Category: holographic philosophy

Chapter 10: Death, Memory, and the Holographic Field

Life has a mysterious way of continuing itself. What looks like an end is often only a rearrangement. The tree that falls becomes soil, the flame that dies leaves behind smoke and warmth, and the body that breathes its last turns into earth again. Nothing in existence truly disappears. Matter never dies, atoms never lose their being; they simply change places, alter their bonds, and take on new forms. Death, therefore, is not the destruction of reality but the reshuffling of patterns. The body that is cremated is only a temporary arrangement of atoms and molecules. Fire loosens those arrangements and hands them back to air, earth, and water. The wave collapses from one expression only to rise again in another.

From this understanding, memory itself begins to look different. It no longer seems locked inside the gray folds of the brain alone. There are countless mysterious events where heart transplant recipients reported memories, tastes, or fears belonging to the donors. Science finds it hard to explain how such impressions travel with organs, but the idea of memory being held in fields makes it less strange. It is the electromagnetic field of the heart. The heart creates the strongest field in the body, even more powerful than the brain’s, and it carries patterns that can hold impressions of memory and emotion. When a heart is transplanted, this field may transfer subtle imprints from the donor to the recipient, which explains why some people suddenly feel the donor’s tastes, fears, or memories as their own. Water itself is known to hold patterns, rearranging its structure according to subtle vibrations. If even water, a simple arrangement of hydrogen and oxygen, can keep impressions, then what of the human heart that pulses with electrical rhythm every moment of life? Scientific studies suggest water’s structural “memory” lasts only for seconds to minutes under normal conditions, though some experiments in homeopathy and quantum coherence claim it can persist hours to days if stabilized by external fields or freezing. In simple terms: without preservation, water’s impressions are short-lived, not permanent as those patterns are dynamic and can dissolve or change with new influences. The possibility that memory is a field, not just a circuit in neurons, opens a vast new horizon.

One morning, during a nirvikalp-like dhyana immediately after rising from bed, my attention first concentrated on the Ajna and Sahasrar chakras. Subtle breathing seemed to arise from these centers as the mind waves dissolved into the background of space, leaving a still, expansive awareness. After about an hour, the meditation naturally shifted downward to the heart area. There, a dense darkness was felt, as if heavy emotions had been deeply encoded in that space. Gradually, as these emotions and the associated thoughts emerged into awareness, the dark weight began to ease, and the space in the heart felt lighter. This revealed how even subtle residues of memory and feeling can exist as energetic imprints in the body, quietly influencing awareness until brought gently into consciousness.

Death, in this light, is not erasure but continuity. The ancient thought of rebirth carries the same intuition. The traces of one life do not vanish but remain as subtle vibrational residues. Just as a fragrance lingers in an empty room long after the flower is removed, karmic impressions linger in the field even after the body dissolves. When circumstances ripen, when conditions align, those vibrations may find new soil to sprout again as another life. What is called “self” may not be a solid entity at all but a recurring pattern, rising whenever the field resonates with the right conditions. Means the self is not a fixed solid thing but a shifting pattern that reappears according to thoughts, karmas, and conditions—like a wave that takes different shapes yet belongs to the same field—and that field itself is the Supreme Soul, the unchanging reality from which all selves arise and into which they return. A candle flame passed from one wick to another does not carry the same molecules, but the pattern of fire continues. The one who says “I” may be only a wave-form that can appear again and again.

In a dream visitation, I once met a freshly departed close acquaintance. What appeared was not a body but a presence—waveless darkness, infinite like space yet strangely compressed and localized. It carried a sense that all its lives were recorded there, not as visible waves but as the finest ripples in conscious space, too subtle to be recognized as movement. This gave me the unmistakable feeling that what I encountered was more real and complete than even its time in the living body. Such an encounter reflects how memory and experience may exist as subtle encodings in the very fabric of consciousness itself.

To the ordinary eye, this cycle of arising and vanishing feels dark, frightening, ghostly. Yet in the mystic vision, it is none other than Shiva, the great witness of the cremation ground. The Shmshana Shiva is not merely a deity surrounded by deathly silence; it is the Shiva of Nirvikalpa Samadhi, appearing terrifying only because the ego cannot imagine its own absence. What the layman sees as a fearful god of the funeral pyre is, for the awakened, the supreme stillness beyond form. The cremation ground is nothing but the mind’s final surrender, where the false self is burnt away and only pure awareness remains.

This play of rising and falling is mirrored even in the breath. In the morning, with an empty stomach, prana naturally moves upward, light and clear, ready for meditation. In the evening, after meals, apana dominates, pulling downward in its grounding movement. Breath is not a simple inhaling and exhaling of oxygen but a wave that reflects the entire rhythm of existence. Particles themselves run in a wave-like fashion of probability because they emerged from energy that is wave in nature. God is wave, Om is wave, breath is wave. Rising to a peak, falling to the base, sinking into a negative trough of destruction, then again creation beginning, the cycle of nature follows the same undulation. To contemplate the breath is to contemplate Om, the eternal vibration of God.

Even the human attempt to understand the body at the deepest level follows this wave-like adventure. In early stages, my awakening came through body-based Sharirvigyan Darshan, through direct physical and spiritual experimentation. Yet the same awakening can also be glimpsed through the lens of quantum science. For if whatever is in awareness at any moment is reflected in every cell of the body as per Sharirvigyan Darshan, then naturally the same principle extends to every atom in the cosmos as per Quantum science philosophy, since each atom too carries the imprint of the whole. Every atom of the body is not just matter but a miniature cosmos, thinking as probability distributions and deciding reality as collapses. If every atom carries this mystery, then the human itself is a walking quantum experiment, unfolding wave into particle at each decision, each thought, each action.

Atoms, though appearing silent, perform their roles with precision. In the air, atoms remain mobile, constantly moving, their wave-nature decohering into the simple expression of free motion. Yet hidden within that motion is the entire spectrum of possibilities their quantum nature holds. A stone, on the other hand, seems fixed and unmoving, its atoms bound tightly in a lattice. But even here, at the heart of stillness, the atoms vibrate, whispering with suppressed possibilities. Physics confirms that every atom, whether roaming in air or locked in stone, carries a wave-function of countless options—though only one expression is allowed to shine forth in the visible world, while the rest remain folded in silence. Inside an atom, the probabilities of many quantum particles overlap and interfere, weaving into a far more intricate pattern than any single particle alone. This combined wavefunction is what gives atoms their unique shapes, shells, and behaviors. Humans are no different. Within lies the field of all possibilities, but only one expression appears as practical reality at a given moment, shaped by circumstances and conditions.

Just as a quantum particle has fixed traits like mass or charge that do not change, so a human being carries fixed aspects like the body and general personality. Yet there are also shifting properties—energy, mood, thought, momentum—that remain in a kind of superposition, open to change until collapsed into one choice by the movement of life. The mind itself resembles this quantum dance, hovering in possibilities until crystallized into a single perception or decision.

The breath again reveals the secret of this dance. When the amplitude of its up-down wave merges into a central point at a chakra, the feeling arises of breath cessation—Keval Kumbhak. In that state, there is no mental formation. For a quantum particle too, the probability at zero amplitude is zero. At this still point, mind and world dissolve into nothingness. As amplitude grows again, the world reappears, just as thought and perception bloom back into being after the pause of Samadhi. This very rhythm echoes the Orch-OR theory, which holds that mind itself is the collapse of quantum particles in microtubules of the brain. Yet the collapse never lands on the zero amplitude itself; it always arises at some non-zero state. That is why in Samadhi, there is still existence but no sense of mind—because the probability rests at the silent node of the wave.

The human body is not only made of matter but also of energy, memory, and possibility. Death is not the final end but a doorway. Memories are never fully lost; they remain imprinted in the deeper field of life. The deeper field of life points to something larger: the universal field of consciousness or energy where both personal and cosmic memories are imprinted. The subconscious is like one person’s private notebook, while the deeper field of life is like the universal library where every life, memory, and pattern is recorded. Each life is like a wave that rises again from the hidden movements of earlier waves on the deeper field of life. Just as every piece of a hologram contains the whole picture, every cell in the body reflects the whole person, and every atom carries the song of the universe.

One who understands this does not see death as an ending but as a doorway. Cremation ground or graveyard, morning prana or evening apana, rising wave or falling trough—all are expressions of the same eternal pulse. Existence breathes itself in and out, collapses itself into forms, releases itself into silence, only to start again. The mystery of memory, rebirth, karma, and the holographic field is not a puzzle to be solved but a song to be heard.

Standing at the boundary of life and death, science and spirituality, matter and consciousness, the vision opens. The self is no longer a fixed identity but a pattern woven from waves, rising, collapsing, arising again. Death then becomes less frightening, for it is not erasure but return to the great wave, waiting to be expressed once more. Memory is not just ours but part of a shared field, carried forward and echoed across lives and forms.

The adventure of understanding life does not stop here. If the body holds the whole cosmos inside, then looking within is also seeing beyond. Death, memory, wave, collapse—these are not endings but doorways. And through them, the human spirit continues its journey, shimmering like a wave, never ceasing, always becoming.

The Dual Nature of the Soul: A Reflection of Matter’s Duality

In this regard, I find the dual nature of matter or particle very interesting. When we look at the finite particle nature, the infinite wave nature abolishes. It seems as if infinite space gets localized at a point space. When we observe its wave nature, the particle nature collapses. It means we cannot observe both natures together. These are completely contrasting to each other, and yet, they are two aspects of the same reality. This mysterious behavior is not just a property of physical matter but hints at something deeper, something metaphysical.

A similar phenomenon seems to happen with the soul or consciousness. When we observe the particle-like world inside the soul deeply with attachment, its infinite nature collapses into a localized experience. Our awareness shrinks down to the level of the senses, the ego, and the personal story. We get entangled in the world, and the vastness of consciousness becomes hidden.

On the other hand, when we try to see the infinite sky-like nature of the soul through yoga, meditation, or inner stillness, the localized experience collapses. The senses become secondary, the ego fades, and the experience of the infinite opens up again. It seems that we cannot observe both natures together deeply with attachment because both are completely opposite to each other. This is exactly why the seers have been saying since ages that the world and God cannot be enjoyed together. We have to leave one to get the other. It is the dual nature of the soul, just like the dual nature of matter. The way of seeing determines what reveals itself.

If we assume the particle to be the worldly experience, and the wave to be the pure soul, the analogy becomes clear. The particle is the personal story, the wave is the infinite being. If one has not dissolved all sanskaric imprints in this lifetime through yoga, meditation, or inner purification, then these impressions remain buried as encoded memories on the soul even after death. The soul continues to observe or experience these localized imprints, because the attachments and tendencies are not dissolved.

According to this understanding, it becomes natural to conclude that the soul will not experience its limitless self-nature in such a state. Its infiniteness will be veiled, although it will still be the same pure space as the soul itself. The difference is only in the covering, the veiling caused by impressions.

In this way, space or sky becomes of two types:

  1. One is the unveiled pure space, where the consciousness is free and expansive.
  2. The other is the veiled impure space, where consciousness is dimmed and clouded by sanskaric burdens.

Although both are having consciousness, the extent differs like sky and earth. That veiled space is called jada (inert or unconscious) by common people, although it is not fully jada, but having a very faint consciousness, varying according to the burden of imprints.

This understanding reveals a deep truth: the dual nature of soul is not different from the dual nature of matter. It is the same space, the same consciousness, but the way of seeing changes everything.

Chapter 4: The Body’s Mirror – Inside the Atom(Structure and Function Parallels)

When we left the last chapter, a strange but exciting possibility opened up—
Can the entire human body fit inside an atom?
And we saw, with childlike wonder and deep scientific insight, that it not only can—it already does.

Not in a solid, visible way. But in a subtle, energetic, holographic way.

Just like a tree already lives inside its seed in a hidden form, the entire human being lives inside the atom—not as a full-grown body, but as a blueprint, a design, a vibrational possibility. And just like the seed grows into a tree, the atom evolves into cells, tissues, organs, and finally into us.

But this brings us to a fascinating question:

If atoms already carry the human inside them, do they also function like the body?
Is it just a structural similarity? Or do both the atom and the body actually do the same things in their own scale?

Let’s explore. But not like a boring textbook. Let’s walk together like curious children exploring a hidden ancient cave—with wonder, joy, and awe.

The Hidden Map: Body and Atom Side by Side

The human body has many organs and systems—brain, heart, blood, skeleton, DNA…
The atom has parts too—nucleus, electrons, orbitals, energy levels, vibration…

Let’s look at them side by side.
You’ll start seeing something truly magical.

Brain and Nucleus: The Command Center

Our brain is the control tower of the body. It processes everything—thoughts, emotions, signals. It decides what to do and when to do it. It’s the most complex machine in the known universe.

Now look at the atom.
Right at its center lies the nucleus—a tiny, dense heart of energy.
It decides the identity of the atom just as our brain decides our personality. Whether it’s hydrogen, oxygen, carbon—it’s the nucleus that decides. It controls the atom’s stability, behavior, and power. The nucleus, made of protons and neutrons, is the atom’s core. The number of protons defines the element—1 for hydrogen, 6 for carbon, 8 for oxygen. If the nucleus becomes too heavy or unbalanced, the atom turns unstable or radioactive, sometimes releasing enormous energy. Similarly, the human brain is the control center of personality and function. When the brain is overloaded or imbalanced, it can lead to a crash in personality, much like how an unstable nucleus causes atomic breakdown. Both are small cores with massive influence.

So just like the brain gives order to the body, the nucleus gives structure and energy to the atom.

They are mirrors of each other—one at the macro level, one at the micro.

Heart and Nucleus Again: The Source of Power

The heart beats and pumps blood. It creates rhythm and flow, keeping every part of the body alive. Its beat is our life’s background music.

In the atom, the nucleus is also the source of immense power. In fact, nuclear energy is the strongest known force in nature—millions of times stronger than the chemical energy in bonds.

So while the heart pumps blood to sustain the body, the nucleus holds energy—compressed, stable, and immensely powerful. It’s this concentrated energy at the core that gives electrons the force to move in their orbits, much like how the heart drives life through circulation. The nucleus may sit quietly at the center, but it fuels the entire atomic structure, just as the heart silently powers the entire body.

Both sit silently at the center.
Both keep everything else alive.
Both beat—one with sound, one with silence.

Blood, Nerves and Electron Flow: Movement and Messages

Our blood flows endlessly through a vast network of veins and arteries, delivering oxygen, nutrients, hormones, and waste—sustaining not just individual cells but the entire body. Alongside this, our nervous system fires rapid electrical signals between the brain and body, coordinating every movement, reflex, and thought. These two systems—circulatory and nervous—are the main lifelines of the body. They ensure that every part remains nourished, aware, and responsive.

Now shift to the atomic scale. Inside every atom, a similar dual dynamic is at play. Electrons, tiny charged particles, spin and shift through orbits and clouds, never still. They jump between energy levels, carrying not just electric charge, but also light, interaction, and the possibility of bonding. In the same way, refreshed circulation brings a glow to the face and positively modulates interactions with people in society. Electrons carry light by emitting or absorbing photons during energy jumps, and carry interaction by enabling chemical bonds and mediating electromagnetic forces. Just as blood flows through vessels, electrons flow through defined paths—and just as the body depends on blood flow for life, the atom depends on the movement of electrons. If electrons stopped or spiraled into the nucleus, the atom would collapse—its structure gone, its function lost.

Just as nerve signals generate electric fields in our body, electrons produce electric and magnetic fields around the atom. Just as nerve signals command the body on how to move, react, or feel, moving electrons guide the atom—determining which other atoms to interact with and which to ignore, by shaping the atom’s electric field and bonding behavior. Just as blood pulses rhythmically, electrons flow in patterns that drive chemical reactions and energy transfer. These patterns determine whether atoms link together, repel each other, or light up the world.

In this way, the life inside us—the flowing of blood, breath, and signals—is mirrored by the life within atoms, where electrons dance and communicate through fields and flows. Movement gives purpose. Flow creates connection. Whether in the vast body or the tiniest atom, everything is motion, everything is message.

Skeleton and Electron Shells: Structure and Stability

Just as the skeleton gives the body its shape, support, and movement, holding all parts in place and allowing them to work together, electron orbitals give the atom its structure and behavior. The skeleton decides how the body stands, moves, and stays connected; likewise, electron orbitals decide how atoms bond, fit together, and form molecules. Without the skeleton, the body would collapse—just as without orbitals, atoms wouldn’t know how to connect or create anything. Both are invisible frameworks that hold form and enable function.

If electron shells were chaotic, not rigid like skelton, no atoms would hold. No molecules, no matter, no life. Their stability allows the universe to have form.

So just as bones are invisible under the skin but hold the body,
electron shells are invisible structures that hold all creation.

DNA and Atomic Code: Memory and Design

Every living cell has DNA—a twisted spiral of information.
It tells each cell what to become—eye, skin, heart, or brain.

But what is DNA made of? Molecules.
And what are molecules? Arrangements of atoms.

Which means the real memory is stored in how atoms sit next to each other.
How they bond, vibrate, and form structures.
The vibration and pattern is the real code.

Even the spiral shape of DNA comes from atomic geometry. The spiral shape of DNA, known as the double helix, is not random—it arises from the way atoms are arranged and bonded within the molecule. The angles at which atoms bond, the electron orbitals, and the repulsion between electrons all influence the overall 3D shape. The atomic geometry—how atoms naturally prefer to sit in space—causes the DNA strands to twist into a spiral. So, the elegant spiral form of DNA is a direct result of the geometrical rules of atoms at the tiniest level.

So in a way, atoms are carrying vibrational memory. Yes, in a way, atoms do carry vibrational memory—though not like human memory, it’s a kind of energetic imprint. Atoms and molecules constantly vibrate, and these vibrations depend on their structure, bonds, and energy levels. When atoms absorb energy, they vibrate differently, and that vibration can influence how they interact with other atoms or molecules. In complex molecules like proteins or DNA, these vibrations can even affect biological behavior and information transfer. So, while atoms don’t “remember” like a brain, their vibrational patterns reflect their past interactions and current state—a kind of memory stored in motion, shaping how they behave next.
The entire body’s design is encoded in how atoms behave.

It’s not magic. It’s vibration, pattern, and harmony. Means that the complex beauty we see in nature—from the shape of a snowflake to the spiral of DNA or the rhythm of a heartbeat—is not due to something mystical, but to the natural laws of physics and chemistry. At the atomic and molecular level, everything vibrates—atoms, bonds, and particles move in tiny, rhythmic motions. These vibrations follow specific patterns, governed by energy, structure, and interaction. When these patterns align in a balanced and organized way, they create harmony—leading to stability, form, and function in everything from crystals to living organisms. So, what may appear magical is actually the elegant dance of vibrations following natural laws—a universe built on rhythm, not randomness.

Breathing, Thinking, Feeling – Is the Atom Doing It Too?

Now comes the fun part.
You may ask: Okay, atoms have structure like the body. But do they also breathe? Think? Feel?

Let’s see:

Breathing?
Atoms constantly vibrate. That vibration is like their breath.
More energy, faster vibration. Less energy, slower.
This is the rhythm of life at the tiniest level.

Circulating?
Electrons are always moving. They never sit still.
They flow, jump, tunnel, interact. This is circulation at the atomic scale.

Thinking?
Our thoughts are electrical signals in neurons.
At base, they are movements of ions—charged atoms. Our thoughts are the result of electrical signals traveling through neurons in the brain. At the most basic level, these signals are created by the movement of ions—which are atoms or molecules that carry an electric charge. For example, when you think, neurons open tiny gates in their membranes that allow charged ions like sodium (Na⁺), potassium (K⁺), and calcium (Ca²⁺) to move in and out. This flow of ions creates tiny electrical currents, which travel along the neuron and send messages to other neurons. So, beneath every emotion, memory, or idea is the simple motion of charged atoms—thoughts begin with the physics of moving particles.

And inside atoms, electrons also jump and release energy.
This quantum jump is mysterious—it happens instantly. No travel, no in-between.
It’s not “thinking” like humans do, but it behaves like flashes of choice. Just as electrons gain or lose energy by jumping between orbitals—absorbing energy to move to a higher level and releasing energy when dropping to a lower one—the human body also experiences energy shifts. When we’re uplifted—through joy, love, or positive experiences—it’s like electrons absorbing energy, rising to a higher energetic state. And when we’re grounded—through rest, nature, or emotional release—it’s like electrons releasing excess energy, returning to a more stable, balanced level.

In both cases, whether in atoms or the body, energy flows in steps, not randomly. These jumps create change, spark reactions, and maintain harmony. Energy in, energy out—it’s how both electrons and humans stay in balance.

So what is the body doing… that the atom isn’t?

Surprisingly—nothing.

Every action in the body is an advanced version of what atoms already do.

The body is the orchestra.
The atom is the original note.

The Illusion of “I Am Doing” – A Deeper Realization

Here’s where the mystery deepens.

We often say:
“I am breathing.”
“I am thinking.”
“I am walking.”

But let’s pause. Are we really doing these things?

The heart beats on its own.
The lungs breathe even when we sleep.
The brain thinks without our permission.
Even digestion, healing, and movement happen naturally.

So who is this “I” that claims to be doing?

Most of the time, the body runs on its own. Just like an atom doesn’t try to spin—it just does.
There is no manager inside the atom. No ego. No “doer.”

In the same way, the body doesn’t need an ego to function.
It already knows what to do—just like the atom.

The sense of doership is like a story we add on top of what is already happening.
The body is moving. The breath is flowing. The mind is thinking.
But “I am doing” is just a caption, not the photo itself.

When this is deeply seen, a strange peace enters.
The burden drops. Life feels lighter.
You stop trying to control everything. You start to trust the process.

The body is not your slave.
It is a part of nature, just like wind, fire, or stars.

You are not a fragment, you are a portal — a window through which the atom is looking at itself as a full-grown universe. Means that you, as a conscious being, are not just a small piece of the universe—you are a gateway of awareness through which the universe can perceive and reflect upon itself. At the core, your body and mind are made of atoms, just like everything else in the cosmos. But through consciousness, those atoms have formed something extraordinary—you, a being capable of self-awareness, wonder, and understanding.

So rather than being just a tiny, separate fragment of existence, you are like a lens or opening through which the vast universe—built from atoms—is able to experience itself as something whole, intelligent, and alive. The same particles that make up stars, galaxies, and oceans are now, through you, thinking, feeling, and observing. Before you, they were blindly making things up, unaware of the actual facts and processes.

It’s not poetic exaggeration—it’s a profound truth of existence: the universe, through you, becomes aware of itself.

The Final Glimpse: Body and Atom Are One Journey

So what have we seen?

We’ve seen that the atom and the body are not separate things.
They are reflections of the same pattern, at different scales.

The atom is the seed.
The body is the tree.
But the code is the same.

Everything you see in your body — breathing, thinking, moving, feeling — is already present in subtle form inside each atom.

The body is not made of atoms.
The body is an atom, unfolded.

This is the beauty of creation—the small and the large are not opposites but echoes of the same sound, reflections of one reality.

The atom is alive. The body is alive.
And through both, you — the awareness behind all this — are watching it all happen.

The purpose is not to control it, but to marvel at it—to witness the harmony of creation, where small and large are echoes of the same truth, flowing effortlessly from one source, the endless and self-aware space.

So next time you breathe…
remember — even the atom is breathing with you.

And that is the science of the Self.

Chapter 3: Can a Whole Body Fit Inside an Atom?

In the last chapter, we asked: if the entire universe is a holographic projection, then who is observing this cosmic screen?

That question is not separate from science. It’s the very heart of it.

Everything we see — the planets, the people, the pain, the play — all of it might be appearing on a kind of invisible surface, just like a 3D movie on a flat cinema screen. But unless someone is watching that screen, the movie doesn’t truly exist. So the most important question isn’t about how the movie appears, but who is sitting in the audience — silently witnessing the show.

This witness is not your eyes. Not your brain. It is the soul — the spacious, aware presence behind all perception. And it is not passive. It does something magical. It translates a flat image into a living, breathing experience.

That’s why we don’t just see shapes and colours. We feel love. We feel distances. We experience space. Why? Because the soul itself is not flat. It is three-dimensional space, infinite, silent, conscious — and from it, all volume and depth arise.

The brain helps process signals, but the soul gives depth to reality. Without it, everything would be flat and meaningless. That’s the secret behind our experience of life as a deep, vast, unfolding mystery.

This insight also helps us approach the central question of this chapter — can a whole body fit inside an atom?

At first glance, it sounds ridiculous. Our body has bones, skin, blood, thoughts, breath — how can all of that fit inside something smaller than a speck of dust?

But if you look deeper, you’ll discover a quiet miracle. Every cell of your body carries the entire blueprint of your form — your DNA. And DNA itself is smaller than what we can imagine, yet it contains everything — your eye shape, your voice, your sleep patterns, your tendencies. And DNA is made of atoms.

So, in a simple yet astonishing truth — your entire body is already folded inside the atom. Not physically, but informationally. Like a movie is stored inside a memory chip, your whole being is encoded inside the atomic architecture of your cells.

And the more we understand information, the more we realise that information doesn’t need volume. It only needs pattern. A single holographic pixel can carry the image of the whole — and this is true not just of science, but of our very existence.

In ancient Yogic vision, this was never news. The Rishis saw that the subtle body (sukshma sharira) holds the full record of all our lifetimes — not just the current one. These records aren’t written in ink, but in subtle ripples — samskaras — which move through our soul-space like gravitational impressions.

These ripples don’t die when the body dies. They stay. They vibrate quietly in the background of consciousness, waiting for conditions to rise again. Just like ripples in space don’t disappear after a star collapses — they stretch as gravitational waves, holding memory across eternity.

This means the human soul is a personal holographic space, containing subtle ripples, vibrational patterns, and emotional waves from countless lives. It is like a microcosmic version of the cosmos. And these ripples are held by prana — the subtle life force, just as in the universe, cosmic prana may be holding all gravitational memory after the end of galaxies.

So what scientists now begin to say — that the universe stores its history as stable gravitational waves — was already intuited by ancient seers. Our individual soul-space is a smaller echo of cosmic space — each carrying memory, pattern, and subtle desire. The universe is the macro-soul. We are its holographic reflections.

And now I must tell you something that confirmed this to me beyond theory.

I once had a powerful experience — a visitation in a dream — of a freshly departed soul. But it didn’t appear merely as the person I knew in this life; it was much more than that. It came as a deeply encoded field of identity. It felt like the average of all its lifetimes, distilled into a single compact vibration — heavy and dark, but not in an evil sense. More like dense light wrapped in darkness, or a sacred knot of memory — a concentrated bundle of impressions woven from countless experiences, identities, and emotions across time. It wasn’t chaotic, but felt intentionally held together, like a spiritual DNA preserving the soul’s essence. Sacred, because it bore the silent weight of eons — yet still a knot, because it hadn’t fully unraveled into freedom.

It was alive — more alive than ever, in a strange and quiet way. Yet I could see that its soul-space was compressed. It wasn’t empty, but it was concealing its personal identity within itself, folding inward like a lotus closed at night. Its core felt heavy, as if burdened by unresolved identity — by samskaras carried across eons. Simply put, or in a nutshell, it was like a space filled with complete darkness, yet invisibly encoding an individual identity within. Because of this encoding, I could unmistakably feel it as that same individual — fully alive — even though nothing was present except sheer, expansive darkness and silence. It was an astonishing kind of encoding. Perhaps it is akin to subtle gravitational ripples in space.

It was not tortured, but it was not free. Its experiential light — its vastness, its bliss, its clarity — was present, yet covered, veiled, or diminished. It appeared lesser than the state of a living human body. Had it appeared more — more radiant, more open — it would have been recognized as liberated. Though it believed itself to be liberated, this belief was shaped by illusion and carried a subtle doubt. It even asked me to confirm its liberation, but I denied. That subtle compression of soul-space — that invisible binding — was its true suffering. It didn’t recognize it as suffering, but I did. A man who has lived in a well for eons cannot know what lies beyond, but someone outside the well can see it — and point toward the truth. It wasn’t pain in the usual sense, but rather the quiet ache of being less than what one truly is — that is, absolute.

In that moment, I understood something profound — liberation is simply the release of these samskaras. It is the melting away of these inner gravitational waves. Liberation is not the end of life, but the end of compression. One may be sitting in a cave yet still be bound and compressed by samskaras, while another, even as a king amidst the world, may be entirely free of such compressions.

Just as a black hole may one day dissolve its trapped information into open space again, the bound soul too can release its encoded ripples and return to satchitananda — being, consciousness, and bliss — in their natural, free, shining form.

So what does this say about the universe?

The scriptures say even Brahma, the cosmic creator, has a lifespan. When the cosmic play ends, even he dissolves. But just like a soul, Brahma doesn’t vanish. He merges into infinite stillness — into Brahman, the pure, ripple-free field.

This is Mahapralaya — the Great Dissolution. But it’s not destruction. It is deep sleep. And from that silent space, one day, a new Brahma emerges — and with him, a new universe, a new screen, a new holograph.

Why? Because the infinite never runs out of potential. It doesn’t need desire to create. It simply flowers.

And so it is with you. When your samskaras melt, when your inner ripples calm, when your soul becomes like clear, still space — you don’t vanish. You shine. You become the screen and the observer — at once.

So yes — a whole body can fit inside an atom. Because the body is not merely flesh and bone; it is a vibration, a subtle blueprint, a densely compressed field of infinite memory and possibility. What we perceive as the physical body is only the outermost layer. At its core, it is energy — encoded with the entire history of one’s being across lifetimes — all folded into a single point of consciousness, much like how a vast hologram can be stored in a tiny fragment of space. Just as the energies and impressions of infinite lifetimes can remain encoded in the soul, the same kind of encoding can be stored within the space bound by the boundary of an atom. In that minuscule realm, unimaginable depth and memory can reside, hidden yet alive. Just as the portion of infinite space within the human head can hold unlimited energy patterns as encoded impressions, then why can’t the part of infinite space bound within an atom also hold the same — the energy patterns of a human, or even of the entire cosmos? It is not a matter of size; it is a matter of structure — of holography. In a holographic reality, the whole is reflected in every part. So even the smallest boundary, like that of an atom, can encode the vastness of existence within it.

And inside that atom — there may be a holograph of not just your form, but of your past, your future, and the entire cosmos.

You are not a fragment — not a broken or isolated piece of existence. You are a portal: a living doorway through which the infinite expresses itself. You do not merely belong to the universe; the universe flows through you. Within you lies access to all dimensions of being — from the deepest silence to the highest awareness. You are not a small part of reality; you are the point where reality opens, unfolds, and becomes self-aware.

You are not inside space. Space is inside you.

And the one watching all this — the one reading these words now — is not a character on the screen. It is the eternal observer, patiently waiting for you to remember:

You were never just the story.
You were the light behind it all.

Individual Soul as Space — Ripples, Prana, and Cosmic Memory

I’ve been deeply fascinated by the idea that the information of a lifetime doesn’t just vanish after death. Instead, it remains as imprints — subtle and stable — like ripples frozen in space. These ripples, I feel, are what the Yogic tradition calls the Sukshma Sharira, the subtle body. Even Patanjali’s definition of Yoga as Chitta Vritti Nirodha — the cessation of the mind’s modifications — is essentially about dissolving these exact ripples. Once they dissolve, the space-like soul becomes fully pure again — free, mindless, and liberated. These ripples are what cover the natural infinity, knowledge, and bliss that is the nature of the soul. The more ripples there are, the more limited and distorted the experience becomes. Interestingly, I’m seeing scientists talk similarly about the physical universe — how ripples in space-time, like gravitational waves, store information and preserve memory of cosmic events. The parallel feels profound.

I asked myself — can this insight be translated into something structured and communicable? A diagram perhaps? And yes, the core idea is that in both ancient yogic philosophy and modern physics, ripples hold memory. In the human soul, they’re subtle thoughts and impressions. In the cosmos, they’re gravitational or quantum ripples. When they’re stilled, either through deep meditation or natural cosmic stillness, what remains is pure being.

Then came a deeper insight. Just like the human soul stores the mental formations in its subtle layers and carries them forward, could the universe itself — after its death — retain its memory in the form of stable gravitational waves? Could these waves be like the soul’s sanskaras? This would mean that the universe, too, is reborn with characteristics similar to what it previously held — just as a human being is reborn with a tendency pattern from earlier lives. It seemed clearer now: both the human and the cosmos are memory-bearing entities. In humans, that memory is preserved in the subtle pranic structure. In the cosmos, that memory is stored in the fabric of space-time itself.

But the pattern doesn’t stop there. Just as the human soul is sustained by prana — the subtle life force — even after death, that prana does not perish. It stays in an unmanifest form, sustaining the subtle impressions or ripples. So, shouldn’t cosmic prana also survive after the death of the universe? It makes sense to think that the pranic energy of the cosmos — perhaps what science refers to as dark energy or vacuum energy — doesn’t disappear. Instead, it sustains the subtle ripples in the vastness of space. The same mechanism seems to repeat: subtle energy sustains subtle form, whether in the microcosm of a soul or the macrocosm of a universe.

This led to a bigger question — if the human soul can be liberated by dissolving its ripples, what about the cosmic soul? Can Brahma — the creator — be liberated? And if yes, does that liberation happen after many cycles of creation and destruction as the scriptures say? The answer in traditional cosmology is yes. Even Brahma, after living a span of unimaginable length and creating countless universes, ultimately merges into Brahman — the absolute. Just like the individual soul, Brahma too is not absolutely free until the very last ripple is stilled — when even the desire to create dissolves. This is the true Mahapralaya — the final dissolution, not just of matter and space, but of all mental intention, even divine ones.

This brings up an essential doubt. If Brahma — the cosmic mind — is liberated, then how can a new universe emerge again? Isn’t the story over? But the scriptures and philosophies say that the play is beginningless and endless. Even after the dissolution, the potential remains in Brahman. A new Brahma arises — not from karmic bondage, but spontaneously — from the freedom of infinite stillness. It’s a divine pulse, a self-expression, not a necessity. In the same way that waves naturally arise from still water without any karma, a new cosmos arises from the infinite potential of Brahman.

This aligns with some scientific models too. Quantum field theory tells us that the vacuum is never empty — it always retains the potential for particles, energy, even new universes to emerge. Some cosmologists believe that universes are cyclic — they collapse, leave an imprint, and then arise again. So the philosophical and scientific views seem to be converging on this one mysterious truth: nothing ever truly begins, and nothing ever truly ends.

And then came perhaps the most integrated insight of all. If the human soul is carrying ripples, and the universe is carrying ripples, then maybe the soul isn’t just a “drop of consciousness” — maybe it’s a space unto itself. A localized field. An individual bubble of space-time carrying its own gravitational ripples (samskaras), sustained by its own dark energy (subtle prana). This would mean that the individual soul is nothing fundamentally different from the cosmic soul — just a localized, individualized expression. It’s the same ocean appearing as a unique wave. The same infinite field, just folded into a personal experience. The Sukshma Sharira becomes a field space — full of memory (ripples), energy (prana), and consciousness (Atman) — just like the universe.

This realization made everything fit. In science, the holographic principle tells us that each part of space contains the whole. In Vedanta, Atman is Brahman — the soul is not different from the whole. The soul becomes bounded not because it is lesser, but because it identifies with its ripples. And liberation — for both the Jiva and Brahma — is the return to boundary-less awareness. The field collapses into itself. No more ripples, no more time, no more cycles. Just the infinite, again.

And yet — from that infinite, new ripples arise. A new soul, a new Brahma, a new universe. The play never ends.

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.

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.

How I Let Worldly Thoughts Dissolve into the Self: A Simple Meditation That Changed Everything

One quiet realization changed the way I see thoughts, emotions, and even my meditation image. It wasn’t a dramatic shift, nor did it come from complex techniques. It came naturally while observing my emotional states and attempting to overlay them on my body and the cosmos — through what I understand as a kind of holographic “Sharirvigyan Darshan.”
The Surprising Disappearance of Thought and Emotion
Whenever I tried to project my emotional status — such as anxiety, excitement, or calm — across my bodily field and cosmic expanse in a meditative way, something mysterious yet profoundly simple would occur. All the thoughts and emotional movements that had initially felt heavy or important would vanish. What remained was a pure, neutral existence. Not sorrow, not joy. Not light, not dark. Just a quiet satisfaction.
It wasn’t a void. It was presence — silent, still, and self-sufficient.
Sometimes, in this stillness, a soft, subtle meditation image would arise. This image held no extremes — it wasn’t smiling or crying. It simply carried a balanced, blissful neutrality. A kind of inward smile that radiated peace but didn’t demand attention. It was not exaggerated in beauty or emotion, yet it felt complete. Whole.
What This Experience Taught Me
One insight became clear: when I pray or wish something in the public interest while the meditation image is present, it feels like I’m praying directly to pure existence itself. And astonishingly, this feels very effective — not just in wish fulfillment, but in spiritual alignment.
Then I realized something deeper. It seems nearly impossible to reach this pure state — the Self — directly, bypassing thoughts and emotions. These worldly movements, instead of being distractions, began to feel like reminders, as if they were hinting toward the deep satisfaction already available in the Self.
So I stopped treating them as problems. I began using them.
The Turning Point: Using Thoughts as a Bridge to the Self
Instead of trying to silence my mind forcibly, I let it play. I observed. Then, I gently overlaid whatever was arising — be it thought, worry, hope, or desire — onto this cosmic body view. First on body as it’s whole cosmos nearest to us, then extending it to the external cosmos as both types of cosmos being continuous and connected. As I did, the emotion would no longer feel like mine. It would stretch and dissolve into that larger field. And once again, that same still satisfaction would emerge.
This wasn’t emotional suppression. This was transformation — transmutation.
Why This Matters To Me
I haven’t attained the peak of enlightenment or Nirvikalpa Samadhi — far from it. But these moments, where thoughts dissolve into presence, have taught me something extremely valuable: the path to the Self doesn’t always mean denying the world. It might mean including it — then gently returning it to the Source.
This approach doesn’t feel like effort. It feels natural, even beautiful.
And maybe this is what spiritual maturity actually is — not the absence of thoughts or emotions, but knowing where to let them go.
Final Reflections
This isn’t about showing spiritual superiority. I am still discovering, still refining, still returning. But this small inner shift — from resisting worldly movement to softly offering it — has brought me a satisfaction I couldn’t forcefully reach before.
If you’re someone who finds meditation difficult because of your busy mind, try not to fight it. Offer it.
And let yourself be surprised by the peace that was waiting all along.