple of years…or I didn’t care. I was certainly not paying attention to any signs then nor cultivating any regular spiritual practice. That was a dark time in my life and I can easily say that the darkest times in my life have been those disconnected from some kind of dedicated spiritual practice, even simply drawing. I latched onto someone who didn’t care the way I didn’t care. And then I started caring again, or learned how again, and realized how fucked it was. I realized, too, that I had been irresponsible in pursuing a relationship from a place of toxic alcoholism and depression. Of course it was doomed to fail if my liver didn’t first. It’s weird how things don’t look that bad sometimes and then hindsight wipes the rearview mirror clean and you’re like holy shit. I did that. That’s depression and hypomania too–emotional states that just take over my decision-making abilities. Drugs and alcohol make those states severely worse.
Addiction is the most palpable example I can think of to exemplify how lack of self-love kills relationships. I’m still bitter about watching my best friend drink herself to death. I’m still bitter about the way alcohol and drugs have informed my lack of emotional intelligence, both in how they affected my family and friends and in how they affected me when I fully embraced their use and numbing affects.
Weirdly, I knew early on that I would be sensitive to substances. I always thought I was a clueless kid, but probably I knew that it was the drugs and alcohol that made my step mom crazy. I never saw them do drugs, but the change in personality was obvious. Honestly, I thought it was just the way people are, which is probably why I’m thirty years old and just now discovering I have a severe mood disorder. But I kind of knew something was up with me the way I kind of knew drugs were what had fucked up some people in my family, their lives and mine. Still, my idea of drugs when I was younger were like nuclear substances that would explode if you even touched them. Strange, taboo dirty things I could hardly picture. I didn’t smoke weed until I was nineteen.
Weirdly, too, as sensitive as I was to them, I liked them more than most people. Probably because of my naturally dopamine and seratonin deficient brain. Mood disorders are characterized by extreme moods. Fancy that. Add drugs to that mix and happiness becomes pure heaven on earth. Or sadness becomes hell. I say drugs, but I’ve only done acid, mushrooms, salvia, and cocaine a handful of times each. Like less than five times each over the course of a decade. I love weed. I drank a lot but it makes me feel like shit now. I didn’t smoke crack every morning for a decade like Mr. Davis in Show, Don’t Tell. A little goes a long way with me.
“When love renounces all limits…”
I don’t know exactly when I started seeing the signs, but I think I actively started following them when I was about 24 after a brush with mushrooms and an intense spring of meditation, yoga, energy healing, and ritual that left my mind cracked open and fried like a runny egg on hot pavement.
That was the summer of the big one, the episode that led to a tenuous diagnosis, took my boyfriend, job, house, car, and sanity in one day. It’s hard to trust a diagnosis that comes after a brush with mushrooms. Then again, without the cyclothymia, I might be able to just go ahead and do mushrooms like some people go ahead and do mushrooms.
Forgive my procrastination. It’s hard to talk about because ghosts and things were not completely outside my range of experiences up until then and people generally assume that believing in anything that hasn’t been undoubtedly proven real is idiotic or psychotic despite the vast numbers of people in the world who believe in religion.
I wonder how they would feel about it after a day in a brain like mine. For me it’s not a question of real or not real. I had in fact seen many ghosts throughout my lifetime, and aliens and all manner of things in a sort of psychic light, vibrational sense. I had stories to inform their subconscious meanings, ideas that they existed outside me but were manufactured from within my mind and real or not real wasn’t the point, it was the lesson. What am I learning from this experience? So that ghost in the closet dissolved when I understood it as fear of the dark. That ghost at the old house in Floriston, that little mining town on the I-80…that ghost might have been a different story. But this was the extent of my relationship with anything otherworldly. It might be there. It might not. Either way, what matters is how I handle it.
I come from gypsies, psychics, and Native women remember? The witch thing is my Italian side I think. Anyways, they were experiences that, while outlandish, were never potent enough in form to make me question the fabric of reality because they were stories that had been constructed into the fabric of my reality. While they were “ghosts,” they weren’t real the way we think of things as real and they were not the kind of thing we talked about. That was enough for me.
And then that summer came.
I did mushrooms with my friends on the beach and it wasn’t just a regular day doing mushrooms.
At that time, I was actively practicing yoga and meditation and had been for a number of years. I was also practicing basic ritual of the Wiccan variety and was taking part in community meditations in the woods with a friend of mine who ran the group.
I’d cleansed, for the most part, though was still smoking some weed. It wasn’t a formal cleanse, just a desire to drink and smoke less.
We went to Baldwin Beach in Lake Tahoe early in the morning, set up a blanket with some crystals and a candle, and then the three of us grounded ourselves, set an energetic space in a triangle, and created an energy field. These are visualizations. I wish I could create an energy field DBZ style, but visualizations at the seat of consciousness will have to do. I might write more about this experience later instead of writing it all here. Suffice it to say, doing mushrooms as part of a shamanic ritual is a totally different experience than doing mushrooms with friends at a party–at least it was for me.
I left the beach after some profound experiences with clouds, a bee and a bush, and some fixation I had with drawing triangles in a notebook. Then I went to my friend’s meditation, went home, and ate dinner, listened to music. I went home and things seemed to go back to normal, but over the course of the next few weeks weird things started to happen.
First it was the number 11:11 everywhere. Like everywhere. I looked at the clock at 11:11 morning and night every day. It appeared all over town in any given number of ways. It was on cars and licence plates and it was the dollar amount I spent on gas or groceries. It’s enough to drive a person crazy even though it’s just the same number popping up.
But then there were other things.
A friend and I went to Thai food where I was second guessing signing up for grad school and the waiter came out from the back of the restaurant to take our order. He did so, moved as if to walk away, and then stopped.
“My people, we have a saying. You put your head in alligator’s mouth, you not scared? Nothing happen. You just fine. You put your head in alligator’s mouth, you scared? Alligator bite your head.”
Maybe he had overheard, but it struck my friend as weird also. In this same way, I started to hear the conversations I was having with people echoed in encounters with perfect strangers in bits of conversations overheard in the grocery store or at the beach. I’d think about a song and someone would start whistling it at work. I’d wake up and feel like staying home and someone would call to cover my shift.
My meditations got more intense, the visions bright and clear, and I kept getting messages to help people heal. I’d be listening to music on Youtube and, in the middle of the song, the thing would start in on an ad.
Side note, have you ever noticed that your phone will advertise something to you right after you talked about it? That’s what seeing signs is like, kind of…only the ones to follow are generally less eerie.
One night I dreamed of a snake that uncoiled from my spine and bit me. I don’t remember where. I remember it was a black snake though, with a pearlescent sheen. The dream woke me out of a dead sleep.
The next day, whilst doing my normal yoga practice, I felt particularly stiff as if I had been stiff for days. I sat down to meditate at the end of my practice and felt like a cap had popped in my spine and released energy that had been pent up. A warm flow of light that feels like what happens when the sun clears a hole in the clouds and beams down to earth, only that beam was in my spine and I was a being on earth as much as I was the light itself.
It was bliss. I had no cares at all. Just total trust.
The financial stuff was weird too. I didn’t work much but I’d find money in pockets of old sweaters I hadn’t worn in a while. I got a couple checks from weird sources like fifty bucks from one of those public law suit things that they send mailers out for and a six hundred dollar check from a place I worked at when I was fifteen that had been finding it’s way to me in the mail for almost ten years.
Time seemed fluid. Two weeks felt as long as two years or two minutes. It didn’t matter. I was in a total moment-to-moment total awareness flow, not worried about the future, the past, or anything in between. Just here.
I have journals from then that recount the timeline, but I can’t recall it as linear in my mind.
On one of these days, I was driving along still seeing 11:11 everywhere. At least it wasn’t like floating in front of my face or anything. It wasn’t an apparition. Just the number on the clock or whatever. But I was driving along and the guy on the radio said, “Heads up,” and I looked up to see the pot shop in town across the street. It’s called Heads Up. So maybe this was a sign. I didn’t know. I had no idea what this following the signs nonsense was all about. I’d heard some friends talk about it but figured it was more of that hippy hoowa nonsense.
In the shop, there’s a corkboard by the front door with fliers and business cards and ads for services. On one was an energy healing and meditation class with a former classmate of mine from high school who by now ran her own business as a lifecoach. I hadn’t seen her since 2006 and it was by then 2014.
I called her up and we met the next day. We did some catching up, and she led me to an energy healing class that was more up the alley of what I was looking for. Come to find out, the people who ran the class were the same people who helped to set up the sweat lodge in my back yard when I was eight years old. It was by mere coincidence or what some people call synchronicities, that I was led to an energy healing class that would gift me with some very powerful tools for dealing with the kind of mental or psychic or psychospiritual, whatever you want to call it, that I was encountering and would encounter.
One day I was meditating and jumped into the astral realm where I saw my boyfriend’s astral body. At the time, I was dating a cheating cocksucker who I’d been with for too long despite numerous pieces of evidence of his infidelity. I jumped into the astral realm and saw his self so big and ready to love but so afraid of being hurt. That was hilarious.
I wrote. I wrote a lot. It was like a faucet I couldn’t turn off. I was studying Kabbalah and the tree of life and the sephiroth at the time and red some stuff on Marx and how he predicted capitalism would eventually lead into socialism by its very nature. I watched some documentary on WWII.
This was the scariest part:
The angel Gabriel, who I’ve identified as my archangel since I was seven or so, sent me a message. It was scary because the being had been in my house for a while watching and I’d sensed it, and every few days it would make itself a little more visible. I was too afraid to ask what it was, but accidentally popping into the astral realm lead to this…
When I returned to my body, something was in there with me.
It had wings which attached to my heart, or it’s heart.
And it sat me down on the couch and I wrote for six straight hours. I remember the beginning, sitting down to write, and I remember the end…realizing I’d not stopped.
The piece was basically one of those end of the world, late stage capitalism, doomsday things. It said that they would try to take our art. They would stop funding the arts and critical thinking in education. They would elect a figure head for hate. It said a lot of crazy things, but this is one of those moments I kind of keep to myself for the most part. I didn’t understand it at all. It was the moment that led me to researching channeling as a legitimate interest.
I hardly worked for two weeks but my bills were paid. Things were in flux but happened smoothly and easily, as though by coincidence. It felt very much like freefalling through life. We went to the hot springs in the desert, my friend and I, and saw an owl on the way back, almost hit it with the car actually. The great bird swooped into the road from a fence post marking farm land in the valley. It was grey, round headed–no horns. A barn owl. The owl is the symbol of wisdom, of Athena the Goddess of War, of witches. They are messengers for the other side in many fables.
The women in my family carry owl medicine but I still do not understand what that means except in terms of my own experience. I haven’t found a teacher for that and Native traditions I’ve found paint owl women as witches and bad omens sometimes. That and the stories are oral traditions, not written ones, so finding people who kept those stories for the sake of tradition and were diligent in maintaining the original telling are not as easy to come by as a Google search for a poorly told rendition of a story butchered through a westernized lens. Typical.
My favorite story so far, is that of the Lechuza–a witch who turns into an owl at night, typically a common barn owl, and generally minds her own business unless someone has pissed her off in which case she shrieks in their house, bringing an omen of death, or visits them in bed to frighten them. If she doesn’t return home before daylight, she has to stay in her owl form all day. That would be dope. Turning into and owl. Digesting mice. Flying. Stealthy revenge.
For real though, as delusional as some of this sounds, I’m not so delusion as to think I turn into an owl. Or maybe that’s why there are so many black spots in my memory?
Things were actually great for a while. I was dating a guy at the time who I discovered is a twin flame and we practiced yoga and tantra and that was all cool.
But I had this feeling like I just couldn’t be around him, or needed to be alone, somewhere peaceful. I remember that part quite well…just wanting to be somewhere where I could meditate and find my body again. It felt a bit like I’d ascended through a bunch of interdimensional high vibey realms and got lost on my way back. Or, more it had felt like I’d climbed a great tree and lost my footing on the way down and was now smacking into this branch and that branch on the way.
I got really sick when the energy went away. And when the energy went away I was not just tired, I was exhausted. After four days of a high fever, I went to the doctor but they had nothing for me except drink more water.
I started to see the aliens, the kind I had seen in childhood but that had always remained so splendidly fictitious. They started to appear in my living room. I met four different species though I didn’t speak with them. I was terrified. This was a world I wanted no part of. The blissful happy light stuff from before was great. But not this aliens shit. Now, it seemed like things were happening in the opposite direction. Where everything had worked out before now it was all snags and loopholes.
I had a really bad feeling before leaving the house one day, like the kind of anxiety that makes you want to smoke a cigarette even if you don’t smoke. And we left the house and were twenty minutes down the road when a man in a car chase appeared in the rearview mirror.
He missed our car by a couple inches, if that, before zooming around the next turn spiraling out and splattering himself all over the pavement. That’s not how it works really. There was blood, a spine twisted round so that his head faced the opposite way as his feet, a broken back so that his belly rounded up oddly towards the sky. When the car crashed, it caused a dust cloud like a nuclear bomb.
First, let me say it sounds scary because it was scary until I found a story about what was happening that contextualized it in a way I could understand and until I found a teacher.
I’d had weird experiences before but this one had lasted a long time and it had been way beyond anything I’d ever experienced as far as how viscerally, emotionally, physically, and mentally overwhelming it was. I thought for sure that I was losing my mind and this is when I booked the therapist who would give me a tenuous diagnosis based on the fact that I was perfectly lucid for all of it but the automatic writing part. Otherwise she said she figured I was intelligent and gifted and she looked forward to seeing my work.
It would have been one thing if I were thinking I could fly or had lost contact with my body altogether or if this were one of many such episodes that had severely impeded my ability to work. But this was the first and had been the only.
I explored this with the therapist and in doing research on my own discovered that Carl Jung had used Kundalini as a framework for understanding the mind’s interaction with the unconscious. In fact, Wikipedia notes:
“In the introduction to Jung’s book The Psychology of Kundalini Yoga, Sonu Shamdasani puts forth ‘The emergence of depth psychology was historically paralleled by the translation and widespread dissemination of the texts of yoga…’ for the depth psychologies sought to liberate themselves from the stultifying limitations of Western thought to develop maps of inner experience grounded in the transformative potential of therapeutic practices. A similar alignment of “theory” and ‘practice’ seemed to be embodied in the yogic texts that moreover had developed independently of the bindings of Western thought. Further, the initiatory structure adopted by institutions of psychotherapy brought its social organization into proximity with that of yoga. Hence, an opportunity for a new form of comparative psychology opened up.”
The introduction of yoga and Kundalini Awakenings in the West led to dramatic breakthroughs in psychology because they sought a way to be liberated from the “stultifying limitations of Western though to develop maps of inner experience.” It is descriptions like this that arrive even a century after their creation to describe the nature of Western thought in the field of psychology which make me highly skeptical about a nation of people haphazardly popping pills which they trust will make them better because they get them from doctors…who are supposed to make us better. “Better,” isn’t “cured.” Cured isn’t profitable.
But I’m not in this healing for profit I’m hear for “cured,” so…
Come to find out that symptoms of a Kundalini awakening and symptoms of a psychotic break look pretty similar except a Kundalini awakening is usually proceeded by a cleanse, and regular practice of certain mantras, chants, yoga asanas, and meditation.
Remember the triangle and the snake?
Kundalini is the life force or the shakti, coiled at the base of the spine often represented by a snake, the Hindu term for which literally means Serpent Power. That snake is housed in a triangle.
On page seven of The Hero With a Thousand Faces, Joseph Campbell relates a story about an Australian aboriginal tribe whose coming of age ritual for boys is a circumcision. The story told to the boys is that they must enter the cave where the great snake lives and the snake will eat their foreskins (Campbell, 7).
I find this interesting since the above story demonstrates an encounter with snakes as an initiation ritual into adulthood.
Wiki says that “Kundalini yoga presented Jung with a model for the developmental phases of higher consciousness, and he interpreted its symbols in terms of the process of individuation, with sensitivity towards a new generation’s interest in alternative religions and psychological exploration.”
This was particularly interesting to me as it is about at this time that I re-encountered an old lesson. What had taken me into therapy, into having an eating disorder and rehab a few years earlier was an underdeveloped sense of self. I had failed to achieve identity.
Campbell (back to him) writes about Kundalini as:
“…the figure of a coiled female serpent—a serpent goddess not of “gross” but “subtle” substance—which is to be thought of as residing in a torpid, slumbering state in a subtle center, the first of the seven, near the base of the spine: the aim of the yoga then being to rouse this serpent, lift her head, and bring her up a subtle nerve or channel of the spine to the so-called “thousand-petaled lotus” (Sahasrara) at the crown of the head…She, rising from the lowest to the highest lotus center will pass through and wake the five between, and with each waking, the psychology and personality of the practitioner will be altogether and fundamentally transformed.”
It’s a terrifying image. Likewise, snakes symbolize all kinds of transformations in conscious awareness across cultures and religions from the Garden of Eden and the Fall to, dare I say it? Harry Potter. This state, this transformation, was fundamentally transforming my identity and I would not be the same afterwards.
It was this experience that led me to believe, as fully as I’m capable of believing in this mortal coil perhaps, that there are other beings, other dimensions, gods, angels, demons, and that even if we did meet them on earth, our human brains and limited cultural stories would certainly be so challenged by the idea that most people, I think, would go insane. There’s a big difference between seeing something in a movie and seeing it materialize in your living room. Those things, those beings, those creatures and other realms are no one’s business who can’t even keep their head straight in this world. Thus, I leave them alone. Sometimes they’re around, like when I was a kid, but I have a new understanding of what engaging with them means. There’s as much of a possibility that I’m engaging with some otherdimensional being as there is that I’m just conjuring something to let my conscious brain talk to my unconscious brain. I think that’s fair.
So it did two things. The episode or awakening, whatever you want to call it, made me believe and also made me focus more on the fact that “out there” didn’t matter. It wasn’t about the realms of angles or finding bliss or anything like that. It was after this awakening that I went within and found a self. And then the cycle revolves. It’s a spiral and it spirals back around. The call, though, to any lesson within the rotations, those calls get louder the longer we ignore them.
What was most striking to me though about this episode is how it just went away.
Imagine your reality suddenly expands to include an understanding that there are countless realities just like it all happening at once. And you don’t just understand this, you see them because you are them. You are in your reality and in the you that’s in all the other realities. You go through a regular day to day life paying bills and waiting tables but you’re also the person in the next dimension who got off early. These are not the thoughts I was having whilst in the experience. They are failed attempts to put words to an experience that fails to be captured by them. It went away so suddenly I actually wondered if it had happened at all. It was like that magical moment where Marilyn Monroe’s dress flew up and someone snapped a picture and the whole world stood still for the iconic moment. And then it was the moment after the iconic moment and all the sad and disappointing moments that come afterwards would leave me feeling bitter and unhappy for a while.
It would be longer before I understood that this the necessary balance of energy and that to experience extreme bliss one must also know extreme sorrow. If I keep an eye on the cycles, they seem a pretty even mix of up, normal, down unless something major has happened to displace me from an identity concept. I have been working on non-attachment.
But ever since that summer, whenever I don’t know where to go, I’ll see 11:11 or a tree of life of a picture of a snake and it’s like a wink from God. Sometimes its an owl. Sometimes its a very different sign trying to tell me something else. Usually the signs mean one thing.
You’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.
Believe me, I didn’t want to believe it. Kind of like Bilbo Baggins, I’ve always liked the idea of being an adventurer but leaving home where the bacon and eggs and my hankie and the hearth and warm bed are will induce whining initially. Kind of like him, I did not like the idea of uncomfortable things such as ghosts and angels and aliens.
But if there’s no harm done, that is, if I can look back on that experiences as a cry for change from my subconscious, it informs a lot of what has happened since:
Healing with my family, relationships with men, and now an opportunity to heal myself.
The signs increase as things get more difficult. They usually lead me out of a tight spot when I feel stuck. I will say that I’m more worried when I don’t see signs than when I do.
They don’t always pop up, the signs, and there’s a lot of basic psychology to support this as self-convincing evidence. But that’s the point. Jung said Kundalini was a process in which the conscious mind realized the unconscious. You can believe when you see a ghost that it’s some scary thing in another dimension or you can accept that whether or not it’s there, you’re seeing it.
Maybe I just needed to conjure something physical to explain my anxiety or fear. Who knows.
I will tell you, it works the opposite way.
Conjuring a sign that represents something to you can help you program your subconscious mind to solve the problem more quickly. Say you want an opportunity to go foraging but you don’t know anyone and you’re thinking about that and every day, as a reminder or a hope, you draw a purple flower on your bathroom mirror in dry erase marker and say something like, “This time next year, I’ll be foraging six months out of the year.” In the meantime maybe you read about it or learn about it. The unconscious brain has a way of computing things outside the constructs of the conscious mind that allows it to put together seemingly random connections that the conscious mind, impeded by what the person believes, cannot make. The unconscious can sift through all kinds of information you don’t even know is floating around in there and make connections you didn’t even know were probable. So the universe sends things to you in quite unexpected ways.
Like one day you see a purple flower on a billboard and pull off the road and there’s some random lady who lives in this shack with her dog in the middle of nowhere and has knowledge of edible plants in the area up the wazoo. She needs someone to take care of her house in a few weeks and could she trade plant knowledge for a dog sitter? Hell you’re not foraging for six weeks but you have a roof, a dog friend, a teacher, and some knowledge, hell yeah!
Sometimes the encounters are that random. Other times you can kind of pinpoint the dots. I don’t really know how they work exactly, only that I generally enjoy signs.
More on training the subconscious brain in my next post: On Ritual or Training the Subconscious Mind
Campbell, J., & Joseph Campbell Foundation. (2017). The hero with a thousand faces. Yogi Impressions, May.
https://facebook.com/iMeditativeMind. (2018, May 13). Kundalini Awakening – Signs, Symptoms and Techniques for Human Awakening | Meditative Mind. Meditative Mind. https://meditativemind.org/kundalini-awakening-signs-symptoms-and-techniques-for-human-awakening/
Jung and his Individuation Process | Journal Psyche. (2009). Journalpsyche.Org. http://journalpsyche.org/jung-and-his-individuation-process/
Wikipedia Contributors. (2020, January 5). Kundalini. Wikipedia; Wikimedia Foundation. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kundalini