Month: November 2025

Awareness at the Anahata Chakra – Healing Through the Goddess Within

I began my yoga practice at 5 a.m. today. The air was still, mind silent, and body ready. After spinal breathing, I moved through guru-given yoga and my own selected set, including chakra meditation from top to bottom — without holding breath. These days I avoid breath-holding to prevent excess head pressure. Yet I’ve realized there’s no real need to fear it; the head has an incredible capacity to bear and balance the force of prana.

Once, during a dream-state gastric uprising, I experienced immense head pressure, momentary choking, and a transient rise in blood pressure — but the body adjusted beautifully. It reminded me that a well-practiced body knows how to balance itself. So, my preparatory yogic routine continued for about an hour and a half — enough to create the internal yogic pressure required for launching into dhyana.

I know this yogic pressure is temporary. It gradually dissolves into the luminosity of dhyana, just like gas slowly burning out from an LPG cylinder. And when that inner fuel finishes, the practitioner naturally returns from dhyana — first through strong internal contractions from lower to upper area of body backside as to facilitate the movement of energy in the three main spinal channels, followed by the gradual deepening of breath. When the breath returns to normal, the eyes open by themselves. The same happened today.

During dhyana, Vajrasana again gave an excellent starting response. Subtle breathing began automatically at the Ajna Chakra and continued for quite long. Yet all along, I felt a kind of sexually blissful senation at the Anahata Chakra. I was including this bliss within my Ajna-to-Muladhara meditation line, so both centers — Ajna and Anahata — were simultaneously satisfied. No other centres seemed power hungry. Later, I shifted my dhyana solely to Anahata. The awareness deepened there, but the main purpose of dhyana — the realization of Shunya (void) — was not completely fulfilled there. So, I again combined both Ajna and Anahata awareness together.

I recall a Kriya Yoga expert once said that “spinal meditation alone can’t grant liberation.” He emphasized that Ajna Chakra meditation includes the whole spinal system. Today, I understood his point deeply — indeed, every chakra of the backbone is reflected within Ajna. Yet, even knowing this, my sensational awareness remained localized at the rear Anahata Chakra, unwilling to move elsewhere, although breathing awareness was on agya chakra.

Yesterday my focus was at Vishuddhi Chakra, where I had a throat infection. That infection cleared today, but the infection and along with it the energy had descended to the chest. This shows how sensitively these inner sensations mirror physical conditions — a subtle diagnostic test and often a healing mechanism. Still, medicines nowadays help more directly, supporting this inner process. In ancient times, diagnosis and healing through awareness given the form of the Goddess held prime importance, as there were not so many worldly facilities available.

As I visualized the Goddess at the Anahata, the rising sexual bliss from the Muladhara seemed to empower Her presence. I could faintly see Her fighting demons — symbolic of microorganisms — within my chest. It felt as if the Anahata Chakra itself had become a Lingam, the real blissful lingam now manifesting only there.

After about thirty minutes, when my legs cramped, I slowly shifted to Sukhasana, minimizing body movement while keeping awareness rooted at Ajna to avoid breaking dhyana. I then sat for another hour, not breaking earlier feeling that Shakti was healing my heart center and its connected tissues.

Towards the end, a magnificent experience unfolded — a clear perception of Shunya, more radiant than yesterday. It felt as though I was seeing the infinite sky directly above, though my head was hardly tilted upward.

Reflections:
The heart center feels open today — calm, luminous, and healing. The Shakti there is gentle yet profound. Awareness no longer seems confined to a point but spread like the sky itself. Every breath now feels like a hymn in the temple of the heart. Moreover, I was quite busy intellectually yesterday, so it seems that heavy intellectual work facilitates dhyana; however, it can also take a toll on the body’s health.

परमात्मा तो पता नहीं पर,कण-कण रहता तू है जरूर

काफी दिनों से मौन था कविता-मन, आज फिर मन बोला — और कविता बन गई।
परमात्मा तो पता नहीं पर,
कण-कण रहता तू है जरूर।

मूलकणों ने सबकुछ देखा जो,
कुछ देख रहा है तू।
काम भी सारे करते हैं वो,
जो कुछ भी करता है तू।।
काम, क्रोध और लोभ, मोह,
मत्सर के जैसे सारे भाव।
सारे मूल कणों में रहते,
जैसे दिखलाता है तू।।
वो तो भवबंधन से दूर,
तुझको इसका क्यों सरूर।
परमात्मा तो पता नहीं पर,
कण-कण रहता तू है जरूर।।

मूल कणों का वंशज है तू,
वे ही ब्रह्मा-प्रजापति।
उनके बिना न जन्म हो तेरा,
न ही कोई कर्म-गति।।
वे ही तेरे कर्ता-धर्ता,
वे ही हैं पालनहारी।
वे ही हैं शरणागत-वत्सल,
रक्षक, स्वामी, और पति।।
अहंकार बिल्कुल न उनमें,
पर तुझको किसका गरूर।
परमात्मा तो पता नहीं पर,
कण-कण रहता तू है जरूर।।

सृष्टि के आदि में बनते,
परम पिता परमात्मा से।
परमात्मा तो दिख नहीं सकते।
वे ही निकटतम आत्मा से।।
बना के मूर्ति पूजो या फिर,
ऐसे ही चिंतन करो।
सबकुछ कर भी अछूते रहते,
तुम भी ऐसा जतन करो।।
झांका करो उन्हें भी नित पल,
रहो न दुनिया में मगरूर।।
परमात्मा तो पता नहीं पर,
कण-कण रहता तू है जरूर।।

योग से ऐसा चिंतन होता,
सुलभ किसी से छिपा नहीं।
कर्म ही है आधार योग का,
वाक्य कहां ये लिपा नहीं।।
क्वांटम दर्शन निर्मित कर लो,
अपने या जग हित खातिर।
चमत्कार देखो फिर कैसे,
हार के मन झुकता शातिर।।
मेरा दर्शन न सही पर,
अपना तो गढ़ लो हजूर।
परमात्मा तो पता नहीं पर,
कण-कण रहता तू है जरूर।।

डाक्टर हो या हो इंजिनीयर,
नियम समान ही रहते हैं।
अच्छे चिंतन बिना अधूरे,
काम हमेशा रहते हैं।।
कर्म से स्वर्ग तो मिल सकता है,
मुक्ति बिना न चिंतन के।।
यूनिवर्सटी शिक्षा दे सकती।
ज्ञान बिना न संतन के।।
उसके आगे सब समान हैं,
गडकरी हो या हो थरूर।
परमात्मा तो पता नहीं पर,
कण-कण रहता तू है जरूर।

🌸 मेरी नई कविता प्रकाशित 🌸

मुझे खुशी है कि मेरी कविता

“परमात्मा तो पता नहीं, पर कण-कण रहता तू है जरूर”

एक अंतर्राष्ट्रीय हिंदी साहित्यिक पत्रिका साहित्य कुञ्ज में प्रकाशित हुई है, जो मूलतः कनाडा से प्रकाशित होती है।

📖 इसे पढ़ें और अनुभव करें:

🔗 https://tinyurl.com/43vucmpp कविता पढ़ें

यदि आपको कविता पसंद आए, तो इसे शेयर करें और साहित्य प्रेमियों तक पहुँचाएँ।

🙏 आपका समर्थन मेरे लिए बहुत मायने रखता है। #कविता #साहित्यकुंन्ज #HindiPoetry #PublishedPoem #InternationalPublication

The Fiery Grace of the Goddess Within

A Morning of Dhyana and the Awakening of the Red Shakti

In spiritual practice, every dawn brings a new mystery. Sometimes the journey unfolds gently — like a soft sunrise — and sometimes it roars like a divine storm within. This morning’s sadhana revealed one such fierce and purifying play of Shakti — a meeting with the Red Goddess who dwells in the Vishuddhi Chakra, cleansing and transforming with fiery grace.

The Dawn of Practice

Today, I rose early at 4:30 a.m., drawn by the quiet pull of dawn. My sadhana began with spinal kriya breathing, followed by Guru-given light postures and pranayama. Then came chakra meditation — top to down — and finally, a few self-learned postures that felt natural in the moment.
By around 6 a.m., the body was prepared, the breath steady, and the awareness ready for dhyana.

Breath at the Ajna — The Seat of Silent Fire

I sat first in Vajrasana. The breath gradually calmed and anchored itself at the Ajna Chakra, mostly at its back side though still connected to the front. The sensation there was unique — a broad, dull, yet blissful inflammation, carrying a subtle sexual tone.

It felt as though that area alone was breathing, consuming the prana, while the rest of the body remained still and breathless. With each inward pulse, it seemed to feed on the breath, performing some mysterious, vital work known only to itself.

My face had turned slightly upward, and the neck tilted back just enough to make my inner gaze face infinite space above. Though the tilt wasn’t physically great, the awareness itself had turned upward in surrender to infinity.
The mind was silent. The dhyana deepened.

The Shift and the Hunger of Vishuddhi

After some time, I brought my head slightly down, eyes closed, gaze fixed in a gentle squint at the eyebrow centre. The meditative current continued unbroken. I occasionally scanned all chakras — each felt fresh and content — all except the Ajna, which alone still hungered for breath.

I let it feed as it wished until, after a while, awareness shifted to the throat region, where the oral and nasal passages meet the back wall. That area, too, began consuming breath, drawing pranic nourishment like a thirsty desert drinking rain.

Then the current descended into the Vishuddhi Chakra. There, the energy found the greatest hunger — something was out of order. The Shakti refused to move further; she had work to do there. She lingered — healing, transforming, purifying.

The Vision of the Red Goddess

As the process intensified, the sexual-type bliss grew stronger. Suddenly, a vivid image of the Goddess appeared within the throat region — fierce and radiant.
She wore red garments, her many hands adorned with red bangles, worn along most of the length of her forearms, clashing and ringing as she struck at tiny rascals — perhaps microorganisms — symbols of impurities. Her lion roared beside her, aiding her divine battle.

Her face was fearsome, glowing with red anger, lips painted crimson, thirsting to devour the darkness. Her long, dishevelled hair flew in all directions as she fought relentlessly. Her terrifying feminine roar in high pitch was heart shaking.

Then the sexual energy from the Muladhara rose to support her — surging upward, fueling her divine rage and purpose. The scene grew ever more intense — the Shakti rising, transforming, conquering.

When I visualized the same Goddess at the Muladhara, she rose in even greater ferocity, bursting upward through the spine. The body, caught in this inner battle, grew exhausted. Dhyana slowly came to its natural end.

A Symbolic Offering

As the awareness returned outward, I found myself instinctively walking to the chemist’s shop and buying Betadine gargle — as if to offer a worldly weapon to the Goddess, aiding her fight within me.
Perhaps she was cleansing not only the spiritual but also the physical battlefield.

Thus ended today’s dhyana — a fierce yet purifying encounter with the Red Goddess of the Throat, the living embodiment of transformation and sacred fire.
Each such meditation reveals that the Divine Feminine is not distant or abstract — she is alive within, tirelessly healing, balancing, and guiding the evolution of consciousness.

Kundalini Through the Mahabharata – Demystifying the Yoga of the Fifth Veda (Chapter 2)

The Mahabharata is often called the Fifth Veda — written for those unable to study the original Vedas. Veda means “supreme knowledge,” and the supreme knowledge can only be the knowledge of God. In this sense, Yoga too is the same supreme knowledge — the direct realization of the Divine.

So, in a deeper way, the Mahabharata is Yoga expressed in the form of stories. Through social, moral, and mythological narratives, it offers the essence of Yoga to the general public. It is like a sugar-coated tablet — one may taste only the sweetness of the story, yet unknowingly receive the medicine of spiritual wisdom. The reader enjoys the unfolding of events, but deep within, subtle seeds of Yoga are sown, silently preparing the mind for higher realization.

Those who read it with an open heart begin to feel its inner power. Even without knowing, they receive glimpses of Yoga. And gradually, they are propelled toward direct spiritual practice, drawn by the unseen force hidden within its verses.

Through this series, I am trying to demystify the Mahabharata step by step — revealing how behind every event, character, and dialogue lies the play of Yogic principles. I hope readers find this exploration not only interesting but also deeply beneficial for their inner journey.

Kundalini Through the Mahabharata – Demystifying the Yoga of the Fifth Veda (Chapter 2)

Continuing from Chapter 1 in the previous blog, we now progress to Chapter 2.

When Ganga Left and Desire Returned: The Silent Law of Separation

Shantanu had questioned Ganga to save Bhishma from flowing into the conscious ocean. In that moment, ego disturbed the divine energy flow. Ganga had already fulfilled her promise—to leave Shantanu if she were ever stopped from her sacred work. Seven luminous streams, symbolizing the seven chakras, had merged back into her waters; the eighth, Bhishma, she raised herself before returning him to his father. When she withdrew, the flow of Kundalini that once danced freely became a memory of bliss in Shantanu’s being—awareness without movement. Instead, it settled into stillness, carrying within it the silent ache of separation from the divine current.

The Loss of the Divine Flow

Shantanu’s grief was not ordinary. It was the ache of a yogi who once felt the current of Shakti and now feels her absence. The river of consciousness had retreated; prana stood still.
That stillness — though peaceful — carries a hidden danger: in stagnation, desire re-awakens.

Satyavati: The Call of Earthly Nature

From that emptiness rose Satyavati, the daughter of the fisherman, born of river fragrance and clay. She was not Ganga’s pure flow but its earthy echo — Maya in tangible form. Fish or fishy means strong ill desire or craving.
Where Ganga rose upward, Satyavati pulled downward, reminding consciousness of its unfinished bond with matter.

When Shantanu longed for her, it was the spirit re-entering the field of duality. Her father’s condition — that only her son may inherit the throne — was not greed but the law of karma: every descent must create lineage, continuity, consequence.

Bhishma’s Terrible Vow

To preserve his father’s longing, Bhishma renounced his own.
That single act became the hinge of Yoga itself — energy choosing duty over desire.
Celibacy here is not denial but containment: the upward redirection of force that once sought union in body now seeks union in consciousness. Bhishma stands as the embodiment of Shantanu’s sexual energy, sublimated after Ganga withdrew. This energy rises upward, becoming holy and pure, giving rise to spiritual qualities such as penance, renunciation, and tolerance and many more.

Bhishma thus stands as retained Kundalini, energy stabilized in awareness. He governs the realm of dharma but never sits on the throne — just as awakened energy rules life silently but never claims ownership.

The Hidden Movement of Consciousness

Ganga’s withdrawal, Shantanu’s longing, Satyavati’s demand, and Bhishma’s vow — together form a single inner event:

  1. Union with the Divine (Ganga)
  2. Loss of Grace and the Return of Desire (Shantanu’s sorrow)
  3. Re-entry into Matter (Satyavati)
  4. Sublimation and Mastery (Bhishma)

Simply put, Bhishma represented the top chakra, while his seven brothers symbolized the lower chakras that were released from emotional bondage as the energy rose through the Sushumna in the form of Ganga. Bhishma himself was not released, because Mother Nature desired that he fulfill many moral and worldly duties in the public interest. Satyavati gave him a further push upward, helping to test and prove his worth. In truth, spirituality flourishes best when balanced with material life, for the latter continually guides the former along the right path. Moreover, the sublimation of energy from the physical to the spiritual plane is aided by materialism itself, since energy or Shakti is fundamentally material in nature.

Each seeker walks through these stages: awakening, loss, temptation, and vow. The river flows on, but its memory becomes the discipline that guides the rest of the journey.

Essence

When Kundalini withdraws, the seeker feels bereft. Yet that loss births Bhishma within — the steadfast awareness that guards the soul’s dharma even amid worldly storms.
Ganga’s absence is not abandonment; it is initiation into responsibility.

In practical life, Nature often grants brief moments of opportunity for spiritual upliftment amidst worldly chaos and duties. These moments invite one to take refuge in Ganga—symbolizing the upwardly sublimated energy of sexual union—which cleanses all the chakras. As the highest chakra begins its perfect purification, worldly temptations appear in the form of Satyavati. At this stage, man forgets to sublimate and raise the sexual energy; instead, he lets it flow downward, like a fishing stream.

The pure awareness established in the highest chakra, though unable to attain liberation, becomes a great worldly saint—like Bhishma. This is Nature’s way of maintaining the balance between worldly existence and supreme knowledge. Ultimately, Nature liberates Bhishma as well, once she is satisfied with his worldly service. After a period of worldly immersion, he again receives Ganga’s companionship and grows spiritually.

Again for some time, he indulges in outward sensual pleasures to test the strength and maturity of his Bhishma-awareness. This cycle continues until man, as Shantanu, becomes old and mature enough to receive Bhishma’s awareness permanently from Ganga, raising it further toward liberation through his yogic wisdom.

An interesting point here is that these mythological figures and stories are eternal, unlike a single human being bound by flesh and a limited lifespan. Bhishma still exists today as the awakened mind, continually nurtured by Ganga as Sushumna— now and forever.

Kundalini and the Eight Vasus: The Secret Descent of Divine Energies

When one reads the Mahabharata through the eyes of Yoga, every myth becomes a mirror of inner evolution.
The story of Ganga and her eight sons—the Vasus—appears as an ancient drama of curse and compassion. Yet within it flows the hidden current of Kundalini Shakti, moving between heaven and earth, spirit and matter.

The eight Vasus were radiant beings of light, guardians of nature’s elemental powers. But once, out of a moment’s desire, they stole the celestial cow Nandini from Rishi Vashishtha’s ashram. The cow was not a mere creature—it was Maya, the wish-fulfilling field of creation itself. By desiring her, the divine energies turned toward possession, and thus, the fall began.

Vashishtha’s curse was not punishment—it was the law of descent. When pure pranic forces seek pleasure rather than purpose, they must enter the limitation of birth. The eight Vasus, once infinite, were destined to experience the density of form.

Ganga, the river of consciousness, took mercy. She agreed to bring them into the world and return them swiftly to her waters.
As she gave birth, each of the first seven sons was immersed back into her flow—symbolizing the seven levels of energy that dissolve into the Source when purified by surrender. These seven represent the seven chakras, released one by one as consciousness ascends beyond them.

But the eighth—Prabhasa, the chief offender—had to remain. He was born as Bhishma, the son who could not be freed. He became the embodied energy, the Kundalini retained—not dissolved, but disciplined. Bhishma’s legendary vow of celibacy mirrors the highest yogic restraint, where desire is transformed into awareness, and energy no longer flows outward but stands still in eternal witnessing.

Thus, in the language of Yoga:

  • The eight Vasus are the eight pranic currents that animate creation.
  • The theft of Nandini is consciousness seeking fulfillment in the external.
  • The curse is embodiment—karma’s necessity.
  • Ganga’s flow is the river of purification, where energies return to their origin.
  • Bhishma is the enlightened awareness that remains in the world but not of it—the realized yogi who lives amidst dharma yet stays untouched.

Kundalini, too, descends and ascends through these very layers. Seven streams rise and merge back into the ocean of spirit; the eighth, the witnessing consciousness, abides on earth as the dharmic flame.

When one reads this story not as history but as inner scripture, Bhishma’s silence on the bed of arrows becomes the silence of the awakened mind—pierced by the arrows of karma yet unmoved by pain, waiting only for the auspicious hour to return to the Eternal Ganga.

Guru Parva Grace and the Deep Descent into Dhyana

Today is Guru Parva — a day soaked in subtle grace. Perhaps that’s why dhyana came with such ease and depth. Truly, Guru Tattva is omnipresent and omnipotent, guiding from within when outer guidance rests.

I woke around 4:30 a.m., calm and receptive. Instinctively began deep spinal kriya breathing for about twenty minutes. Then I read a few blog posts — words that perhaps tuned my consciousness higher. After that, I shifted into chakra meditation, moving awareness from crown to base, up and down for about twenty minutes. The movement of prana created the right yogic pressure — a preparatory current that automatically launched me into dhyana.

At first, I sat in Padmasana, but it remained a preparatory phase. Then I shifted to Vajrasana, and the change was instant — deep dhyana dawned naturally. Maybe Vajrasana truly suits me best. I laughed inwardly: “So, my name must be Premyogi Vajra.”

What followed was one and a half hours of continuous, breathless dhyana.
In the beginning, energy was high in the upper chakras. The in-breath was imperceptible, and the out-breath only faintly perceptible — as if nature herself was drawing energy downward in a balancing act. Gradually, prana descended through Vishuddhi and Anahata, though not distinctly separated. The awareness of subtle pulsations grew clearer in the lower regions — a breath of energy, not air.

A key realization emerged — never force stillness. Allow the body micro-movements to release strain. When I released effort, breathing softened further, and bliss deepened.

My neck bore much strain, holding the head’s weight. Tilting it slightly left eased the flow; then returning to center or right as needed — a gentle, intelligent cooperation between body and consciousness.

Later, when Vajrasana made the limbs numb, I slowly shifted to Sukhasana. Instead of distraction, dhyana deepened further. Sometimes I lowered the head, sometimes kept it upright or tilted slightly upward. Sometimes back full straight with natural curve, sometimes loosening it little. These spontaneous maneuvers tuned the current like a musician refining his note.

For Ekarnava Dhyana, keeping the head gently dropped with closed eyes gazing upward toward the Ajna Chakra worked best.

When Sukhasana tired, I moved into Siddhasana. Here bliss magnified again — energy dipped lower, steady and full. The ankle pressing Swadhisthana, and the other pressing Muladhara, created a perfect circuit and sensational points to concentrate energy more there. The microcosmic orbit activated naturally, the energy revolving in serenity.

Later, I attempted to lift energy back to Ajna Chakra as an experiment, but it felt stressful. The energy preferred to stay grounded, working in silence. So I let it remain, continuing Ekarnava Dhyana as it was. However, prolonged ekarnava dhyana shifts energy up slowly again. It’s good switch to direct energy rather than directly manipulating.

However, in the lower chakras, dhyana became more witnessing than transcendence — not Nirvikalpa, but a subtle purification. Hidden emotional imprints arose as faint, heartfelt memories — gently surfacing and dissolving. It felt like inner cleansing, a self-healing of the soul.

When calls began coming and bathing time approached, I slowly rose. This time, not with repentance — but with deep satisfaction and fullness.

Perhaps this was the fruit of integrating sitting meditation with working meditation in recent days. I noticed a clear truth:

When dhyana is practiced after days of worldly indulgence, the preparatory phase is longer.
When practiced regularly, with no lingering desires, dhyana launches instantly — like a rocket already fueled by purity.

Today’s experience was not just about time or posture. It was about effortless descent into grace — a reminder that Guru Tattva lives within, guiding from breath to stillness, from effort to surrender.

Moreover, after bathing, I had practiced all the remaining major asanas to rebuild the inner energy for the next meditation session during the day. To avoid too much pressure building up in the head, I slightly turned my hands and feet — especially the front parts of the feet — outward and downward, as if pressing the ground with paws during each pose. This simple adjustment had a wonderful effect. It helped the energy move down and kept me well-grounded, preventing any heaviness or excess pressure in the head.

When Breath Dissolves: A Real Experience of Deep Dhyana, Prana Movement, and Silent Awakening

Sometimes I feel a quiet repentance for breaking my breathless Dhyana for small worldly reasons—like taking a meal. Yesterday evening, after many days, I found myself alone in perfect silence, almost like being in a forest retreat.

For the first hour, my breath was irregular, sometimes resembling Kapalbhati. It felt as though the Pranas were adjusting themselves, preparing for breathlessness. I broke this preparatory phase two or three times by standing up, changing asana, or making small neck movements. Once, I even went to the kitchen to check if my dinner had arrived. When the tiffin man called to say his scooty had broken down, I told him not to worry—I suddenly felt grateful, as this delay gifted me more time for Dhyana.

The Deepening Stillness

I sensed that my difficulty in entering Dhyana might be due to sitting in Padmasana, so I shifted to Vajrasana. To my amazement, within fifteen minutes, my breath began to calm and regulate on its own, and Dhyana deepened.

Because the state was still fragile, I remained extra alert—aware that even a slight movement or swallowing of kuf (phlegm) voluntarily could disturb it. As I allowed it to deepen, my legs slowly became numb. I tolerated it patiently and then changed posture to Sukhasana with utmost care, keeping awareness steady on breath and movements minimal. Interestingly, as blood returned to the legs, the Dhyana deepened further.

Soon, my neck began to stiffen. I gently alternated between left, right, and central positions, staying for a while at each position as per guidance of dhyana without losing awareness. This small movement stabilized the Dhyana even more.

The Movement of Prana

It felt as if imperceptible breathing currents were flowing through different chakras—sometimes at the rear Ajna, sometimes Vishuddhi, sometimes Anahata. Later, while in Siddhasana, subtle activity appeared even at Swadhisthana and Muladhara, though faintly. I couldn’t easily focus at the Navel Chakra, though a very slight alignment was felt there too. However, while trying dhyana later on after dinner, energy had seemed focusing more on naval chakra.

It felt as if a blissful yet mildly tired sensation was developing at certain chakras that needed attention. When I focused on that sensation during inhalation and exhalation, both breath and awareness seemed to converge there naturally.

During inhalation, as energy rose from that chakra, my attention simultaneously descended onto it—like the merging of Prana (upward force) and Apana (downward force). I realized this might be what ancient texts refer to as the union of Prana and Apana during deep Dhyana.

When I heard the tiffin man’s voice in the kitchen, I replied without seeing him—calmly, directly, without disturbance. There was still some very light mental activity, but it was stable and non-chaotic, like thoughts moving in slow motion and dissolving soon—either directly or after transforming into two or three subtle thoughts, often of the meditation image or Guru form.

The Silent Ocean Within

I started mental chanting of “Ekarnava,” connecting with the sense of the endless, wave-less cosmic ocean. The vibration of the mantra felt alive and meaningful.

Later, as I tired in sukhasana and again shifted to Siddhasana for grounding energy in the lower chakras, mild fatigue appeared in this asana too after sometime. The call of dinner tempted me to end the session. I finally rose, already grounded and centered, without losing worldly balance.

A subtle repentance followed: why didn’t I just change posture and raise the energy again, instead of ending the Dhyana altogether? Hunger had already faded due to the deep state, and I could have continued longer. But I accepted that perhaps the energy had already been sufficiently expended.

Dinner was light, taken without much appetite—very different from the earlier days when I felt strong hunger after immature Dhyana. It seemed as if the body’s energy for digestion had been diverted toward Dhyana.

Interestingly, I usually enter Dhyana more easily after meals, but this time, in an empty stomach, the state felt more genuine and spontaneous. Taking a meal may make energy forcefully downward and so calming breath and awareness just like artificially. After dinner, I couldn’t re-enter the state, perhaps because the accumulated Yoga Shakti had already expressed itself.

Short vs. Long Immersions

Many yogis say short, regular sittings are better than long, infrequent ones. Yet, occasional long immersions, supported by daily shorter Dhyana, have their unique benefits. This session reaffirmed that balance is key—neither suppression of the body’s needs nor indulgence in them.

That night, I also had faint dreams of talking with subtle beings or spirits—not vivid, and not much memorable but peaceful and meaningful in their own way.

Reflections

Looking back, I realized a few gentle truths:

  • Dhyana never truly breaks; it only shifts form.
  • Body needs are not obstacles, but part of the spiritual rhythm.
  • Repentance arises from attachment and ego; gratitude dissolves it.
  • The movement of Prana among chakras is self-guided, not to be forced.
  • After-effects like calm hunger or subtle dreams are natural signs of internal rebalancing.

A simple reminder arose within:

“Let what was revealed in stillness spread through movement also.”

Every act, even eating or walking, can then continue the same Dhyana in motion.