Apaḥ and the Nāga: Water and the Snake by Lenore Lowe

As I write this, water has slowly leaked in my front yard for a day. It has already turned what was dry and brown to moist and green. It seems fitting on the day of Nāga Pañcamī (worship on this particular 5th day of the half moon). It’s fitting that water—apaḥ—has gently made its way to the surface. It has wound around pipes, rocks and roots like a cobra—nāga—to come up to show itself. Though, there are financial challenges in fixing the leak, I can’t help celebrate it as a blessed omen of goodness to come.

            After all, it’s arrived for this extra auspicious day in the most favourable month of the vedic calendar. I admit some of my frivolity may be from feeling better on my 5th day of covid. (The significance of the number 5 is not going unnoticed: linked to Patañjali and the great Yoga Sutras.) My mind too feels like it’s been making its way back to the surface. The seepage also keeps bringing me back to thoughts about the watery world of emotions, and new depths of emotions seem to be rising up in me. They feel deeply personal and universal at the same time. The celebration is devotional, the auspiciousness of having this extra time off of work to bring roses to the Mother.

            It is also during a time where all my sick body and mind could muster is the study and remedy of Yoga Nidrā (sleep with the light of consciousness). The study and bouts of rest keep taking me back to glimpses of Nārāryaṇa, Vishṇu as the abode of being. Is there something more promising? I learn that Nārā also means water and water is the realm they are in. Lakshmī is at his feet. I learn this is not about submission in a male and female dichotomized way. The Divine is complete, not even needing other to procreate. She is shakti—all power—form surrendering to being. And he is being surrendering to form. They are always together like our left and right sides—continual abundance and pure being. Here there is only bliss.

            New pipe is going in my front yard. Something old is repaired like new, something that hurt replaced by joy and new understanding. Looking at a picture of myself at 11, I see some mischievousness, like Hanumān (the half monkey god) about to swallow the sun. He was too young to realize he would destroy the world. He thought the sun was a mango. Consequently, he was struck down by Indra (king of the deities). I too was struck down, though by rape at the age of 12. After becoming devotional, years later Hanumān remembers his strength, now much greater for he has Divine purpose. Like wise, now with a devotional heart, I am also finding an immeasurable strength, going back to my 12 year old self to heal (now as her mother). This strength seems to come from realizing I’m connected to the Divine and everything around me.

            My nervous system is starting to see new found challenges correlate with new found strength. I’ve also learned to see how prayer brings in all the necessary aid. Sometimes I forget, but I’ve surrounded myself with a community (wise counsel, family, friends and fellow students) to help me remember. Community and practice make all the difference. Abhyāsa (repetition) of daily practices make the discipline so much easier. The lotions and potions are fun, even so Āyurveda (science of healthy living) points out it’s the free recommendations that become the biggest support: prāna (life-force) building with good sleep by going to bed by 10 then getting sunlight first thing, regular meal times, walking and gentle movement, nourishing food and prāṇāyāma (breath practices)…. and one I’ve come to love – a mug of warm water/apaḥ upon waking (so sweet). It acts like a nāga, gently working it’s way through and rousing the digestive tract.

            The nāga can be the unexpected challenge, like suddenly seeing the tiger in the long grass. Nāga can be seen like the auspiciousness of splashing cool water onto our face for the vagus nerve.  Fear and discomfort strike as wonderful opportunities to come to my knees to pray, bringing my blessing bowl of fresh water and lighting the incense that snakes it’s way upward, and then watching with reverence as all the little pieces of my life come together in extraordinary ways. To a passer by it would all look mundane. It’s the devotional eyes that see, eyes that are looking under it all and ears that are listening in the same way…. All the senses with bowed heads. Devotional eyes detach from the readily seen since they are looking at the inner heart and its connection to others. We don’t heal alone. We heal in community. We wake up together.

            Returning to work, I bow once again at the feet of elders (many opportunities putting slippers back on and picking up pens). I wonder is this job coming to an end? The fear of losing the income is abating, slithering away. Now a new found energy has arrived for planning classes, drawing yantras (geometrical diagrams) and writing for the greater community, sharing all that I’m learning. More directly, I’m picturing more and more sharing in class with silence. Writing a new Yoga Nidrā script for fall, I’m realizing it’s all about the wonderful silence in the middle, then watching the beauty of others with awe as they stir in their own delightful way.

            Often unlike the Buddha or saints, it is said we come to realization slowly over many lifetimes. Guru is said to be the threatening tiger in the dream, chasing you out of your slumber. Fear is like that. Gentle bouts of it are more like the nesting birds outside my window in the spring or the crickets now that summer is coming to an end. Here the fear is slowly nudging me awake. In āsaṇa (yogic postures), waking is the unfurling of my tailbone, years of contraction uncoiling all the way up my spine. The fear taking me to full prostration, meru danda (my spine) like a stick laying down at the feet of all that is bright. The fear is now auspicious—taking me to the loving embrace of the Mother, Kuṇḍalinī Ma—whispering, “You are so much more than you thought you were. Don’t be afraid. Wake up! You are connected to it all.”

BIO: Lenore Lowe is a graphic artist, writer and yoga instructor, inspired by the healing power of symbolism and the Goddess. Starting at an early age with imaginary friends, she has been followed by and followed mysticism. It has accompanied her like her own shadow for her entire life. Her work has been mainly focused on recovery and nurturance through art, writing, Ayurveda, yoga, nature, and Mother Goddess devotion. She has a BA in Liberal Studies, Associate Diploma in Graphic Design and is a Registered Ayurvedic and Yoga Coach 500h.