Category: Kundalini awakening (full Samadhi)

Chapter 35: bhaya emotion in quantum world

The six fundamental emotional movements—Kāma, Krodha, Lobha, Moha, Mada, and Mātsarya—are not isolated states but root currents of consciousness. From these arise countless secondary and tertiary emotions, just as a single tree gives rise to many branches. Bhaya (fear), for example, does not exist independently; it emerges as a derivative expression when these primary forces remain unresolved or imbalanced. In the same way, the vast complexity of human emotional life can be traced back to varied combinations and distortions of these six foundational movements.

Fear arises when consciousness contracts from infinity into the illusion of separateness — and the quantum world offers perfect parallels for this contraction.

Bhaya (Fear) — Quantum Analogy

In human beings, fear is the vibration of insecurity that comes when we sense loss of control, separation from the whole, or threat to identity.
In the quantum world, this is mirrored by systems that resist uncertainty, collapse potential, or shield themselves from exposure to the infinite wave of possibilities.

Analogy 1 — Wavefunction Collapse (Fear of Uncertainty)

In the quantum domain, every particle exists as a probability wave — open, free, infinite in potential.
But the moment an observer measures it, the wave collapses into a single fixed state.
This collapse is the quantum reflection of fear — the system’s surrender of infinite possibility for the comfort of certainty.

Spiritual parallel: When fear arises, consciousness contracts from the infinite flow (“I can be anything”) to a limited self-image (“I must protect this”).
Just as observation kills superposition, fear kills freedom.

I was a fearful child—not violently bullied in the extreme sense, yet targeted enough for vulnerability to settle into my nervous system early. My physical weakness, later diagnosed as ankylosing spondylitis, had not yet surfaced as disease, but its genetic seed was present from birth, quietly keeping the body fragile; and fragility is noticed quickly, because the weak are always easier targets. It may also be that bullying is faced by everyone, but weaker individuals tend to panic more. At times fear would rise intensely, yet that very fear became the force that turned me inward toward spirituality, almost as a reflexive counter-movement—when identity weakens, fear weakens, and spirituality dissolves identity at its root—so what appeared as a curse became a blessing in disguise. Whenever I was established in a spiritual mode, fear simply could not touch me; it returned only in the worldly mode where identity reasserts itself, and this oscillation also hampered my worldly growth, because a fearful person cannot expand outwardly with confidence. In later school life, something unexpectedly protective occurred: I came into gentle, indirect company with girls, and bullish boys instinctively kept their distance; girls, cows, and the diseased are all traditionally considered weak, yet their company carried a peculiar fearlessness, the same unthreatened state I felt while grazing cows—an innocence untouched by social dominance. University life reversed this balance again; adolescent vulnerability was left unprotected, ragging in those days carried a ghostly brutality now largely controlled, and my weakness surfaced once more, though by then I had already entered a post-realisation phase—an awakening that had occurred momentarily in a dream state but left deep, lingering aftereffects. Empowered by that awakening and its fearlessness, I resisted and confronted what I would otherwise have endured silently, sometimes at the cost of my own life; once I was beaten severely, stripped to the last shred of dignity, and left broken, saved only by grace, yet throughout the episode I felt no fear at all. For nearly three years after that surge of awakening, my mind remained strangely conditioned—fear arose only when others narrated the seriousness of those events; otherwise I felt myself held by an invisible, divine handle, as though life itself had taken responsibility, and when I observed others trapped in their localized identities, I would momentarily return from the infinite to the finite and smile inwardly at the childlike seriousness with which they carried their fears. After about four years, something decisive crystallized: guided by an instinct that felt both divine and exact, I initiated a personal freedom-fighting movement based on a tit-for-tat principle—not out of aggression, but out of balance—and this erased even the last residual traces of fear, fitting wings simultaneously to my worldly and spiritual growth, a movement that has continued in quiet continuity till today. These oscillations between infinity and localization, between wave and particle, have accompanied me throughout life, and perhaps they must—for total transcendence may liberate inwardly, but some degree of localization remains necessary for functioning within the world.

Analogy 2 — Quantum Tunneling Barrier (Fear of Crossing the Unknown)

Electrons sometimes face an energy barrier they can cross only by tunneling — a process that defies classical logic.
A fearful system “hesitates” at the threshold, staying trapped in its potential well rather than tunneling through to freedom.
Likewise, fear in humans prevents transcendence beyond familiar boundaries.

Spiritual parallel: Enlightenment requires quantum tunneling of awareness — the courage to pass through the barrier of ego into the infinite. Fear keeps one oscillating inside the well of the known.

Many people are unable to begin their livelihood or entrepreneurial journey simply because of fear—fear of obstacles, fear of failure, fear of loss—and as a result remain unemployed or under-engaged throughout life. Obstacles are not accidental; they are necessary filters that test capacity, discipline, and intelligence, and they reward efficiency—without such filters, society cannot grow qualitatively. These barriers are meant to be crossed intact, not destroyed, just as a wall defines a meaningful passage rather than being removed altogether. To a fearful person, however, such obstacles appear impossible, because he is afraid of harm and of losing his fixed, conditioned identity while confronting them. When that rigid identity dissolves—along with the fears tied to it—and one becomes inwardly free, like a wave containing multiple possibilities rather than a single forced path, intelligence itself reveals a way forward that avoids collision altogether. Success, then, lies not in being uni-optional but in becoming multi-optional. In quantum physics, a particle restricted to a single path must strike a barrier to proceed, but by retaining its wave nature—by remaining open to multiple possibilities—it finds a way through without direct penetration, appearing almost miraculous. Great business leaders resemble such quantum entities: they do not entangle themselves in every detail of their enterprise, nor do they confront every obstacle head-on; instead, they operate with flexibility and strategic distance, allowing systems to function smoothly while preserving clarity, momentum, and inner freedom.

Analogy 3 — Quantum Entropy and Instability (Fear of Dissolution)

Particles and systems constantly try to maintain stability against entropy and decay.
This “clinging to form” mirrors the fear of death — a resistance to dissolution into the larger field.
But in truth, entropy is not destruction; it is reintegration into the quantum field — just as death is reintegration into consciousness.

Spiritual parallel: The enlightened one sees entropy as liberation; the fearful one sees it as loss.

In essence, fear (bhaya) is not merely an emotion but a fundamental contraction of consciousness. Just as a quantum wave collapses into a fixed particle when forced to choose prematurely, fear compresses infinite inner potential into a narrow, hesitant identity. This contraction creates resistance—resistance to uncertainty, to entropy, and to the natural flow of life—making even passable obstacles appear insurmountable. Spiritually, fear arises from the illusion of separateness, where the self is perceived as fragile, isolated, and threatened by the unknown. In this contracted state, one hesitates before action, clings to safety, and avoids passage, much like a particle that fears entering a barrier. When fear dissolves, the self expands again into its wave-like nature—fluid, multi-optional, and inwardly secure—allowing movement without collision and action without anxiety. Thus, fear is best understood not as danger itself, but as the inward withdrawal from one’s own infinite capacity.

Why Kundalini and Saṁskāras Do Not Operate in Animals the Way They Do in Humans

Saṁskāras can be understood as symbolic markings impressed upon a human being through consciously designed spiritual ceremonies. These are not casual social events; they are grand, emotionally charged occasions in which relatives, friends, elders, and the wider community gather with a single individual as the focal point. The person receiving the saṁskāra becomes the center of collective attention, intention, and emotion. This focused convergence is not accidental—it is deliberately structured to imprint deep emotional and psychological tendencies that shape the individual for life.

Such ceremonies generate powerful emotions within the recipient because humans are uniquely responsive to meaning, symbolism, and shared attention. When hundreds of minds momentarily align around one person with reverence, expectation, and intention, the effect is far stronger than ordinary cooperation or social interaction. Worldly cooperation is usually task-oriented and fragmented; saṁskāras, by contrast, are designed exclusively for emotional and inner imprinting. One individual becomes the sole beneficiary of the collective emotional field, making the imprint unusually strong and persistent.

Metaphorically, this process resembles quantum entanglement—not as a literal physical mechanism, but as a structural analogy. In quantum systems, particles that interact within a coherent environment exhibit correlated behavior even after separation. Similarly, during a saṁskāra, many minds temporarily converge within a highly focused symbolic space. The emotions, values, and intentions do not merely add up linearly; they become coherent. Once imprinted, these emotional correlations persist long after the ceremony ends, influencing the individual’s inner responses independent of physical proximity. This comparison does not claim scientific equivalence; it simply highlights a parallel principle: intense interaction under conditions of focus, coherence, and meaning creates unusually stable imprints.

Across a human lifetime, there are traditionally sixteen saṁskāras, each corresponding to key transitions—birth, learning, maturity, responsibility, and death. Together, they refine emotional depth, psychological structure, and spiritual receptivity. These imprints form a subtle emotional architecture within which higher processes, including Kundalini awakening, can later unfold. Saṁskāras are not merely cultural customs; they are intentional emotional technologies.

Not every individual absorbs these imprints equally. Certain emotionally receptive people resonate more deeply than others. Their sensitivity allows emotions to adhere more strongly, creating bonds that often appear as love or devotion. This love is not merely relational or outward-facing; when it matures and turns inward, it becomes transformative. In yogic and tantric understanding, this inward-turning love can later express itself as Kundalini movement. What begins as emotional bonding gradually converts into inner energy. In this way, bhāva (emotion) evolves into bhakti (love or devotion), and bhakti further condenses into śakti (inner power).

This progression is logical within its own framework. Focused collective attention produces strong emotional imprinting; individual sensitivity determines depth of absorption; deep emotional imprinting gives rise to love; and inward-directed love becomes spiritual energy. Psychology explains the imprinting, neuroplasticity explains the durability, and spiritual traditions describe the energetic flowering.

Animals, however, do not participate in this process in the same way. They do not receive saṁskāras—not because life or awareness is absent in them, but because the necessary emotional and neurological infrastructure is undeveloped. Animals do have emotions, but these are largely immediate, survival-oriented, and unlayered. They lack the capacity to absorb, integrate, and symbolize the collective emotions of many minds simultaneously. Their brains are not designed to hold complex symbolic meaning, long-term emotional imprinting, or ritualized identity formation.

Moreover, animals are not placed at the center of intentional emotional convergence. No ceremony is designed to imprint values, identity, or transcendental orientation upon them. Without repeated, structured emotional imprinting across life stages, there is no stable inner architecture for love to refine itself inwardly and no latent reservoir from which Kundalini can later rise.

Thus, Kundalini and saṁskāras are not absent in animals due to inferiority, but due to difference in design. Human life is uniquely structured for emotional accumulation, symbolic meaning, and inward transformation. Saṁskāras provide the emotional soil, love becomes the living current, and Kundalini is the flowering that appears when conditions mature. Animals live in harmony with nature, but humans alone are given the tools to consciously transcend it.

Chapter 31: lobha third basic emotion in quantum world

In Tantra, the impulses of desire, anger, and greed are not treated as moral weaknesses. They are understood as natural forces through which energy moves in every individual and in the universe. Kāma becomes the drive to create, Krodha becomes the power to correct or change, and Lobha becomes the tendency to collect and protect what has been gained. Among these, Lobha (greed) is seen as the urge to expand and preserve energy. It is similar to how the universe gathers energy before releasing it. Therefore, instead of being condemned immediately, Lobha is first understood as an energetic movement of accumulation, which can later be refined into awareness, contentment, and responsible preservation.

LOBHA (Greed) — The Urge to Accumulate, Expand, and Hold Energy

Quantum Energy Quantization

In quantum physics, even an electron displays a tendency to accumulate energy. It usually remains in a stable, low-energy orbit, but when it absorbs additional energy, it holds that extra energy for a period of time before releasing it as light. This temporary hoarding is comparable to the human mind’s habit of collecting and holding on to experiences, belongings, status, or recognition, often out of a fear of losing them. In this sense, Lobha is understood as the inertia of energy, a natural force that attempts to retain what has been gained. In an atom, such retention causes temporary instability; in human life, it manifests as anxiety, possessiveness, or the inability to let go. Greed, therefore, is not only a moral challenge but an energetic stage in which accumulation waits for maturity before it can release and transform.

If we have hoarded a lot, it is not easy to let it go at once, because those hoardings occupy space in our mental well. That space cannot be vacated immediately due to the fear that their removal will create a dark void inside. Over time, however, our experiences mature and our knowledge grows. This growing awareness begins to take their place and gradually pushes the old hoardings to the sides. When the pressure of knowledge and awareness becomes strong enough, it naturally replaces those hoardings in the mental well. Then, we become capable of letting them go physically as well.

Another option is to start hoarding better-quality material, which automatically displaces the old and outdated hoardings. However, this is only a temporary, makeshift solution. Permanent de-hoarding is possible only through minimalism supported by knowledge and awareness.

Gravitational Accretion (Star Formation)

In astrophysics, stars are born out of a gradual process of accumulation. Vast clouds of dust and gas pull surrounding matter toward themselves through gravity. As this mass grows, internal pressure and heat increase, and when the accumulation reaches a critical point, the cloud ignites to form a star. This natural process reflects the working of Lobha in human life. Greed begins by collecting wealth, power, information, or recognition, drawing more and more into the orbit of personal desire. With time, the pressure of what we possess often becomes unbearable, forcing either a collapse through dissatisfaction or a transformation into something creative and radiant. In this way, Lobha can be understood as the gravitational pull of the ego, which gathers energy around the idea of “me.” If the accumulated energy becomes refined rather than suffocating, it can ignite into insight and wisdom, just as a star is born from the intense accumulation of matter.

Quantum Vacuum Energy (Zero-Point Energy)

According to quantum physics, space is never truly empty. Even when matter and radiation are removed, the vacuum continues to hold an immense sea of fluctuating energy known as zero-point energy. This energy is never fully released and remains as a constant background activity of the universe. In human experience, the silent mind also contains subtle impulses and unexpressed desires. These latent tendencies, or vāsanās, continue to vibrate beneath the surface even when no visible craving is present. In this sense, Lobha can be understood as the quiet restlessness of existence itself—the tendency to hold potential, to preserve possibility before it becomes action. It is a kind of cosmic “memory,” a subtle stickiness by which consciousness continues to sustain creation, even in stillness.

Magnetic Saturation and Hysteresis

In physics, a magnetized material continues to hold magnetism even after the external magnetic field that created that alignment is removed. This phenomenon, known as magnetic hysteresis, shows how matter can retain a memory of its past orientation. A similar pattern can be seen in human behavior. Once greed has trained the mind to seek gain, the desire continues even when the actual need for acquisition has disappeared. The mind keeps pulling, not because something is necessary, but because it has been conditioned to accumulate. In spiritual terms, this clinging tendency, called āsakti, is like the residual magnetism of past impressions that continue to influence perception and action. Only deep awareness—developed through meditation and inner clarity—can dissolve this stored conditioning, similar to how demagnetization restores a material to a neutral, balanced state.

How Demagnetizing Memory Works: Love, Attachment, and the Science of Letting Go

The above Magnetic Saturation and Hysteresis can be understood through the analogy of a love relationship. When two people become deeply intimate, one partner is often emotionally stronger and more influential, while the other is more receptive. The weaker partner is like an iron rod, and the stronger partner is like a magnet. Even after separation, the iron continues to carry the magnetic alignment produced by the magnet. In the same way, the weaker partner continues to hold the impressions and memories of the stronger one long after the relationship ends.

To remove this magnetized memory from iron, we do not throw away the magnet itself. Instead, the same magnet is used in a different way—moved in zigzag motions, reversed in direction, assisted by heating, or by striking the iron. These methods disrupt the alignment and gradually demagnetize the iron. This offers a profound insight into human psychology as well.

When the mental image of a departed lover remains in someone’s mind and keeps them emotionally aligned with that person, the same image can be used to dissolve the attachment—but only if approached differently. We do not remember the person with the same emotional immersion as before. Instead, the memory is allowed to fade by keeping less attention on it and more attention on worldly activities. This gradually breaks its alignment.

“Heating” the magnet-form image corresponds to energizing the mind through yoga or spiritual practice, which weakens emotional fixation. “Hammering” iron represents being engaged in demanding work, stress, responsibility, and worldly struggles, which shake up the mind enough to loosen attachments.

Yoga and samadhi go a step further. In deep meditation, the mental image is brightened to its fullest expression, but without clinging to its physical counterpart. The body of the lover is itself recognized as temporary and unreal with it; only the inner image is seen as its real projection in the mind. This dissolves the magnetism of emotional memory. In the highest samadhi, merging completely with the inner image leads to merging with the entire cosmos or God. Once the mind expands into the whole, no individual memory has the power to bind it anymore.

Interestingly, this is similar to the best demagnetization technique for iron: the same magnet is moved rapidly over it in constantly changing directions, without touching it, and slowly withdrawn from a distance. The mental image of the lover is also not physically touched; it is expressed fully within consciousness as savikalp samadhi and then released gradually towards nirvikalp samadhi of complete removal to avoid emotional shock or a sudden return of attachment.

Some replace the lover’s image with a guru’s image. This works even more effectively. A guru is like a stronger magnet that can remove previous emotional imprints from the disciple more quickly and clearly, when approached correctly through samadhi and awareness.

Black Holes — Ultimate Accumulators

In astrophysics, a black hole is a region of space where matter collapses inward under such intense gravity that it begins to consume everything around it. Nothing escapes its pull—not matter, not light, not even time. With every fragment of energy it absorbs, it becomes denser, darker, and more inwardly contracted. The same pattern appears in human consciousness when greed grows without wisdom. Instead of expanding life, greed becomes a collapse of awareness into a narrow sense of self, where nothing satisfies and everything is consumed without bringing fulfillment. At its extreme, Lobha does not create growth; it turns creation into contraction. Only when awareness penetrates this inward pull, like crossing an event horizon, does it recognize that what it was trying to acquire and defend was never separate—it was attempting to hoard its own self without knowing it.

Summary

Across different sciences, Lobha or greed appears as a natural tendency of accumulation. At the atomic level, an electron holds extra energy for some time before releasing it, just as the human mind clings to emotions or possessions out of insecurity. In the formation of stars, gravity gathers dust and gas into a growing mass, and this resembles the way people collect wealth, status, or power in an attempt to feel stronger. Even in the so-called empty vacuum of space, an underlying sea of energy remains, mirroring the subtle cravings and latent desires (vāsanās) that continue to exist even in a silent mind. Magnetic materials retain a memory of past alignment, just as the mind remains attached to earlier gains and continues to seek more, even when the need has passed. At the extreme, greed becomes like a black hole that keeps consuming without satisfaction, pulling everything into itself and losing its true nature in the process. Thus, whether subtle or intense, Lobha behaves like an energy that gathers, stores, and clings—until awareness transforms it.

Uncontrolled Lobha (greed) is like a black hole. It sees no limits and makes no distinction between good or bad, legitimate or illegitimate, rightful or wrongful, hoardable or non-hoardable. It simply hoards everything. It does not even spare light, believing that light too will serve its purpose someday. Such extreme attachment to hoarding turns it into a black demon. Its own being becomes clouded and darkened with impurities, entering a state of bondage from which liberation becomes extremely difficult.

It may take form again and again—like the unending cycle of birth and death of a bound soul. This is why ancient wisdom says: unawareful hoarding leads to bondage of the soul and repeated return to the world through countless cycles of rebirth.

On the other hand, a star hoards only as much as is necessary—just enough to shine and illuminate others. Most stars avoid excessive hoarding out of the inherent fear of becoming black holes. So, they remain alert, slim, and disciplined, using limited resources in their fullest service to humanity. Many even adopt a kind of cosmic minimalism, becoming small stars so that they never turn into the bound, trapped soul of a black hole.

At the time of their death, such stars return all their constituents to space with gratitude, so that other stars may grow. In this way, they become free and liberated.

The same pattern is seen in human beings. The very light that was meant to nurture creation, to uplift life with growth, harmony, and development, is today being mercilessly seized by exploiters. Instead of illuminating the world, it is hoarded and weaponized against the very beings it was meant to serve. How can someone call themselves happy while stealing the glow and innocence from other faces? How can anyone hope to discover the light of liberation while pushing others into the depths of poverty, ignorance, and darkness?

True spirituality can never flourish in a heart that takes pleasure in making people addicted, dependent, resourceless, poor, unemployed, or stripped of dignity. Those who thrive by weakening others only nurture the shadows within themselves. Their success is not achievement—it is a burden of injustice. No meditation, no ritual, no worship can grant awakening to a mind that knowingly destroys the dreams, health, and opportunities of others.

Real spiritual growth comes only through uplifting lives, not exploiting them. Light expands when shared—and liberation becomes real only when it frees others, not when it traps them. To walk toward enlightenment is to become a source of light, strength, knowledge, compassion, and self-sufficiency for the world. The more we empower others, the brighter our own inner light becomes. Inner light increases only by sharing it with others, like stars do. That is why, for achievements, stars are given. Snatching light from others does not raise one’s own light; it turns the heart into a ghostly, dark black hole instead.

Philosophical Synthesis

From a spiritual and cosmic perspective, the three primary impulses of human emotion are seen as movements of energy with universal functions. Kāma, or desire, directs energy outward toward connection and union, and this outward movement becomes the basis for creation itself, symbolically represented by Brahma and Shakti. Krodha, or anger, is an explosive surge of energy that seeks to correct, break, or remove what obstructs balance; this power of destruction and transformation is associated with the force of Rudra. Lobha, or greed, turns energy inward, gathering and preserving what has been acquired. This inward pull becomes the principle of preservation in the cosmos, represented by Vishnu. Thus, these three emotions are not merely personal weaknesses but three fundamental currents of energy—creating, destroying, and preserving—through which the universe maintains its balance.

Spiritual Transmutation of Lobha

Lobha, or the urge to accumulate, evolves through different stages as a person grows in awareness. In its most ignorant form, it expresses itself as the hoarding of wealth, objects, and power. This type of greed leads to stagnation, because the energy that should flow becomes trapped in possession. With awareness, Lobha becomes more refined. The urge to gather turns toward collecting knowledge, strength, and inner energy rather than external objects. This stage creates stability, because what is gathered nourishes growth instead of suffocating it. At its highest level, Lobha becomes a force that preserves truth, compassion, and wisdom. Instead of clinging to possessions, one protects values that sustain life. Here, accumulation transforms into responsibility: one gathers not for oneself, but for the well-being of all. In this enlightened state, Lobha acts as dharmic protection, preserving what is good for the world rather than what merely benefits the ego.

Thus Lobha is not merely vice — it’s Vishnu’s sustaining principle when purified.
At its lower form, it hoards;
At its higher form, it nurtures, protects, and sustains what is sacred.

Quantum Nonduality: How Hoarding Turned Into Spiritual Growth

The quantum facts above perfectly reflect my life story. Quantum science is unburdening me in the form of quantum darshan. It is showing me a mirror of the past, present, and future. By exposing the past, it dissolves it peacefully. By revealing the present, it makes me nondual and detached, like a quantum particle. By indicating the future, it assures me of liberation, provided I follow its path.

I remember a time when I had become excessively possessive—thinking only about money. I even began demanding money, of course legitimately and rightfully. But whenever money comes in between, whether legitimate or illegitimate, it creates a rift in relationships—sometimes large, sometimes subtle, externally or internally. When I saw how futile this race for possession was, I stopped.

The habit of willful hoarding found no outer direction, so it turned inward. It began expressing itself as a hoarding of yoga, meditation, writing, blogging, and the pursuit of knowledge. Thus, a harsh physical habit eventually cleared the inner path for my growth.

Perhaps it happened so easily and quickly because I already had a nondual attitude during these hoardings, mainly supported by ancestral sanskaras and assisted by Sharirvigyan Darshan. In this state, everything felt equal to me. I saw hoarding knowledge as equal to hoarding material things.

Quantum science also says the same: everything is vibration and essentially equal, whether it appears hard and external or soft and internal within the mind. Quantum darshan shapes this understanding into a spiritual form of nonduality.

Had I not adopted a nondual attitude during this hoarding phase, I would have later considered knowledge to be inferior to material possessions, and the hoarding tendency would never have received a chance to express itself inwardly. In that case, it would have remained suffocated within me—either causing inner suffocation or eventually turning back towards material hoarding in another form.

So, in short, we can say that a nondual attitude, like the behavior of quantum particles, supports every aspect of life at every step.

Harnessing Inner Silence: A Yogic Approach to Stress

I often feel that the best way to understand the working of the mind is to compare it with something everyone has seen in daily life—a television set. A TV screen looks simple: you switch it on, and pictures appear, but behind those pictures is a dance of invisible electromagnetic signals. Science tells us that these signals are nothing but waves of energy, and the TV has the ability to catch them and convert them into clear images. In the same way, our mind also catches signals. These signals are not coming from a satellite or broadcasting tower but from inside us—from our own emotions, thoughts, desires, and karmic tendencies. When these mental electromagnetic waves strike the inner screen of our awareness, pictures of experience appear. It could be joy, anger, worry, love, or fear, but the process is similar. Consciousness plays the role of the TV screen, and the mind keeps throwing waves of energy onto it.

The more emotionally charged we are, the stronger these waves become. A small irritation in the mind produces a faint image, but a burning anger or deep desire produces a very sharp and lasting picture. Just as a powerful broadcast fills the whole TV screen with brightness and color, a strong mental wave engraves itself on our inner screen with force. These impressions do not go away easily; they leave behind stains that we call samskaras or karmic seeds. Over time, the mind keeps collecting these charges, like a capacitor storing electricity. If the charge remains unprocessed, the same patterns keep repeating—old memories replay, reactions arise automatically, and inner conflicts become stronger. The result is a restless, noisy screen where one hardly sees clearly.

Yet, there is a miracle hidden in this very mechanism. Through yogic insight and practice, these waves can be stilled and transformed. Instead of becoming deeply emotional, amplifying the waves, and then either burying them in the subconscious or scattering them outward through speech and restless action, the energy of thought can be quietly conserved through sharirvigyan darshan contemplation. It no longer surges as an uncontrolled wave on the surface, nor does it sink irretrievably into the subconscious; rather, it settles as a silent charge a little deeper within. Energy at this depth remains accessible—ready to be uncovered and transformed through yoga—whereas energy buried too deeply by strong, uncontrolled, and painful emotions becomes difficult to reach or work with in ordinary life. This is like electricity stored in a battery—not being wasted in a running fan or bulb, nor going too too deep to be retrieved, but waiting silently, full of potential. In my own practice of Sharirvigyan Darshan-based Karma Yoga, I witnessed this transformation. Normally, thoughts rise and immediately push us into speaking, moving, or reacting. But when I practiced awareness-in-action, I did not allow them to flare out. I did not suppress them either; I simply let them reduce into a silent potential. This potential felt like an electric field—not noisy or oscillating, but alive and calm. When it accumulated sufficiently, it produced a strange kind of pressure in the mind—calm, blissful, yet sometimes accompanied by occasional headaches that could even last for a long time. At times, this excess silent energy would suddenly release itself, giving me a glimpse of samadhi or awakening, whatever one may call it. What made it remarkable was that it did not happen through withdrawal from the world but right in the midst of karma, simply by shifting my attitude toward action through Sharirvigyan Darshan. That made it even more precious for me, because it happened without leaving ordinary life behind.

The challenge is that this potential charge cannot remain suspended forever; life keeps pulling us back. If it is not consciously dissolved through sitting meditation, dhyana, tantra, or self-inquiry, it reactivates into waves as soon as ignorance-filled worldly activity begins without the guidance of Sharirvigyan Darshan. Yet one cannot keep contemplating Sharirvigyan Darshan endlessly, because with prolonged practice the mental pressure can grow uncontrollable, forcing one to abandon it. To be safeguarded from this, the excess pressure needs to be discharged through sitting yoga—primarily through tantra yoga—by channeling all the stored charge into a single meditation image. This awakens the image swiftly and can grant a glimpse of self-realization.

In savikalpa dhyana, the energy smoothens into deep absorption through a meditation image, while in nirvikalpa dhyana, it merges even more directly—through keval kumbhak—into pure awareness. Without such conscious dissolution, the stored charge eventually finds unconscious routes of discharge, appearing as impatience, ego, or restlessness. If this is true over the long term—after decades of Sharirvigyan Darshan-based Karma Yoga—it is equally true in the short term, during a single sitting of energy work. That is why I found it important to sit silently after daily practice, without rushing back into activity. An hour or two of stillness after yoga allowed the inner field to settle and release naturally in silence, rather than spilling into unconscious reactions. Otherwise, failing to channel the stored energy is like collecting rainwater carefully only to let it leak away through a broken vessel, or seep so deep underground that it becomes irretrievable.

The difference between yogic charge and ordinary worldly charge is subtle but crucial. Worldly charge is like stuffing garbage into a cupboard—on the surface, things may look organized, but inside, toxins are building up. These repressed charges eventually cause psychological confusion or even physical illness. Yogic charge, on the other hand, is like distilling water until it becomes pure and transparent. In fact, it is not fresh charge but the resurfacing and purification of buried charge. It doesn’t add a new burden; it slowly releases what is already there, refining it into silence.

Charge generated through Sharirvigyan Darshan-based Karma Yoga works in a similar way. Although it does create fresh charge, it first purifies it through non-dual awareness and detachment. Unlike impure worldly charge, which seeps deep into the subconscious, karmayogic pure charge remains on the surface and can be easily channeled. It also never feels heavy like ordinary worldly charge.

When I practiced with bodily awareness in a calm environment, I saw this clearly. My emotions would rise, but instead of identifying with them, I stayed aware. Outwardly, I was as active and expressive as before, yet inwardly there was silence—as if the waves had transformed into pure charge. No one could have guessed that I was containing so much energy within. It was entirely mental; physically, I was fully engaged in worldly life. That inner quietude was powerful, luminous, and gave me an intuitive understanding that no book could ever teach.

Even brief moments of such inner silence left a permanent mark, like a cascading effect that continued to unfold long after the sitting meditation or a Karma Yoga–based dynamic meditation, both in their own way equally. Silence grows upon silence, each pause deepening into the next, because it is both blissful and strangely addictive in its purity. Once, for about ten seconds, all the inner waves dissolved into the field of pure awareness. In that moment, there was no difference between the waves and the ocean, no division of experiencer and experienced — everything was non-dual. That short glimpse proved more valuable to me than years of ordinary experience, for it carried a weight and certainty that no external proof could provide. It revealed that even a fleeting contact with silence plants a seed that begins to grow of its own accord, quietly shaping the inner landscape. It also clarified that the real purpose of sadhana is not to chase after visions, energies, or sensations, but to refine one’s accumulated charge into a state of quiet potential that naturally opens into samadhi. Over time, as the brain becomes accustomed to holding this subtle current, the potential no longer feels heavy or overwhelming but grows fluid and light. This refinement allows life to be lived with a freedom and clarity untouched by restlessness, as if silence itself has become the ground upon which every experience moves.

This helped me understand viveka and vairagya in a practical way. Viveka is simply the ability to discern which impressions are beneficial and which are harmful, because in silence the mind becomes transparent and a better judge. The Sāṅkhya-based puruṣa–prakṛti viveka is this same practical viveka: the world with attachment (prakṛti) is denied, while the world without attachment (puruṣa) is accepted. Vairagya is not about running away from life, but about engaging without clinging — since the inner charge is no longer restless, it does not grasp at anything for relief.

Slowly, I began to see that the yogic path is not mechanical at all. It is not about forcing bliss or controlling every thought, but about a deep sensitivity to how one’s inner charge is forming and expressing. When the mind is charged in the yogic way, even a small stimulus is enough to enter dhyāna. This happened to me: I was deeply charged with my meditation image, and when my kin spoke about it, that small stimulus instantly awakened me into self-realization. Just as a charged particle produces a wave instantly with a slight movement, a charged mind can sink into meditation with minimal effort. In contrast, an uncharged mind must struggle first to build that energy before it can focus. Conversely, if the mind is charged in a worldly way, even a small stimulus can push it into blind worldliness.

I also noticed that the same applies in worldly life. An officer who has been given charge of an office can act immediately, while a stranger in the same chair will spend weeks just figuring things out. In the same way, a stretched canvas can take paint beautifully, while a loose canvas must first be stretched. A charged brain is quick to respond with thoughts, while an uncharged brain — like that of a nirvikalpa yogi absorbed in silence — takes much longer to respond. To the outside world, that silence may appear dull or even boring, but within it is blissful. The paradox is striking: first one builds the charge to attain self-realization and nirvikalpa samadhi, and then one lets go of all charge in renunciation. Yet even after self-realization and nirvikalpa samadhi, karmayogis continue to cultivate yogic charge in moderation, using it as needed to remain engaged in worldly life without drifting away from it entirely.

For me, the most important realization was that stress itself is a form of charge. The difference is only in its quality. Worldly stress is heavy and destructive, while yogic stress—or yogic charge—is light and releasing. Both are stretches in the fabric of inner space, but one binds and the other frees. My personal journey showed me that the same mind that suffers under chaotic charge can also shine when that charge is refined into stillness. What matters is not to let the waves scatter outward or bury them in deeper layers but to reduce them gently into potential. That potential becomes the gateway to silence, to freedom, and ultimately to samadhi.

Kevala Kumbhaka: Stilling Prana, Stilling Mind, and Burning Karmas to reach moksha

I’ve been contemplating Kevala Kumbhaka and its deep effects on the mind and karma. I see that stilling prana through breath cessation (Kevala Kumbhaka) stills the mind, but I wonder—how does it still the subconscious mind or the deep hidden imprints (samskaras)?

I’ve realized that normal meditation quiets only the surface mind. Even in deep Dhyana, thoughts may become weak, but the subconscious continues vibrating in the background, storing desires, fears, and past impressions. The deeper layers of the mind, where samskaras lie hidden, remain untouched. But Kevala Kumbhaka seems different—it doesn’t just calm the mind, it halts it at its very root.

How Kevala Kumbhaka Reaches the Subconscious Mind

The mind and prana are two sides of the same coin. The subconscious (chitta) holds karmic imprints, and these samskaras stay alive only because prana keeps moving. These sanskaras keep rapidly and continuously forming thoughts related to them. Only few gross thoughts come to our awareness, majority of thoughts are subtle which we even don’t feel. These all thoughts Keep these sanskaras in subconscious alive. Everything fades up with time if energy is not used to sustain it. The same happens with sanskaras. Karma and related thoughts make sanskaras and sanskaras Keep forming same karma and related thought patterns in return. Thus both keep energizing or strengthening each other. Even during few hours of keval kumbhak, when thoughts and subtle thoughts become zero, these sanskaras loose enough strength. That’s why we feel a permanent transformation. Although full erasing may need keval Kumbhak applied for days or routinely. Intentional removal of gross thoughts don’t erase sanskaras because subtle thoughts keep these alive. That’s why we don’t feel transformation with gross mind control even for a long time. May be it works but extremely long time taken by it seems too much impractical. I think permanent transformation after few seconds of awakening or glimpse is also due to this phenomenon. Means even few seconds of full mindlessness is enough to weaken all buried sanskaras.

When prana moves, thoughts and impressions keep arising—like waves in an ocean.

When prana stops completely, there is no movement left to activate samskaras.

Since samskaras get their energy from prana, they lose their charge and start dissolving.

This is why deep states of Kevala Kumbhaka feel like emptiness (shunya), stillness, or even formless awareness. It’s not just a mental silence—it is an absence of karmic momentum itself. Momentum in science means increasing speed. Prana is like a push or speed enhancer to wheeled baggage of sanskaras that otherwise has tendency to slow down and stop as seen in physical world. Push force stops, baggage stops.

This also answers why normal meditation (without breath cessation) cannot fully erase samskaras. In usual meditation, even if thoughts become still, subtle subconscious vibrations still persist. But in Kevala Kumbhaka, even these hidden layers stop vibrating, leading to deep dissolution of past conditioning.

Does Kevala Kumbhaka Deactivate Past Karmas?

Yes, Kevala Kumbhaka can deactivate past karmas, because karma is not just an idea—it is an energy pattern in the subconscious. Since prana fuels karma, when prana stops completely, karmas lose their foundation.

This is how it works:

Sanchita Karma (Accumulated Past Karmas) → Dissolves, because there is no pranic movement to sustain them.

Prarabdha Karma (Karma Already Playing Out in This Life) → Continues temporarily, like a fan that keeps spinning even after the power is cut. But without ego involvement, it is just a play—suffering disappears.

Kriyamana Karma (New Karma Being Created Now) → Completely stops, because the egoic doer (kartabhava) dissolves.

This is why Kevala Kumbhaka is one of the fastest paths to Moksha (liberation). It stops prana, which stops the mind, which stops karma. When karma is erased, the cycle of rebirth (punarjanma) is broken.

Where I Stand in This Journey

I have not yet achieved Nirvikalpa Samadhi, but I have touched Savikalpa Samadhi—where the sense of ‘I’ dissolved, leaving only unified consciousness. However, I intentionally lowered my experience back to the Ajna Chakra, fearing that I might become a renunciate (baba). This choice might have prevented me from entering the realm of Nirvikalpa Samadhi.

I now realize that awakening glimpses alone are not enough. The true challenge is sustaining liberation forever. While enlightenment experiences may happen, if karmic seeds remain, one may still fall back into egoic identification. Karma or sanskara baggage makes ego of a person because he’s deeply attached to it. The real work is in burning samskaras completely, ensuring no return to ignorance.

Right now, I believe that Kevala Kumbhaka is the missing key—it seems to be the fastest way to erase deep karmic imprints, still the subconscious, and lead to Nirvikalpa Samadhi and final Moksha.

I see that chasing Nirvikalpa Samadhi without Kevala Kumbhaka seems nearly impossible—because as long as prana moves, some mind activity remains, and as long as mind moves, some karma remains.

Final Thoughts

This journey is not about mystical experiences or temporary bliss—it’s about final, irreversible freedom. Awakening, enlightenment, glimpses of truth—they all lose meaning if the mind returns. True liberation is when nothing returns—not the ego, not karma, not even the subtlest movement of thought.

Kevala Kumbhaka appears to be the direct method to reach that state. Whether I will achieve it or not, only time and my practice will tell—but the direction is clear.

For now, I continue my sadhana, refining my understanding and methods, aiming to go beyond mere glimpses into permanent dissolution.

From Savikalpa to Nirvikalpa: The Path Beyond Bliss to Ultimate Liberation

Nirvikalpa Samadhi can arise directly, bypassing Savikalpa in rare cases like Keval Kumbhak, deep sleep-like states, or sudden grace. While traditional paths emphasize gradual absorption, some awakenings skip this stage entirely, plunging straight into the formless. My experience with Keval Kumbhak confirms this possibility, where no structured transition was needed. However, stabilization remains key, whether one follows a gradual or direct path.

But why is there no such infinite bliss and light as that was in my Savikalpa Samadhi and included awakening glimpse?

In my awakening glimpse, there was overwhelming bliss mainly a sexual type of bliss comparable to the infinite or ultimate or super sex, light that’s experiential and different from physical one, and unity—a divine experience beyond words. It felt like the peak of existence, a complete merging with the infinite. Yet something was there to achieve as I felt. Probably it was a subtle yerning to achieve nirvikalp samadhi. In contrast, in Keval Kumbhak csused transient Nirvikalpa Samadhi, there was neither light nor darkness, neither ecstasy nor emptiness. It was something beyond words itself. It was as if I was in deep sleep with intermittent fleeting thoughts like dream. But one thing special was I was aware of this state. It was just pure awareness of myself. If there was awareness then it’s itself obvious that there was bliss in it. Because with awareness or existence, there is always happiness or bliss. And where there is existence and happiness, there is also knowledge. Even in today’s information age, it is seen that by acquiring knowledge, a person gets existential power i.e. achievement as well as happiness. That is why God is also called Sachchidananda. But I didn’t find any experience full of light and bliss or appearing as peak of worldly physical or mental experiences as felt in savikalp samadhi. However there was satisfaction in it. Satisfaction itself means there’s everything contained in it. It means that was nirvikalp samadhi slowly developing. In deep sleep, there doesn’t even remain self awareness. 

I now see the reason. In Savikalpa, there is still a subtle observer, a refined perception that allows bliss and radiance to manifest. Also there’s a refined neurochemistry that may release bliss forming chemicals. Means it may not be entirely the bliss of pure self but a play of neurochemicals. In Nirvikalpa, even that dissolves. In pranaless state of keval Kumbhak even ecstatic thoughts with accompanying bliss chemicals can’t form in the brain. Then there’s left only the soul and its natural self awareness and bliss. There is no one left to witness, no duality, only pure existence. Only mental formation or ego acts as witness. Pure self is void that can’t witness anything other than itself means directly knowing itself. And also it can’t be witnessed by anyone. It can only be directly felt as one’s own self. It is not an absence, nor is it something that can be described—it simply is.

Yet, strangely, its after-effect is deeper. The bliss of Savikalpa fades, but Nirvikalpa leaves a silent presence that does not come or go, just remains. A strange feeling always remains for many births or until one attain perfection in it. There is some kind of a peaceful void which is helping me in every way and pulling me towards it. I had this feeling since birth. It can also mean that I may have got a glimpse of Nirvikalp Samadhi in some previous birth but I have not attained it completely. The beauty of the soul is not something to be seen; it is to be lived.

What is said by many that after attaining Savikalpa, there is no need to make efforts to attain Nirvikalpa, is not to say that effort is secondary. Rather, it means that after Savikalpa Samadhi, a person progresses towards Nirvikalpa Samadhi on his own, because after attaining everything or touching the pinnacle of the world, the desire or attachment towards the world starts to end on its own. But this can take a lot of time, it can even take many births. Therefore, to speed up this natural process, efforts have to be made for Nirvikalpa as well. The more efforts you make in the form of sadhana, the sooner you will attain it. Even after nirvikalp efforts need to be put to achieve sahaj samadhi that’s last doorway to liberation. The importance of effort does not decrease in any field and in any situation.

Kundalini, Prostate, and the Natural Shift in Energy

For years, I have explored meditation, Kundalini Yoga, and Tantric Yoga (Sexual Yoga) as a means of spiritual awakening. My journey led to powerful states like Savikalpa Samadhi, yet I haven’t reached Nirvikalpa Samadhi. Through direct experience, I have come to realize that energy work is not just about pushing limits—it’s also about recognizing when the body signals a natural shift.

One of the most surprising discoveries I made was the connection between prostate inflammation and Kundalini energy movement. This wasn’t something I read in scriptures or books—it emerged from my own practice. However, later I found that scriptures do hint at this connection.

Ancient Wisdom and Modern Experience

Though rarely discussed directly, traditional spiritual texts mention the “seat of vitality” in the lower body, which can be linked to the prostate. Some interpretations suggest that excessive sexual energy without proper transformation can lead to tension, congestion, or even inflammation in this region. In the story of Agnidev who became a pigeon in Shiv Puran, perhaps the prostate is called a pigeon. Parvati cursed it in anger that due to the disgusting act of drinking semen, there will always be a burning sensation in its throat. Then Shiva, being kind to him, told him to give that burning through and through to Ganga in which Kartikeya in the form of awakening is born. This story is described in a post of this blog. Taking a bath in cold water also provides relief. It seems that an energy line starts from the gaduda (prostate) and moves up the spinal cord carrying its burning sensation and pours that energy into the Ajna Chakra or Sahasrar. This is also a part of the same story.

In my case, I observed something striking—when the prostate reached a certain level of irritation or inflammation, it seemed compelling to do yoga breathing or energy meditation so that Kundalini energy star up rising naturally, sometimes rising itself even without active practice. It was as if the body, unable to handle the excess buildup, had no choice but to direct the energy upwards.

However, I noticed a crucial difference:

When real energy rising happened, it was blissful and expansive.

When it was just inflammation, there was no bliss—only discomfort.

The same applies to spinal inflammation too. I have physical inflammation in spine occasionally due to ankylosing spondyloarthritis too. I differentiate between inflammatory sensation and energy sensation by this bliss mark.

May be prostate inflammation a sequel to ASA, an inflammatory disease or it along with Tantric yoga both in combination may be culprit or each of both affecting it little bit separate from each other and thus raising it up in  cumulative way.

Interestingly, when the energy moved upward, the prostate inflammation temporarily reduced. The more effort I put into meditation, the more relief I felt, but the effect wasn’t permanent—it reset after some time.

The Hidden Relationship Between Stress, Tantra, and Inflammation

I later realized that stress and excessive Tantric Yoga both contributed to prostate inflammation. It wasn’t just physical activity—it was also mental stress and the forceful nature of energy work.

There was a phase where I had already achieved awakening, yet I kept pushing Tantric Yoga unnecessarily. The body and circumstances gave subtle hints to stop, but I ignored them. For one swimming in the pool of nectar it’s difficult to come out. Eventually, prostate inflammation became the final warning. It was a clear sign that I needed to transition to a more sustainable practice.

This aligns with traditional wisdom:

Tantric Yoga acts as a rocket booster—it provides rapid breakthroughs but is not meant for continuous use forever.

Once awakening is triggered, a more balanced approach like Kundalini Yoga or ordinary meditation sustains the experience.

From Rocket to Airplane Mode: A Natural Shift

Looking back, I can describe my journey as moving from a rocket launch to an airplane mode.

During intense Tantric Yoga, the energy shot up like a rocket—fast, powerful, but unsustainable.

Now, with meditation, the energy movement is like an airplane—slower but steady and long-lasting.

This transition was natural—I didn’t force it. But I realize now that if I had continued forcing Tantric Yoga beyond its natural limit, it would have only caused more discomfort, not progress.

No Regrets—Only Understanding

Now, I don’t miss the rocket phase. A glimpse of awakening was enough. Actually real awakening is not about constantly chasing intensity—it’s about clarity and balance in daily life.

Even though prostate inflammation became a challenge, it also became a teacher. It forced me to slow down, listen to my body, and transition into a more refined, sustainable spiritual path.

For anyone experiencing something similar, my advice is simple: listen to your body’s signals. Awakening is not about pushing harder—it’s about knowing when to shift methods. If energy has already risen, the next step is integration and steady progress.

The path is not about extremes—it’s about harmony.

Kundalini Energy Funnel: Awakening, Balance, and Grounding Techniques

Through my experience, I have realized that Kundalini energy moves like water through a funnel, gathering life force from the entire body, accumulating it near base chakra, and directing it toward Ajna and Sahasrara through drain of sushumna channel. If energy could simply rise directly, this process wouldn’t exist. Also, without a natural collection point and a proper exit channel, the intensity wouldn’t be the same as required for awakening. Suppose there may be another energy collection point in body, but without dedicated direct drain channel going straightway to brain just like sushumna couldn’t exist. Moreover, this funnel also has a filter paper snugly fitted inside its cone. It filters out the impurities like lust, attachment, misbehavior, hatred, duality etc. and sends the flow of Kundalini energy forward only after purifying it.

Just as yang energy naturally flows towards yin, so the streams of energy from the mountain of the body are drawn towards an invisible spring at the foot of the mountain. Just as water seeps from the heights of the mountain and collects in the lowest sources, similarly the life-energy also first gets collected in its deepest center called the Muladhara. This attraction is the play of gravity—the eternal attraction between yang and yin for the union.

But, if the water has to be taken back to the top of the mountain, we have to resort to a pump. Similarly, when the energy has to be taken to the highest chakras, the pump of sadhana diverts its direction. It is difficult to collect water directly from every particle of the mountain, so first it is allowed to collect on its own below, then it is raised up. This journey is not just of flow, but of balance and resurrection—an eternal cycle, where depth becomes the mother of height.

Prana can be guided to the brain directly, but when concentrated and channeled through this funnel, it becomes far more powerful. However, this requires complete isolation. If the senses remain engaged, energy dissipates, reducing the necessary pressure to open the path. Without enough force, the upward flow is weak. If pressure builds beyond tolerance, energy may backflow, causing imbalances. Sudden accumulation without proper release can also create strain, while the brain, if activated but left unfed, may face disturbances.

I have experienced this firsthand. Excess energy accumulation, combined with external chaos, may have triggered physical discomfort, including inflammation mainly prostatic. Although other factors also trigger it. The idea of backflow came naturally to me—like water forced in the wrong direction when a system designed for one-way flow is blocked.

Balancing this process is key. Stress reduction, yoga, pranayama, and kriya breathing have brought relief. Grounding has been especially helpful—it eases the brain’s demand for energy, reducing the funnel’s workload and allowing it to stabilize. To me, prana and energy are one and the same, just understood through different lenses.

I have not yet mastered this process, nor have I reached an irreversible state of enlightenment. My journey continues, and my understanding deepens. But now, I no longer seek to force energy. Instead, I focus on refining, balancing, and allowing its natural flow.

Kundalini: A Threshold of Prana Awakening

“O Mahadeva, the One beyond form and time,
I dissolve like the Ganga in Your wild locks,
I burn like the Dhuni in Your ascetic fire,
I rise like Kundalini in Your cosmic dance.
Neither life nor death holds me now—
Only You, the infinite void, the roaring silence,
The eternal ecstasy where I become Shiva!”

May this Shivaratri awaken the divine within!

I once thought Kundalini was a mystical force, but now I see it as a name for the moment when prana crosses the awakening threshold. My experience wasn’t a slow, years-long process—it happened rapidly, in just a month.

I was practicing rigorous Tantric Kundalini Yoga, transmuting prana that would normally build up in the sexual organs and dissipate into worldliness. Instead of losing it in daily life, I redirected it upward, nourishing my meditation image in the brain. One day, the threshold was crossed—a sudden rush of prana to the brain, and an awakening glimpse unfolded.

Why Long-Term Buildup Often Fails

Many accumulate prana for years but never awaken. Why? Because the intensity never sustains—it leaks away through worldly engagements, emotions, and desires. Even if prana builds up, it breaks at intervals, depleting rapidly before reaching the required threshold. My process was different—I sealed off distractions, transmuted prana efficiently, and locked in energy.

The Symbolism of the Coiled Snake & Chakras

I now see why Kundalini is symbolized as a two-and-a-half-turn coiled snake:

  • Coiled = Latent prana, stored but inactive. The two and a half Kundali or coil is probably the circle of chakras. The first Kundali is of the Muladhara and Swadhisthana Chakras. It is the biggest, meaning that initially, more effort is required to release the life force from these Chakras. The second Kundali is of the Manipur and Anahat Chakras. It is somewhat easier to open it. The three Chakras above it are shown in the half Kundali. Meaning that the Kundalini Shakti easily rises above it.
  • Uncoiling = Rising energy, moving through the chakras.
  • Hood Spreading = Awakening, as energy floods the brain.

Some describe Kundalini as ascending through chakras step by step, but in my case, there was no gradual unlocking—I felt a direct rush to the brain. My Dharana, Dhyana, and Samadhi weren’t stage-wise as in traditional texts but present from the beginning of my sadhana.

Favorable Natural Conditions Helped

It wasn’t just my effort—natural conditions favored it. Even without strong willpower, things aligned:
✔ My prana system was already near the threshold.
✔ No major distractions or worldly entanglements drained energy.
✔ My practice acted as the final catalyst.

Main reason ~ Shiva’s devine Grace

What I Haven’t Achieved Yet

I didn’t hold the awakened state for long—just ten seconds. I haven’t reached Nirvikalpa Samadhi, nor do I seek another forced awakening. But I see that meditation still slowly fills the “dam”, visible as bliss and an intensifying meditation image.

Now, I integrate my practice wisely:

  • During work burden: Sharirvigyan Darshan (body-science awareness).
  • In free time: Kriya Yoga.
  • When fully out of worldly concerns & health is perfect: Tantra.

Final Understanding: A Threshold, Not a Mystery

Kundalini is not an external force—it is simply prana crossing a threshold. My experience showed that slow accumulation often leaks energy, but rapid, focused transmutation locks it in place until the floodgates open.

Would I attempt to reach the threshold again? Not necessarily. My curiosity remains, but I am already at peace with understanding its nature.

Glimpse Awakenings: Proof That the Path Is Real

Happy Shivaratri festival to all friends, may Lord Shiva bless all

In today’s world, where science and logic shape our understanding, only what is directly experienced holds real value. Spirituality, too, must be grounded in tangible, firsthand experience rather than just belief. That is why glimpse awakenings matter. Unlike the distant and often vague idea of “final liberation,” glimpses offer real proof—moments where the ordinary self dissolves, leaving behind pure awareness.

I have had such glimpses—profound yet fleeting. In those moments, my sense of “I” vanished, and only consciousness remained. These experiences were real, but they did not last. They did not transform into a permanent state, nor did they lead to what is often described as ultimate liberation. I do not claim to have achieved the final state, nor am I lost in the illusion of having arrived. Instead, these glimpses revealed a deeper truth: chasing an imagined end goal is itself an illusion. It has also has saved me from falling into the traps of various illusory spiritual organisations for it helping to force me believe on myself only.

These awakenings have acted as both pathfinders and trackers—guiding my way and showing me where I stand. They have exposed my shortcomings, preventing me from getting caught in spiritual fantasies. Many seekers live in ideas rather than experiences, but glimpses remove the need for blind belief. They prove that the path is real, not just a concept.

Rather than feeling like I have reached something final, these experiences fuel my curiosity. I no longer seek an abstract idea of “liberation.” Instead, I focus on deepening and stabilizing what I have already touched. It is no longer about chasing something unknown but about refining what is already here.

To do this, I rely on both structured practice and intuition, whichever suits the moment. Structure provides discipline and stability, while intuition allows refinement and fluidity. I take material from different thoughts of schools yet unbound to them and freely adopt all mixing my own insights whatever suits me. Both blend naturally, and I see their effects directly in my meditation image. If the image fades, I adjust—sometimes with discipline, sometimes by letting go. This balance keeps the experience alive.

I have also realized that the movement of energy is natural. It rises and falls on its own, without needing to be forced. Earlier, I tried to control it, but now I allow it to unfold freely. Although forced concentration may be required at meditation time. My focus has shifted from seeking an imagined future state to fully experiencing what is present.

These glimpses have shown me that the path is not an illusion. They are not the final destination, but they are proof that awakening is real. Instead of waiting for some grand liberation, I continue refining, exploring, and deepening—because what is already here holds far more truth than any distant idea.