DHUMAVATI MAA

Healthier Vibrations with Christie Smirl / Kalāvatī Devī

May 27

On this auspicious day, in honor of Dhumavati Jayanti, I would like to share an excerpt from my book The Dashamahavidhya Gita - Songs to the Tantrick Mother. These passages are reflection of my gnostic experience and a dedication to Dhumavati Maa. The Mother of Smoke can be very difficult to work especially if one has a great deal of inner conflict or an uncured ego. So, on this powerful day, may we embrace Her and offer our dark shadow selves to the Great Mother to be transformed and alchemized into gold.

Dhumavati Maa!
Mother of Void, Mother of Smoke,
Hidden potentials, calling to yoke,
Through pain, through sorrow,
Through horrors that choke.
Life is perception,
Wisdom or cloak.
Winnowing Mother, sifting my throat,
Remove all distortions past and remote.
Ugly old widow, hag witch and crone,
Conjure my spoils into a great throne of
Insight and vision, potentials unsown.
Mother Pralaya, non-manifest,
Embrace me and hold be against your dry breasts,
As nighttime reckons my horror and grief,
No mending of fractures, no sweetness, no relief,
Disheveled, dejected, despondent, depressed,
Surrender all losses that may become blessed.
Crows rip at carrion, pecking my flesh,
Reduce me, produce me, make me mind fresh.
Dhumavati Maa, stark and cold,
Inauspicious Mother, discomforts unfold,
Embrace me and teach me, making me whole.

She's signaled the signpost,
Given green light,
Reached beyond outmost,
Ready for flight.
Honing perception deep in the night,
Finding the Holy beyond black and white,
Soften the senses, drop mental fight,
Embracing Her fully without requite.
Pierce through the smoke of fire and flame.
Beckon Her, call Her, say out Her name.
She's dormantly sleeping in the silent refrain.
Caution she'll pull and make most insane.
Rest in the tamas stirring no pain.
Solice, seclusion before the world came.
Dhumavati comes like a thief in the dark,

Shocking my vision into the stark,
Cold nights that reckon grief hungry sharks,
She traces my wrinkles and wipes away tears,
Of horror and sorrow of yesteryears,
No mending of fractures,
No tender raptures,
No sweetness held at her dry old breasts,
Releasing ignorance of unmanifest,
Crows peck my flesh down to the bone,
Reduce me, produce me beyond where I roam,
Embrace me and teach me, bringing me home.

I sacrifice it upon your flaming peeth,
Submerged in your agni and milk lotus feet.
Consumed me you Dragon, renew and repeat.
I fear not the restoring, I listen, you speak.
My mind has gone wild with fire of Maa.
Her eyes glow like candles and I am a moth,
Diving through passions straight into Da'ath.
I'm hopeless, enraptured, draped in Her cloth.
Dhumavati Maa!
I am your black sheep.
I've traveled so far, Beyond darkest steeps.
Lost in the desert,
Ascended from hell,
Drinking from heaven blackest her well.
Oh Mother of Smoke!
Take me in your arms down beyond with you,
Da'ath Vishudha poisoned blue.
Take me to my Father.
Prepare, purify, make me true.

Passage from The Dashamahavidhya Gita - Songs to the Tantrick Mother by Christie Smirl