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Ekajati and me
NamelessRiver
Veteran
[This is just a story I wanted to share]
Ever since I can remember I have had a fascination with witches and a little despise for princesses and prices in fairy tales.
I remember when it was Christmas the TV stations normally aired things like The Wizard of Oz and I would just glow with excitement when the lady on a bike turned into the wicked witch, and every scene she appeared marked me to this day. As far as Dorothy goes I didn't like her much, and I absolutely loathed Glenda.
You wanna know what other character I ABSOLUTELY hated? That stupid prince that killed my favorite witch ever: Maleficent from sleeping beauty (I actually used to cry a little when she died: is that weird or what?). There was something about her devil horns and dragon transformation that I just loved
Wicked Witch of the West and Maleficent meant Christmas to me.
When I was about six years old my mother started buying me some plastic figures that a big brand released with their products. They were all monsters, very small - 2 to 4 cm as I recall -, and they even had a castle made of very feeble plastic. It took me almost one year to complete the full set, and there was one that I specially loved, and no, it wasn't the witch (although there was one).
My favorite figure consisted of a six or four armed woman (can't remember), with sharp teeth, a necklace made of skulls, and another skull in her hand. The feeble plastic castle crumbled, the other monsters were mostly lost, but that special one, Kali - at the time I had no idea who she was, and probably neither did the company that sold her alongside of werewolves, krakens and medusas - remained in a box full of childhood memories for almost twenty years.
It wasn't until recently that I remembered all that.
While going through some websites looking for Buddhist images I came across Ekajati. Seeing that image with one teeth, the forked tongue, the corpse at her feet suddenly brought me back the feeling that I used to have, as I child, while playing with my kali and imagining her laying waste to an army of bigfoots, gargoyles and ghouls.
She supposedly is the Blue Tara, if I understand correctly. She doens't look like the traditional Tara to me. Take for instance her face filled with anger, or her breasts. Shockingly, she only has one: her breasts, symbol of motherhood and feminility, were turned into a silent war cry, that seemed to echo and vibrate from every part of her wretched body.
I was taken by a feeling of intransitive anger, not as in hatred for something specific. I was simply angry, just because I could, just because I had the power to be that way and wanted to. Maybe rage is a better word. The rage turned into energy, filled my steps with determination. I wasn't walking like a mindful person: I was walking like a vigorous bull, filled with strenght.
I never really understood what those Taras stand for or what is really an Yidam. I know they are supposed to be part of a secret knowledge, and that they represent mostly a state of mind. Or at least that is my best guess. But for that moment in time, I might have grasped that concept. That image, that blue, fearsome warrior, evoked in me strenght, determination and purpose, all which were buried deep inside of me: for a moment I WAS Ekajati.
Ever since I can remember I have had a fascination with witches and a little despise for princesses and prices in fairy tales.
I remember when it was Christmas the TV stations normally aired things like The Wizard of Oz and I would just glow with excitement when the lady on a bike turned into the wicked witch, and every scene she appeared marked me to this day. As far as Dorothy goes I didn't like her much, and I absolutely loathed Glenda.
You wanna know what other character I ABSOLUTELY hated? That stupid prince that killed my favorite witch ever: Maleficent from sleeping beauty (I actually used to cry a little when she died: is that weird or what?). There was something about her devil horns and dragon transformation that I just loved
Wicked Witch of the West and Maleficent meant Christmas to me.When I was about six years old my mother started buying me some plastic figures that a big brand released with their products. They were all monsters, very small - 2 to 4 cm as I recall -, and they even had a castle made of very feeble plastic. It took me almost one year to complete the full set, and there was one that I specially loved, and no, it wasn't the witch (although there was one).
My favorite figure consisted of a six or four armed woman (can't remember), with sharp teeth, a necklace made of skulls, and another skull in her hand. The feeble plastic castle crumbled, the other monsters were mostly lost, but that special one, Kali - at the time I had no idea who she was, and probably neither did the company that sold her alongside of werewolves, krakens and medusas - remained in a box full of childhood memories for almost twenty years.
It wasn't until recently that I remembered all that.
While going through some websites looking for Buddhist images I came across Ekajati. Seeing that image with one teeth, the forked tongue, the corpse at her feet suddenly brought me back the feeling that I used to have, as I child, while playing with my kali and imagining her laying waste to an army of bigfoots, gargoyles and ghouls.
She supposedly is the Blue Tara, if I understand correctly. She doens't look like the traditional Tara to me. Take for instance her face filled with anger, or her breasts. Shockingly, she only has one: her breasts, symbol of motherhood and feminility, were turned into a silent war cry, that seemed to echo and vibrate from every part of her wretched body.
I was taken by a feeling of intransitive anger, not as in hatred for something specific. I was simply angry, just because I could, just because I had the power to be that way and wanted to. Maybe rage is a better word. The rage turned into energy, filled my steps with determination. I wasn't walking like a mindful person: I was walking like a vigorous bull, filled with strenght.
I never really understood what those Taras stand for or what is really an Yidam. I know they are supposed to be part of a secret knowledge, and that they represent mostly a state of mind. Or at least that is my best guess. But for that moment in time, I might have grasped that concept. That image, that blue, fearsome warrior, evoked in me strenght, determination and purpose, all which were buried deep inside of me: for a moment I WAS Ekajati.
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