2023-02-16 06:27:16 by ambuda-bot
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INTRODUCTION
7
naga and others and constantly wears them in her hair
She herself is a flower, says the poet She shines like
a china rose or like a pomegranate flower or a ban-
dhuka blossom. But she is more fond of the flowers
of the spirit (chaitanya kusuma priya) She is fond of
poetry, of dancing and music and the chanting of the
Veda She is, in fact, the home of all arts, the treasure-
house of all rasas She is the essence of all scriptures
as well She is the priceless pearl, says the poet,
hidden in the depths of all scriptures The Vedas bow
to her and take the dust of her feet on their heads, for
is she not their mother? And what do the Upani-
Sads proclaun? They proclaim only her glory. She
is worshipped by the highest gods in heaven and yet she
is accessible to all-even to the child and the peasant.
Her grace is easily won, for her mercy demands no
merit on our part She is the light that dispels the
darkness of our hearts She is the rain of nectar that
falls on the parched soil of our earthly existence She
is the wind that drives away all our misfortunes She
is the thunderbolt that cleaves asunder the mountains
of human ills She is a Kalpataru and a Kamadhenu
to all her worshippers At the same time, she is the
ultimate Reality--above all tattvas and categories of
thought, above all dualisms-the one indivisible Spirit,
without qualities, without parts-ever free, ever
pure formless and timeless-and without a cause,
without a Inpse and without a limit
IV
Such a magnificent conception of the goddess is,
of course, the result of a long process of evolution
7
naga and others and constantly wears them in her hair
She herself is a flower, says the poet She shines like
a china rose or like a pomegranate flower or a ban-
dhuka blossom. But she is more fond of the flowers
of the spirit (chaitanya kusuma priya) She is fond of
poetry, of dancing and music and the chanting of the
Veda She is, in fact, the home of all arts, the treasure-
house of all rasas She is the essence of all scriptures
as well She is the priceless pearl, says the poet,
hidden in the depths of all scriptures The Vedas bow
to her and take the dust of her feet on their heads, for
is she not their mother? And what do the Upani-
Sads proclaun? They proclaim only her glory. She
is worshipped by the highest gods in heaven and yet she
is accessible to all-even to the child and the peasant.
Her grace is easily won, for her mercy demands no
merit on our part She is the light that dispels the
darkness of our hearts She is the rain of nectar that
falls on the parched soil of our earthly existence She
is the wind that drives away all our misfortunes She
is the thunderbolt that cleaves asunder the mountains
of human ills She is a Kalpataru and a Kamadhenu
to all her worshippers At the same time, she is the
ultimate Reality--above all tattvas and categories of
thought, above all dualisms-the one indivisible Spirit,
without qualities, without parts-ever free, ever
pure formless and timeless-and without a cause,
without a Inpse and without a limit
IV
Such a magnificent conception of the goddess is,
of course, the result of a long process of evolution