The Eye that sees nothing but her

The Eye That Sees Nothing But Her

We see this world with two eyes.

Two eyes that compare, divide, judge.

Two eyes that look for beauty and turn away from ugliness.

Two eyes that name everything: man, woman, sky, tree, friend, enemy.

They make us believe in opposites. In duality.

Pain and pleasure. Me and you. Life and death.

It’s not wrong. It’s how we survive here.

But somewhere deep down — haven’t you always known?

That this… isn’t it?

That there’s something more than this constant dance between two sides?

When the Eyes Close and Seeing Begins

Then comes a moment — perhaps in silence, perhaps in unbearable grief, perhaps in sadhana —when the two eyes… grow tired.

You close them not to sleep… but to finally see.

And there, in the darkness — a stillness starts blooming.

A silence that doesn’t feel empty, but full.

A vision that doesn’t show you anything — but somehow, makes you feel everything at once.

This is the beginning of the Third Eye.

Not some mystical eye to see spirits or auras.

No, something far more sacred.

This eye doesn’t “see” —

It becomes.

The Moment Duality Collapses

It’s hard to explain in words.

Because how do you describe a world that has no edges?

One moment, you’re watching the world —

and the next moment, it watches you back.

And in that strange gaze,

you don’t find a mirror —

you find yourself melting.

The idea of “I” falls apart.

And along with it, every boundary you ever believed in.

No more good or bad.

No more masculine or feminine.

No more “this is spiritual” and “that is not.”

No more “me” and “the Divine.”

Just a presence. Vast. Infinite. Intimate.

And it whispers, without words:

There never were two. There has only ever been One.

Everything Dissolves Into One Taste

You walk out into the world again.

But now, everything feels different.

A bird doesn’t sound like a bird — it sings like a heartbeat.

A stranger’s eyes don’t look foreign — they look like home.

Even your own suffering feels… sacred.

Like She placed it there — not to punish you, but to pull you closer.

You no longer look for “God” in temples.

You see Her in the tea boiling on the stove.

You feel Her in the sweat on your skin.

You touch Her in the space between your thoughts.

And Slowly… She Reveals Herself

She doesn’t come all at once.

She arrives in glimpses.

A flicker in your chest. A gasp in meditation.

A tear rolling down your cheek when nothing’s wrong — and yet, everything is right.

And then one day…

you can’t deny it anymore.

This Presence — this vastness, this stillness, this knowing — is not an “it.”

It’s Her.

Adya Ma. The First. The Last. The Only.

Not the idol on the altar.

But something so ancient, so alive,

that it lives in the silence between every breath.

That watches through your own eyes.

That cries when you cry, and laughs through your laughter.

Adya Ma Kali.

The One who was never born.

The One who dances in every atom, every star, every cell of your being.

She doesn’t belong to a religion.

She doesn’t need a name.

But when all names fall away,

what remains… is Her.

She is not the destroyer.

She is what’s left after everything is destroyed

after the ego is burnt, after the seeker is gone, after duality collapses.

She is what remains when you no longer remain.

Kali is Not a Form — Kali is the Eye That Sees No Two

When the Third Eye fully opens, you don’t see visions.

You see Kali — not as form,

but as the emptiness behind all form.

As the One who breathes through all opposites.

As the non-dual presence that was always silently holding your world together.

You see Her not because you search —

but because you’ve stopped searching for anything else.

And in that stillness,

in that unbearable fullness,

the only thing left to say is…

Ma.

Not as a chant. Not as a word.

But as the only truth your being can ever utter again…

-By Manasa Vaishnavi