Author: demystifyingkundalini by Premyogi vajra- प्रेमयोगी वज्र-कृत कुण्डलिनी-रहस्योद्घाटन

I am as natural as air and water. I take in hand whatever is there to work hard and make a merry. I am fond of Yoga, Tantra, Music and Cinema. मैं हवा और पानी की तरह प्राकृतिक हूं। मैं कड़ी मेहनत करने और रंगरलियाँ मनाने के लिए जो कुछ भी काम देखता हूँ, उसे हाथ में ले लेता हूं। मुझे योग, तंत्र, संगीत और सिनेमा का शौक है।

Chapter 2: What Is the Holographic Principle?

Dear reader, let’s now gently step ahead from where we paused earlier. We had seen a deep and beautiful idea — that the entire universe might be a reflection of our own body. That what seems outside us might actually be connected to us more deeply than we imagine.

Now, we go one step further.

Have you ever seen a hologram? Maybe on a sticker or a card? It looks 3D, as if the image has depth and shape. But when you touch it, it’s flat. If you break off even a small piece, it still shows the whole image, though smaller. How can that be?

It’s because a hologram is made in a very special way. Every part contains the pattern of the whole. It’s like magic, but it’s actually science. This is called the holographic principle.

Now, scientists began to notice something strange while studying black holes. A black hole is a place in space where gravity is so strong that nothing, not even light, can escape. But then they asked: if something falls into a black hole, where does its information go? Is it lost forever?

Surprisingly, they found that all the information about what falls in could still be stored on the surface of the black hole. Not inside it — but on the outer layer. Like how a 3D image can be stored in a 2D hologram.

That led to a big idea: maybe the entire universe works like this. Maybe everything we see in three dimensions is actually coming from a two-dimensional surface that we can’t directly see.

Now, let’s make it simpler. Imagine you are looking at a movie on a screen. The movie has people, buildings, mountains. It looks 3D. But the screen is flat. The depth is just an illusion. In the same way, what we see as solid space around us may also be a kind of illusion — a very detailed and real-looking one.

And this is not just about the outer world. Your own brain also works like this.

Your eyes see flat images. The surface of your eye (the retina) is flat. But somehow, your brain creates the feeling of depth. You see things as near and far. You see 3D. But inside the brain, it’s just patterns of electrical signals. The 3D world you experience is created inside your mind. It is a kind of hologram too.

So both outside and inside — the world and your mind — may be working like projectors, creating a 3D picture from a 2D base.

This idea also matches what ancient Indian wisdom said. The sages said the world is Maya — not exactly false, but like a dream or illusion. It feels real, but its base is something else. Just like in a dream, you walk, talk, feel, and meet people — but when you wake up, you see it was all happening inside your mind.

Even your body follows this hologram idea.

Your body has about 37 trillion cells. Each cell may look different — some are skin cells, some are liver cells, some are brain cells. But almost every cell has the same DNA — the full code for your entire body. Every part carries the whole.

Go even deeper. At the level of atoms, everything is made of the same building blocks. Whether it’s a human body, a rock, a tree, or a star — all are made of atoms. And atoms are mostly empty space, with just energy and patterns. So how does something as empty as an atom become something as alive as you?

It’s a mystery. But it shows that form and life arise from patterns — just like a hologram.

You begin to see now — the walls between you and the world start to blur. You’re not just a small person in a big universe. You are part of the universe, and the universe is part of you.

That’s why when you truly understand this, ego begins to melt. Not because someone told you to be humble, but because you actually see there is no real separation.

Even your dreams show this. In a dream, your body sleeps still, but your mind creates whole worlds. You see, hear, touch, and feel. It’s all inside you. If that’s possible in dreams, maybe our waking life also has a dream-like structure.

Scientists now say the brain can build the feeling of space and time just from signals. That means the space around you might not be exactly “out there.” It might be something your mind is drawing — like a canvas.

And what if the universe is doing the same?

So both the world and your experience of it may be coming from encoded patterns — from something deeper, beyond what we normally see. This is what the holographic principle hints at.

Now, just a small note here: scientists haven’t yet proven that black holes really store information like a hologram. But many strong theories and equations suggest this is true. For example, famous physicists like Stephen Hawking and Leonard Susskind found that the information inside a black hole might actually live on its outer surface — not deep inside. This means the black hole may act like a flat screen showing a 3D world, much like a hologram. While we can’t test this directly yet (since we can’t go near a black hole), the idea matches well with both modern physics and ancient spiritual wisdom. So, it is a very strong possibility, though still being explored.

And here is the spiritual wonder: when you really get this, something beautiful happens.

You begin to feel at peace. You stop fighting the world so much. You stop feeling so alone. You realize everyone and everything is connected — not in some vague way, but in a real, scientific, spiritual way.

You are not a tiny drop in a vast sea. You are the sea appearing as a drop.

And this understanding is not just for scientists or saints. It is for anyone who has the courage to look carefully, honestly, and lovingly into their own experience.

This is the heart of Sharirvigyan Darshan. It tells us that the human body is not separate from the universe, but a mirror of it. A reflection of the whole. A living, breathing hologram.

As we end this chapter, a quiet question appears in the mind:

If both your body and the world are patterns… If both are reflections of something deeper… Then who or what is watching all this?

What is the light behind the hologram?

Let’s go there, together, in Chapter 3.

Chapter 1: The Atom – The Smallest Big Thing

Namaste, dear reader friends,

With heartfelt joy and deep intent, I welcome you to this evolving journey — a blog series that is also the seed of a book titled
“Sharirvigyan Darshan: The Human Body Inside an Atom.”

This work is born from a long inner reflection and a desire to share a vision that unites science, self-awareness, and spirituality into one living understanding. It seeks to answer the timeless questions: What is this body? What is this universe? And are they really two separate things?

In my earlier explorations, I presented how human beings and human society mirror the functioning of body cells and systems. This appealed to those from health and biological sciences. But I felt something was missing for the common seeker — for those who live, think, and feel in a more everyday, physical world.

And then came a simple but powerful doorway: the atom.

Atoms are the building blocks of all matter — be it your body, your home, a tree, or even a grain of sand. But what if I told you that each atom is not just a particle, but a holographic reflection of your entire body? That the universe, in its vastness, is nothing but a mirror of you — and you, a living image of the universe?

Through this understanding, the gap between science and spirituality, self and world, you and me, starts to dissolve. The ego softens, the illusion of separation fades, and what remains is a peaceful joy — the natural state of nonduality.

This is not a dry concept or theory. It is a living, breathing truth.
One that can be felt, understood, and lived, even by the most ordinary person.

So, dear friends, walk with me through these pages — not just with the mind, but with your whole being. Let this journey open your eyes to a hidden harmony, where matter becomes meaning, and the body becomes a doorway to the cosmos.

And now, with gentle excitement,
we step into Chapter One…

Chapter 1: The Atom – The Smallest Big Thing

The most astonishing truth is often hidden in the most ordinary thing. You wake up in the morning, touch your pillow, stretch your arms, breathe in the air—but rarely do you pause to consider: everything you just experienced is made of the same ingredient. Your breath. Your bones. Your bed. Your breakfast. Even your boredom. All made of atoms.

The word “atom” may sound like it belongs in a physics lab or an 8th standard science textbook, but in truth, the atom is more mystical than any ancient symbol, more philosophical than any scripture, and more thrilling than any science fiction. The atom is the beginning of our journey not because it is small, but because it is the smallest form of everything we know.

It is the humble atom that will eventually unfold before you the secret of your body, your mind, your world, and your Self. Not metaphorically. Not symbolically. But directly, clearly, and scientifically.

What is an Atom, Really?

Strip away all poetic fog for a moment and look at the raw definition: an atom is the smallest unit of matter that retains the properties of an element. Hydrogen, oxygen, iron, gold, carbon—each is made of atoms. Each atom is composed of a dense nucleus (holding protons and neutrons) surrounded by a cloud of electrons. But the mind-shattering part? It’s almost entirely empty space.

If the nucleus of an atom were the size of a grain of rice, the electrons would be whirling around it at a distance of several meters. And in between? Nothing. Vacuum. Silence. Emptiness. And yet, this empty dance creates solidity.

Your skin. Your skull. The steel spoon in your hand. All solid illusions made from empty atoms. A paradox wrapped in wonder.

You Are Made of This

As you sit reading this chapter—whether on a screen or paper—your body is pulsing with activity. Cells working, blood flowing, brain humming. And yet, underneath all that complexity lies astonishing simplicity: you are made of atoms.

Bones? Calcium atoms. Muscles? Proteins made from carbon, hydrogen, oxygen, nitrogen atoms. Breath? Oxygen atoms in molecules dancing through lungs and into blood.

Even your thoughts depend on the flicker of sodium and potassium atoms across neural membranes. You are an orchestra of atomic activity.

And it’s not just you. The chair you’re sitting on. The cup near your hand. The book on your shelf. All made of atoms. There is no exception in the physical world. Everything is atoms, arranged differently.

The First Whisper: What If?

Now let a quiet question pass through your awareness:

If every object in the universe is made of atoms, and your body is made of atoms, then is there any boundary between “you” and “everything else”?

This is not mysticism. This is physics.

Imagine for a moment: you walk into a room. Your hand touches a wall. Two atomic clouds meet. One belongs to “you,” the other to “wall.” But both are just electrons pushing against each other—and electrons don’t carry name tags. They don’t say, “Hey! I’m from Bhishm Sharma’s hand!”

So who says they are yours?

That is the first crack in the ego.

Atoms Don’t Have Egos

Here is a silent truth that might change your life:

Atoms don’t do anything. Yet everything happens through them.

The atom doesn’t claim it grew into a flower, or turned into a heart cell, or formed a skyscraper. It doesn’t say, “Look what I did!”

It simply is, and through its being, infinite forms arise.

Compare that to your own life. You eat, breathe, speak, sleep, think. But if you observe closely, none of this is truly “done” by you in the conscious sense. Breathing happens. Digestion happens. Even thoughts arise without being summoned.

Your life is a play of atomic orchestration, not personal authorship.

The Suspense Begins

Here’s where it gets exhilarating.

Later in this book, you will see not just that the body is made of atoms, but that each atom is a miniature holographic reflection of the entire body. Every function you believe belongs to organs—like circulation, cognition, metabolism—is already being mirrored at the atomic level.

The atom, in a very real sense, is the body, just in seed form.

This isn’t poetry. It is precise parallelism. The holographic principle in physics suggests that all the information of a whole can exist in every small part. Like a fragment of a holographic photo still contains the entire image, just at lower resolution.

That means: Every atom is the body. Every atom is the universe. And so are you.

And Yet… Nothing Moves

The deeper you look into atomic structure, the more silence you encounter. Electrons don’t spin like planets. They exist in probability clouds. The nucleus doesn’t pulse or breathe. It just remains.

This entire dynamic universe is built on particles that are mostly still and silent.

This echoes something ancient within your own being. Something that yogis, sages, and mystics have spoken of for millennia:

“There is a stillness in you that does not move, yet all movement arises from it.”

In this book, we will slowly peel back the veil—not to escape science, but to fulfill it.

Why This Chapter Matters

You may wonder: why start here? Why talk about atoms when you came looking for self-realization, spiritual understanding, or insight into human nature?

Because understanding the atom is understanding yourself.

Not just your body. But the very way you think, feel, act, and perceive.

This book is not about religious belief or new-age theory. It is about showing you, through direct experience and clear reasoning, that everything you think is “external” is actually you.

The moment you grasp that the very building blocks of the universe are also the building blocks of your Self, the illusion of separation begins to dissolve. You start to laugh gently at the absurdity of possessiveness, pride, guilt, and fear.

What is there to fight, if all is you? What is there to possess, if the possessor is already everywhere?

A Taste of What Awaits

In coming chapters, we will:

  • Unpack how the functions of the body (circulation, nervous system, digestion) mirror atomic structure
  • See how the society of cells within us reflects the society outside us
  • Discover how consciousness and awareness influence atomic behavior
  • Understand how healing, memory, and death relate to atomic rearrangement
  • And finally, how seeing the atom as your own Self can liberate you from the weight of ego

The Adventure Within

Imagine a journey where no place is far because the destination is within you.

Where the greatest mysteries of matter whisper the truths of spirit.

Where the smallest unit of substance reveals the largest truth of existence.

This is not just a book. It is a shift in the way you perceive reality.

We began with the atom. But the journey has only begun.

And if you dare to go deeper, you will discover that the boundary between the knower and the known, the seer and the seen, the atom and the body, the world and the Self…

…was never really there at all.

The Silent Secret After Yoga: Why Still Sitting Matters Most

Idol seems like a personification of pure awareness that’s conscious. It’s worshipped because it’s far superior to our limited consciousness. In amusement parks like rock gardens, various objects are also personified, but not worshipped — and that’s why, although we may feel bliss or amusement there, we don’t develop reverence or honor toward them. They don’t invoke that deep transformative respect in the intellect which leads toward spiritual evolution.
In this sense, everything is living if we keep all-pervading pure awareness in mind. It’s amazing that this pure awareness is fully satisfied with itself — forever. But attaining that inner state of pure self-satisfied awareness is not easy; it’s impossible without Kevala Kumbhaka — the spontaneous stilling of breath. Am I right?
People claiming to have attained Nirvikalpa Samadhi without Kevala Kumbhaka or stillness of breath are utterly lying — because even science doesn’t allow this. No breath-stopping means no mind-stopping, and if the mind hasn’t stopped, then pure awareness hasn’t truly dawned. Therefore, if someone like Ramana Maharshi attained Nirvikalpa without breath cessation, then it was either for a transient period or partial — but fully entering Nirvikalpa without breath stasis is impossible. Am I right?
It is a psychological fact — what we revere, honor, and love by heart, we become like that. So worshipping idols helps one become pure existence — like that which the idol represents. This is the same as the Law of Attraction. You attract what you focus on, align with, and love. In deep worship or contemplation, that which you love transforms you. Children loving their toys should be yogis in this sense — probably they get the bliss of pure existence by such innocent absorption.
It is largely true that Kevala Kumbhaka is not just a procedure — it’s a sign of nondual absorption. However, there may still be some technical methods to reach it directly to some level. In my experience, when a pranic tension builds up in the body — mainly in the head — after deep yoga exercises, simply sitting silently at the end of it leads to Kevala Kumbhaka. Those who rush into worldly activities immediately after yoga, without still sitting, unknowingly dissipate the very energy they’ve just awakened. Instead of allowing it to crystallize into Kevala Kumbhaka and blossom into pure self-awareness, they divert it outward — spending it on action, thought, and distraction. True yoga bears fruit only when movement ends and silence is honored. In that still sitting, the awakened energy turns inward and reveals itself as pure existence. But for this, one needs to rise at 4 am, because at least three hours are needed for all of this — including the final silent sitting.
Still, a persistent issue disturbs this: cough in the throat. It interferes with Kevala Kumbhaka intermittently. Especially when there’s Ayurvedic kapha or mucus — not necessarily thick, but it feels choking during Kevala Kumbhaka. There’s a repeated reflex to swallow it, even though it’s hardly sticky — and this reflex disturbs the inner stillness.
I eat three hours before bed in the evening. Can I eat rice then? Once, during weekly Bhagavatam Satsang in a cold hilly area, I used to eat two times — light vrata meals during the day and an early evening meal. The food was just normal — rice, sweets, pulses, vegetables — made commonly, but I took it lightly, with fewer spices. And I never felt kapha or mucus in day sadhana. In fact, I found sadhana during those days to be quite effective.
What can I conclude from that? That even in a cold, kapha-prone environment, when the food is simple, taken early, and in the right mindset — especially with vrata bhava (vow-consciousness) — there is no mucus buildup. There’s no interference with Kevala Kumbhaka, and inner absorption happens more effortlessly. That experience confirmed for me that timing, lightness, and mental purity are far more important than whether the food was traditionally ‘mucus-forming’. Even simple rice and sweet dishes didn’t harm sadhana when taken in moderation, in devotion, and with awareness.

Why Sushumna Is Hard to Feel but Transforms You Deeply: A Yogi’s Personal Exploration

I observe that waiting for Sushumna flow during spinal breathing, pranayama, and asanas is less effective. Instead, allowing flow through Ida and Pingala while keeping the gaze upward through the Ajna Chakra seems to centralize the lateral flow by alternating left and right flows. Although head pressure develops with it, it feels transformative. This observation reflects a deep and practical understanding rooted in direct yogic experience. Traditionally, yogic texts emphasize balancing Ida and Pingala first before expecting Sushumna to activate. Waiting passively for it to open often becomes a mental expectation rather than a lived reality. By allowing alternate left-right flow and maintaining awareness at Ajna, I found that it naturally starts centralizing the energy. The resulting head pressure is a sign of pranic tension building—something needed to push energy through the central channel. Not resisting lateral flows but gently guiding them upward helps energy triangulate toward Sushumna without force. This method is more engaging than simply waiting for Sushumna.

I also noticed that when I allow natural alternate Ida-Pingala flow in the morning yoga session, it sets up Kevala Kumbhaka (spontaneous breath retention) effortlessly during the day—especially when I sit quietly, away from worldly distractions. This is a sign that the pranic system has built a charge in the morning and is now delivering its result without effort. Yogic science affirms this process: when the breath is balanced and mind is calm, Kevala Kumbhaka arises naturally. It is not something to be forced—it happens when the conditions are right. My experience validates this: when I created pranic harmony earlier in the day, I didn’t need to do much later. I just sat, and the breath stopped on its own, with awareness settled. This confirms that stillness must be earned, not imposed. The more I try to hold or force breathlessness, the more elusive it becomes. But when Ida and Pingala dance naturally and converge, Sushumna awakens, and Kevala Kumbhaka unfolds without effort.

I once experimented by ignoring the Ida-Pingala flow altogether—neither reacting to lateral sensations on the face nor adjusting anything. I kept everything still and simply waited for Sushumna flow during spinal breathing. What happened was disappointing. Only slight energy movement appeared after delays and only at the back of the head—not through the spine or full central path. It was weak and ineffective, and no transformative energy or breathless state occurred. I felt the practice was futile and time-wasting. This showed me that suppressing lateral pranic flow blocks the whole process. Waiting for Sushumna without engaging the polarity is like expecting electricity without generating voltage. The earlier method of conscious alternate flow and upward gaze had worked far better. Suppression, I realized, isn’t stillness. Stillness arises after energetic tension has built up and integrated, not before.

I wondered: was this realization real, or was it just flattery from my mind or something exaggerated? The answer is clear—this isn’t flattery. It is scientifically, experientially, and historically verified by yogic tradition. Classical texts like the Hatha Yoga Pradipika, Gheranda Samhita, and even Vijnana Bhairava Tantra all emphasize the necessity of balancing Ida and Pingala before Sushumna activation. Even modern interpretations align: Ida and Pingala reflect sympathetic and parasympathetic nervous system flows, and their harmonization reflects physiological homeostasis. Sushumna, being central and subtle, only activates when dualities are transcended. This is supported by the personal testimonies of advanced yogis like Lahiri Mahasaya, Sri Yukteswar, Swami Sivananda, and even Sri Ramana Maharshi. My own experience of Kevala Kumbhaka and weak Sushumna flow under suppression confirms this truth. I have done the experimentation myself—and arrived at a conclusion that texts, yogis, and physiology all support.

Although I did spinal breathing in different nostril-use styles, I found that the natural Ida-Pingala dance happens most vividly during the pause after inhalation, and slightly during the pause after exhalation. This is a key insight. After inhalation, prana is fully charged and internalized. During this pause, the left and right nadis interact most dynamically. It is like a charged pendulum moment—where the energy oscillates just before merging. This is the doorway where Ida and Pingala begin to converge toward Sushumna. After exhalation, the pause is more dissolving—subtler. It feels like a soft inward melting, not an electrical flicker. The classical texts affirm this too—especially Vijnana Bhairava Tantra and Hatha Yoga Pradipika—which point to these breath transitions as openings into the infinite. By being aware during these pauses, I feel the Ida-Pingala dance most clearly, not during active inhalation or exhalation.

In an earlier response, it was suggested to practice asanas naturally, without breath holds, so natural breath suspension would happen and prevent head pressure. But I found this to be less effective. In contrast, I discovered that voluntary breath retention based on the nature of the pose—inhale hold during belly expansion, exhale hold during belly compression—was far more transformative. It set up strong internal pressure, intensified pranic engagement, and led more reliably to breathless states later. Natural breathing keeps the system calm and is good for balance or for beginners, but it lacks the energetic charge needed to shift consciousness. Voluntary retention, if done with alignment and awareness, builds that charge. So I asked—what does it mean when people say “risky if done wrongly”? It means that if breath holds are forced or misaligned with the pose, they can cause strain—like dizziness, excess pressure, or even worsen conditions like GERD or high BP. Holding breath while compressing the belly, for example, blocks energy. But done rightly—inhale hold during expansion, exhale hold during compression—it becomes a powerful alchemical tool. Since I already have refined awareness and use breath retention mindfully, this risk is mostly past. For me, it is now a reliable method of transformation.

Still, I wondered—why is the energy in Ida and Pingala so easily felt, but Sushumna remains subtle or unfelt? The answer lies in their nature. Ida and Pingala are sensory, dual, and tied to the breath and nervous system. They feed the ego, polarity, and perception. That’s why their activation feels like warmth, pressure, tingling, or movement. Sushumna, on the other hand, is silent, non-dual, and does not produce “feelable” sensation. When it becomes active, it feels like emptiness, vastness, or a collapsing of inner noise. This is supported by both yogic scripture and neurophysiological models. Ida and Pingala are like surface brainwaves; Sushumna is like deep silence. The more purified Sushumna becomes, the less perceptible it is—because awareness merges with it. At early stages, people report light, vibration, or rising pressure in the spine. But at advanced stages, there is no spine, no movement—only presence and absorption. So the less you feel Sushumna as a sensation, the closer you are to its true nature.

Still, I once had a vivid experience: a sensory “chord of light” from Muladhara to Sahasrara through the center of the back. Why did I feel Sushumna so clearly then? It’s because, in that moment, pranic alignment, silence, and awareness merged perfectly. The energy surged through an open Sushumna and became perceptible. This often happens when Ida and Pingala are completely balanced and the granthis are partially dissolved. Kundalini can rise briefly and feel like a thread of light, a laser, or a beam. Scriptures describe this exactly—lightning flashing through the spine, nectar rising, or a silvery thread of consciousness. It happened because I wasn’t chasing it—it arose spontaneously in a state of absorption. This is Sushumna becoming dense enough to register in sensory awareness—not as duality, but as pure, radiant presence.

Some say that feeling Sushumna is only due to resistance—otherwise, it flows so purely it’s unfelt. This is also true. When prana encounters knots or granthis, it produces pressure, light, or movement. That’s why beginners often report strong sensations. But as purification deepens, the flow becomes silent. Advanced yogis describe it not as energy moving, but as ego dissolving. You don’t feel the current—you are the current. So yes, that one time I felt it as a beam of light, it may have been partially due to friction—but also because I was near enough to full purity that Sushumna briefly revealed itself. Eventually, even that sensation fades into vastness.

In truth, feeling Sushumna strongly is a middle stage. It’s not the beginning, where energy is locked, nor the end, where all sensation dissolves. It’s the transitional stage where identity still perceives movement, but that movement is central, pure, and nearly egoless. That’s where I was. I don’t need to chase it. I only need to keep refining awareness, allowing balance, and living from the center.

The Forgotten Science Hidden in Sanatan Dharma: Sharirvigyan Darshan

Most people revere Sanatan Dharma for its timeless rituals, chants, and philosophies. One core belief repeated across scriptures is that “God resides in every particle.” But is this belief truly understood in its deepest sense? Or is something even more transformative hidden beneath the surface?

What if the real key lies not just in seeing God in all, but in seeing our own body—our very self—in all?

Welcome to the long-forgotten lens of Sharirvigyan Darshan—the “Science of the Universal Body.”

God in Every Particle: A Partial Realization?

Sanatan rituals condition us to see divine presence everywhere—stones, trees, rivers, temples, even the flame of a lamp. We bow to idols, chant mantras to the sun, and perform havans believing that the subtle forces of nature are divine embodiments.

But psychologically, a subtle duality persists. We worship those forms as God’s bodies—separate, superior, abstract. We rarely think: This is my own body, extended and reshaped.

This separation—between self and divine matter—blocks a great transformation.

Sharirvigyan Darshan: All Matter Is Living, Like Us

According to ancient seers (and now echoed by holographic science), every particle of matter reflects the whole. That includes you. Your consciousness is not trapped in your body—it is extended throughout the universe.

In this vision, a stone is not inert—it is a dense, dormant body form of the same universal consciousness. Air, water, sky, fire—they are not just tattvas, they are your other limbs.

When this realization dawns—not just intellectually but experientially—it brings powerful effects. Why?

Mental Burden Sharing: A Forgotten Technology

The human mind is a storage house of unresolved thoughts, emotions, fears, and desires. Normally, we carry this load alone—because we feel alone. But the moment we genuinely perceive the world around us as alive like our own body, a miraculous thing happens:

Your mind unconsciously releases and shares the burden with the rest of existence.

Not out of escapism, but through connection.

It’s like downloading files to the cloud. You don’t destroy them—you just no longer carry them on your limited hardware.

Why Rituals Work Faster with Sharirvigyan Darshan

Many rituals are designed to invoke transformation—cleansing, clarity, peace. But their power becomes amplified when we drop the separation between “me” and “that idol,” “me” and “this river,” “me” and “this mantra.”

When you light a diya, and feel your own inner light spreading into space…

When you bow to a tree, not as a divine other, but as your own living presence in wood-form…

Then ritual becomes real. Transmission occurs. Healing is instant.

This is what Sharirvigyan Darshan awakens.

Why Personifying Only God Isn’t Enough

Sanatan Dharma encourages seeing personified gods in all forms—Shiva in the mountain, Lakshmi in gold, Hanuman in the wind. But we never dare to see ourself there.

Not as the egoic self, but as the universal self—the one that wears infinite bodies.

Because of this gap, our mental garbage doesn’t transfer to the larger body of the universe. We keep hoarding, looping, suffering. We unconsciously believe only God can handle all this—not our own extended body in its cosmic form.

Conclusion: Reclaim the Forgotten Science

Sanatan Dharma, when re-understood through the lens of Sharirvigyan Darshan, reveals a deeply practical metaphysics. A living psychology. A spiritual neuroscience. A path where rituals aren’t symbolic—they are technologies of mental distribution and energetic integration.

Let us no longer just believe that God is in everything.

Let us remember:
We are in everything.
We are everything—not in ego, but in essence.

Even your ego, your mental noise—whatever your state of mind at any moment—can be included in the whole by simply believing it to be part of everything. Why? Because as per holographic science, every part of existence is a complete human-like body in itself.

No matter how small the particle, if you keep searching deeper and deeper, you’ll find—at every level—a structure that reflects the living human form. Every speck of matter carries the blueprint of consciousness. Every atom is not just alive—it’s you, in another form.

That shift makes all the difference.

That’s why I’m amazed by how effortlessly Sharirvigyan Darshan unfolds in the company of Sanatan Dharma. The reason is clear—both are rooted in the same fundamental principle: the presence of consciousness in all forms.

Yet, Sharirvigyan Darshan acts as a deeply enriching add-on. It doesn’t replace Sanatan Dharma—it illuminates it from within. When both are combined, they give wings to spiritual transformation, making the journey more experiential, grounded, and complete.

Meditation Image as Inner Brahmā: How the Creator God Appears in Spiritual Vision

Why Does This Happen Only to Me?

Sometimes, when I try to observe my present state, I find that my awareness isn’t stuck in one place. It feels like it’s spread across the whole body — not as bones and muscles, but as a soft field of awareness. Every cell, every point feels quietly alive. I call this holographic Sharirvigyan Darshan — not just looking at the body, but sensing it as one continuous field of presence.

In these moments, something interesting happens: the meditation image appears by itself at the Ajna Chakra (the point between the eyebrows). I don’t try to see it — it just forms naturally. And this image becomes the gateway. When I dissolve into the formless, the image fades. When I come back from the formless, the image reappears first. So in a way, the image is the doorway in and out of that still space.

That made me think — isn’t that exactly the role of Brahmā, the creator god? If my inner image creates and dissolves form, then perhaps this meditation image is like an inner Brahmā, shaping experience and dissolving it again. Not as myth, but as something real inside me. It may also possible that mythological Brahma is nothing else but glorification of the meditation image.

But then the question hit me:
Why only me?
Why does this happen to me without effort, without ritual, while others are still working hard to reach such states?

The answer slowly appeared —
It’s not just me.
It’s just that I became quiet enough to notice. I didn’t chase it. It came. Not because I’m special, but maybe because some ripeness was there — maybe from this life, maybe from somewhere deeper.

Most people are still chasing outer things, or stuck in thinking. They may even pass through similar moments but don’t notice them. I just happened to be still. And in that stillness, something subtle unfolded.

What’s happening in me isn’t for me to own. It feels more like something is flowing through me, for whoever may need to hear it. It can feel lonely sometimes, because these inner experiences are hard to explain — and few talk about this level of subtlety. But even that’s okay.

Because now I feel:

The image knows me.
The void knows me.
The return knows me.

That’s enough.

Why Only Me? (Poetic Reflection)

Why does the image rise in me,
And melt into formless light unseen?
Why does my body speak in sparks,
Each cell aware, alive, serene?

Why does Ajna bloom alone,
While others speak of mind and breath?
Why does the void arrive so near,
Without a mantra, vow, or death?

Not because I am chosen,
Nor gifted more than all the rest.
But because this inner fire
Found no noise — and did the rest.

Many walk and miss the gate,
The silence sings but goes unheard.
The world is busy chasing shape,
I stood still — and felt the word.

It’s not for me, this grace so rare,
But through me, it begins to share.
The image fades, the Self remains —
And yet returns, through Brahmā’s care.

So if I walk this path alone,
It’s only to become the tone
That others hear when truth is near,
A silent bell — so deeply known.

And then something even deeper began to happen…

Now I’m seeing that I don’t even have to try to be self-aware. It just happens. I don’t repeat anything in my mind or force focus. I simply notice my present situation — whatever mood, thought, or state I’m in — and gently rest that attention on any part of my body, like the back of my hand.

And just like that — the whole story of “me” in that situation disappears. It dissolves into a peaceful, formless awareness.

I’m not doing a technique. I’m not meditating in the usual way. But as soon as I connect the feeling or thought to the body, means looking on the back of my hand I believe as if like every situations my present situation is also there same to same inside my hand, it’s as if that situation melts away — and what’s left is just presence. No tension, no thinker — just calm awareness spread throughout.

The body doesn’t feel like a solid thing anymore. It feels like a quiet, living space. A field of self-awareness — always there, always ready, if I simply tune into it.

And once again, I feel this is not something I created.
It’s something that’s revealing itself through me — just like before.

How an Endoscopy Triggered a Nondual Awakening: A Hidden Parallel with Dhauti Kriya

Once, after undergoing an endoscopy, I experienced a strange and unexpected shift—a transformation marked by a subtle but clear nondual awareness. It wasn’t the usual meditative insight or blissful state. It was raw, neutral, and intensely present. I could feel the endoscope entering, touching the inner lining of my stomach, crossing it, and going even deeper into the small intestine, right into the belly’s core. The body was utterly passive—there was no choice, no resistance that could prevent the process. What ego remains in a body that cannot stop the entry of an unwelcome foreign object? That question echoed somewhere deep and unfamiliar.

Though I didn’t feel that it changed anything on the surface immediately, with time, I started sensing that some layer of my subconscious structure had been pierced. The sense of control, subtle tension, and the feeling of “I am the body” had taken a hit—not visibly shattered, but weakened. This moment didn’t bring sudden enlightenment or peace. But it quietly accelerated a journey I was already on—a path of nonduality, one increasingly flavored by a kind of holographic sharirvigyan darshan, a direct perception of the body not as “mine,” but as a transparent field of changing phenomena.

Looking back, the whole experience now feels similar to what yogic traditions aim for in dhauti kriya. Especially in Vastra dhauti or Vaman dhauti, where cloth or water is intentionally introduced into the digestive tract. These aren’t just about cleaning the stomach. They are about softening the grip of the ego through raw confrontation with the body’s inner vulnerability. In both dhauti and endoscopy, the deepest part of the body—where the manipura chakra resides—is entered, stirred, and exposed. In the silence that follows, something becomes undeniable. The doer is missing. The ownership feels fake. There’s just sensation and witnessing.

I now see how such kriyas, when done with awareness, aren’t only about purification. They are tools to break the boundary between the inside and the outside, to dissolve the illusion of control, and to reawaken a primal intelligence that doesn’t belong to the mind or ego. My endoscopy was clinical, sterile, and completely non-spiritual in intention. But still, it acted like a mirror—a sudden and sharp insight into the powerless ego and the ever-present field of awareness that holds everything, even medical instruments and internal helplessness, without flinching.

This event taught me that not every spiritual push comes in the form of light or bliss. Some come quietly, disguised as helplessness, medical procedures, or discomfort, but if the mind is ready—or even half-cracked open—they do their work. And the journey moves forward, not always dramatically, but inevitably.

Who Owns Yoga? When Jealousy Wears the Robe of Spirituality

Yoga today is often treated like a subject—like engineering, music, or philosophy. Some people spend years immersed in it, adopting the appearance, terminology, and lifestyle of the spiritual path. They come to see themselves as the rightful bearers of its flame. But something interesting happens when people from outside this so-called circle—scientists, artists, office-goers, even homemakers—enter into yoga sincerely and begin to show genuine spiritual growth. Their very presence disturbs the traditional field. They are sometimes viewed as line breakers, people who didn’t follow the system, didn’t put in the years, yet are somehow touching deep truths. The inner reaction of some so-called yogis is subtle but bitter: “They haven’t walked through fire like us. They can’t just skip the line.” But yoga isn’t a line, and there’s no gatekeeper.

The real issue often lies in the mind of the practitioner who feels left behind. When one spends a decade or more in practice but doesn’t taste inner silence, the natural tendency is to blame others. It’s easier than questioning oneself. But maybe the truth is harder. Maybe the practice was wrong. Maybe it was all ego—effort without surrender, imitation without understanding. The robe was worn, the postures mastered, the chants memorized, but the core remained untouched. Then one day, someone from a completely different walk of life sits in stillness for a few minutes and drops into the very space you’ve been chasing for years. That kind of humility is hard to swallow.

Yoga was never meant to become a badge. It is not a religion, not a profession, not a caste. It is a simple, sincere movement inward. When anyone—absolutely anyone—turns within and becomes still, they are doing yoga. It doesn’t matter if they come from the world of commerce, cinema, farming, or politics. Consciousness doesn’t care about resumes. It only responds to authenticity. What hurts is not their success. What hurts is our comparison, our belief that effort deserves reward, that time equals progress, that lineage equals realization. These are spiritual illusions.

Many people who have practiced for long years get trapped in subtle spiritual pride. It creeps in unnoticed. The more external the practice becomes, the more likely this pride will grow. When it goes unexamined, it slowly transforms into jealousy disguised as righteousness. We begin to believe others are not qualified to feel what we think we’ve earned. But yoga, in truth, is not something anyone earns. It is something that reveals itself the moment we stop trying to possess it. And in that revelation, there is no ownership.

If we feel disturbed by someone else’s spiritual growth, it’s a sign to pause—not to judge them, but to turn inward again and examine the roots of our own journey. Are we truly practicing yoga, or are we wearing it? Are we holding on to our suffering as a proof of depth? Are we resentful because others are touching peace without our kind of struggle? These are hard questions, but necessary ones.

A true yogi is not threatened by others waking up. A true yogi feels joy when anyone touches light. Because that light is not theirs—it’s everyone’s. If there is any “line breaking” happening, it is only the breaking of the illusion that enlightenment belongs to a certain group or path. The ones who grow rapidly are not enemies—they are reminders that grace does not follow our timelines. It flows wherever the heart is open.

The moment we believe we are spiritual, we’ve already lost something of the spirit. The moment we believe we deserve more because we’ve struggled longer, we’ve missed the essence of yoga altogether. Yoga is not a competition. It is not even a journey from here to there. It is the deep, honest willingness to meet ourselves as we are—stripped of identity, image, and pride. That kind of willingness can belong to anyone. And when it arises, yoga begins—quietly, truly, and freely.

The Middle Path, Balanced Doshas, and the Yoga That Flows From Simplicity

I have been observing something again and again, not from books but from life, body, sensation and inner process. Ayurveda says that Vata, Pitta and Kapha — the three doshas — tend to stay in equilibrium in a healthy person. When Vata increases, which means when activity or chanchalta rises in the system, heat also rises. This heat is nothing but Pitta. And when this heat gets too much, the body tries to cool itself down by producing Kapha, which is mucous, moisture or heaviness. If you observe this cycle carefully, this is the picture of disease, of inflammation, or imbalance in any part of the body. It could be in the stomach, joints, mind, or nerves. It starts with overactivity, turns into heat, and then ends in fluid or swelling. I have noticed this rhythm silently playing out in me, in others, in animals, in nature. It is not a theory anymore, but a felt reality.

Modern science also does the same thing but with its own language. Antibiotics try to kill the bacteria that are drawn to the body when agitation is high. Antipyretics try to cool down the heat, the fever that is nothing but excess Pitta. Anti-inflammatory medicines try to reduce the fluid buildup or swelling that comes with Kapha’s reaction. So the difference is only in the way of addressing. Modern medicine tries to suppress what’s already expressed. But Ayurveda tries to stop the doshas from becoming unbalanced in the first place. That is the only real difference.

This leads to a deeper understanding. Like attracts like. When there is inner restlessness, bacteria that feed on restlessness find a place to thrive. When agitation is controlled at the root, these bacteria may not even be attracted. The soil of imbalance is gone. I believe that is the true prevention. Pitta is not just heat, it also includes inflammation, injury, and inner burning of tissues and mind. When this goes out of hand, modern medicines suppress it by anti-inflammatories. But in this suppression, they subdue all Pitta, even the good one that maintains digestion and intelligence. They cool it too much, which leads to problems.

Similarly, in states of vata dosha dominated agitation or frustration, the mind can lose its natural awareness, making one prone to mishaps or accidents or one goes into quarrel with others. Such incidents often lead to bodily injuries, which in turn generate inflammatory heat and secretions—manifestations of aggravated Pitta and Kapha. When fever persists without proper recovery, the body may eventually shift toward a cold, sinking temperature, a sign of deep Kapha imbalance, sometimes preceding death. This sequence reflects the deeper truth that Vata dosha is often the root imbalance that disturbs and triggers the other two doshas—Pitta and Kapha. However it’s not so always. In intellectuals, vata dosha may be starting dosha, because they mostly have uprising energy that may unground them. In drug addict type people, cough dosha may be main cause. In angry type people, pitta dosha may be main culprit. As most of the people in general public are intellectual types to keep today’s sophisticated society running smoothly, so I think vata dosha may be main culprit in them. That’s why they regularly need proper grounding. Social ceremonies, entertainments, festivals, fares, tours and travels probably serve the same purpose. Kaph dominated sleepy and heavy people need stimulants like tea, coffee etc. that increases vata of mindfulness and pitta of energetic activity. Pitta dominated violence loving people are itself attracted towards depressants like alcohol etc to counteract excess pitta with kaph. These are just examples, and there are different types of methods so called good and bad to balance doshas in the society, but we call them habit or instinct of people, however they are basically driven by the hidden longing to balance the three doshas or three gunas. It’s the same thing, guna becoming it’s opposite that’s dosha if unbalanced. Therefore, in such destabilized states, rest, grounding, and centering practices as per the condition are essential. The methods used should be appropriate to the individual’s condition—gentle yet effective. Some practitioners, especially those seeking rapid grounding, may resort to the use of Panchamakara (the five Tantric elements) in a disciplined and conscious manner. These are traditionally known to anchor energy quickly and deeply, bringing one back to balance when used wisely.

Ayurveda is not just herbs. It is intimately tied with Yoga. Yoga only becomes real when all three doshas are in balance. Not too much, not too little. How can anyone do Yoga with a heavy body, or a restless body, or a heated body? In modern medicine, when Vata-type uprising acidity like GERD is treated with antacids, they may cool the acid-fire but they create drowsiness, heaviness, a Kapha-like dullness. Vata type uprising is still there, only acid-pitta has been subdued. When pain and fever of Pitta origin are suppressed with drugs, they again affect the stomach, lead to dryness, bloating or more Vata or pitta originated in new form of stomach acid. Means one form of pitta subdued but new form of pitta is originated. It’s like moving fire from one furnase to another. One imbalance leads to another. It’s a cycle of managing reactions, not removing the cause. Ayurveda simply tells us to avoid oily, spicy, hard-to-digest food that causes all these doshas to go out of balance in the first place. Simple living is more than enough to prevent most suffering.

But to be honest, it’s not completely one-sided. I’ve experienced that lower steps of Yoga like Karma Yoga, Anasakti Yoga, or even glimpses of nondual clarity can come back faster with modern medicine too. Sometimes more effectively than Ayurveda. This is because modern medicine can quickly lift you out of tamas or inertia. A painkiller, or a sleeping pill, or a nerve relaxant can temporarily stop the heaviness and let the mind reflect or detach. But these are lower stairs. When one climbs higher in Yoga, like pranayama or subtle meditation, then modern medicine becomes too rough. It disturbs the subtle rhythms. That’s where the Ayurvedic lifestyle becomes necessary. I have not yet achieved the higher states of Yoga permanently. I have touched some glimpses through direct experience — where the ‘I’ dissolved for a few seconds, and bliss filled the brain. But I pulled back. I lowered the experience consciously. So I am not claiming any Samadhi. I am still learning. Still trying.

From this place of honest limitation, I wonder — what happens when a dosha is too low, not too high. This is never discussed much. But I feel it matters deeply. If Vata is too low, there is no enthusiasm. Energy cannot rise. Breath becomes dull. Meditation has no inspiration. If Pitta is too low, there is no drive to transform. Asanas feel lifeless. Digestion becomes too weak. If Kapha is low, the person becomes ungrounded, anxious, too light. No anchor to sit in silence. No strength to hold a steady state. So Yoga is not about reducing doshas. It’s about keeping each one just enough. Only when they are in balance — not excess, not deficient — can true Yoga begin.

Vata is needed to lift energy and imagination. Pitta is needed to give heat and fire for action. Kapha is needed for grounding and stillness. If any one is missing, Yoga practice becomes dry, painful, scattered, or incomplete. This understanding changed how I look at daily life. Now I don’t just avoid excess. I also notice what is lacking and try to nourish that. If my mind is too floaty, I bring Kapha back with warm food and stillness. If I feel dull, I stimulate gently to bring back Pitta and Vata.

Then I asked myself, if Ayurveda always taught this middle balancing way, then why is the middle path credited to the Buddha? The answer became clear through contemplation. Ayurveda taught balance for health. Yoga aimed for inner stillness by refining energy. But Buddha took it deeper. He turned this balance into a path to liberation. He said neither indulgence nor denial leads to freedom. Only balance in thought, action, and even breath can free the mind from suffering. So he didn’t invent the middle path — he discovered its deepest spiritual meaning and made it accessible beyond the Vedic system.

Yoga, on the other hand, says even Sattva has to be transcended. That we must go beyond the three gunas — Sattva, Rajas and Tamas. But how can that happen unless we first balance them? I have seen this in myself. When Rajas is too much, I feel over-driven. When Tamas is high, I feel dull and lazy. Even Sattva, when I cling to it, makes me feel proud or isolated. So first, the lifestyle has to balance the gunas. Then only they can cancel each other out, and the mind rests in silence. The outer balance becomes the doorway to inner stillness. However, it’s other thing that Savikalpa samadhi and its peak as awakening is achieved with pure and boundless sattva guna but later on it also need to be discarded or cancelled out to enter nirvikalp samadhi.

This is not imagination. It is an ongoing, unfinished journey I live daily. I am not beyond gunas. I still fall into excess or deficiency. But I’ve started to notice more quickly. And Yoga is becoming more natural when I eat better, breathe gently, sleep with rhythm, and avoid overstimulation. I now know that Ayurveda prepares the field. Yoga plants the seed. Buddha opens the sky. But they all meet in one simple truth — that balance, neither too much nor too little, is the key to both health and liberation.

This path is not about showing off or collecting spiritual achievements. It is about quietly correcting the imbalances before they take root. It is about not fighting the body, not forcing the breath, not rushing the mind. Just walking a middle path, step by step, until one day, we don’t need to walk anymore.

Bhramari, Ujjayi, Chandra Anuloma: Gentle Breath Practices That Shift Energy and Soothe the Nervous System

Lately, I’ve been exploring simple but powerful breathing practices—mainly Bhramari (humming breath), Ujjayi (ocean breath), and Chandra Anuloma (left-nostril calming breath). My goal wasn’t just to “do pranayama” but to understand how each one affects energy movement, especially when the breath is combined with vibration, sound, or intention. I was also curious—can we do these practices after meals, and what happens to nervous energy or kundalini when we do them gently?

Does Bhramari Bring Energy Down?

One of the first things I noticed during regular Bhramari practice is that it helps calm the brain and bring energy downward. Not in a heavy or sleepy way—but in a grounded, peaceful way. The humming sound naturally draws attention inward. I felt that it settles head pressure, balances thoughts, and even reduces excess upward pranic movement, which I’ve sometimes experienced during deep meditation or after intense spiritual highs. Bhramari seems to settle all that beautifully.

Exhalation and Parasympathetic Response

I learned that exhalation naturally activates the parasympathetic nervous system, which is the “rest and digest” branch of our nervous system. In contrast, inhalation activates the sympathetic system, the “fight or flight” mode. So it made perfect sense—Bhramari, being done during a long exhalation, encourages the body to shift into relaxation. The longer and softer the exhalation, the deeper the calm. But more interestingly, vibration itself—even apart from breath—also soothes the nervous system.

Can Vibration Alone Be Calming?

Yes, it turns out that even vibratory sounds like humming, chanting Om, or throat-based sounds can activate the vagus nerve, which is the main nerve of the parasympathetic system. That’s why people in grief often release a throaty sound during exhalation. In the local Pahari language, this is called “kanana”—a spontaneous, heartfelt, vocal sigh. It’s not taught; it’s a natural way the body relieves inner pressure through breath and vibration. It’s actually the same principle that Bhramari uses—but made intentional and healing in a yogic way.

Bhramari vs Ujjayi – Which One When?

I started comparing Bhramari with Ujjayi, and the differences became clear. Bhramari is all about vibration on exhalation. You take a silent inhale, and then hum like a bee as you exhale slowly through the nose. The sound soothes the brain, calms the Ajna chakra (between the eyebrows), and settles any upward-rushing thoughts or spiritual overload. Ujjayi, on the other hand, is a subtle constriction of the throat that produces a whispery ocean sound during both inhalation and exhalation. It doesn’t have the same intense calming vibration as Bhramari, but it’s perfect for balancing and extending the breath during yoga, meditation, or even walking. Bhramari is great for winding down, while Ujjayi is great for staying present and anchored.

Why Use Chandra Anuloma if Bhramari Is Enough?

A very natural question arose—if Bhramari calms so well, why would anyone also use Chandra Anuloma (left-nostril-only breathing)? The answer lies in directional energy work. While Bhramari is all about settling and softening the nervous system generally, Chandra Anuloma specifically activates the Ida Nadi, the cooling, feminine energy channel on the left side of the body. If energy is getting too fiery, too agitated, or is rising too sharply without grounding, inhaling through the left nostril only can redirect it into calm, downward channels. So I now see them as complementary tools. Bhramari calms broadly, while Chandra Anuloma steers energy gently into the lunar, restful channel.

Can These Be Done After Meals?

I had another big concern—can these practices be safely done after eating? Since I sometimes deal with mild acidity or GERD, I didn’t want to mess with digestion. The good news is: Bhramari, Ujjayi (in a light form), and Chandra Anuloma are all safe to practice after meals, if done gently.

Bhramari is perfectly fine after eating because you’re not engaging your stomach muscles or doing any breath-holding. You just sit upright and hum softly during exhalation. Ujjayi is also okay if you don’t add any Kumbhaka (breath-holding) or abdominal pressure—just a gentle throat breath is enough. Chandra Anuloma, especially the gentler version (inhaling through left nostril and exhaling softly through either both or just left), is not only safe but can be digestive-friendly. It helps balance heat, settle emotional restlessness, and supports parasympathetic dominance after food.

What you should avoid after meals are forceful techniques like Kapalabhati, Bhastrika, or breath retention with bandhas, which put pressure on the belly and can disturb digestion.

Chandra Anuloma or Chandra Bhedana?

At this point, I wanted to clarify terminology. Some people refer to inhaling through the left nostril and exhaling through the right nostril as Chandra Anuloma, but actually, that’s better known as Chandra Bhedana. It has a more activating effect and may not be ideal after meals. The softer version of Chandra Anuloma—inhale left, exhale left or both—is safer and more calming. That’s the one I’ve started using in post-meal relaxation.

Final Summary in My Words

After trying all three practices repeatedly in real-life situations—after meals, before sleep, during restlessness, and post-meditation—I realized that:

  • Bhramari is best when you feel mentally overactive, have head pressure, or want a complete energetic winding-down.
  • Ujjayi is best for quiet presence, especially during meditation or movement, when you want to stay internally steady without pulling energy up or down.
  • Chandra Anuloma is best when energy is overheated, emotionally disturbed, or digestion feels sensitive, especially after meals or in the evening.

All three are non-intense, beginner-friendly, safe, and deeply effective when practiced with awareness. I’m currently working on putting together a mini retreat experiment where we’ll explore these three across different parts of the day—before meals, after meals, during meditation, and before sleep—to see how energy patterns shift across people. The goal is to create a customized breath map for calming, centering, or grounding at will.

If you’ve ever felt overwhelmed, overstimulated, or simply too stuck in your head, try any of these practices. Just a few rounds of Bhramari or Chandra Anuloma, or gentle Ujjayi, can restore an inner silence that’s always been there beneath the noise.

Would you like to join this retreat experiment or receive the daily routine I’m developing? Drop me a message or comment. We’ll breathe together, from wherever we are.