A Chew Toy in the Mouth of Kali
“A Chew Toy in the Mouth of Kali”
Control or surrender? Whether we’re talking about the circumstances of our personal lives or the vagaries of international politics, human beings are generally interested in securing the former and avoiding the latter. Who wants to “give in” to social pressures to behave a certain way or wear certain clothes? Who wants to eat gluten-free-range-organic-wheatgrass gelato just because their physical body, which should be their slave in all respects (right?), doesn’t want to digest something more fun? And who doesn’t want to draw a cartoon of the Prophet Muhammad just because we’re not supposed to? “Freedom!” we cry, hoping for the total control that the human mind craves and postmodern philosophy tells us we’re entitled to. But the truth is that life, at best, is an exercise in ‘controlled surrender.’ Not only because we can’t have perfect control most of the time but because our time is always running out.
Buddhists tell us that, “Death is certain. Time of death is uncertain”, and this goes a long way towards a summation of my point. We may have some limited control over lengthening our days, and greater control over shortening them, but it’s in the nature of things that the Reaper comes for all of us at some point. Total surrender is inevitable, whether our will power is intact at the end of life or not. Our control, then, has an absolute limit. Of course, I’m not telling you anything you don’t already know (though we DO tend to assume the Reaper won’t come today), and in the meantime we’ll work for as much control as possible. That’s the gig, right? Don’t think about death until you have to. I think most of us have that wrong. For instance, Hindus and Buddhists see it differently, and I find some wisdom in their view of death. Through their lens, we’re all just chew toys in the mouth of Kali.
I remember when I was first captivated by the mythology of Kali, enjoying her stories as allegories of the human condition. Kali is a wrathful incarnation of the feminine aspect of the Destroyer god, Shiva. Born of the rage of the goddess Parvati, Shiva’s consort, she entered the world crackling with fire and energy (shakti). In her four hands she holds weapons along with a severed human head. Below the head, in a lower hand, is a bowl in which she catches the dripping blood to drink, her tongue lolling with thirst. Kali is naked except for a mini-skirt of severed human arms and her eyes flare in rage, and yet, her exposed breasts are leaking milk to nourish all living beings. Her full breasts are a reminder that she is a mother goddess – Kali MA (“Mother Kali”) – but this mother is also a MOTHER!’ in the street slang sense, given that she slays every creature she brings into the world, with no exceptions.
“Hi, Kali Ma? This is Donald Trump on the phone. I’ve got control of most of Manhattan and Atlantic City. I don’t want to die. Can we work this out?” Can you hear Kali laughing? Or how about this: “Hi, Kali? This is Kim Kardashian. Just between us girls can I keep my figure and not take a dirt nap when the time comes?” Ho hum. Kali was hoping for some free-range, gluten-free Kardashian with no additives but she’ll take Kim anyway she can get her.
In the west we tend to see this as the cruelty of nature, “red”, as Wordsworth once wrote, “of tooth and nail”, but Hindus accept it as more of Kali’s kindness, like that breast milk I was talking about. All of life is impermanent (anitya) and subject to change, and for Hindus this is a reminder that we should wake up, get busy and self-actualize, not letting time tick by as if we have all the time in the world. “Here and Now, boys and girls,” she calls to us.
Death makes room for more life, which is good for life in general (autumn provides the hummus of spring), and when it comes to the particular? Build your castles in the sand but remember the words of Ecclesiastes, “Vanity, vanity, all is vanity.” Perfect control is neither possible nor desirable (from the perspective of life writ large), and the dreams of humankind are like straw dikes against the tide of eternity, an eternity we’d be better off to embrace. Do your dance but know who you’re dancing with. Be ready to surrender when Kali comes, and in the meantime drink her milk. But, and this is the point, don’t wait to break yourself apart, opening to the contents of what’s deeper inside you. The flower withers but first it actually has to flower. Rumi had it right when he said,
A chunk of dirt thrown in the air breaks to pieces.
If you don’t try to fly, and so break yourself apart,
You will be broken open by death, when it’s too late for all you could become.
Donald and Kim are you listening?
