I’ve been deeply fascinated by the idea that the information of a lifetime doesn’t just vanish after death. Instead, it remains as imprints — subtle and stable — like ripples frozen in space. These ripples, I feel, are what the Yogic tradition calls the Sukshma Sharira, the subtle body. Even Patanjali’s definition of Yoga as Chitta Vritti Nirodha — the cessation of the mind’s modifications — is essentially about dissolving these exact ripples. Once they dissolve, the space-like soul becomes fully pure again — free, mindless, and liberated. These ripples are what cover the natural infinity, knowledge, and bliss that is the nature of the soul. The more ripples there are, the more limited and distorted the experience becomes. Interestingly, I’m seeing scientists talk similarly about the physical universe — how ripples in space-time, like gravitational waves, store information and preserve memory of cosmic events. The parallel feels profound.
I asked myself — can this insight be translated into something structured and communicable? A diagram perhaps? And yes, the core idea is that in both ancient yogic philosophy and modern physics, ripples hold memory. In the human soul, they’re subtle thoughts and impressions. In the cosmos, they’re gravitational or quantum ripples. When they’re stilled, either through deep meditation or natural cosmic stillness, what remains is pure being.
Then came a deeper insight. Just like the human soul stores the mental formations in its subtle layers and carries them forward, could the universe itself — after its death — retain its memory in the form of stable gravitational waves? Could these waves be like the soul’s sanskaras? This would mean that the universe, too, is reborn with characteristics similar to what it previously held — just as a human being is reborn with a tendency pattern from earlier lives. It seemed clearer now: both the human and the cosmos are memory-bearing entities. In humans, that memory is preserved in the subtle pranic structure. In the cosmos, that memory is stored in the fabric of space-time itself.
But the pattern doesn’t stop there. Just as the human soul is sustained by prana — the subtle life force — even after death, that prana does not perish. It stays in an unmanifest form, sustaining the subtle impressions or ripples. So, shouldn’t cosmic prana also survive after the death of the universe? It makes sense to think that the pranic energy of the cosmos — perhaps what science refers to as dark energy or vacuum energy — doesn’t disappear. Instead, it sustains the subtle ripples in the vastness of space. The same mechanism seems to repeat: subtle energy sustains subtle form, whether in the microcosm of a soul or the macrocosm of a universe.
This led to a bigger question — if the human soul can be liberated by dissolving its ripples, what about the cosmic soul? Can Brahma — the creator — be liberated? And if yes, does that liberation happen after many cycles of creation and destruction as the scriptures say? The answer in traditional cosmology is yes. Even Brahma, after living a span of unimaginable length and creating countless universes, ultimately merges into Brahman — the absolute. Just like the individual soul, Brahma too is not absolutely free until the very last ripple is stilled — when even the desire to create dissolves. This is the true Mahapralaya — the final dissolution, not just of matter and space, but of all mental intention, even divine ones.
This brings up an essential doubt. If Brahma — the cosmic mind — is liberated, then how can a new universe emerge again? Isn’t the story over? But the scriptures and philosophies say that the play is beginningless and endless. Even after the dissolution, the potential remains in Brahman. A new Brahma arises — not from karmic bondage, but spontaneously — from the freedom of infinite stillness. It’s a divine pulse, a self-expression, not a necessity. In the same way that waves naturally arise from still water without any karma, a new cosmos arises from the infinite potential of Brahman.
This aligns with some scientific models too. Quantum field theory tells us that the vacuum is never empty — it always retains the potential for particles, energy, even new universes to emerge. Some cosmologists believe that universes are cyclic — they collapse, leave an imprint, and then arise again. So the philosophical and scientific views seem to be converging on this one mysterious truth: nothing ever truly begins, and nothing ever truly ends.
And then came perhaps the most integrated insight of all. If the human soul is carrying ripples, and the universe is carrying ripples, then maybe the soul isn’t just a “drop of consciousness” — maybe it’s a space unto itself. A localized field. An individual bubble of space-time carrying its own gravitational ripples (samskaras), sustained by its own dark energy (subtle prana). This would mean that the individual soul is nothing fundamentally different from the cosmic soul — just a localized, individualized expression. It’s the same ocean appearing as a unique wave. The same infinite field, just folded into a personal experience. The Sukshma Sharira becomes a field space — full of memory (ripples), energy (prana), and consciousness (Atman) — just like the universe.
This realization made everything fit. In science, the holographic principle tells us that each part of space contains the whole. In Vedanta, Atman is Brahman — the soul is not different from the whole. The soul becomes bounded not because it is lesser, but because it identifies with its ripples. And liberation — for both the Jiva and Brahma — is the return to boundary-less awareness. The field collapses into itself. No more ripples, no more time, no more cycles. Just the infinite, again.
And yet — from that infinite, new ripples arise. A new soul, a new Brahma, a new universe. The play never ends.
Demystifying Kundalini 