For the 'psychological' camp, I found this, from Jung's Psychology of Kundalini Yoga.

    For the convictions of the muladhara world are very necessary. It is exceedingly important that you are rational, that you believe in the definiteness of the world, that this world is the culmination of history, the most desireable thing. Such a conviction is absolutely vital. Otherwise you remain detached from the muladhara--you never get there, you are never born, even. There are plenty of people who are not yet born. They seem to be all here, they walk about--but as a matter of fact, they are not yet born, because they are behind a glass wall, they are in the womb. They are in the world only on parole, and are soon to be returned to the pleroma where they started originally. They have not formed a connection with this world; they are suspended in the air; they are neurotic, living the provisional life. They say: "I am now living on such-and-such a condition. If my parents behave according to my wishes, I stay. But if it should happen that they do something I don't like, I pop off." You see, that is the provisional life, a conditioned life, the life of somebody who is still connected by an umbilical cord as thick as a ship's rope to the pleroma, the archetypal world of splendor. Now, it is most important that you should be born; you ought to come into this world--otherwise you cannot realize the self, and the purpose of this world has been missed. Then you must simply be thrown back into the melting pot and be born again.

 

    The Hindus have an extremely interesting theory about that. I am not strong on metaphysics, but I must admit that in metaphysics there is a great deal of psychology. You see, it is utterly important that one should be in this world, that one really fulfills one's entelechia, the germ of life which one is. Otherwise you can never start Kundalini; you can never detach. You simply are thrown back, and nothing has happened; it is an absolutely valueless experience. You must believe in this world, make roots, do the best you can, even if you have to believe in the most absurd things--to believe, for instance, that this world is very definite, that it matters absolutely whether such-and-such a treaty is made or not. It may be completely futile, but you have to believe in it, have to make it almost a religious conviction, merely for the purpose of putting your signature under the treaty, so that trace is left of you. For you should leave some trace in this world which notifies that you have been here, that something has happened. If nothing happens of this kind you have not realized yourself; the germ of life has fallen, say, into a thick layer of air that kept it suspended. It never touched the ground, and so never could produce the plant. But if you touch the reality in which you live, and stay for several decades if you leave your trace, then the impersonal process can begin. You see, the shoot must come out of the ground, and if the personal spark has never gotten into the ground, nothing will come out of it; no linga or Kundalini will be there, because you are still staying in the infinity that was before. (italics original, bold mine.)

I suppose what this answer amounts to is that it may simply be Neil Gaiman's genius to capture this fact in poetry.

For the 'psychological' camp, I found this, from Jung's Psychology of Kundalini Yoga.

    For the convictions of the muladhara world are very necessary. It is exceedingly important that you are rational, that you believe in the definiteness of the world, that this world is the culmination of history, the most desireable thing. Such a conviction is absolutely vital. Otherwise you remain detached from the muladhara--you never get there, you are never born, even. There are plenty of people who are not yet born. They seem to be all here, they walk about--but as a matter of fact, they are not yet born, because they are behind a glass wall, they are in the womb. They are in the world only on parole, and are soon to be returned to the pleroma where they started originally. They have not formed a connection with this world; they are suspended in the air; they are neurotic, living the provisional life. They say: "I am now living on such-and-such a condition. If my parents behave according to my wishes, I stay. But if it should happen that they do something I don't like, I pop off." You see, that is the provisional life, a conditioned life, the life of somebody who is still connected by an umbilical cord as thick as a ship's rope to the pleroma, the archetypal world of splendor. Now, it is most important that you should be born; you ought to come into this world--otherwise you cannot realize the self, and the purpose of this world has been missed. Then you must simply be thrown back into the melting pot and be born again.

    The Hindus have an extremely interesting theory about that. I am not strong on metaphysics, but I must admit that in metaphysics there is a great deal of psychology. You see, it is utterly important that one should be in this world, that one really fulfills one's entelechia, the germ of life which one is. Otherwise you can never start Kundalini; you can never detach. You simply are thrown back, and nothing has happened; it is an absolutely valueless experience. You must believe in this world, make roots, do the best you can, even if you have to believe in the most absurd things--to believe, for instance, that this world is very definite, that it matters absolutely whether such-and-such a treaty is made or not. It may be completely futile, but you have to believe in it, have to make it almost a religious conviction, merely for the purpose of putting your signature under the treaty, so that trace is left of you. For you should leave some trace in this world which notifies that you have been here, that something has happened. If nothing happens of this kind you have not realized yourself; the germ of life has fallen, say, into a thick layer of air that kept it suspended. It never touched the ground, and so never could produce the plant. But if you touch the reality in which you live, and stay for several decades if you leave your trace, then the impersonal process can begin. You see, the shoot must come out of the ground, and if the personal spark has never gotten into the ground, nothing will come out of it; no linga or Kundalini will be there, because you are still staying in the infinity that was before. (italics original, bold mine.)

I suppose what this answer amounts to is that it may simply be Neil Gaiman's genius to capture this fact in poetry.

For the 'psychological' camp, I found this, from Jung's Psychology of Kundalini Yoga.

    For the convictions of the muladhara world are very necessary. It is exceedingly important that you are rational, that you believe in the definiteness of the world, that this world is the culmination of history, the most desireable thing. Such a conviction is absolutely vital. Otherwise you remain detached from the muladhara--you never get there, you are never born, even. There are plenty of people who are not yet born. They seem to be all here, they walk about--but as a matter of fact, they are not yet born, because they are behind a glass wall, they are in the womb. They are in the world only on parole, and are soon to be returned to the pleroma where they started originally. They have not formed a connection with this world; they are suspended in the air; they are neurotic, living the provisional life. They say: "I am now living on such-and-such a condition. If my parents behave according to my wishes, I stay. But if it should happen that they do something I don't like, I pop off." You see, that is the provisional life, a conditioned life, the life of somebody who is still connected by an umbilical cord as thick as a ship's rope to the pleroma, the archetypal world of splendor. Now, it is most important that you should be born; you ought to come into this world--otherwise you cannot realize the self, and the purpose of this world has been missed. Then you must simply be thrown back into the melting pot and be born again.

    The Hindus have an extremely interesting theory about that. I am not strong on metaphysics, but I must admit that in metaphysics there is a great deal of psychology. You see, it is utterly important that one should be in this world, that one really fulfills one's entelechia, the germ of life which one is. Otherwise you can never start Kundalini; you can never detach. You simply are thrown back, and nothing has happened; it is an absolutely valueless experience. You must believe in this world, make roots, do the best you can, even if you have to believe in the most absurd things--to believe, for instance, that this world is very definite, that it matters absolutely whether such-and-such a treaty is made or not. It may be completely futile, but you have to believe in it, have to make it almost a religious conviction, merely for the purpose of putting your signature under the treaty, so that trace is left of you. For you should leave some trace in this world which notifies that you have been here, that something has happened. If nothing happens of this kind you have not realized yourself; the germ of life has fallen, say, into a thick layer of air that kept it suspended. It never touched the ground, and so never could produce the plant. But if you touch the reality in which you live, and stay for several decades if you leave your trace, then the impersonal process can begin. You see, the shoot must come out of the ground, and if the personal spark has never gotten into the ground, nothing will come out of it; no linga or Kundalini will be there, because you are still staying in the infinity that was before.

For the 'psychological' camp, I found this, from Jung's Psychology of Kundalini Yoga.

    For the convictions of the muladhara world are very necessary. It is exceedingly important that you are rational, that you believe in the definiteness of the world, that this world is the culmination of history, the most desireable thing. Such a conviction is absolutely vital. Otherwise you remain detached from the muladhara--you never get there, you are never born, even. There are plenty of people who are not yet born. They seem to be all here, they walk about--but as a matter of fact, they are not yet born, because they are behind a glass wall, they are in the womb. They are in the world only on parole, and are soon to be returned to the pleroma where they started originally. They have not formed a connection with this world; they are suspended in the air; they are neurotic, living the provisional life. They say: "I am now living on such-and-such a condition. If my parents behave according to my wishes, I stay. But if it should happen that they do something I don't like, I pop off." You see, that is the provisional life, a conditioned life, the life of somebody who is still connected by an umbilical cord as thick as a ship's rope to the pleroma, the archetypal world of splendor. Now, it is most important that you should be born; you ought to come into this world--otherwise you cannot realize the self, and the purpose of this world has been missed. Then you must simply be thrown back into the melting pot and be born again.

    The Hindus have an extremely interesting theory about that. I am not strong on metaphysics, but I must admit that in metaphysics there is a great deal of psychology. You see, it is utterly important that one should be in this world, that one really fulfills one's entelechia, the germ of life which one is. Otherwise you can never start Kundalini; you can never detach. You simply are thrown back, and nothing has happened; it is an absolutely valueless experience. You must believe in this world, make roots, do the best you can, even if you have to believe in the most absurd things--to believe, for instance, that this world is very definite, that it matters absolutely whether such-and-such a treaty is made or not. It may be completely futile, but you have to believe in it, have to make it almost a religious conviction, merely for the purpose of putting your signature under the treaty, so that trace is left of you. For you should leave some trace in this world which notifies that you have been here, that something has happened. If nothing happens of this kind you have not realized yourself; the germ of life has fallen, say, into a thick layer of air that kept it suspended. It never touched the ground, and so never could produce the plant. But if you touch the reality in which you live, and stay for several decades if you leave your trace, then the impersonal process can begin. You see, the shoot must come out of the ground, and if the personal spark has never gotten into the ground, nothing will come out of it; no linga or Kundalini will be there, because you are still staying in the infinity that was before. (italics original, bold mine.)

I suppose what this answer amounts to is that it may simply be Neil Gaiman's genius to capture this fact in poetry.