Category: hath yoga

Breathing Yet Not Breathing: Integrating Dhyāna in Daily Life Amid Chaos

A lived inquiry, written as it unfolded

When the body begins to ask for khecarī

I began to feel that khecarī mudrā was needed not as a yogic achievement but as a practical necessity. Without it, daily worldly chaos made entry into dhyāna difficult. With it, prāṇa rotated effortlessly, and breath retention no longer felt suffocating. It was not breath holding; it was breath resting.

Earlier, during a seven-day Śrīmad Bhāgavatam recitation at home, I entered deep dhyāna without khecarī. The spiritual environment itself carried continuity. That showed me something important: my system already knew dhyāna. What was missing in daily life was not knowledge, but sealing.

Many people gave advice. Some insisted a guru was mandatory. Some said other techniques must be learned first. None of that explained what my body was actually asking for.

The question was not ideological. It was physiological.

Khecarī as a seal, not a ladder

Khecarī revealed itself not as a tool for ascent, but as an internal valve. It reduced sensory leakage, redirected vagal tone, and completed a closed prāṇic circuit. Breath retention stopped being suppression and became circulation. Suffocation disappeared.

This clarified something crucial: khecarī was not something to be held. It was something that appeared at the threshold and dropped away once dhyāna stabilized. Treating it as permanent or as an achievement only invited effort and distortion.

Used correctly, khecarī was permission, not command.

I find rolling the tongue back and touching the soft palate beneficial for initiating dhyāna. It causes the lower jaw to drop, creating a wide gap between the upper and lower teeth, and increases the hollow space at the back of the mouth where swallowing occurs. After dhyāna stabilizes—usually after about 10–15 minutes—this tongue position feels unnecessary and the tongue naturally returns to its normal position. However, the lowered jaw, the gap between the teeth, and the increased hollowness at the back of the mouth continue to remain sustained. Probably, this is a form of body language that prevents energy from being directed toward talking, swallowing, or eating. As a result, the energy tends to be used for dhyāna. It is an amazing trick.

Why rules and warnings didn’t apply cleanly

Warnings about gurus and prerequisites exist for practices that force energy upward or chase power experiences. My experience was the opposite. Energy already moved to ajñā naturally. Khecarī stabilized rather than provoked. There was no chasing, only response.

Practices arise when the system is ready. They are not chosen by ideology. The body was not asking what was allowed. It was asking whether it could continue naturally.

The non-tongue internal seal

A crucial shift happened when the function of khecarī appeared without tongue positioning.

By resting attention gently in the inner throat hollow—behind the face, where swallowing ends—the jaw dropped naturally, the mouth widened inwardly, and breath lost importance. Retention appeared without decision. Dhyāna opened by itself.

This showed clearly: form is optional; function is essential.

When breath becomes “breathing yet not breathing”

At a certain point, something hidden began circulating. Breath was present, yet imperceptible. The body breathed, but I was not breathing. There was no suppression, no control, no danger. Only coherence.

This was not something to observe closely. The moment attention tried to watch it, it collapsed. The correct attitude was friendly ignorance. Letting it happen behind me, not in front of me.

I think this type of spontaneous breathing is called breathlessness because it doesn’t move awareness up and down like normal breathing, only supply oxygen to the body. Breath continues its subtle and deeper up-and-down movement, fully alive and functional, yet the mind no longer rides it as it does with gross and superficial breathing in ordinary life. What stops is not breath, but the mind’s dependence on breath for rhythm, movement, and direction. Movement remains, life flows on, but awareness stands still in itself—this is not suppression or breath stoppage, but the quiet freedom of the mind when it no longer needs breath as its vehicle. At times breathing can become so subtle almost looking like nonbreathing.

Why Watching the Breath Dissolves Thought Only at the Subtle Prāṇic Level

What is called looking at the breath dissolves thought does not refer to ordinary gross breathing, because in gross breathing the breath is heavy, mechanical, and tightly coupled with thought, so the mind rides it up and down and watching it only refines attention without producing thoughtlessness. Thought dissolves only when breathing has already shifted into a subtle, yogic, almost breathless movement of prāṇa, where movement continues but is no longer a physical pumping of air. In this subtle movement the mind no longer rides the breath, the coupling between respiration and thought breaks, and awareness can rest without being carried. When prāṇa moves freely up and down in this way, there is no deliberate focusing at all; awareness is naturally drawn because the movement itself is blissful. It is not attention in the ordinary sense but ānanda recognizing itself in motion.No effort is needed, because effort would disturb the state. Nothing is being suppressed. Thoughts fade away on their own because the sense of bliss is complete and leaves nothing unfinished for the mind to work on. The mind actually hovers in order to complete a task, and bliss is dependent on that completion. The main goal of the mind is to experience complete bliss; work is only an intermediary tool. When full bliss is felt directly, there is no need for any mediating tool. What remains is a natural, self-sustaining state of awareness that continues by itself, experiencing itself without thought.

Fasting, light meals, and hollowness

Light eating or fasting during the week-long Bhāgavatam produced the same effects as khecarī: reduced saliva and mucus, teeth no longer clenching as if ready to bite something, jaws no longer tense as if prepared to grab food, teeth and jaws not aimed at talking vulgarly like ordinary days but to listen and contemplate gods stories, and an increased sense of inner hollowness. The teeth and jaws were no longer oriented toward vulgar or ordinary speech, as on usual days, but instead toward listening to and contemplating the stories of God. Digestion became quiet, speech reflexes softened, and dhyāna came easily because energy, spared from other bodily functions, became available to it.

This was not asceticism. It was chemistry. Comfortably light—not empty—was the key, especially with GERD sensitivity.

The throat hollow and its limits

The throat hollow revealed itself as an amazing junction. But it did not work when prāṇa was highly disturbed. This was not failure; it was correct physiology. No doubt, techniques are invaluable in yoga, but they too have their own limits.

Subtle tools cannot override gross turbulence. Tricking body has its own limits. When disturbance was high, grounding had to come first: feeling body weight, letting breath be ordinary, allowing settling before any inward turn. However, sometimes direct entry into nirvikalp can also happen from high disturbance, this is just try and watch. There’s no fixed ruling, exception is at every step. The following rule is generalised or averaged.

This clarified a hierarchy:

  • High disturbance → grounding
  • Medium disturbance → throat hollow
  • Low disturbance → dhyāna without entry
  • No disturbance → nirvikalpa, no tools

Jaw drop and posterior awareness clarified

Jaw drop meant teeth not meeting, jaw unengaged, tongue unimportant. The tongue might touch the palate naturally or not—it didn’t matter. Jaw led; tongue followed.

Posterior awareness did not mean visualizing channels or tracing chakras. It meant awareness withdrawing from facial activity and resting behind expression. Facial activity like manipulating and maintaining facial expressions, expressing emotional impressions etc. draws lot of energy. Attention focusing on backside of throat in hollow shift the focus of energy from front to backside. This is backside where energy is conserved and transmitted to higher centres through back channel called sushumna without being wasted in front body focused bodily functions.

When described anatomically, it felt like a blissful, light pressure on the posterior surface of the head—not force, but density without effort. It’s like rear agya chakra activation. It acts like a valve in back channel. When it feels unpleasant pressure, valve is closed type. When it feels blissful mild pressure the valve is like open.

This posterior fullness spread gently, supported breath irrelevance, and felt safe and stable.

Why posterior awareness feels safer than forehead focus

Forehead focus engages control and vigilance. Posterior awareness supports integration and regulation. The front decides; the back stabilizes.

Posterior awareness does not ask what should happen. It allows nothing to need to happen.

Daily-life micro-adjustments

Integration showed itself through tiny permissions:

  • Jaw unengaged
  • Teeth slightly apart
  • Tongue irrelevant
  • Breath unmanaged checked

During stress spikes, grounding came first, then jaw softening, then posterior awareness returning quietly.

Dhyāna was no longer entered. It was allowed.

Emotional reactions transform quietly

Emotions still arose, but ownership dissolved. There was delay without effort, movement without hooking, and body-led regulation.

I was not handling emotion. I was outlasting it.

Reactions completed faster and left less trace. This was real integration.

Speech returns without breaking coherence

Silence and speech stopped opposing each other. Speech arose from silence instead of against it. Words slowed. Jaw moved without tension. Awareness stayed behind expression.

Silence remained even while speaking. This is all about integration of yoga in daily life.

The closing understanding

Nothing here was about gaining something new. Everything was about not disturbing what was already stable.

Progress was no longer depth, but recovery time. If one enters dhyana rapidly from chaotic worldliness then even dhyana of short duration may be better than prolonged continuous dhyana that is hard to launch again. Then chaos mattered less. Techniques fell away. Life and dhyāna stopped competing.

Nothing needs to be held. What is real stays.

This is not a conclusion. It is a way of living.

Why extreme khecarī stories still attract sincere practitioners

Later in the inquiry, an old memory surfaced from a book written by a Western practitioner who had lived in India and learned yoga deeply. He described cutting the lingual frenulum hair-thin each day with a surgical blade, applying antiseptic, and eventually achieving a tongue that could enter the throat tunnel perfectly, without visible wounds.

This account was not raised as a desire to imitate, but as a remembered narrative that still carried psychological weight. Such stories attract sincere seekers for specific reasons: they promise finality, convert mystery into mechanics, and appeal to sincerity through sacrifice. They suggest that one decisive physical act can complete the path.

But integration has no mechanical closure. It refines how life is lived, not how anatomy is altered.

Why such accounts are not guidance

Those historical accounts belong to a different era of medicine, psychology, and understanding of the nervous system. Cutting the frenulum, even gradually, is physical self-injury with real risks: bleeding, infection, nerve damage, scarring, loss of fine tongue control, and psychological fixation on technique.

More importantly, such actions are unnecessary when the functional effect of khecarī is already present. Neuro-energetic coherence cannot be stabilized by anatomical violence.

If the effect is present, the form has already served its purpose.

Why yogic language itself causes confusion

At the deepest level, the confusion was never about practice. It was about language.

Classical yogic texts were written without modern neuroscience or physiology. Yogis used metaphor and experiential shorthand. When they spoke of the tongue entering the throat, nectar dripping, prāṇa piercing, or breath stopping, they were describing felt states, not surgical instructions.

Over time, experiential language hardened into literal method. Metaphor was mistaken for mechanics.

The same misunderstanding applies across yoga:

  • “Breath stops” means breath loses centrality, not suppression.
  • “Prāṇa rises” means regulation shifts from survival circuits to integrative circuits.
  • “Ajñā opens” means vigilance and control relax, not pressure generation.

Reading yogic texts from lived experience

Western minds, trained to optimize and proceduralize, are especially vulnerable to literalizing yogic poetry. The unconscious question becomes: “What exactly do I do?”

But yoga was never about doing more. It was about interfering less.

A simple rule clarifies everything: if a description sounds violent, effortful, or irreversible, it is metaphor, not instruction. Real yogic transformations are gentle, reversible, sanity-preserving, and embodied.

Khecarī Mudrā, Physical Catalysts, and Awakening: Why Techniques Open the Door but Meditation Sustains Realization

Khecarī is not “nothing physical,” but neither is it a guaranteed path to awakening. Physical interventions—khecarī, sexual yoga, even circumcision—can act as catalysts by reorganizing the body–nervous system and opening access to peak nondual states, as lived experience shows. Yet awakening is not produced by anatomy; it is stabilized only through regular meditation and clarity. Khecarī is rarely reported as the cause of awakening because it works silently as a support, not as an insight, and when realization stabilizes it often becomes unnecessary or drops away. Sexual yoga gets reported more as it produces hype and peak of physical experience that’s charming for general public, not silent nirvikalp. Overuse or forcing of tongue—especially in people with GERD or airway sensitivity—can create side effects, as seen with sleep apnea, while simpler factors like feeding style and digestion may play a larger corrective role. The honest conclusion for the general public is proportion: physical techniques may open doors for some, carry real risks for others, and should be optional, gentle, time-limited, and always secondary to sustained meditation and bodily integration.

The final integration

What unfolded across all these conversations was not the acquisition of a new practice, but the removal of unnecessary interference.

Khecarī revealed itself as a seal, not a ladder. The throat hollow emerged as a junction, not a switch. Posterior awareness proved safer than frontal control. Breath became breathing yet not breathing. Emotions completed without residue. Speech returned without breaking silence. Extreme practices lost their attraction.

Progress revealed itself not as depth, but as reduced recovery time. Life and dhyāna stopped competing.

Yoga, seen clearly, was never a user manual. It was poetry pointing toward non-interference.

Anything that requires injury to sustain silence is not silence.

This is not a conclusion. It is integration.

Journey of Nada, Keval Kumbhak, and Deep Dhyana

I noticed that during deep meditation, when I enter keval kumbhak — spontaneous breath suspension — even ordinary external sounds like people talking, mantras, or conch blowing affect my meditation profoundly. The stillness of the mind in keval kumbhak makes these external sounds feel amplified, not terribly but blissfully and calming down breath to enter deeper dhyana, almost like they are resonating inside me. Within these sounds, mind dissolves and these sounds even dissolve into nirvikalpa quickly. At first, I wondered if this was the same as Nada, the inner sound described in Nada Yoga.

After reflecting, I realized there’s a subtle difference. Nada is internal, independent of the outside world, and arises naturally from the flow of prana and consciousness. What I was experiencing with external sounds was similar in effect, but not true nada. The external sounds were acting as triggers or anchors, deepening dhyana, but they are not generated from within.

Interestingly, I once had a glimpse of true internal sound — an extraordinary OM-like vibration that was blissful, deep, and sober, like so called voice of God. That experience felt completely different: it was independent of external stimuli, and I could feel consciousness itself vibrating in resonance. That is what Nada truly is, and it shows the mind is capable of perceiving the subtle inner universe.

Many practitioners wonder if keval kumbhak alone, with its associated void, is enough for final liberation. I found that the void from keval kumbhak is indeed sufficient. The stillness, non-dual awareness, and temporary dissolution of the sense of “I” create a direct doorway to nirvikalp samadhi. Nada is helpful, as it deepens and stabilizes meditation, but it is not essential for liberation.

I also noticed that in my practice, my strong meditation image of Dada Guru already acts as a powerful anchor. The image generates concentration, subtle energy, and devotion, which naturally lead to deep absorption. In this case, keval kumbhak arises spontaneously, the mind enters void, and bliss is already accessible. Nada may appear, but the image alone is sufficient to stabilize meditation.

Here’s how I conceptualize the stages of my meditation experience:

  1. Meditation Image as Anchor:
    My Dada Guru image keeps the mind absorbed and generates subtle energy. External sounds or nada are optional at this stage.
  2. Keval Kumbhak:
    Spontaneous breath suspension creates extreme mental stillness. The void arises naturally, and subtle mental vibrations may appear.
  3. Void:
    The mind experiences non-dual awareness. Mental fluctuations stop, bliss arises, and the mind is ready for advanced stages.
  4. Nada:
    Internal sound may arise spontaneously, guiding deeper absorption. It enhances meditation but is not mandatory for liberation.
  5. Integration:
    Meditation image, void, keval kumbhak, and nada work in harmony. The mind achieves stable absorption, preparing for continuous nirvikalp samadhi.

Practical Insights from My Experience:

  • External sounds can deepen meditation, but true Nada is internal and independent.
  • Keval kumbhak is a powerful catalyst, but Nada does not require it to arise.
  • A strong meditation image can serve as a complete anchor, making external Nada, even internal nada optional.
  • Liberation ultimately depends on stable void and absorption, not phenomena like sound.

Daily Practice Direction:

  • Let your meditation image anchor your mind effortlessly.
  • Allow keval kumbhak to arise spontaneously; do not force it. However, in yoga, both views about keval kumbhak are valid. Patanjali-type Raja-yoga teachings emphasize that kumbhak should arise naturally as the mind becomes still, while Haṭha Yoga texts say that by learning uniting prāṇa and apāna through practice, one can also enter it willfully. In practice, a middle way works best: slight, gentle regulation of breath helps balance prāṇa and apāna, after which kumbhak may either happen spontaneously or be entered at will. Forcing is harmful, but skillful tweaks to breath, as hinted in the old texts, can make keval kumbhak accessible immediately.
  • Observe any inner sound that appears, without grasping or expectation.
  • Bliss and absorption will deepen naturally; Nada will appear when awareness is refined.

Through this journey, I learned that meditation is a play of subtle energies, awareness, and devotion. External triggers help, inner phenomena inspire, but ultimately, it is the mind’s stillness and refined awareness that open the doors to the ultimate experience — nirvikalp samadhi.

Morning Dhyana: My Journey Through Nirvikalpa and Heart-Space Purification

Recently, I noticed a new development in my morning sadhana. Immediately after rising from bed, I concentrated on the Ajna and Sahasrara chakras, with subtle awareness of breathing seemingly rising from there. My mind waves began dissolving into a vast background space, leaving a sense of stillness. It felt effortless, as if the nirvikalpa-type dhyana was happening naturally without any prior yoga or preparatory practices.

After about an hour, my awareness shifted downward to the heart area. There, I felt a heavy darkness, which I realized was the emotional weight stored over time. Slowly, emotions and thoughts associated with those impressions emerged into my awareness, making the space lighter. It felt like an inner cleansing, a natural process of emotional and karmic purification.

From a Kundalini perspective, this process shows a beautiful rhythm: first, energy rises to higher centers, giving freedom from thought and and bringing waveless awareness. Then, it naturally descends to integrate higher consciousness into the emotional body. The darkness I felt in the heart was dense energy, now being slowly dissolved. This combination of upward transcendence and downward integration is rare, as many practitioners rise without cleansing the lower centers.

From a psychological perspective, the heaviness in the heart reflected unconscious or repressed emotions. By observing them in awareness, they surfaced without resistance and gradually lightened. This is a natural catharsis — the mind sees what was hidden, allowing tension and stored impressions to dissolve.

This experience made me question whether my usual physical asanas, cleansing techniques, and pranayamas were necessary before morning dhyana. I realized that if nirvikalpa absorption arises naturally, intense or long practices could drain the subtle energy needed for it. Gentle, minimal preparation, however, can support the body and subtle channels without interfering with the natural flow.

My guru had suggested a few practices: Jal Neti, Vastra Dhouti, Vaman, sneezing, Kapalbhati, Anulom Vilom, Sarvottan Asan without stretching, Greeva Chalan, Skandh Chalan, Nabhi Chalan (10 forward + 10 backward), and Sarp Asana. Upon reviewing them, I found them light enough if performed gently, slowly, and briefly. Vaman should only be done when advised or needed for it may be heavy in gerd; Kapalbhati should be mild; movements should be smooth and relaxed.

I created a light, energy-preserving morning prep routine to complement my dhyana: start with 3–5 minutes of gentle cleansing (Jal Neti, Sneezing, Vastra Dhouti), then 4–6 minutes of light movements (neck, shoulder, and core), followed by 3–5 minutes of gentle pranayama (Anulom Vilom and mild Kapalbhati), a short Sarvottan Asan without stretching, and finally 2 minutes of settling into stillness. After this, I enter nirvikalpa-type dhyana, focusing first on Ajna and Sahasrara for 15–20 minutes, followed by heart-space descent for 5–10 minutes to observe and release emotional heaviness. I end with integration and gentle awareness for 2–3 minutes.

The guiding principle is simple: let the dhyana arise naturally and effortlessly. Pre-dhyana practices exist only to prepare the body and subtle channels, not to produce forceful energy. Overdoing movements, pranayama, or cleansing can drain the subtle prana that fuels morning absorption. Consistency and gentleness are more valuable than intensity.

However, this is not always true. Most often, my rigorous energy work with strong āsanas, spinal breathing, and chakra meditation creates such potential in the brain that, after deep nirvikalpa dhyāna within five to ten minutes, I feel the āsanas themselves become perfected. When the same āsanas are practiced for many years, they seem to make the nāḍīs flow better, whereas new or even complicated āsanas do not have the same effect. Of course, these are simple ones like leg lifts, shoulder turns, and similar stretches. Probably, the nāḍīs develop in better alignment with the direction of those habitual āsanas with time. Interestingly, the guru-given effective āsanas did not work as well for me as my own simple stretching poses, which I had been doing for decades. No doubt, the guru’s prescribed āsanas will also become perfected with time, perhaps in an even better way. Thus, time and habit seem to be the main factors. When I am sufficiently tired, simple dhyāna starts by itself; when I am fresh and energetic, energy work leads to better dhyāna with greater awareness.

Through this approach, I am learning to harmonize high consciousness in the brain and subtle emotional purification in the heart. Simple Thokar practice also helps heart a lot. The upward flow gives bliss and waveless awareness, while the downward flow clears the unconscious, leaving a light, integrated, and balanced inner state. Observing my own responses allows me to adjust pre-dhyana practices, ensuring that maximum absorption and minimal energy drain occur every morning.

This journey teaches me that advanced sadhana is not about more effort but about precise awareness, gentle preparation, and letting the natural currents of energy and mind guide the practice. By honoring this rhythm, the heart opens, the mind rests, and the subtle energy supports a consistent and deepening nirvikalpa experience. However, all of this is relative. The definition of effort, energy, and practice may vary from person to person. So the approach is simple: try, observe, and practice — the “TOP” formula.

My Experience with Dhauti, GERD, and Food Sensitivity

The other day when I practiced vastra dhauti, I noticed something very interesting. As I started to draw out the cloth, it felt like it was being gripped from inside. When I kept a constant, light pull, it didn’t slide out smoothly. Instead, it came out in small pulses, as if something inside was releasing it little by little.

The Haṭha Yoga Pradīpikā (2.24) and Gheraṇḍa Saṁhitā (1.16–18) describe Vastra Dhauti as a practice where a moist, clean strip of cloth is swallowed and later withdrawn, purifying the stomach. The texts say the stomach “grasps and pulls it in”, which should not be taken literally; rather, once throat resistance is overcome, the natural peristaltic movement of the esophagus and stomach muscles carries the cloth inward, giving the yogi the feeling that the stomach itself is drawing it inside. It purifies the stomach, removes excess bile and phlegm, and prepares the yogi for subtler practices.

That made me wonder: was the cloth stuck in my stomach? Or was some sphincter muscle holding it?

After thinking over it, I realized the esophagus has two main sphincters. One is the cardiac (lower esophageal) sphincter, which sits just above the stomach, and the other is the pyloric sphincter, which sits at the stomach’s exit into the intestine. The pulsative grip I felt was most likely from the cardiac sphincter. This sphincter naturally prevents food or foreign objects from falling freely into the stomach, so the entire cloth cannot simply slip down and get trapped.

That discovery was a relief. It meant that if one end of the vastra is held in the hand, even a beginner should be able to withdraw it safely, though slowly and with patience. The pulsating contractions and the irritation from the cloth itself help in gradually pushing it upward.

Then another thought struck me: if my cardiac sphincter can grip the vastra this strongly, does it mean my sphincter is not weak? I’ve been dealing with GERD (acid reflux), and one common explanation is that the lower esophageal sphincter gets weak. But maybe in my case, that isn’t the whole story. Perhaps there are other reasons for my reflux.

This is where the question of food sensitivity came up. I wondered if gluten sensitivity might be a hidden factor, mainly in ankylosing spondyloarthritis like me. Gluten can irritate the gut lining in some people and worsen reflux or bloating, even when the sphincter itself is working fine.

But then I noticed something else: even when I ate jwar (sorghum) roti, which is gluten-free, it felt hard to digest. Although I found relief with it when well cooked, thin and in small to moderate quantity. This made me realize that digestion is not just about gluten. Foods like jwar, bajra, and chana are heavy, high in fiber, and too much can sit in the stomach longer, which can sometimes worsens reflux.

I considered mixing grains: jwar + bajra + chana multigrain roti. This could balance heaviness with variety, but it may still feel dense if digestion is already weak. On the other hand, lighter options like oats + kutki (little millet) seem easier on the system.

Yet, I have a deep habit of eating roti every day. It’s cultural, emotional, and satisfying. So the challenge is not to quit roti, but to find the grain combination that gives me both digestibility and comfort.

From this whole journey, my learnings are:

  • The body has natural safety mechanisms (like the sphincter grip in dhauti).
  • GERD is not always about a weak sphincter; food type and sensitivity matter a lot.
  • Heavy gluten-free grains can also be tough, so light mixes may be better.
  • Habits like roti can be kept, but with smart substitutions.

In the end, the practice of dhauti not only helped me cleanse but also gave me a direct insight into how my sphincter works. That, combined with my experiments with roti and grains, is slowly teaching me the personal balance I need for both yoga practice and digestive health.

I got help in meditative Dhyana, relief from GERD, and an improvement in personality through it. I felt I had come to know enough of the interior of my body. Dhouti Vastra was like a narrow clinical gauze bandage, about 1.5 feet in length. The throat resists it and propels it out with coughing; it only enters the stomach if enough normal saline water is drunk along with it. The outer end should never be swallowed, otherwise it may be lost inside and surgery could be required to remove it. Therefore, this is a serious practice and should be done cautiously, under the guidance of an expert.

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.

Calm Your Mind with Water: A Simple Meditation Technique

Sometimes, ancient wisdom meets inner intuition, and something powerful yet simple emerges. That’s exactly what I experienced with a small but deeply calming practice I stumbled upon—holding a sip of water in the mouth while meditating. Over time, I noticed that this little act had a profound ability to pull my rising energy down, especially during moments when I felt heavy pressure in the head, stuck in thoughts, or uncomfortable upper body energy that wouldn’t settle.

The idea is extremely simple. Sit calmly with a glass of clean, room-temperature water beside you. Take a small sip—not a mouthful, just enough to comfortably rest in your mouth. Then, gently close your eyes and simply meditate on the presence of water inside your mouth. No breath control, no visualization, no technique—just awareness of the water. Let the breath be fully natural and free.

After a while, you may notice something amazing. Without any force, the body starts responding. Soft, involuntary pulses begin around the lower abdomen. It feels like a gentle version of Kapalbhati Pranayama, but it happens naturally. It’s not a forced kriya, just a downward pull, like the body wants to balance itself. The overcharged head space begins to lighten, the throat relaxes, and you can actually feel energy shifting down toward the navel and below.

One of the best parts is that you don’t have to hold the same sip of water for ten minutes. That would be uncomfortable. Just when the sip feels enough, either swallow or spit it out and take another fresh sip. Keep the cycle going for 5 to 15 minutes, depending on what feels good. It’s totally body-led and effortless. There’s no stress on the mind, no pressure on the stomach, and no disturbance to the breath. The water seems to anchor the mind and body together.

For someone like me, who has experienced occasional GERD or acid-related discomfort, this method came as a relief. Unlike deep breathing techniques or aggressive kriyas, this is safe, cool, and calming. There’s no strain on the diaphragm, no holding of breath, and no reflux triggered. The coolness of the water balances the heat inside, and the grounded awareness pulls prana down from the chest and head. It’s also useful for spiritual practitioners who often experience excess energy in the head after meditation or pranayama. It gently rebalances without any intense effort.

This simple water-holding meditation can be used before sleep, after meals (with a 1–2 hour gap), or anytime when you feel too much mental chatter, pressure in the forehead, or a rising kind of energy that needs settling. But best time is empty stomach immidiately after morning yoga when brain pressure is high, then it lowers excess energy very effectively. It’s safe, soothing, and so intuitive that you might wonder why this hasn’t been talked about more.

A word of caution—use only clean drinking water. Don’t overdo it or hold water too long if you feel uncomfortable. Avoid doing this with a sore throat or if you’re feeling cold. But generally, it’s a harmless, soothing practice that works like a charm when done with quiet awareness.

What began as a random experiment became one of the most grounding techniques in my personal toolkit. It’s not from a book, nor taught in any formal yoga class, but it’s one of the most peaceful meditative hacks I’ve found. Water, attention, and a little bit of stillness — that’s all it takes to reconnect with the body and feel balanced again.

Understanding Ayurvedic Basti: A Gentle Detox Method

Many people hear the word basti and think of it as something complicated or mysterious. Some even think it means sitting in a tub of water and sucking it up through the anus. Others think of it as a type of Ayurvedic enema. The truth is, both ideas are partially correct. But to really understand what basti means, and how it can help you, it’s important to know that there are actually two systems where this word is used — one is Ayurvedic basti and the other is yogic vasti.

In Ayurveda, basti is one of the five main detox methods called Panchakarma. It focuses on cleansing the colon, which Ayurveda considers the home of Vata — the dosha responsible for all kinds of movement in the body and mind. When Vata is out of balance, people can feel anxious, constipated, dry, weak, or restless. Basti helps bring Vata back into balance. There are two types: Niruha basti, which uses a water-based herbal mixture, and Anuvasana basti, which uses warm medicated oil. When done in a small daily dose, the oil-based version is called Matra Basti, and that’s the one most suitable for home use.

Matra Basti is very simple. You warm about 30 to 60 ml of special Ayurvedic oil and insert it into the rectum using a syringe or soft enema bulb. You lie on your left side, bend your right knee, gently insert the nozzle and squeeze. Then you just relax and allow the oil to be absorbed. It doesn’t create an urge to go to the toilet. The oil gets absorbed by the colon and nourishes your nerves, calms your mind, and even improves digestion and sleep. This is a safe, gentle way to maintain health, especially for those who often suffer from constipation, gas, low energy, or stress.

However, it’s important to use clean and safe methods. If the syringe or nozzle is dirty, or if the oil is contaminated or expired, there is a small risk of infection. This is rare, but possible. Infection can also happen if you try basti while having bleeding piles, cuts near the anus, or active infections. To stay safe, always wash your syringe or enema bulb thoroughly with hot water before and after each use. If it’s a reusable one, you can even boil it occasionally. Use oil that is fresh, sealed, and from a reliable brand. Store it in a clean, dry place. Never try basti when you’re running a fever or feeling too weak. And avoid using basti if you have diarrhea or bleeding from the rectum, unless a doctor guides you. Your hands, towel, and the space where you lie down should all be clean. And never share your basti tools with anyone else.

Some people ask if they can use modern disposable enema kits from a medical store for Ayurvedic basti. The answer is yes, you can. Just throw away the chemical solution inside, wash the bottle and nozzle, and fill it with warm Ayurvedic oil. It becomes a perfect tool for doing Matra Basti at home. This is very useful for those who want to avoid full Panchakarma sessions or can’t visit an Ayurvedic clinic often.

Now, here’s where the confusion starts. Some people hear about basti in yoga traditions and think it means sitting in water and sucking it into the anus. That’s actually a different practice called yogic vasti. In this ancient technique, a trained yogi sits in a tub or river and uses abdominal control to suck water into the colon through the rectum. This requires mastery of Nauli, a technique that churns the belly muscles. The water is then expelled after a short time. It’s a deep cleansing kriya and not meant for beginners. It’s rarely practiced today except by highly trained yogis. But since both involve cleansing the colon, the names basti and vasti sometimes get mixed up.

In truth, both Ayurvedic basti and yogic vasti aim to purify the colon and help the body and mind. But their methods are very different. Yogic vasti needs special body control, no tools, and lots of training. Ayurvedic basti uses oils and syringes or enema tools, and is much easier to do regularly at home under some basic guidance. You could say yogic vasti is more like a natural suction method for cleansing, while Ayurvedic basti is more like a healing and nourishing method that also removes toxins.

In fact, it’s surprising that Ayurvedic basti isn’t already sold like allopathic enema kits. There should be a product where you get a bottle of basti oil and a soft reusable syringe in a box. That would make basti simple and accessible for everyone. It would be useful for elders, office workers, women after delivery, people with stress or poor sleep, or anyone feeling dried out and exhausted. Such a product would also save people from relying too much on chemical laxatives or stool softeners.

Some Ayurvedic brands do sell basti oils like Kshirabala or Balashwagandhadi Taila, but you usually have to buy the syringe separately. Still, this is a great way to start. You don’t need to be a yogi or a doctor. Just learn the basics, use clean tools, and follow a gentle approach. The benefits are deeper than just clearing your bowels. People feel grounded, less anxious, and more mentally peaceful after regular Matra Basti.

Another safety point to remember is that basti should not be done immediately after eating. Wait at least two to three hours after a meal. Also, avoid it during your menstrual period or if you’re already weak from illness. Always test the oil’s temperature before use — it should feel warm but not hot. If you ever feel pain, burning, or swelling after basti, stop immediately. And if fever or rectal discomfort appears, consult a doctor. Though such cases are rare, it’s better to be cautious. Basti is very safe when done properly, but as with any healing practice, a little care goes a long way.

To sum it up, basti in Ayurveda and vasti in yoga both have ancient roots and powerful health effects. But for most people today, Matra Basti using warm oil and a syringe is the safest, easiest, and most beneficial version. It can be done at home, especially in the evening, and it supports the nervous system, gut, and mind. If done correctly, it’s deeply healing. Yogic vasti, on the other hand, is more of a rare skill that belongs to advanced spiritual training.

If you’ve ever wondered about basti, or felt confused about the methods, now you know the full picture. With the right oil, a clean syringe, gentle technique, and some care, you can bring this timeless wisdom into your daily life — and experience the calm, clarity, and strength it offers.

Jal Neti vs Sutra Neti: Which is Right for You?

Many people who start yogic cleansing often ask: is Jal Neti enough, or does Sutra Neti have some special benefit? I used to wonder the same. After practicing both and learning from yogic texts and real experiences, here’s what I’ve found, explained in the most down-to-earth way possible.

Jal Neti, the more common method, is done using a Neti pot filled with lukewarm saline water. You tilt your head and pour the water in one nostril, letting it flow out from the other. This cleans out the dust, mucus, and pollution from your nose and sinuses. It’s gentle, easy, and great for everyday use. Especially if you suffer from colds, allergies, or live in a polluted area, Jal Neti can make a big difference. For most people, Jal Neti is fully enough.

Sutra Neti, on the other hand, is more advanced. It involves inserting a thin rubber catheter or medicated thread into one nostril and pulling it out from the mouth. It sounds scary at first, but with proper training, it can deeply clean the nasal passages and sinuses, especially when Jal Neti doesn’t work fully. It’s helpful in chronic sinusitis, nasal blocks, or when you’re into deeper yogic practices. But Sutra Neti is not a daily thing and should only be learned under expert guidance.

So, to put it simply: If you’re doing Neti for regular nasal cleaning or breathing ease, Jal Neti is enough. Sutra Neti is like a specialist tool — only needed when the problem is deeper or if you’re pursuing intense yogic paths.

Tips to Avoid Complications in Both Jal and Sutra Neti

Now, both these practices are powerful, but you must be careful. Here are some simple safety tips that you should never ignore.

For Jal Neti, always use lukewarm sterile water — boiled and cooled. Mix it with non-iodized salt, about half a teaspoon per glass. Lean forward, tilt your head sideways, and let the water flow gently from one nostril to the other. Keep your mouth open and breathe only through your mouth during the process.

The most important step after Neti is drying your nose. If water remains inside, it can lead to infection or a headache. So after Neti, gently blow your nose and do about 30 to 50 rounds of Kapalabhati (fast breathing). It may seem like a small thing, but this step alone saves you from many issues.

For Sutra Neti, never try it on your own the first time. It must be learned from a skilled teacher. The catheter should be smooth and lubricated with edible oil or ghee. Insert slowly, gently pull it through the mouth, and move it back and forth carefully. Don’t do it if you have a nose injury, cold, or recent nasal surgery.

Whether it’s Jal or Sutra Neti, always clean your equipment well and never share it with anyone.

What If You Do Suction Instead of Neti Pot?

Now here’s an interesting thing. Some people (like I did earlier) don’t use a Neti pot but instead suck water from their hand or fist into one nostril and let it flow out from the other or mouth. This method, while practiced by some, is not the safest. It’s often called suction Neti or active Neti.

Though it works for some, it has more risks. It can pull water into your ear tubes (Eustachian tubes), causing ear pain or infections. The suction may irritate your nose lining and cause burning. You must be extremely gentle if using this method. But the safest and most beginner-friendly way is always the gravity-based Neti pot.

What If Ear Infection Happens?

Let’s say you feel pain or pressure in the ear after Neti. Don’t panic — it can happen if water gets into the middle ear due to improper posture or drying.

First, stop Neti practice immediately. Keep your head upright and avoid lying down right away. You can apply a warm compress behind the ear, do gentle jaw movements, or try steam inhalation to relieve pressure. Don’t poke anything into the ear.

If the pain doesn’t go away in a day or two, or if you notice fever or fluid discharge, visit a doctor (preferably an ENT). They might prescribe mild antibiotics, painkillers, or decongestants.

To prevent this in future, always dry your nose properly after Neti and never do it forcefully. Also, avoid it when you have a cold or nasal congestion.

Can I Use Iodized Salt in Jal Neti?

No. Never use iodized table salt in Jal Neti. It can burn, irritate, or inflame your nasal lining. Iodine and anti-caking agents in it are not good for your nose. Instead, use non-iodized rock salt (sendha namak) or pure sea salt. These are natural and gentle.

If you accidentally use iodized salt once or twice, it might just sting a bit. But for regular practice, switch to the correct salt.

Rock Salt vs. Black Salt — Can Both Be Used?

This is another common doubt. Rock salt (sendha namak) is perfect for Jal Neti. It’s clean, unprocessed, and non-iodized. It’s what is traditionally recommended.

Black salt (kala namak) is completely wrong for Neti. It has sulfur, smells like eggs, and can seriously irritate the nose. It’s used in food or for digestion, not nasal cleansing. So always check the label — use only pure rock salt or Neti salt.

So that’s everything you should know — not just about Jal vs. Sutra Neti, but about real-life practice, safety tips, mistakes to avoid, and what to do if something goes wrong.

Jal Neti is a gift from yoga. Done correctly, it clears the mind, purifies the breath, and protects against pollution and sinus troubles. Just practice it with care, patience, and proper knowledge.

All Yoga Is One: From Karma to Hatha to Raja – My Real Experience

For International Yoga Day — by a Seeker

Starting Point

In my youth, I was healthy and mentally curious. After a certain experience, which I later understood was a transient Savikalpa Samadhi, a shimmering image of meditation stayed in my mind. That image remained alive for years and I used it for deep inner nourishment. With that energy, I studied, experimented, and shared spiritual knowledge with others.

At that time, I now feel, I could have gone into Keval Kumbhak and from there to Nirvikalpa Samadhi, if I had focused completely. The inner image was already guiding me. But I got involved in sharing, not settling.

Later Obstacles

Now at this stage of life, GERD, gastric pressure, and mucus buildup in the throat create interruptions in breath. Even if I don’t try to stop the breath, and just sit silently, the breath starts calming down on its own — but a reflex like engulfing mucus or a throat tickle brings breath back. This keeps disturbing the entry into Keval Kumbhak and the stillness needed for Nirvikalpa Samadhi. Though Kunjal is contraindicated in GERD, regular practice from early life may help prevent GERD from developing.

Similarly, Practicing knee-based asanas like Padmasana and Siddhasana from an early age helps keep the knees strong and healthy, preventing age-related weakness and pain that hinder maintaining prolonged asana as needed for nirvikalp samadhi.

This taught me that Hatha Yoga is not optional. It is necessary.

Misreading the Scriptures

In old texts of Hatha Yoga it is written:

“Hatha Yoga is fruitless without Raja Yoga.”

But that sentence has been misunderstood.

People took this to mean that Hatha Yoga is a separate, lower yoga, and Raja Yoga is a different, higher one.

But this is not true.

I now see that:

Hatha Yoga itself becomes Raja Yoga when it matures.

The so-called Raja Yoga — Dharana, Dhyana, Samadhi — arises automatically when the Hatha practices bring breath and body to perfect stillness. They are not two branches, but stages of one path.

Hatha Yoga Leads Honestly

Hatha Yoga is simple and honest.

When you do Shatkarma (cleansing), you can feel the result.
When you do asanas, you know if your spine is straight or not.
When breath slows, it is known directly.

There is no illusion.
There is no imagination.
And if Keval Kumbhak happens even briefly, there is nothing else to believe.

But in many “Raja Yoga” circles, people sit and try to meditate without preparing body and breath. Then they keep thinking they are meditating, but nothing goes on happening. Breath is disturbed. Body is stiff. Samadhi doesn’t happen.

That’s why I now feel:

Even only Hatha Yoga is better than only Raja Yoga.
Because Hatha Yoga eventually gives you real Raja Yoga anyway.

How Karma Yoga Comes First

Before Hatha, Karma Yoga helped me. But I didn’t realize it in words.

I used my own understanding of holographic reality and science based philosophy Sharirvigyan Darshan to approach life nondually.
This gave me a peaceful mind, a natural sense of surrender in action, and a body-breath rhythm that was already inward. I wasn’t reacting too much to success or failure. I stayed calm while doing duties.

Without knowing, this became Karma Yoga.

This helped my posture stay relaxed, and breath stay smooth, even in daily life. It became easier to move into stillness when I sat down for meditation or inner work.

So All These Yogas Are One Ladder

Now I see clearly:

  • Karma Yoga comes first — it calms you in action.
  • Hatha Yoga comes next — it prepares your body and breath.
  • Raja Yoga comes last — it happens on its own when stillness is perfect.

They are not three different paths.
They are one natural unfolding.

Today’s Confusion

Today, Yoga is divided:

  • Some do only asana as fitness.
  • Some do only meditation without body discipline.
  • Some talk only about philosophy.
    But all are incomplete alone.

That’s why many people don’t feel any deep transformation, even after years.

But I feel even if one does basic Karma Yoga and regular Hatha Yoga, stillness will come one day. Raja Yoga will not be needed as a separate practice — it will happen.

What I Suggest Now

For those who want real Yoga:

  • Don’t label the path.
  • Live peacefully with surrender (Karma Yoga will begin).
  • Practice weekly or daily Shatkarma, Asana, gentle Pranayama (Hatha will deepen).
  • Sit without forcing (Raja Yoga will arise).

Let the shimmering meditation image grow silently.
Let breath slow down naturally.

Let Yoga be one, not many.

Final Line

I no longer believe in separating Karma, Hatha, and Raja Yoga.
I feel now that all are steps of the same inner ladder.
I walked it, without planning, and it showed itself as one path.

If I could give one message on this International Yoga Day, it is:

Yoga is not about variety. Yoga is about unity — of body, breath, and awareness.

Everything else is support.

And lastly, don’t forget:
Yoga is the best job — it gives a salary of peace and bliss for limitless time, not like a physical job that pays only for a few decades, at most a hundred years.

Yoga is also the best family — it offers companionship of the Self for eternity, not just for a short human lifespan like a physical family.

✨ So let us all take an oath on this year’s International Yoga Day — to keep Yoga at the very top of our to-do list.
Not just for a day, but for a lifetime.

Yes, don’t forget – one yoga=one health.

Kundalini based cleaning techniques of Hatha Yoga do not mean to clean

Friends, there are many techniques in Hatha Yoga. In Shank Prakshalan, so much water is drunk that the bowel is completely cleaned. In yogic vomiting, the drunk water is pulled back from the stomach and out through the mouth. In Jal Neti, water is drunk from one nostril and taken out through the other nostril. The water in all should be lukewarm and slightly salty. In common language these actions are called cleaning actions, but in reality it is not so. Dirty things are cleaned. Our body is not dirty at all. Removing mucus is called cleansing, but a healthy person produces healthy mucus, which has many benefits for the body. Its coming out should not be called cleansing of the body. Saying this, one does not feel like doing these yogic activities. It seems that we were dirty before and are now being cleaned. I think that the meditation benefit that seems to be gained by taking them out is not from their coming out, but in its absence, from the touch of environmental substances with various body parts. This is a kind of effect like acupressure. When the inner surface of the stomach and intestines becomes bare due to the expulsion of mucus, then the touch of water and food etc. on it works as acupressure. Due to this, the Nadi sensation from their surface reaches the brain and activates it. Similarly, due to mucus coming out from inside the nose, the touch of air on its inner bare surface creates acupressure. Such acu points or Marma points (Sanskrit word for acupoints) are described on the outer surface of the body, but not anywhere on the inner surface. I think this also needs research. Naturally, even after vomiting, diarrhea or cold, one experiences similar freshness and a type of Kundalini samadhi. Probably, these healthy and artificial cleaning techniques have been created by copying them. Perhaps they have been called cleaning because such physical reactions at the time of illness help in cleaning. Because through these activities one feels samadhi i.e. purity of mind, perhaps this might have been confused with the purity of body, because mind and body are interconnected. Because perhaps such diseases arise to give the mind the benefit of samadhi, that is why it would be said that these activities do not let diseases to overcome the body defence. Therefore, in a healthy body their name should be Mind cleaning activities.

Similarly, there is a need for systematic research on Nadi also. If the form of Nadis were only so-called non-physical and subtle, then the Ayurvedic physicians would not have examined the Nadis by holding the wrist of the hand. Of course, we cannot experience the pulse or nerve directly, but we can definitely experience its physical and experiential effects. Its effect on the muscles is in the form of vibration, contraction etc. and its effect on the brain is in the form of thoughts. What is more, the physical functions which we consider to be happening without Nadis i.e. nerves and only under the influence of hormones, are also indirectly done by the influence of these. The hormone or enzymes producing cells are squeezed like a lemon by the power of nerves, due to which these biochemicals come out from inside them. I feel that the electrical line which is felt in the form of Sushumna Nadi from the perineum to the brain, is the vibration of the same which is felt in the form of a line due to the hyperactivity of the spinal cord. It creates vibrations in the form of a line in the spinal cord, and in the brain it is expressed in the form of a very clear, lively and stable mental picture, which is called Samadhi. From these things it seems that the experiential and physical effect of a nerve is called Nadi. Nerve fiber is a physical structure of the physical body, which helps in the transmission of messages in the body. If Nadi transmission is considered completely immaterial or miraculous, the disadvantage would be that man would become indifferent towards the healthy maintenance of his body. He will think that Nadi will become active only with special Sadhana. What happens is that one feels like doing sadhana only when one has a healthy body, and it is successful only with a healthy body.