Kali

It’s only partly true to call Kali a goddess of death. What she destroys is the ego — the false self that clings to illusion. In the old stories, Kali kills demons, never mortals, and she is not the keeper of death — that role belongs to Yama. Yet, like Shiva, She dwells among cremation grounds. To worship her is not to worship death, but to face it, and through that confrontation, awaken. Shiva and Kali do not grant comfort; They grant liberation by tearing away the illusion of self. Kali is pure shakti — raw, female power. She is said to have emerged as an independent force around 1000 BCE, both terrifying and divine, blood-soaked destroyer, and unyielding protector. She is spirit and flesh, desire and danger, the pulse of life that both creates and consumes. Like nature herself, she nurtures and annihilates in equal measure. She is not fully goddess, not fully demon, but something between — an asura of uncontrollable passion and primal will. Her power births creation, and with that