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The samaya forms of Yellow Vasudhara are Ila Devi (corn) and Gopali (cowherd). If it was me, judging by the indications, I would take Vasudhara. I mean it is completely backwards in terms of the usual progression, but, for the most part, Noose = Yellow, Earth, Jewel Family. No, they do not have earth's position in mandalas, it is the color Yellow which is more important here.
I looked up Vasudhara from a word component perspective and thought it must mean "Holder of a Beam of Light" which resonated. Wikipedia says it is usually translated "Stream of Jewels" which also does.
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Shaking began at about 4:55am, with both the pelvic, shamanic shaking and the abdominal multibody shaking happening simultaneously,... and no bliss in either. There was some rattling from the desert, and, in turn, Mandarava, Kurukulla, Ekajati, and Samaya Tara identified, and I found myself looking out over the “shaking landscape” looking down my body. Everything just stayed there in a kind of waiting state, a breeze rippling some loose things in the desert and the four Dakinis standing there, and then Mandarava spoke for all, “You have to choose what you want to do next.”
I chose the abdominal shaking and “vocalized” it to her, “I need help, I can’t generate enough nausea and I can’t breathe.” The pelvic shaking retreated into the knobby bone inside, and I wasted some time trying to figure out if I was enough in two bodies to feel the bone, beginning to be known as “the rattle” when they talk about it. I worried about this for a full minute or so, and had the feeling I had “offended” the assembled Dakinis.
I began shaking in my upper abdomen and pelvic rim, and moved into some of the arching, metallic colored bandhas I have had before, but all of my attention was not there, it was on my chest and the pain and lack of breath there. The task at hand was nausea, and I worked on opening my esophagus. I got it most of the way open more than once, with no relief for my breathing, and then Samaya Tara took her weapon, a spear or a halberd, I’m never quite sure, and put the point of it and her foot on the “base” of my esophagus and pressed down and it opened all the way and my Ting-listening was able to penetrate all the way into my chest cavity and grab it. I shook as I have been taught, and waves of nausea pulsed up my esophagus and into my throat. I did this over and over to no change in my breathing.
...There were heated discussions about it, and about a lot of other things about my shaking. The consensus was I needed to do the splitting form of the nausea instead, and I did that, and it felt the same except it produced the dripping liquid bliss floating downward, which caught my attention and distracted me. I became worried about it. I “checked” my bone/rattle, and it seemed shriveled and dry. Mandarava chastised me for doing so, saying that I had made my choice, and not to be distracted by the “North American dancers” (as opposed to the Dakinis – the “North Asian dancers”). I could not collect myself together to do anything but meaningless pulses of nausea up from my insides to my throat, Kurukulla withdrew from the jewels in my throat and left them dull, and I apologized profusely to all present and tried again but could not correct my breathing and I ran out of energy.
I rolled over to sleep...
I woke at 6:40am again into breathing difficulty, into the same position I had gone to sleep in, and into being in the desert and in two bodies. The figure in feathers was again striking the ground with a bone, I was again the figure in feathers – in each body separately – and the bone was again my pelvis in each body, and again glowing yellow or golden (yellow in color, shiny and glinting like gold, with a red tinge at the outline). Shaking built in my pelvis and the motif of the weaving of a tapestry with my hip bone being the shuttlecock, together with the cradle of creation filling with rainbow colored liquids was building as well. We were standing in the desert as a procession, all of us dressed in black feathers. All of us was me in two bodies, and the four Dakinis who had been working with me earlier.
I asked what we were doing. They said, “We are going to do the shamanic journey through death. You requested it.” I looked at the ground where we had previously hit the ground with the bone and there was an open trench in it, right where the desert met the ascending mountains of my sacrum. The pit was covered with a leathery, hide or cloth, decorated with prayer flags, and held from falling into the pit by taut strands of thread that I recognized as being the warp of threads from the loom of my pelvis that my pelvis as a shuttlecock was traversing to produce the brilliant colors of the tapestry of creation. A stiff breeze was blowing, and the leathery fabric could be seen to be quite gauzy and thin and was rippling in the breeze and snapping the way flags do when they ripple and the wind is strong.
Something caught my attention and I realized that the gauzy leathery fabric that was rippling was my abdomen, murmurating and moving rapidly in a shallow fire breath that was superimposed initially on my breathing and then was my breathing. I was doing a fire breath at the rate of two to three breaths per second for almost 15 minutes when this was happening. I was in my abdomen, in the pit, then, looking up at the fire breath leathery shroud and in the pit was a skeleton covered with dried, desiccated flesh, I alternately saw the desiccated corpse in third person and was the desiccated corpse myself. We lifted it, with its shroud, up out of the pit to carry, and rainbow liquid spilled all around the pit onto the desert sand. We began to walk our way into the mountains and through the terrain of my body. As we moved up, each part of my body started to shake, and we stopped when we reached my throat.
My head began to shake very rapidly and then to tilt back and gaze upwards. I could feel the Phowa – I could feel that my head was pointed up inside of Vajrayogini’s infinite vagina, and I was not comfortable. A green lily with white flower glowed at the top, and a white vulva in green body glowed at the root of my pelvis, like two moons glowing on green pedestals to light the way. I was panicky. I kept trying to straighten my head, so that the top was aligned with my crown, it kept tilting back so that my aperture at the hairline (the Spirit Temple point) was pointing up.
I asked, “Why is my head pointing up this way, shouldn’t it be the other way? If I do it this way, it isn’t the same, I’ll die.” Mandarava said, “You wanted to do this in the shaman’s story. The only path out of here into death is that one,” pointing to the aperture. I started explaining that I had read or heard that I had to do a death journey. I began to feel stupid about maybe I didn’t understand or maybe the journey was something symbolic, or maybe this and maybe that. I quailed from continuing to carry my bier through that aperture, and again focused on the two moons. One was on the other side of death. One was my clear body’s vulva glowing in the beginning of life. I said, “I should do this when I am done here, this isn’t an other-world death this is a real world one.”
I was back in the desert – in my pelvis, in my clear body. The feathered person – me – sat on one side of the cradle or cauldron, she sat on the other, with her body in the position of the famous Japanese statue of Maitreya. She dipped her hand in the rainbow liquid, and for the first time I noticed that her rainbows and the liquid rainbows were the same flowing colors. “This is your path, to fill with this,” she said. I sat and watched the rainbows until my breathing intruded (the alarm had already rung and I was supposed to have gotten up already) and then I got up.
