transliteration

The Śrī Sūktam is one of the most popular Sūktams of the Vedic tradition. It is included in mandala five of the Ṛg Veda, though it is more recent that the original text and is referred to as pariśiṣṭa sūkta or a khila sūkta, an ‘appendix’ to the original. It is used in every lineage’s version of the five daily sūktams. It is used extensively in ritual both in temples and homes. It forms the basis for many sādhanas. Indeed, after Ganesh, no deity is so ubiquitous as Lakṣmī.

The mantra turns us toward the śakti of Śrī and Lakṣmī, and receiving adyāyanam in this sūktam involves learning what these concepts mean. In this hymn and symbolically, Lakṣmī is the embodiment of all that is lovely, gracious, enriching in a human being and this life. We have all experienced higher states of recognizing the majesty of this world and the preciousness of life; this prayer is an ask for divine support to be able to stay in those higher states, that the śakti or energy of Lakṣmī will stay with us and never leave (anapagāminīm), so that we don’t revert to lower mind body states of competitiveness, comparison, shame, or a sense of unworthiness. Through consistent practice of this mantra we can transcend the parts of ourselves that stand in the way of self-realization. This is also an important discussion in learning the hymn: ‘self-realization’ is not aspirational, vision boarding, best self versions of living. We do not need to look for our dharma. We already have our dharma. Self-realization is coming to fulfillment of our ordinary, householder, wage-earner roles. It is coming to terms with money and our relationship to it. It is fulfilling our familial roles, our social roles, and our citizenship with aplomb. It is realizing joy in this human lifetime, including love of all sorts, pleasure, and work.

The mantra invokes the qualities of wealth, fertility, beauty, luxury, decadence, and riches. However, all spiritual teachings have both a superficial and an esoteric meaning: I have been strongly cautioned to realize that the only real wealth is spiritual wealth. Beauty is dependent upon our readiness and willingness; grace is a given, so long as we become capable of acceptance.

“Questioning your worth is like asking yourself if you deserve the sun to shine.  There is nothing about you that determines its presence.  You could stand indoors and deny it’s there.  Or you can bask in it and let it warm you.” - Rachel Cargle

I have always hated the self-indulgent versions of these teachings that tell you a bubble bath and an affirmation will lead to liberation.  

And I have never so savored this life, this world, my own self and other human beings, as I do when my love practice is strong.

Both these things are true.  An irony: denying yourself is a form of selfish indulgence. When we deny ourselves we are indulging in shame.  We didn’t make shame happen.  It isn’t our fault.  But we perpetuate it.  Your sadness and anger at working conditions in the world does not mean you don’t deserve a nap or a vacation.  Recognizing the historic and contemporary racism in our society does not mean that I, as a white person, should right wrongs through my own suffering. Reparations does not mean impoverishing folks: it means equity. You denying yourself pleasure in your food (or anything, anything) does nothing to right wrongs in the world.  It just means the food goes unsavored and some part of your soul is starved.  The fact that life isn’t fair does not have to stop you from loving it.  The fact that life isn’t fair does not take away from the fact that so much of life is beautiful.  If we let unfairness mar our ability to love we have indulged in a distortion.

Every single being in this culture has been nursed on shame, guilt, and judgment. The pain and lived consequences of this fall most heavily on those who have intersecting identities of oppression.  We have been hated on, we have been spurned, we have been denied, we have been assaulted, we have been silenced, we have been told to shut up, hide ourselves, that we should be ashamed of ourselves and that we are a burden, a problem, too much, too little.  

And then we’ve been told we’re imagining it.

So much of the work of healing and social justice has to do with reclamation and self compassion.  So much of it has to do with recognizing that terrible things have not only happened, but that we have internalized them and become our own oppressors.  

Love - self love - is not optional on this path.  In this life joy is not ‘nice’, it is vital.

This is hard.  It might be the hardest thing.  

And it is solid gold.  

It is gold to let yourself be loved.  To demonstrate self love.  To step into your power.  To have a voice.  To enjoy.  To take pleasure in.  To not apologize for laughter, ease, comfort, or happiness.  To not fight or debate your worthiness or deservingness, but simply to accept it.

You have to own it even while society and your inner critics will continue to tell you that you are wrong, you are undeserving, you are unloveable.

I wish that you would know this in your deepest most tender places.  I hope that you will have it modeled to you, mirrored to you, offered and supported, over and over again, as often as you need it.  I want for you to feel safe and to have your needs met. And I know the unlikeliness of that happening makes it all the more important for you to do this work for yourself.

Part of the difficulty will be realizing that self love is not mere pleasure or affirmation.  It involves accountability and humility as much as it does indulgence.  It requires that we become responsible, reasonable, clear.  

We will have to recognize that shame is not always bad, because it is shame that will help us find our moral compass.  

We have to come to understand that unbalanced power dynamics are not in themselves harmful: I want you to relish being in the room with folks who know more than you do, people who inspire and push you to aspire. And I want you discover the depths of charity, empathy, leadership and kindness within yourself that is sourced from your power. 

I want you to believe in growth and strength and the pleasures of work. These are not the same thing as exploitation or self exploitation.  

Saying guilt isn’t a bad thing or that power dynamics don’t have to be bad is not to minimize or deny harm, but to see them more clearly.

We have to understand that we are in fact guilty of some things, because we are human beings and human beings fuck up.  It is only when we can tolerate our own humanity that we have any hope to make actual amends.  Until then we are locked in defensiveness and avoidance, which inevitably make us smaller than we could be. To parse deservingness from entitlement, dignity from privilege, radical acceptance from delusion, blame, and escapism is the work of this yogic path.

And I can’t emphasize this enough: both love and accountability begin in action.  All yoga is activist.  

Love yourself.  Love this life.  Unapologetically.

And admit when you are wrong, that you are imperfect, that you cause harm just like everybody else does.  Get over the idea that failure is to be avoided.

Inviting Lakṣmī

Lakṣmi, goddess of fortune, wealth, harmony and beauty, lives in the world. She does not live in heaven or subtle realms.  Lakṣmi is not subtle.  She shows up in the pearlescent, the wondrous. She is present in the awe and the gratitude actual materiality can carry.  But her presence is fleeting, impermanent, ephemeral.  

Most of our human lives are drudgery.  Most of our thoughts and emotions are made of the negative and self-important.  Our neurobiology is primed toward divisiveness, self-preservation, and fear.  The news and social media we take in is designed to play on our feelings, to affirm our biases and congratulate us for them, as if they weren’t pulling on our basest motives. Given all of that, beauty in the world can be hard to see.

Lakṣmi won’t show up if a thing is indifferent, cruel, selfish, spoiled by greed or intolerance or spite or neglect.  She is a diva, and scorns to be anywhere she isn’t appreciated.

And when she leaves, she will leave without a trace.  Unlike a jealous god, or a vengeful one, or a mean one who might inflict punishment, pain, some obvious negative karma if you neglect her, Lakṣmi has more self respect. She will simply vanish.  It will feel like she never was. 

The goddess walks right in the front door.  

The goddess does not sneak; no.  There is nothing about her that will mince or hide - she refuses to be a secret or a one night stand or a plaintive whisper you eek out in the dark nights of your misery.  She is a queen: elephants and entourages bring her in, lotus flowers and burning candles, meticulously cleaned houses and windows and cupboards, not a dust bunny in sight and surfaces that glint.  She requires a bright, clean, open space.  You have to make room for her, you have to prepare that space so that it is worthy of her, and you have to ask her to come in.

This ask is so universal and so constant that Lakṣmi is probably second only to Ganesh, remover of obstacles.

I’m speaking of inviting her literally poetically.  Cleanliness is close to goddessness.  For centuries, in myriad local customs, folks ask the goddess of wealth and prosperity into their home by deep ritual house cleaning every Diwali.  They paint footsteps from the street into the home, showing the goddess in.  They leave the door open and make the threshold appealing with flowers and light and color, garlands of color and scent and fleeting seasonal beauty.  The trail of footprints or flower petals often leads to a rangoli - a tapestry made of flowers. The way is lit bright with candles and littered with flower petals, garlands, gifts.  

Some folks do this every Friday.  

You have to make ready for her; she will not just stop by out of the sweetness of her heart.  She has better things to do.  You have to work.  You have to earn it.  You have to make time and take time and prepare.

And she won’t stay.  She won’t stay unless you continue to do your part.

This care and cleanliness extends - it isn’t just the house you need to make ready.  You need to wear your best clothes.  You need to take care of your clothes, your shoes, your accessories, your make up and hair, your materials, your relationships, your tools. Nothing held back, nothing shabby or greasy or soiled or threadbare.  You need to take care of your body; you may not regard it as a temple but she does.  You must choose and prepare food with care, not just for nutrients but for all the senses.  You need to attend to the mood and atmosphere of your workplace and your bedroom and your kitchen.  

You need to prepare your heart.  You need to beautify your mind.

Let’s think about this, please.

On the one hand, it is stupid to say that you need to clean your house and scrub your toilet and wear your best clothes and take care of your clothes if you want the kindness of the gods.  It’s petty.  It could be construed as dismissive to those who don’t have nice homes or clothes or flowers and candles.  It can become frivolity, vanity, superficial.  It can become puritanical, judgemental, and vain.  It can be weaponized to a shaming tactic.  

Of course it can.  

We have to discern the difference between caring for our environment and pathological obsession, and a sense of deservingness and appreciation. We have to start to discern and know pleasure and how it is different from the near enemies of frivolity, hoarding, greed.

But once we can begin to discern we can trace the lines from the subtle to the practical. We’ll begin to see the error of compartmentalizing and separating.  We can see the convergence between the sacred and the profane, places where devas interact with human lives.  

How, after all, can you expect to feel inner peace if you live in neglect?  How can you take your dreams from abstraction to realization if you do not make a literal, open space for them in your home, on your calendar, or on your desk?  If you don’t make a space for it, I told a student, it isn’t going to happen.  We must care for the things we say we most value.  Take nothing for granted.  Do not waste.  Do not hoard.  

But do indulge.  This life is beautiful.  It is limited and challenging, true: but never let the hatred in the world blind you to the beautiful and wondrous.  

Listen: what actually happens if you do not reap the fruits and the benefits of this day? If you do not hone your yesses and believe in your nos? What happens if you don’t notice or appreciate the sunrise?  What happens to a meal if you aren’t grateful for it?  What happens to a relationship if you never say thank you, I’m sorry, or I love you?  What happens to your soul if you don’t say yes to this day?

Answer: we begin to live shallow lives.  We squander our dreams.  We let other people’s priorities determine our whole existence.  We don’t feel the light and the warmth and the glistening.  The food you don’t eat or you eat in distraction does not ‘get more work done’ or save the actually hungry people in the world.  It just goes to waste.  

This is true of food.  It is true of sunlight.  It is true of the beauty around you at any given moment - yes, even moments of great suffering.

And if it is true of those things, it must also be true of your soul.

To my experience, Lakshmi is all about endearments.  Those sweet nothings and emotional flourishes that spring to our tongue easily when we are around sweet children or are falling in love or an object calls out to our senses.  But the principle of Laksmi takes this natural, effusive, sweet and bonding process outside the realm of the accidental and sacchrine.  It is possible to endear our socks.  To endear our chores.  To endear our suffering and our work.  

Indeed, as we go on in this path and as we age we must come to realize: growth is possible, learning is real, and we only have so much time.  Be softer and love more, be willing to endear even those processes that take decades.  Then your ten minutes a day becomes a sweetness.  Your practice becomes a communion, not a consumption.  Your daily life becomes a beatitude.