The Sacred Pause: The Blessing of Goddess Śrī Bagalāmukhī

On the path of the heart, perhaps one of the most difficult—and most worthwhile—practices is learning not to say everything that comes into your mind, especially when those thoughts take the form of criticism, judgment, or complaint.

From personal experience, I can assure you this takes tremendous discernment. I have failed again and again at holding my tongue, especially with those I love most. Being a fire sign—Sagittarius with Sagittarius rising—I seem naturally predisposed to a bit of “foot-in-mouth” disease.

So what’s a yogi to do?

My practice has been to create a space—a sacred pause of awareness—between what I’m thinking and what I’m about to say. 

I’ll be honest, I’m still not very good at it, especially when I feel passionate about something. But I’ve come to realize that success isn’t measured by perfection.

There is also great value in recognizing our mistakes after the fact. Reflection itself is part of the practice. For me, it’s often a matter of timing. Given enough space, I almost always find my way back to my loving heart.

From the perspective of our infinite nature, there’s room for mistakes. In fact, what first appears to be a mistake often becomes an opportunity for humility, remorse, apology, and repair. I’ve also learned that if I judge myself harshly for saying the wrong thing at the wrong time, I only create more suffering. That second layer of self-judgment keeps me away from my heart much longer than the original mistake ever did.

There’s a beautiful Buddhist teaching called releasing the second arrow. The first arrow is the painful moment when we react and blurt out words we later regret. The second arrow is the shame we heap upon ourselves afterward.

Shame is an ineffective, learned strategy for self-improvement.

We imagine that if we criticize ourselves enough, we’ll finally change. Yet after more than 46 years of practice, I can honestly say that shame has never been a reliable teacher. It only deepens the sense of separation between who we are and who we think we should be.

Tantra offers another way.

As the path of radical affirmation, Tantra teaches that genuine transformation happens through love, acceptance, and recognition—not self-condemnation.

The good news is that we all have the capacity to choose our words. We may not always control the thoughts that arise, but with practice we become more sensitive to the hurt beneath our reactions. We begin to notice the impulse before it becomes speech.

Then we breathe.

We enter the Sacred Pause.

That sacred pause softens the urgency to react. It reminds the nervous system that we are safe, that life is holding us, and that there is no immediate need to fight, defend, or run away. The breath activates the parasympathetic nervous system, releasing the feeling of being trapped and opening the possibility of responding from clarity instead of conditioning.

This Sacred Pause is where the goddess Śrī Bagalāmukhī enters our lives.

She is one of the twelve great Wisdom Goddesses (Daśa Mahāvidyās) of the non-dual Tantric tradition. Each goddess embodies a different awakened quality already present within us. Some appear gentle and nurturing, while others seem fierce or even intimidating. Yet every one of them serves the same purpose: to awaken us beyond the limitations of the ego and into the vastness of our true nature.

ŚRĪ BAGALĀMUKHĪ MANTRA

OṂ HLRĪṂ BAGALĀMUKHĪ

SARVA-DUṢṬĀNĀṂ

VĀCHAṂ MUKHAṂ PADAṂ

STAṂBHAYA STAṂBHAYA

JIHVĀṂ KĪLAYA KĪLAYA

BUDDHIṂ VINĀŚAYA

HRĪṄ OṂ SVĀHĀ

Śrī Bagalāmukhī has the power to still, arrest, or suspend negative forces—both external obstacles and the inner tendencies that create suffering. Although this mantra has traditionally been used for protection against enemies or legal disputes, many contemporary practitioners understand it as a profoundly inward yogic practice.

“O Divine Mother Bagalāmukhī, through the power of Hrīṁ—the vibration of the awakened heart—still all negative speech, harmful thoughts, and unconscious impulses. Immobilize the ego’s reactive patterns. Silence the mind that creates suffering and establish me in the stillness of awakened awareness.”

From the perspective of inner practice, the real “enemy” is never another person. It is fear, anger, jealousy, self-sabotage, hopelessness, anxiety, doubt, and all the unconscious habits that keep us from recognizing our true nature.

Bagalāmukhī’s gift is stambhana—the power to stop momentum.

When the restless momentum of the mind comes to rest, awareness naturally shines through. Stambhana, meaning “to stop” or “to immobilize,” is often misunderstood as suppression. In the highest Tantric understanding, it isn’t about forcing the mind into silence. Rather, it is the spontaneous settling of mental momentum when awareness recognizes itself. Thoughts may continue to arise, but they no longer carry us away.

In this sense, Bagalāmukhī is not merely the goddess who stops enemies. She is the power that stops identification.

She is often depicted grasping the demon’s tongue, rendering it motionless. Symbolically, she reveals the silence from which all words arise. She points us toward the unwavering awareness that remains when the mind’s compulsive momentum comes to rest.

For those of us who walk the path of the heart, this makes her an extraordinarily compassionate presence. She doesn’t destroy the mind. She simply interrupts its unconscious habits long enough for pratyabhijñā—the recognition of our true nature—to dawn. (To learn more about the teachings of Sri Bagalamukhi, chant her mantra, and receive her blessings, join the Ashaya Membership this month.)

In a culture that prizes constant striving, she whispers another possibility:

Stop before reacting.

Stop before defending.

Stop before believing every thought.

Pause long enough for awareness to recognize itself. Then action no longer arises from conditioning, but from clarity.

Recognition doesn’t require creating a new state of consciousness. It simply requires interrupting the trance that obscures the awakened awareness already here.

As Rajanaka Abhinavagupta beautifully reminds us:

“The highest initiation is simply the recognition of one’s own true nature.”

Everything else—the mantras, rituals, visualizations, and practices—is in service of that one simple and profound recognition.

May all that obscures truth become still.

May your speech arise from wisdom.

May your restless mind rest in the heart.

Namaste,

Todd