I did find one little murti of Durga at the Herb House. Other than this traditional sort of ritual use, I downloaded videos from YouTube to access visual and audible expressions of devotion to Devi Durga, and Others expressing Divine Feminine. A rather odd juxtaposition, ancient traditions of practice, yoga, from caves and deepest austerities glimpsed, meeting binary code and worldwide communications, and the culture of a video-crazed community.
In the past, I have gone to Sivaratri festivals in Taos and Montreal, participating in a sort of experience that engages all available senses: incense burning, sitar and mridangam and harmonium and tabla and ancient chants intoned, brightly colored and beautifully adorned murti, physically manifest expressions of attributes of the divine granted offerings and devotion, prashad tasted, fire and water.
In the case of Navaratri or Durgapuja, a clay statue of Goddess that is later thrown into the Ocean . . . I left the one I utilized somewhere in downtown Laramie . . .
And She is present, thus, in and through material form, and in and through women living life, too . . . Yet downloaded on the internet? Is that sacrilege? Comes to mind, Miss Calendar--"cyber-pagan" from Buffy the Vampire Slayer series. She was pretty hot, except that time when she got temporarily possessed . . .
I made offerings of food and drink to the small murti of Durga I acquired from the Herb House for just eight dollars, burned sage and juniper, and played videos of the Gayatri mantra, Durga Chalisa, and other ditties to Kali, Parvati and Chandraghanta and the likes, and for the other tradition which includes Lakshmi and Saraswati, too, meditating on worldwide transformation . . . whilst at times gazing at a screen connected to the internet--that is likewise connecting to the world.
AUM . . . Ω . . .
Though I'd rather have experienced this year's nine nights of special devotion to Devi Durga, Kali, Lakshmi and Sarawati, and Kick-Ass Divine Feminine Generally, in some temple in India or Nepal, access to depictions of Her and songs sung in devotion to Durga and other names applicable to the festival just passed on the internet was convenient. Not unlike when I was young and would find the radio to be a means to connect to outside the walls of my dark dank basement bedroom . . .