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Looking down at the stones beneath my feet, early morning, Chidambaram courtyard |
Exchanging Glances in Southern India
In the late morning the stones of the temple courtyard burn the soles
of your feet, so you walk very quickly scanning for the light-colored
ones while headed for the shade of the main complex. You say hello to
Ganesha at the temple threshold, and then move more deeply into its
center, passing by the priests engaged in business and ritual, weaving
through streams of other visitors headed for different shrines in the
seemingly infinite corners of the temple, which is essentially a walled
village the size of multiple football fields.
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Swamimalai |
When you arrive at the heart of the temple, you find Nataraja,
intricately adorned in vibrant silks, jewels, and garlanded with
flowers. Endless patterns of ritual revolve around him involving fire,
liquid, smoke, and substance, immersing you in a complex synesthetic
experience.
The dusty grooves of the temple stones capture occasional
puddles of coconut water, milk, sandal, and ghee that cool your toes as
you step through them. The bats swoop and chatter through the air
accompanied by the temple music’s drums, bells, and horns. Smoke from
the ghee lamps and the homa drifts through pillars and columns. Your
forehead is host to sweet-smelling smears of ash that mingle with the
scent of jasmine from your hair. And you listen or join in with the
murmurs of mantras that swell like tiny whispering waves. You are
permeated in every sensory manner and you release into it. The temple is
a body, pulsing with life. When you are in it, you become an element of
its chemistry.
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Jasmine outside the temple |
Most people who visit Chidambaram come to see Nataraja. This is his
temple, the site of the Ananda Tandava, his Dance of Bliss. Shiva
presides over the temple in the form of Nataraja, the dancer, the
artist, who, with every movement, dances everything that exists into
being and non-being. If you love Nataraja, this is the center of the
universe. If you love Nataraja, you have come to see him and to be seen
by him. The word for this is
darshan,
which my teacher Douglas Brooks explains as “the exchange of glances.”
By entering, you have offered yourself to the temple, and then the
temple offers itself back. As you inhabit the temple, the temple takes
up residence within you.
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A Nataraja murti |
If you want to meditate, you can choose to close your eyes and go
inside your own body, heart and mind. Or you can do the very same thing
with your eyes open, drawing the outside in as an entirely different way
of moving into the very same places. Through this invitation, this
conversation, the body of the temple becomes your body. You gaze upon
the deity and the deity shows you yourself. You exchange glances with
Nataraja, This is why you are here.
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Morning in the Chidambaram Temple courtyard, South Gate |
There are times when you want to be within the quiet of your own
inner vision. This is when you close your eyes. There are other times
when you want to invite in all of the wild delirious diversity of the
world, and this is when you open them. This receptivity enables you to
converse more deeply with your surroundings and consequently, within
yourself. Everything outside of you calls upon something within you. You
begin to recognize that you are in a state of constant conversation
with the world.
Om Namah Shivaya
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Vishali walks through the Chidambaram Temple Courtyard |
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