A Song, a Rainy Mood, and the Fire Within
The old song “Rimjhim Gire Saawan, Sulag Sulag Jaaye Man, Phir Aaj Is Mausam Mein Lagi Kaisi Ye Agan” became an unexpected starting point for reflection. The song speaks of a paradox: rain falls outside, bringing coolness to the world, yet an inner fire burns in the heart. This contrast between outer calm and inner intensity became a fitting backdrop for a morning meditation experience that unfolded in several unexpected stages.
Early Morning Practice and an Unusual Meditation Session
The day began at around 3 a.m. with some work on a book manuscript. Afterward, fatigue and sleepiness were present, yet yoga practice was undertaken. The nadis appeared to open well, but deep spinal breathing pranayama did not flow as smoothly as usual. There was a sense that the head already carried some pressure or fullness, making deep practice difficult. Instead of forcing pranayama, attention shifted toward dhyana.
During meditation, awareness seemed to move around Vishuddha and Anahata. At times the breath appeared to originate from the throat region, and at other times from the heart region. Subtle upward sensations were felt in the spine. Anahata nada heard subtly like Shiva’s damru beating. Although not fully. Thoughts slowed considerably but did not completely stop. The breath became subtle but did not cease. Relaxation emerged, though not in its fullest form. Sleepiness repeatedly appeared, and maintaining an erect spine required effort. Even so, the meditation continued for approximately one hour.
The Dream After Meditation
After the sitting session, there was a short period of lying down on the floor for relaxation. During this brief sleep, a vivid and pleasant dream arose.
In the dream, there was a bike and a large old monumental structure. Inside the structure, professional colleagues were attending a meeting with a senior authority figure. Standing somewhat outside the gathering, fragments of conversation could be heard. There was a feeling of having missed some important practical knowledge or understanding. At the same time, there was neither humiliation nor defeat. Alongside mild concern existed a sense of self-respect and confidence.
Music began playing from the bike on its own. Thinking that a wiring problem existed, attempts were made to inspect the dashboard and trace the source. While moving around the base of the monument, a locked cabinet containing old mystical tools appeared. Some interaction took place with this cabinet before it was closed again. The music continued to create concern because it might be heard by those attending the meeting. Eventually the music stopped. A pleasant female colleague then appeared, smiling and approachable, and conversation followed regarding the bike and the location of the meeting. Soon afterward, sleep ended.
Psychological Meaning of the Dream
The dream appeared to reflect several layers of personal psychology. The monumental building resembled a symbol of accumulated knowledge, institutional authority, tradition, or practical wisdom. Being near but not fully inside the meeting suggested a subtle awareness that there are always areas of practical understanding still left to learn, regardless of spiritual progress. Or it may be indicator of detachment from knowledge wealth gained in the brain.
The bike symbolized movement through life. It was functioning but behaving in an unusual way. This reflected the meditation session itself, where practice was progressing yet not exactly according to expectation. Thoughts had slowed but not disappeared. Breath had become subtle but not silent. Some pressure and uncertainty remained.
The music represented autonomous activity of the mind. It resembled thoughts, memories, emotions, creativity, and subconscious processes that continue functioning without deliberate control. The dream was especially interesting because the music did not stop through a clear conscious solution. Instead, some intuitive handling seemed to resolve the issue. This suggested that not all inner adjustments occur through intellectual understanding. Sometimes change happens through intuitive engagement, and only later does one recognize that something has shifted.
The old cabinet containing mystical tools symbolized accumulated inner resources, previous experiences, spiritual knowledge, and latent capacities developed over years of practice and even knowledge inside ancient and mystical spiritual texts. The smiling female colleague represented a helpful, relational, intuitive aspect of the psyche. Her appearance after the music stopped suggested that once mental noise settled, a more harmonious and integrated quality emerged.
Compassion Instead of Emotional Turbulence
Upon waking, powerful emotions arose. At first these appeared to resemble an emotional storm. On closer observation, however, they were not turbulent emotions. They were not fear, anxiety, sadness, or excitement. Instead, they carried the flavor of deep compassion and tenderness felt directly within the heart.
This distinction proved important. There is a difference between emotional disturbance and heart-centered feeling. The experience did not seem to be pulling attention away from meditation. Rather, it appeared to express a different mode of consciousness.
One possibility considered was that emotions represent intermediary stages before entering the void. In earlier experiences, awareness sometimes moved directly into a silent witness state where emotions were absent. On this occasion, however, awareness seemed to travel through more human and relational layers before reaching stillness. Through that route, compassion surfaced.
This led to the insight that there may be different expressions of spiritual depth. One form appears as detached stillness, witness-consciousness, and emptiness. Another appears as tenderness, compassion, interconnectedness, and warmth of heart. Neither necessarily excludes the other.
Deep Spinal Breathing Returns but Dhyana Does Not
A particularly interesting development occurred after waking. Deep spinal breathing pranayama, which had earlier been difficult, now became easy and natural. Yet despite this improvement, dhyana could not be re-established in the same way.
It means a transformation process had started in the brain, so it drew energy from the Muladhara Chakra through spinal breathing. In the beginning, spinal breathing was not happening properly because the transformation process and energy movement were somewhat hindered by worldly tiredness, sleepiness, and other factors. During the one-hour dhyana session, the process gradually continued, allowing the energy to move and support the ongoing transformation.
An important question arises. If pranayama was flowing better, why did meditation not deepen during dhyana?
One possibility was that subtle anticipation of office responsibilities had already begun influencing the mind. Even without conscious worry, awareness may have carried a faint orientation toward the upcoming workday. Such subtle readiness for action can be enough to prevent deeper absorption.
Another possibility was that the earlier meditation had already completed a certain cycle. The one-hour session may have utilized the momentum generated through yoga and pranayama. What remained afterward was not depletion but integration.
The Question of Nadi Potential
This led to reflection on what might be called nadi potential. It seemed as though the energetic momentum developed through yoga had been released or expressed during the one-hour meditation session. Afterward, a new cycle of potential would need to be generated.
This observation raised another question: if such potential is not real, why does dhyana often last for a particular period before naturally changing?
Several perspectives emerged. Traditional yoga would describe dhyana as influenced by prana, nadis, samskaras, and bodily condition. Psychology would describe it in terms of attention, mental fatigue, emotion, and cognitive processing. Both perspectives acknowledge that meditative states often arise when multiple factors align and change when those factors shift.
The experience of the morning suggested that meditation may not operate through a simple mechanical reservoir of energy. Yet it often depends on a temporary alignment of attention, physiology, emotional state, and what yogic language calls prana. When that alignment changes, the quality of meditation changes as well.
A Morning That Chose the Heart Over the Void
Looking back, the entire sequence appears coherent. An old song about inner fire arose as a theme. Early morning book work was followed by yoga and meditation. Awareness moved around the regions traditionally associated with communication and the heart. A symbolic dream unfolded involving knowledge, authority, hidden tools, music, intuition, and relationships. Compassion emerged upon waking. Deep spinal breathing improved. Yet the detached stillness of dhyana did not immediately return.
Rather than indicating failure, the experience may represent a different mode of inner development. Instead of moving directly into emptiness, consciousness traveled through meaning, feeling, memory, and relationship. The result was not agitation but compassion. The morning seemed to suggest that spiritual practice does not always move toward the void through the same doorway. Sometimes it passes first through the heart.
Demystifying Kundalini 