Ganesha, the Gatekeeper

Around 17 years ago, I was living in Varanasi, India, studying yoga philosophy, when I had a dream that I was flying up a mountain. It was such a realistic dream, and it was the right time to visit the mountains as the summer months were approaching. But, which mountain was I called to? The Himalayas had endless holy peaks.

I scanned a list of mountains in India, thinking one would reveal itself to me, and I came upon a familiar name. It was Mount Kailash—the abode of Lord Shiva.

I knew immediately that this was the mountain I was to visit. But I would soon discover that it was not in India, but Tibet. And not just in Tibet, but in the far remote western corner, many days' journey across desert wilderness.

Not only was it difficult to get to, but it was illegal for foreigners to visit West Tibet without being on a very expensive, very regulated, tour. I asked my teacher what he thought, and he said the journey was nearly impossible. Nevertheless, he gave his blessing. 

My partner at the time and I decided to go overland to Nepal, to see if we could figure it out from there.

The day before we left Varanasi, we took a boat ride on the Ganges to say goodbye to the city, for now. We paid the boatman for an hour on the river, without any other instructions, and got inside. The boatman rowed us across the river to the other shore, which was an endless expanse of barren beach. Then he rode us Northwards. Pretty soon, we saw a strange figure looming on that beach, and the boatman seemed to be rowing us right to it.

When we got up to it, we saw that it was an otherworldly, imposing, 10-foot tall statue of Ganesha, the elephant-headed god, surrounded by nothing but a vast tract of sand. And, this was no ordinary Ganesha. This Ganesha was covered head to toe in an immaculate skin of peacock feathers. His entire body shimmered iridescent blackish-blue as the wind blew around him. 

The boatman drove us right up to him, as if this Ganesha was the destination of the boat ride, then he turned around and rode back. 

Ganesha is said to be the remover of obstacles—the son of Shiva, whose mountain was calling. Ganesha is the guardian of the spiritual path, the friendly support for those who make a sincere effort. And he was the perfect figure to bless an impossible pilgrimage.

What was more, this blessing felt deeply personal, as Krishna is especially dear to me, and peacock feathers are his iconic symbol. The stories of Ganesha and Krishna don’t often overlap, and I have never heard of a Ganesha covered in peacock feathers. This combination of symbols felt so specific and sweet—it was as if Krishna was blessing the journey, in his expansion as Ganesha, the Gatekeeper. 

The rest of this story is for another time, but suffice it to say, over the next few months, countless obstacles were removed, and countless beautiful blessings were bestowed, such that we indeed made it to, and around, Mount Kailash. 

I wrote this Ganesha blessing as an offering for sincere aspirants to call on his support for the journeys we must embark on to fulfill our purposes, especially when they seem impossible.

Om Gam Ganapataye Namah

Jay Shri Radhe Shyam