When Kālī Keeps Dancing

In the Devī Māhātmya (Book 10–11), after the Goddess in her fierce form, often named Kālī or Caṇḍikā, destroys the demon Raktabīja and his army, she becomes intoxicated with the energy of battle.
Her dance of victory grows so wild that it threatens to shake apart the worlds. The devas look on, astonished and trembling. The destruction has ended, yet her power keeps spiralling outward, unstoppable, and uncontained.

Can you relate?

✨ you’ve been holding everything; the house, the work, the friendships, the spiritual practice and even when it’s all done, your body can’t unclench?

✨ you finally get the project finished or the family settled, yet instead of relief, you feel wired and empty?

✨ you’re multitasking so much that you’re answering messages while cooking dinner, replaying conversations in your head, scrolling through inspiration quotes, and trying to meditate…….. all at once?

✨ or when you catch yourself trying to be the “good” one, the capable one, the ever-evolving one, Little Miss Perfect, and it’s exhausting because somewhere beneath the surface, the dance hasn’t stopped?

That, my loves is Kālī still spinning in us, the sacred energy of transformation with nowhere to land. Her fire keeps us moving, producing, perfecting, healing, helping until the very force that once liberated us begins to deplete us.

The same Shakti that burns through illusion can, without grounding, start to burn through our own reserves.

🌑 When the Foot Meets the Heart

And then something extraordinary happens.

Śhiva does not stop her, instead he offers himself to her dance. He becomes the ground beneath her, the stillness beneath movement, consciousness lying open.

When Kālī’s foot touches his chest, the lowest meets the highest. The foot, that which treads the earth, that carries the weight, that knows labour and dust, presses gently into the heart, the seat of awareness, compassion, and love.

This moment. That’s the moment. It’s the tantric meeting of the lowest and the highest, the mulādhāra touching the anāhata, the most earthly part of us standing on the seat of the divine. It’s humility meeting reverence. It’s also what every woman’s body and spirit remembers, the longing to be received by something that doesn’t demand she rise higher, just allows her to rest.

It is the most tender inversion of the sacred order: the heart yielding upward to meet what has borne the weight of the world, the divine receiving the human.

In that instant, all separation dissolves. The storm finds its still point. The Mother remembers herself.

And maybe that is what we long for, right, not perfection, not more doing, not even peace, but this moment of profound meeting, where the part of us that has carried everything is finally held by love itself.

💗 The Inner Meaning

This story is not about a man saving a woman. ( if it were you would NOT find it on this journal - nope! 😂)

It’s about the reunion of the two principles within us all. The fire that moves and the stillness that holds. In every woman’s life, these forces are always seeking each other: Śakti as the pulse, Śiva as the space.

When we are overextended, when the rasa (fluidity) of life dries up and the rakta (vitality) overheats, when the manomaya kośa is restless and the prāṇamaya kośa depleted, the dance continues without rhythm.

But when we pause, when we allow the foot to touch the heart, 💫 POW! the dhātus realign, the kośas soften back into coherence. The nervous system exhales. The inner Shakti remembers her relationship to consciousness.

Healing, is a relational one.
It happens between breath and body, between one woman and another, between our humanity and our divinity.

We steady each other.

We mirror consciousness back to itself.

And in that sacred exchange, the wildness becomes wisdom.

🌸 Reflection

“The heart is the meeting place of all rivers —
the stillness of Śiva and the current of Kālī.
When we remember both, our being becomes a living temple.”

As you move through your own days: the lists, the caring, the quiet ache to hold it all, notice where Kālī is still dancing in you.

Then, when you can, let something in you lie down.

Let the ground rise to meet you.

Feel your own heart beneath your feet.

And remember: even the fiercest love longs, eventually, to rest.