Non duality – Demystifying Kundalini

What Lies Beneath Every Religion? Kundalini, Muladhara Shakti and the Hidden Unity of All Spiritual Paths

Atmavat: Similarity Without Losing Difference

The verse “Atmavat sarvabhuteshu yah pashyati sah panditah” has always appeared to me more practical than a simple statement of non-duality. The important word is “vat”, which means “like” or “in the manner of”. It does not say that all beings are literally ourselves. It says that the wise person sees other beings as like himself. To me, this itself contains a meeting point of duality and non-duality. The difference between oneself and others remains, but a fundamental similarity is recognized. Pure non-duality, when taken to mean that all worldly distinctions should simply be ignored, is not always practical in ordinary life. We have different capacities, functions and levels of expression. Human beings, animals and other living beings are not identical. A bus and a car are also not identical, yet they have basic structural and functional similarities. In the same way, all beings can be regarded as fundamentally similar without pretending that every difference has disappeared. This preserves our distinctive human capacities while preventing those differences from becoming a justification for cruelty or indifference. We can act according to our position and responsibilities while still considering others as we would consider ourselves. That, to me, is a practical form of wisdom: difference is preserved, but fundamental equality is not forgotten. However, Jnana Yogins and older people may be able to contemplate this full similarity more easily, as they are less engaged in the practical demands of worldly life, which is necessarily full of duality. This gives greater and more immediate wisdom, but at the cost of losing practicality.

Spiritual Awareness Needs Energy

Such awareness is not always effortless. To keep contemplating other beings as like oneself while performing demanding worldly activities requires some mental and inner energy. I see two possible ways of making that energy available. One is to work slightly below one’s maximum capacity so that some attention and energy remain free for contemplation. The other is to cultivate greater inner energy through Tantra and spiritual practice so that contemplation can continue even while worldly activity proceeds at a fast pace. In my own life, I have experienced the second situation more strongly. There have been periods when increased inner capacity seemed to allow me to work at a high pace without completely losing the contemplative perspective. In advanced age, however, I feel that the first method may become more suitable. There is no need to maintain maximum worldly speed all the time. Slowing down a little can itself become a wise way of preserving space for reflection. The two approaches are also not mutually exclusive. One can increase inner capacity and still avoid unnecessary expenditure of energy.

Bhakti, Discipline and the Loss of Freedom

This understanding also shaped my reaction when I recently met a professional colleague who is a committed member of the Hare Krishna Hare Rama tradition. He follows many strict regulations: avoiding onion and garlic, observing fasts on Vaishnava holy days, completely avoiding non-vegetarian food and alcohol, attending large religious ceremonies and listening daily to Bhagavatam through an app. There is nothing inherently wrong with such discipline when it comes freely from devotion and understanding. Regular practice is valuable in spirituality just as it is everywhere else. My concern begins when one fixed lifestyle becomes the standard for everyone, or when surrender and egolessness are identified mainly with obedience to prescribed rules. A person can certainly become less ego-centred through devotion, but one can also remain egoless while using logic, philosophy, independent thought and ordinary worldly intelligence. Giving up reasoning merely to demonstrate surrender may become another form of identification. Transcending intellectual pride is not the same as abandoning intelligence.

I have also noticed that some strongly organized devotional groups can become so attached to their own path that they praise bhakti as superior and look down upon other approaches. To me, this misses an important fact: people are at different levels, have different temperaments and may need different methods. Not everyone can or should be forced into one lifestyle, belief or practice. A collective spiritual community can provide companionship, discipline and shared learning, but it should not replace individual understanding. The real danger is not group practice itself but the loss of personal discernment within the group.

Actually, he seemed quite worldly, with most of his energy being drained by worldly involvement and little left over for contemplation. He also did not appear to possess the kind of tantric force that makes sufficient energy available for contemplation regardless of the extent of one’s worldly activity. As a result, he became increasingly caught in worldly illusion and ignorance, and therefore chose a devotional path that emphasized surrender and withdrawal from certain domains of life. Had he been able to maintain a better balance between worldliness and contemplation, the very worldly engagement that contributed to his ignorance might instead have become a means of spiritual progress. But he could not sustain an all-inclusive approach in which both domains evolved together, so he had to give greater emphasis to one domain by limiting the other, allowing spiritual development to take place through that imbalance.

I further observe that Tantra does not favour overindulgence or indulgence in left-hand practices for their own sake. What is sometimes understood as the consumption of meat or liquor in Tantra is, in essence, guided by the body’s needs rather than by excess. Tantra reveres the body as the foundation of both spiritual and material life. Through Tantric practice, one becomes increasingly sensitive to the body’s needs and limitations. As a result, one learns to engage in practices that best suit the body without compromising spiritual progress.

A Mala Should Support Practice, Not Replace Choice

This became very concrete when my wife recently went to a temple where Bhagavatam katha was being held. Malas were being distributed, and people were being asked to promise that they would use them daily without fail and also listen to Bhagavatam regularly, perhaps even every day online and through reading. I refused such a commitment directly for myself and the same she followed for herself too. There is nothing wrong with receiving a mala or maintaining a daily practice when one personally understands and accepts it. The problem, for me, is making a sacred object into a vehicle of obligation. A practice can be invited, voluntarily accepted and sincerely followed, but it should not have to be imposed in the name of holiness. I also wondered whether such promises might be followed up or monitored, although the incident itself does not establish that surveillance was actually intended. My basic objection was simpler: what is the value of losing personal freedom in the name of spirituality? Discipline is useful when it grows from the heart and from one’s own understanding.

Different Religions, One Fundamental Basis

From there my thinking goes further. I do not see the different religions and sects as fundamentally separate systems. Their external forms differ greatly, but I see a common underlying spiritual force in all of them, which in the Kundalini framework can be understood as Muladhara Shakti. This is why I do not understand Tantra merely as sexual practice. Tantra, in a broader sense, concerns methods, techniques, worship, disciplined practice and systematic transformation. Different religious systems may therefore look completely different on the surface while working upon a common underlying human and spiritual foundation. The car, scooter and bus look different, but each has an engine that performs the fundamental work of movement. In the same way, different religions may use different symbols, scriptures, rituals and methods while engaging the same deeper force in human existence.

This also explains why I resist sectarian superiority. If the same underlying force is present in all, then the external vehicle should not be mistaken for the engine itself. One tradition may use devotion, another meditation, another prayer, another ritual, another philosophical inquiry, yet all may be working upon overlapping foundations of attention, emotion, consciousness and transformation. This does not mean that all religions teach exactly the same doctrines or that every practice is equally useful. Their historical and theological differences are real. My point is that difference in external form does not necessarily mean difference at the fundamental level.

The Whole and the Part: From the Emerald Tablet to Sharirvigyan Darshan

This view also connects with the ancient microcosm-macrocosm principle: what is found in the whole is reflected in the part, and what is above is related to what is below. Whatever exists in the Sahasrara or brain in the form of religion, sect, emotion, faith or intellectual belief has its fundamental basis in Muladhara. The same Muladhara Shakti rises and expresses itself in different forms at the intellectual levels of the Ajna and Sahasrara chakras, giving rise to diverse religions, sects, beliefs and spiritual philosophies. These differences are like the different bodies of cars, scooters and buses, all built around the same fundamental engine. In the same way, different religious practices and systems are different expressions of the same underlying force of Muladhara Shakti also called sometimes sexual essence. The Emerald Tablet expresses a famous version of this correspondence. The popular holographic analogy points in a similar direction, although I would not claim that modern holographic physics literally proves that every part contains the whole universe. Its value here is as an analogy for recurring patterns and correspondence across levels. My own framework in Sharirvigyan Darshan takes the body, consciousness and larger reality as related through such correspondences. From this perspective, human spiritual systems can also be understood as different expressions of deeper common principles.

The important distinction is between personal experience, traditional teaching and philosophical inference. My personal experiences can be reported directly, while traditional Kundalini and Tantric teachings can be examined in their own context. My understanding goes further from a simple common-sense observation: whatever form spiritual feeling takes—devotion, prayer, meditation, surrender or contemplation—it depends upon the cleansing and refinement of the mind. I see this mental cleansing as primarily connected with the ascending movement of Muladhara Shakti. The same underlying force may therefore be active throughout different spiritual paths, even when its upward movement is not consciously recognized. In intensive tantric practice, this movement can become sufficiently strong and perceptible to be experienced more directly. From this perspective, the common Muladhara basis of different religions is not merely an abstract comparison but a philosophical synthesis arising from the shared process of mental purification and spiritual development.

Unity Without Uniformity

The idea that connects everything for me is that similarity does not require identity. Atmavat means like oneself, not literally oneself. The microcosm may correspond to the macrocosm without being identical to it. Different religions may share a fundamental spiritual basis without having identical beliefs or practices. Spiritual practitioners can share the same human potential without being forced into the same lifestyle. Discipline can support freedom when it is consciously chosen, but it can undermine freedom when obedience itself becomes the goal.

Perhaps the most practical form of spirituality is therefore not to erase all differences or to make everyone follow one system. It is to recognize what is fundamentally common while allowing the surface differences to remain. The deeper unity does not require uniformity. It requires understanding.

Kundalini Awakening Through Karma Yoga and Nonduality: Why Worldly Life May Hold the Key to Spiritual Realisation

The Missing Link Between Worldly Love and Spiritual Wisdom

I have been reflecting on the relationship between worldly life, love, devotion, surrender, Kundalini awakening and self-realisation. My central thought is that spiritual development need not always require withdrawing from worldly experience. Sometimes, living fully in the world while maintaining a nondual perspective may offer a distinctive route to spiritual awakening. This raises an important question: can a person become so absorbed in advanced yoga or philosophical knowledge that they overlook the value of love, emotional fulfilment and ordinary human relationships, only to recognise their importance later in life?

Why Vedavyasa Felt Dissatisfied Despite His Immense Wisdom

According to the traditional account in the Bhagavata Purana, Maharishi Vedavyasa felt dissatisfied even after composing extensive spiritual literature. Narada Muni advised him that he had not sufficiently glorified the Supreme Lord and the sweetness of loving devotion. Vyasa subsequently composed the Bhagavata Purana, which gives special prominence to Krishna’s divine qualities, activities and relationships with devotees. The story suggests that intellectual knowledge and philosophical wisdom do not necessarily provide the same fulfilment as experiencing divine love and devotion. The word rasa expresses this inward sweetness, the deeply relished experience of love rather than merely an intellectual understanding of the Divine.

I wondered whether Vyasa might have recognised this dimension earlier had he experienced worldly love, devotion and surrender before pursuing advanced yoga and knowledge. The traditional story does not say that he regretted missing romantic or worldly love; his dissatisfaction concerned the incompleteness of his spiritual expression. Nevertheless, his story raises a broader human question. A person may devote years to knowledge, discipline, professional achievement or spiritual practice and discover only later that loving relationships and emotional experiences were also essential parts of life. By then, some opportunities of youth, romance, family life and shared experiences may have passed. Although affection, companionship and tenderness remain possible in old age, certain experiences cannot simply be recreated. Spirituality should therefore not require us to postpone being human until little time remains.

Jnana Yoga and the Limitations of Worldly Competition

Jnana Yoga emphasises self-inquiry, discrimination between the transient and permanent, and freedom from identification with the ego. These aims may conflict with competitive worldliness, where people pursue wealth, status, influence and recognition. As attachment to such goals diminishes, motivation for conventional competition may also decline. Jnana Yoga can cultivate sustained clarity, detachment and inner elevation, but it does not automatically prevent professional achievement, love or compassionate engagement with society.

My point is that a person who focuses primarily on transcendence may have less reason to participate in the full range of worldly experiences. If someone renounces worldly life before understanding its emotional dimensions, they may later wonder whether they abandoned something they had never genuinely experienced. This does not mean that everyone must first experience every worldly pleasure before pursuing spiritual realisation. Rather, it suggests that premature rejection of life and mature freedom from attachment are not necessarily the same thing.

Karma Yoga as a Two-in-One Approach

I see Karma Yoga as a potentially integrated approach, combining worldly participation with spiritual development. A Karma Yogi can work, maintain a family, experience love, pursue professional excellence and fulfil social responsibilities while practising awareness, surrender and non-attachment. The Bhagavad Gita teaches that one can act wholeheartedly without becoming psychologically dependent on the fruits of action. This is different from abandoning action or becoming indifferent to its quality.

In this sense, Karma Yoga may offer a two-in-one approach: a person continues living and developing in the world while simultaneously working toward spiritual freedom. Worldly life becomes a field for learning rather than merely an obstacle to overcome. Relationships can reveal possessiveness, desire and vulnerability, while responsibility can teach discipline and selflessness. Love may begin with the desire to possess another person but gradually mature into care that does not demand complete control. Thus, worldly experience can itself contribute to spiritual understanding. Worldly life acts like a raw material to make spiritual progress.

My Kundalini Hypothesis: Worldly Engagement, Prana and Nonduality

I believe that worldly engagement may also contribute to the distinctive character of certain Kundalini awakening experiences. Competitive activity, love, emotional challenges and responsibilities can heighten attention and mental activation. In yogic language, I interpret this heightened vitality as intensified prana, although prana should not be equated directly with physiological arousal in scientific terms.

My hypothesis is that nondual contemplation can redirect this heightened vitality toward an inner meditative image. This is helped by nondual attitude of sharirvigyan darshan and quantum darshan among worldly activities. The image may gradually become vivid, immersive and seemingly alive rather than remaining an idea deliberately maintained by the mind. In deep absorption, the ordinary sense of separation between observer and experience may also change.

I have found worldly nondual contemplation can produce effects that resemble those sought through physical yogic practices, pranayama and other traditional methods. My proposed sequence is worldly engagement creating heightened vitality, nondual contemplation giving that vitality direction, deep absorption making the meditative image experientially alive, and a possible sudden awakening involving changes in bodily awareness, breathing or the sense of self. This remains an experiential hypothesis, not an established physiological mechanism, and a vivid experience alone cannot prove Kundalini awakening or permanent self-realisation. However in advanced later stage of karmayoga, gyanyoga enhances its effects to awakening level.

Can Karma Yoga Produce a Different Kind of Awakening?

I do not suggest that Jnana Yoga alone cannot lead to Kundalini awakening or a glimpse of self-realisation. It may also produce sudden and profound experiences. My distinction concerns their possible experiential character. An awakening arising through sustained contemplative withdrawal may have a different texture from one arising amid worldly relationships, emotional richness, embodied experience and nondual awareness. The latter may retain what I call a worldly tinge, not necessarily in the sense of attachment, but in the richness of its connection with lived experience.

The intensity of an awakening, however, does not establish the permanence of realisation or the maturity of a person’s conduct. A sudden experience may be followed by a long process of integration. Likewise, gradual contemplative practice can lead to profound transformation. Worldly engagement may contribute to the conditions of awakening for some practitioners, but excessive stress and agitation can also interfere with meditation. More intensity does not automatically mean more spiritual progress. Work should be moderate—not too demanding or too light, but comfortably within one’s capacity, leaving enough energy for nondual contemplation.

Sharirvigyan Darshan and the Integration of Body, Action and Awareness

My understanding of Sharirvigyan Darshan centres on exploring spiritual development through embodied existence, worldly action and nondual awareness rather than treating ordinary life merely as something to escape. In this framework, worldly participation supplies experiential richness, Karma Yoga transforms the relationship with action, and Jnana Yoga helps examine the self and loosen identification with the ego.

I see Karma Yoga as a two-in-one approach because it allows spiritual practice and worldly development to proceed together, while Jnana Yoga can appear more like a one-in-one approach when pursued primarily through direct inquiry and contemplation. A Karma Yogi may increasingly rely on Jnana Yoga in advanced stages to understand the experiences arising through action. Yet Jnana Yogis do not necessarily exclude Karma Yoga; many combine knowledge with service, compassion and devotion from the beginning. The Bhagavad Gita itself presents knowledge and action as closely related paths rather than entirely independent alternatives. However, Karma Yoga may be an option rather than a necessity for a Jnana Yogi, while Jnana Yoga may become valuable and a necessity for a Karma Yogi, especially in the later stages of spiritual development.

Why People Follow Renowned Jnana Yogis Instead of Finding Their Own Path

Different people may find different approaches to spirituality meaningful, depending on their temperament, circumstances and responsibilities. Teachings centred on meditation, detachment and self-inquiry can be valuable, just as Karma Yoga offers a way to explore spiritual growth through everyday work, relationships and responsibilities. My interest in Sharirvigyan Darshan is to explore this latter perspective and its relationship with nonduality, without suggesting that one path is universally better than another.

Similarly, devotional films such as Hanuman Ansh and philosophical works such as Sharirvigyan Darshan serve different purposes and reach audiences in different ways. Presenting spiritual ideas through stories and emotions may be easier than explaining a philosophical framework that requires sustained thought and reflection. However, a more engaging or better-presented film is not necessarily more effective in practical life; the actual impact depends on the individual and how deeply the ideas are understood and applied. A film may inspire devotion, while a philosophical work may offer insights that readers can explore in their daily lives. Both have their own value, and their practical effectiveness cannot be judged by presentation or popularity alone.

Conclusion: Spiritual Awakening Need Not Require Abandoning Life

My central insight is that spiritual development need not be divided rigidly between worldly life and transcendence. Jnana Yoga can cultivate sustained clarity and may also culminate in sudden awakening. Karma Yoga can integrate action, relationships, embodied experience and nondual contemplation, potentially giving some awakening experiences a distinctive experiential richness. The two approaches can complement each other, and neither guarantees a particular result.

Perhaps the heart should not be treated merely as something to transcend after the mind has completed its work. Love, devotion, surrender, knowledge and meditation can mature together. Rather than postponing life until worldly experiences are no longer available, we can learn to participate in work, relationships and responsibilities with increasing awareness and decreasing possessiveness. The deeper possibility explored through Sharirvigyan Darshan is that worldly engagement and spiritual realisation need not be enemies: lived experience may become part of the journey toward inner freedom.

Sun, Quantum Interactions, Living Organisms and Kundalini: A Cyclic View of Karmayoga, Samadhi and Nature

The Sun as a Realm of Extreme Interaction

I began with a simple thought: the Sun is not merely the gravitational hub of the solar system but a tremendous center of physical interaction. Compared with the relatively cool planets, asteroids and other bodies moving around it, the Sun is an extraordinarily energetic environment in which an immense variety of processes are taking place continuously. Nuclear fusion occurs in its core, charged particles interact in its plasma, photons are absorbed, emitted and scattered, atoms and ions are excited and ionized, and electromagnetic and magnetic processes constantly reshape its plasma. In that sense, the Sun can be thought of as a gigantic natural laboratory of nuclear, quantum, atomic, electromagnetic and plasma interactions. This does not mean that every quantum interaction in the universe is centered on the Sun, but it does suggest that the Sun is one of the most intensely active natural environments in our immediate cosmic neighbourhood.

This led me to a more unusual question: why should we not compare the Sun with a living organism? At the ordinary level they seem completely different. One is inorganic and enormously hot, while the other is organic and living. But when we look deeper, both are made of matter governed by the same underlying physical laws. At atomic and quantum levels, both involve particles interacting, exchanging energy, changing states and participating in larger systems. Their mechanisms are not identical, but the basic fact of continuous interaction is common to both. In the Sun, extreme heat, pressure and energy make countless interactions possible; in a living body, enzymes, molecular structures, energy gradients and cellular regulation facilitate and control an enormously complex network of interactions. Heat is not literally the equivalent of an enzyme, because heat mainly increases molecular and particle energies whereas an enzyme is a selective catalyst that lowers an activation barrier and regulates a particular biochemical reaction. Yet the comparison remains meaningful at the level of a system in which energy enables and sustains interaction.

From Chaotic Karmayoga to Stabilization

From here I began to see the quantum particles of the Sun metaphorically as Karmayogis. They are continuously active, continually interacting, moving and transforming in an extremely energetic environment. When matter leaves such extreme conditions and becomes part of a cooler and more stable planet, the same activity is no longer expressed in the same chaotic intensity. Matter becomes comparatively stabilized. I began to see this as somewhat similar to a Karmayogi gradually turning toward sitting Kundalini Yoga. First there is intense activity, then stabilization, then deeper observation and stillness.

In this view, the history of matter can be imagined as a cycle rather than a straight line. In the Sun there is intense interaction, something like a highly active worldly condition. In cooler environments there is increasing stability. On a developed planet, highly organized matter eventually gives rise to living organisms. Life brings back intense activity, but now the activity is far more ordered. This difference between earlier chaotic activity and later organized activity became important to my thought. The earlier activity can be compared symbolically with Karmayoga before the deeper regulating principle has been consciously observed. The later activity, in living organisms, resembles a more orderly worldliness, in which countless processes are coordinated through an extraordinary degree of regulation.

Pure Awareness and the Return to Ordered Action

I then connected this with the yogic cycle that I have experienced and contemplated. A yogi may begin in active worldly life, gradually cultivate observation and regulation, move into Kundalini Yoga and deeper meditation, and eventually enter states of profound stillness such as Samadhi. But Samadhi does not necessarily mean permanent abandonment of activity. Activity can return. What changes is the quality of that activity. After the regulating principle has been seen directly, worldly action can become more orderly, less chaotic and less dominated by unconscious reaction.

This is why I found a parallel between cosmic activity and yogic development. In my interpretation, the particles are not being said to feel or think like human beings. I am not proposing that an electron experiences pure awareness, performs Karmayoga or enters Samadhi. The comparison is based on observable or structural behaviour rather than on claiming identical inner experience. A particle undergoes interactions, energy exchange, transitions and stabilization; a human being experiences action, mental movement, regulation, stillness and renewed action. The inner reality may be completely different, while the pattern of movement can still appear similar. The important distinction is therefore between similarity of pattern and similarity of consciousness.

The Universe as a Cycle or Chakra

This made the idea of the chakra especially meaningful to me. Reality appears less like a straight road and more like a wheel: interaction leads toward stabilization, stabilization allows deeper organization, deeper organization gives rise to more sophisticated activity, and activity can again move toward stillness and observation. The yogi experiences such movement inwardly, while nature displays comparable cycles outwardly. In the yogic case, however, the cycle becomes consciously observed.

This is also why I related the idea to the Dharma Chakra of Buddhism. A wheel suggests continuous movement rather than a final linear endpoint. Stillness and activity are not necessarily enemies. One may move from action to stillness and then return to action at another level. The return is not simply a repetition of the beginning; it can be a return informed by what was discovered in stillness.

Sun Worship, Karmayoga and the Living Body

From this perspective, even ordinary spiritual practices began to acquire a new meaning for me. Giving water to the rising Sun in morning worship can be understood symbolically as aligning oneself with an active, energetic principle. The ritual involves standing, movement, intention and conscious orientation toward light and energy. It can therefore encourage alertness, vitality, gratitude and readiness for action, making it resemble the mental quality of an active Karmayogi. The comparison is not that energy from the Sun’s quantum particles is literally transferred into the worshipper’s mind. Rather, the Sun becomes an object through which a particular quality of consciousness may be cultivated.

By contrast, meditation on simpler and apparently more peaceful objects, such as a stone or a quietly flowing river, may encourage a calmer and more observant state. A stone appears stable even though microscopic interactions continue within it, while a river is continuously moving without displaying the restless complexity of human thought. Contemplating such forms of nature can therefore become a way of cultivating peaceful Yogic awareness. Again, the point is not that the stone’s particles are literally peaceful or that the river transmits a quantum state into the meditator. The object of contemplation acts more like a mirror for the quality of consciousness being cultivated.

Sharirvigyan Darshan provides an especially interesting bridge between the two modes. When the body itself becomes the object of contemplation, one can observe that it is simultaneously intensely active and capable of being observed in stillness. Countless organs, cells, molecules and biochemical reactions are continuously functioning, while the meditative observer can remain quiet. Thus the living body brings together the two poles of the idea: ceaseless activity and silent awareness.

One Pattern Appearing at Different Levels

My larger intuition, therefore, is not that the Sun, a stone, a living body, a quantum particle and a yogi are literally the same thing. They clearly are not. The Sun is a plasma-filled star, a stone is stable matter, a living body is an extraordinarily organized biological system, and a yogi is a conscious human being. What interests me is that similar patterns may appear at very different levels: interaction, transformation, stabilization, organization, renewed activity and, in the human case, conscious observation of the whole process.

The Sun may represent intense activity; the cool planet, stabilization; life, highly ordered activity; meditation, observation and stillness; Samadhi, profound stabilization; and the return to life, Karmayoga informed by awareness. Seen this way, the universe, the living organism and the yogic journey can all be contemplated as different expressions of a recurring cycle. Nature provides the outer pattern, while Yoga provides the possibility of experiencing such a cycle consciously from within.

Why Puranic Stories Have Endless Layers of Spiritual Meaning

The Many Layers of a Puranic Story

Puranic stories are amazing psychology because they can benefit almost every kind of reader, even when different readers understand completely different things from the same story. I have been thinking particularly about the stories of Ganga and how they seem to work at many levels at once. A child may simply enjoy them as wonderful fictional stories filled with extraordinary events, characters, imagination and adventure. There is no need for the child to understand philosophy or yoga for the story to give joy. As the same person grows older, however, the story can begin to provide moral, social, cultural, devotional and spiritual meaning. The remarkable thing is that discovering a deeper meaning does not make the earlier meaning useless. The story can continue to operate at several levels simultaneously. Thus in a way these stories are wonderful spiritual sanskar builders since the childhood so that yoga doesn’t look strange in later life but well known since quite earlier. Ganga story is just one example among plethora of such awe inspiring stories.

Ganga as Nature Worship and Spiritual Practice

The first important layer I see is the nature-worshipping layer. A person who does not understand yoga or symbolism may simply regard the physical Ganga as sacred. He worships the river, respects it, visits it and develops reverence toward nature. In this sense, he may unknowingly participate in something close to a nondual spiritual attitude: nature is not treated merely as an object outside oneself but as something worthy of sacred recognition. He does not need to intellectually understand nonduality or quantum philosophy for this attitude to influence him. By regarding the natural world as sacred, he is indirectly prepared for a more spiritual relationship with existence.

This is especially interesting because the Puranic tradition repeatedly gives sacred significance to rivers, mountains, forests, animals and other aspects of nature. The ordinary person therefore receives a spiritual orientation through something immediately accessible. Spirituality does not have to begin with an abstract philosophical concept. It can begin with a river.

The Same Ganga as a Yogic Symbol

At another level, the same Ganga story can be approached by a yogi. The river can be understood symbolically as an inner current, and its descent, flow and relationship with Shiva can be contemplated as representations of an inner spiritual process. In my own way of looking at Kundalini and yoga, such imagery can be related to the movement of consciousness and the Sushumna. The physical river remains a real river, but it can simultaneously become an inner map. Although inside is same as outside like microcosm inside macrocosm. So Ganga as sushumna also give similar nonduality effect when revered. Additionally it gives direct yoga benefit too. Together, Nonduality and yoga lives together in cause and effect relationship.

This makes me wonder whether nature worship and yogic symbolism are not accidental additions but two especially important layers of Puranic storytelling. Both belong to major spiritual domains, and the Puranas are known primarily for dealing with religious and spiritual subjects, although they also cover cosmology, mythology, ethics, ritual, sacred geography, devotion and social life. The possibility therefore arises that the stories were designed to communicate spirituality through forms that could be understood at very different levels. I would not claim that every particular yogic correspondence was consciously encoded by an original storyteller without textual evidence, but the structure certainly allows such a reading.

The Social and Behavioral Education Hidden in the Story

The same narrative can also work at a social and behavioral level. A woman reading a revered female figure may find respect for womanhood and may receive an example of qualities considered admirable, such as courage, dignity, devotion, responsibility, compassion or strength. A man may receive another kind of lesson. Seeing a feminine figure treated with reverence can encourage him to understand that externally visible physical strength does not determine human worth. A woman’s lesser average physical strength cannot become a justification for domination, humiliation or mistreatment.

The story therefore does not have to be understood as a yogic text to influence conduct. Someone interested only in ordinary human behavior can still receive ethical education from it. The important point is not that every person must literally imitate every action of a mythological character, but that the narrative can provide models from which people draw principles appropriate to their lives.

From Childhood Imagination to Yoga

This suggests a gradual ladder of reception. A child enters through imagination and fictional joy. An ordinary adult may receive moral and cultural instruction. A person concerned with social behavior may learn respect, duty and appropriate conduct. A devotee may develop reverence for the sacred. A nature-oriented person may learn to see the natural world as worthy of respect. A spiritual seeker may discover symbolic and psychological meanings. A yogi may recognize an inner map involving consciousness, prana, chakras or Sushumna. A deeper contemplative may eventually use the same imagery in nondual contemplation. Although all these steps of ladder complement each other beautifully.

One possible limitation, especially in the modern context, is that a person may become too fascinated by the miracles, supernatural events and extraordinary fictional world of Puranic stories. Instead of using the stories as symbolic, devotional or ethical pathways, some readers may begin to take every extraordinary element literally. In a modern life that depends heavily on practical reasoning, scientific understanding and evidence-based thinking, this could sometimes create tension with a person’s ordinary intellectual and practical outlook. This does not mean that Puranic stories necessarily produce such an effect, nor that everyone is affected by them. For many people, the imaginative and miraculous elements may remain simply part of the storytelling tradition while the deeper values are retained. The concern is that, for some readers, excessive attachment to the supernatural surface may overshadow the symbolic and practical dimensions of the stories, at least to some degree. In earlier traditional societies, where religious, mythological and everyday life were much more closely integrated, the same tension may not have appeared in the same form. Modern readers, however, live simultaneously in a scientific, technological and highly practical world, so maintaining a distinction between symbolic mythology and empirical fact can sometimes be important. The challenge, therefore, is not necessarily to reject the miraculous dimension of Puranic storytelling, but to allow imagination and spirituality to coexist with scientific reasoning and practical life.

These layers need not replace one another. A child who once enjoyed the story can later discover its moral meaning, then its devotional meaning, and perhaps much later its yogic significance. The story grows with the reader.

Why the Layers May Be Practically Endless

I think the layers can go almost endlessly. This does not necessarily mean that every possible interpretation was deliberately placed inside the story by its original composer. Rather, a rich symbolic narrative can interact with different ages, personalities, life situations and levels of understanding, producing new meaningful readings. Its depth is therefore not exhausted when one hidden meaning is discovered.

Perhaps this is one of the great strengths of Puranic storytelling. The story does not demand that everyone understand spirituality in the same language. The child receives wonder; the ordinary person receives values; the devotee receives sacredness; the nature-lover receives reverence for the world; the socially oriented person receives behavioral lessons; and the yogi can discover an inner spiritual map. The same narrative can entertain, educate, shape behavior, cultivate devotion and prepare consciousness for yoga.

The Outer River and the Inner River

The Ganga example brings the whole idea together for me. The outer Ganga can remain an actual physical river and at the same time become sacred nature, an object of devotion, a cultural symbol and an inner yogic metaphor. The ordinary worshipper does not need to know the yogic interpretation for the practice to have value. The yogi does not need to reject the physical river after discovering the inner meaning.

Perhaps this is the deeper genius of Puranic storytelling: it gives spirituality an outer form that almost anyone can approach while leaving room for an inner meaning that can unfold progressively. Nature can be sacred outside, while the same sacred geography can become yoga within. What begins for one person as a child’s wonderful story can become for another a moral education, for another a way of relating to nature, for another a devotional practice, and finally for a yogi a doorway into the mystery of consciousness.

Spiritual Awakening and Self-Realisation: Mental Chaos, Nondual Meditation and Worldly Life

When Inner Calm Suddenly Meets Mental Rush

I have often wondered whether spiritual awakening and self-realisation can ever be accompanied by suicidal thoughts or deep depression. My own understanding became clearer when I looked back at something I experienced during my university days. I had become extremely calm and contained, and I was able to dissolve mental chaos quite easily. The inward movement was becoming natural to me. I was accustomed to silence, observation and the gradual disappearance of disturbing mental movements. Yet, near the end of that period, something unexpected happened. A sudden rush of recognition arose. Profession and family, which appeared to be ordinary parts of life, suddenly seemed to be creating chaos and opposing one another at the same time. It was not simply one particular problem; the whole structure of ordinary life seemed to reveal its contradictions together.
There were actually no clear-cut self-inflicting at that time. Rather, I had become somewhat reluctant about worldly growth. Perhaps this was partly an effect of my nondual philosophy and the way I was working with it. Desires were still there, but they were no longer experienced as cravings. Yet, as I could see in practical life, ordinary desires can be difficult to fulfil unless they become strong cravings in today’s materialistic world. People driven by intense cravings can easily move ahead of those whose desires remain moderate and intellectually restrained. From the outside, therefore, my condition could sometimes look like depression or a lack of ambition. From within, however, it did not necessarily feel like depression. I could feel that, in my own understanding, all was well.
There were also occasions when I realised how easily such a state could be misunderstood by others. Even a casual or playful remark about self-infliction, made perhaps as a kind of warning or expression of frustration, could backfire because people might understand it in a completely different sense from what was intended. That taught me an important practical lesson: never speak casually in such language, because others may attach a meaning to it that is entirely different from one’s own inner meaning. It is also possible that such a condition might have helped me in another way, by bringing more care or attention from people around me. Much depends on the society and the people one lives among. Some societies or individuals may treat a person who appears withdrawn, unsuccessful or vulnerable even more harshly, while others may recognise the difficulty and extend a helping hand. The same outward condition can therefore produce very different consequences depending on how people respond to it.
The experience nevertheless showed me something important. Even a person who has developed considerable inner calm, and perhaps has reached a profound state of awakening or self-realisation, can become temporarily destabilised when an unusually large movement of recognition and mental activity suddenly arises. Inner calm does not automatically mean that one has already learned how to integrate every possible contradiction of ordinary life. That integration may require another kind of training: learning to carry inner freedom into the full complexity of family, profession, desire, responsibility and the material world. Once a person has genuinely experienced and learned to navigate such complexity, it may leave a lasting resilience—perhaps even lifelong—so that the person can remain much less vulnerable to similar disturbances later, even if he eventually steps away from a demanding or struggle-filled life.

In a nutshell, self-inflictive, depressed, frustrated or hopeless moods may arise from unresolved emotions. Awakening and spirituality can help greatly in recognising, processing and resolving these emotions, but they also have their limits. When unresolved emotions accumulate faster than one’s capacity to clear them, the mind can become increasingly burdened and depression may arise. These unresolved emotions leave imprints, or what may be experienced as a kind of darkness over the self, creating a feeling of inner heaviness and even suffocation. In this sense, spiritual practice can help clear the darkness, but when the emotional load becomes greater than the person’s present capacity to process it, even a spiritually inclined person may become temporarily overwhelmed.

I have also observed another tendency in worldly life: a person who carries less mental or emotional baggage may sometimes appear more capable of carrying additional burdens. Others may therefore unconsciously shift some of their own burden onto him, seeking relief for themselves and creating an apparent balance of burdens. But in this process of taking and giving, the extra burden may sometimes become concentrated on the person who was already relatively free. What appears to distribute the burden equally can therefore have the opposite effect, leaving the awakened or inwardly developed person with a load that becomes unexpectedly difficult to lift.

Awakening Does Not Mean That Mental Turbulence Will Never Return

This also changed the way I look at what is sometimes called spiritual purification. Daily cleaning of the mind does not necessarily mean that the mind will become progressively quiet without interruption. Sometimes suppressed thoughts, emotions, memories and contradictions may come into awareness together, often triggered by external conditions. After several calm days, a person may suddenly experience a great rush of thoughts and wonder why everything has become chaotic again. The contrast itself can produce exhaustion, hopelessness, anxiety or even depression-like feelings. But such a phase does not automatically mean that spiritual practice has failed. It can mean that the person has encountered more psychological material than he is presently able to process comfortably.

There is also an important difference between seeing thoughts and being overwhelmed by them. In a stable contemplative process, thoughts may arise without having the same authority over the person. During an overwhelming phase, however, thoughts can become repetitive, emotionally charged and convincing. In such a situation, trying to meditate harder or forcing the mind to become empty may not always help. A Sometimes the better direction is to reduce the intensity of inward practice, return to ordinary activity, maintain sleep and food, walk, remain connected with other people and allow the nervous system to settle. Spiritual practice should not becoms another form of struggle against the mind. For me, a nondual practice such as Sharirvigyan Darshan or Quantum Darshan, applied in practical life, may be one of the easiest and least stressful forms of meditation during such periods. Instead of demanding prolonged inward concentration or withdrawal from ordinary activity, it allows awareness to continue while one is living, working, dealing with family, fulfilling responsibilities and facing the ordinary chaos of life. In this way, meditation becomes less a separate exercise and more a natural way of living.

The Difference Between Spiritual Crisis and Self-Realisation

I do not think suicidal thinking should be regarded as a necessary stage of awakening. A profound spiritual experience can coincide with suicidal thoughts, but that does not make those thoughts a higher spiritual attainment. A person may be undergoing what is sometimes described as a spiritual emergency, where identity, meaning and perception change so rapidly that the psychological system becomes overwhelmed. At the same time, similar experiences can occur with depression, dissociation, mania, psychosis, sleep deprivation or other psychological conditions. Therefore, an extraordinary inner experience should not automatically be interpreted as purely spiritual.

For me, an important point is that realising that the ego is not the ultimate reality does not mean that the body or life should be neglected. Self-realisation is not about destroying ordinary life; it is about changing the way we identify with it. In fact, spirituality can make life more meaningful and stable by giving a person hope, connection and a deeper reason to live. But if spiritual struggle makes a person feel that life has lost all meaning, or that he cannot reconcile his inner experience with ordinary life, it can have the opposite effect. It is also practically clear that spiritual life cannot easily advance without some worldly support. The body needs food, shelter, health, rest and social security, while the mind also needs a reasonably stable environment. Spiritual practice therefore does not exist completely apart from worldly life. Some basic worldly support gives a person the foundation from which deeper spiritual work can continue.

Why an Inward Life Can Become Vulnerable to Sudden Chaos

Looking back, I think there is another important reason why such destabilisation can happen. A person who has become habitual of a very inward and calm life may become highly trained in dealing with mental movements that arise within that controlled environment, but may not be equally trained in living amid external chaos. He may know how to sit quietly, observe thoughts and dissolve inner disturbances, yet have comparatively little experience of simultaneously handling family demands, professional responsibility, friendly chaos, interpersonal conflict, uncertainty and other pressures of ordinary life.

Then, when an extraordinary amount of chaos suddenly arises, the person may be disturbed not because his inner practice was false, but because he had not yet developed enough experience of carrying that inner stability into difficult circumstances. Calmness in the absence of disturbance and stability in the presence of disturbance are related, but they are not exactly the same accomplishment.

Sharirvigyan Darshan as a Bridge Between Inner Life and Ordinary Life

This is where my experience with Sharirvigyan Darshan became important. Instead of trying to escape profession, family, body and ordinary responsibilities, I began living and working according to the principles of Sharirvigyan Darshan. For me, this worked wonderfully. It stabilised me and, surprisingly, did not slow spiritual progress. I felt that the pace of spiritual development became even faster than before, but I also realised that this way of living has its limits. As long as the body has enough energy, one can deploy that energy in both the worldly and spiritual realms together. With advancing age, however, a person naturally has to move more in one direction or the other. Therefore, the spiritual way may gradually become more suitable, although some worldly engagement is still necessary for life. Even then, whatever worldly activity remains can be combined with nondual contemplation, so that the two do not become completely separate.

I think the reason was that ordinary life itself became part of the training. Family, profession, relationships, bodily experiences, desires, responsibilities and social situations were no longer separate from spiritual work. They became the actual environment in which awareness had to function. Instead of learning only how to dissolve mental chaos in a quiet inward state, I was repeatedly exposed to the chaos of life and could use the same understanding to process it.

This creates a kind of training through repeated experience. A person first learns calmness in a quiet environment. Then he learns to retain that calmness while ordinary disturbances occur. With continued experience, he develops confidence that even when something extraordinary happens, mental chaos can arise without necessarily controlling or destroying him. The disturbance becomes familiar rather than frightening.

From Escaping Chaos to Learning How to Dissolve It

This, to me, is perhaps the deeper lesson. The goal is not to create a life in which chaos never appears. Such a life may provide calmness, but it does not necessarily prepare one for the unpredictable intensity of existence. The stronger stability comes when one can remain inwardly centred while life continues to move around him.

Sharirvigyan Darshan, as I experienced it, provided precisely this integration. Instead of separating spiritual life from worldly life, it allowed the two to operate together. I have seen many people leave the material realm in order to become more spiritual, but my approach was almost the opposite: I continued to engage with the material realm while carrying the spiritual realm along with it. I did not see family, profession and worldly responsibilities as obstacles that had to be abandoned. Rather, I tried to bring spiritual understanding into them.

I have seen, for example, a doctor leave his job to become a writer, filmmaker and director around a spiritual figure. My own path was different. I continued with my job while becoming a writer and even got awakening like a spiritual figure. I did not have to leave my professional life for spirituality instead it further grew with this unique nondual philosophy. To me, these things did not appear contradictory. I am not presenting this as an exaggeration or as an achievement to be compared with others; it is simply how I experienced what happened in my own life through this practical philosophy. It may also be that my profession did not carry the same level of responsibility as that of a doctor, whose decisions can sometimes directly affect whether a person lives or dies. Human life is more precious than animal life, and the emotional and moral weight of such responsibility can therefore be much greater. However, I feel that spirituality properly integrated into a physician’s profession should not itself do any harm. If anything, it can strengthen the value placed on human life and make the work more meaningful than when it is approached through purely worldly considerations. If difficulties still arise, they may be due to other factors working together rather than spirituality itself.

Of course, no philosophy or spiritual discipline can make a person completely incapable of being disturbed. Even a highly experienced practitioner can become overwhelmed by sufficiently extreme circumstances. The real achievement is different: disturbance becomes less frightening, less sticky and less capable of reorganising the whole personality around itself.

Thus my earlier experience and my later understanding fit together. I once learned to dissolve mental chaos mainly through inward calmness. Later, by living fully in ordinary life through Sharirvigyan Darshan, I learned something broader: one does not become truly stable by escaping chaos; one becomes stable by becoming experienced in remaining oneself while chaos moves through oneself. Later on, I again shifted from the struggle of active worldly life toward calmer meditation, but now with much better understanding and control. I had already experienced worldly life and its chaos closely, so the inward movement was no longer the same as before. It became a more informed and balanced return to calmness. This may be an important part of the two-way movement between mental purification and worldly engagement, where each strengthens the other and gradually leads toward genuine integration and self-realisation.

Quantum Verse and Nondual Living: Why Humanity Is Religion, Work Is Worship, Problems Are Teachers, and Household Life Is Sadhana

The Deeper Meaning of My Quantum Verse

In my Quantum Verse, I had written four simple thoughts: no religion is better than humanity, no worship is better than work, no problem is better than a teacher, and no hermit is better than householdship. Earlier, I saw these mainly as principles of life. Recently, through my own experience of working, learning and moving towards awakening and samadhi, I understood a deeper connection between all four. They are not really four unrelated statements. They can be understood as four practical expressions of a nondual way of living, especially when viewed through what I call Sharirvigyan Darshan and Quantum Darshan. Amazingly, I had made it as a spiritual fun for a magazine, but it turned a topmost lesson of my life later on.

No Religion Is Better Than Humanity

For me, humanity is greater than religion because humanity keeps spiritual knowledge connected with actual life. A belief, doctrine or religious practice can remain limited to thought or ritual, but humanity tests what we really understand by how we live and work with other beings. In that sense, humanity itself can become the most practical religion. It also has another important role: it prevents wrong working. When work is done without sensitivity to life and without a nondual understanding, knowledge can become mechanical, ego-driven or harmful. Humanity keeps the action grounded.

No Worship Is Better Than Work

The second statement became much clearer through my own experience. I did not discover that work is automatically worship. Work becomes worship only when it is done with a nondual mindset. Otherwise work can create bad habits, strengthen conditioning and make a person dependent on methods that may not suit the actual structure of the body and mind. This was important in my own journey. I did not stop learning from other people because I disliked teachers or believed that others had nothing to offer. Rather, I found that the people and methods available to me often did not work in the knowledgeable way that I considered necessary according to Sharirvigyan Darshan and Quantum Darshan. If I continued working through unsuitable methods, I could develop wrong habits through the very process of learning. So I felt it was better to learn and work largely by myself. It proved as a boon for me and I could grow as per my own will.

Self-Learning Does Not Mean Rejecting Teachers

My approach was not complete isolation. I took help whenever it was genuinely needed, but I kept it to the minimum necessary. The important point was that I did not want to become dependent on others. I wanted to understand the work directly and discover how it actually functioned through my own observation and experience. This distinction matters to me now: self-learning is not anti-teacher. It means refusing to make the teacher a substitute for one’s own seeing. A teacher can point, explain or correct, but the actual understanding still has to become one’s own.

No Problem Is Better Than a Teacher

This also changes the meaning of the third line. A problem can become a teacher when we do not merely ask someone else to remove it but investigate why it exists, what it is showing and what it requires us to understand. In that sense, the problem itself can expose weaknesses in our knowledge and working. It can teach us more directly than an external explanation because we have to encounter the principle in actual life. This is why I now see the statement not simply as praise of teachers, but as a reminder that learning can come through the very difficulty we are trying to solve.

Nature as the Greatest Teacher

This experience also led to another meaning that arose naturally for me. If nonduality is maintained, nature itself can become the best teacher. Nature does not teach through dependence. It shows processes directly through the body, mind, environment and the relationships between them. When one observes without separating oneself completely from what is being observed, learning becomes more direct. A teacher may explain a principle, but nature continuously demonstrates it. Therefore, the highest form of learning may not always be learning from a person; it may be learning to see what is already happening. Together, nature is nondual and it likes a nondual person, bhola or innocent like shiva.

No Hermit Is Better Than Householdship

The fourth line also becomes deeper in this framework. Household life is not necessarily opposed to spiritual development. It keeps knowledge in contact with work, relationships, responsibility and ordinary human situations. A hermit may reduce external distractions, but household life can test whether nondual understanding actually works in the middle of life. If a truth is valid only in isolation, its practical value remains limited. Householdship therefore becomes a kind of living laboratory where knowledge has to function through action rather than remain an idea.

My Experience of Work and Awakening

My own path gave these statements their present meaning. I began working in my own style because I did not want to acquire unsuitable habits from working methods that did not fit the understanding I had developed through Sharirvigyan Darshan and Quantum Darshan. I still accepted help when necessary, but kept dependence low. I continued this self-directed way of working, and according to my experience it worked: I experienced awakening and movement towards samadhi. That experience made me see that work can truly become worship, but only when the work is performed from nondual understanding. Without that foundation, simply working hard does not make work spiritual.

The Four Statements as One Principle

I now see the four lines as different expressions of one principle. Humanity gives the right relationship with life. Work gives the right relationship with action. Problems give the right relationship with learning. Householdship gives the right relationship with ordinary existence. But all four require the same foundation: nondual understanding. Without that foundation, religion can become dogma, work can become conditioning, teachers can become objects of dependence, and renunciation can become escape. With it, humanity becomes religion, work becomes worship, problems become teachers, nature becomes a source of direct learning, and household life itself can become a field of spiritual practice. This is the deeper meaning that my own experience has recently added to my Quantum Verse.

तुम्हरो भजन राम को पावै

तुम्हरो भजन राम को पावै।

वानर की गति, मनुष्य का ध्यान,
दोनों के संग बने हनुमान।
न केवल वानर, न केवल नर,
दोनों मिलकर हुए एक स्वर।

डाली से डाली, वन से वन,
चलता रहता उसका तन।
टिके रहना रीत नहीं, पर
गति में भी कोई प्रीत नहीं।

फल मिला तो फल ही खाया,
पत्ता मिला तो पत्ता पाया।
कच्चा या फल पका हुआ,
भेद न देखा, काम हुआ।

गले में डाले स्वर्णहार,
क्षण भर पहने वह श्रृंगार।
फिर सहज ही उसको छोड़ दिया,
मन भीतर जैसे मोड़ लिया।

एक डाल छूटी, दूजी थामी,
किसी एक डाल की जगह न मानी।
जितना मिला, उतना ही लिया,
पकड़ा नहीं, आगे हो लिया।

दृष्टि न बांधी एक दिशा में,
देखा जग को हर दिशा में।
क्षण-क्षण बदली उसकी राह,
फिर भी न कहीं जमाई चाह।

यही गति जब मानव धारे,
उसमें जागें विवेक हमारे।
चलना केवल भटकना न हो,
कर्म हो, फिर भी बंधना न हो।

मन जब वस्तुओं में न फंसे,
इच्छा मन को बार-बार न कसे,
जब हाथ करे, पर मन न धरे,
तब अज्ञान को भीतर शक्ति हरे।

बिखरी शक्ति भीतर आए,
ध्यान का दीपक स्वयं जलाए।
जिस छवि को पहले बुलाते थे,
वह मन में स्वयं ही ठहर जाए।

बैठो तो साथ, चलो तो साथ,
जागो तो भी रहे वही बात।
ध्यान न केवल आसन में हो,
जीवन के हर क्षण में हो।

धीरे-धीरे चंचलता थमे,
मन अपने ही केंद्र में जमे।
बाहर गति काम करे,
भीतर चेतना विश्राम धरे।

यहीं समाधि की राह खुलती,
यहीं मन की थकान है ढलती।
जहां न खोज, न कोई काम,
वहीं विश्राम का नाम है राम।

राम केवल नाम नहीं,
भीतर एक धाम कहीं।
जहां चेतना अपने में ठहरे,
बाहर से मानो गूंगे बहरे।

इसीलिए यह वचन महान,
जिसमें छिपा साधना-विज्ञान।
“तुम्हरो भजन राम को पावै,”
हनुमत से राम बन जावै।।

हनुमान गति, हनुमान कर्म,
समर्पण का हनुमान धर्म।
हनुमान शक्ति, पर उसके पार,
कर्म हो पर बिन अहंकार।

यह बात है केवल पढ़ी नहीं,
सोच को लेकर गढ़ी नहीं।
दादागुरु की संगति में रहकर,
वर्षों देखा उनको जीकर।

उनमें गति थी, पकड़ नहीं,
कर्म था, भीतर जकड़ नहीं।
सादगी थी, और गहरा ध्यान,
जीवन में जागा वही विधान।

चाहकर नहीं मैंने अपनाया,
संग ने धीरे-धीरे सिखाया।
जो गुण उनमें सहज समाए,
अनजाने भीतर उतरते जाए।

कर्मयोग ने राह दिखाई,
अद्वैत दृष्टि ने गांठ खुलवाई।
गतिशीलता बनी साधना,
हनुमान की रामाराधना।

सात्त्विक जीवन, सरल विचार,
धीरे-धीरे हल्का भार।
ऊर्जा बाहर कम बिखरी, तो
ध्यान में ही भीतर निखरी।

हनुमान तब अर्थ में आए,
देव नहीं, ये पथ दिखलाए।
वानर ने जो बाहर दिखाई,
शक्ति वही नर-भीतर आई।

वानर पकड़ता, छोड़ देता,
मनुष्य भी बंधन तोड़ देता।
वानर चलता, रुकता नहीं,
मानव भी पहुंचे कहीं से कहीं।

वानर के गुण स्वयं साधना नहीं,
मानव-मन बिन वे अराधना नहीं।
प्रकृति ने जो बाहर दिखाया,
मानव ने उसे भीतर उठाया।

गति से कर्म, कर्म से ध्यान,
ध्यान से होए आत्मज्ञान,
जब सब खोजें शांत हो जाएं,
तब भीतर राम खुद दिख जाएँ।

इसलिए हनुमान से राम तक
अनेक नहीं, एक ही मर्म है।
एक छोर पर जागा कर्म,
दूसरे छोर पर शांत धर्म है।

हनुमान हैं चलती शक्ति,
राम हैं उस शक्ति की मुक्ति।
हनुमत हैं जागृत प्राण,
राम उनका परित्राण।

इसलिए केवल पूजा मत करना,
उनकी गति को जीवन में धरना।
कर्म करो, पर भटको नहीं,
जगत में रहो, पर अटको नहीं।

ऊर्जा को मत व्यर्थ बहाना,
उसे ध्यान में भीतर लाना।
मन को धीरे हल्का करना,
राम को उसके कंधे पे धरना।

तब शायद भेद खुल जाए,
खुद ही कोई गुनगुनाए—
“तुम्हरो भजन राम को पावै,”
हनुमान जियो, राम मिल जावै।

वानर की गति, मनुष्य का ध्यान,
दोनों के संग बने हनुमान।
उससे मन राम में थमे,
जीवन अपने घर में जमे।

Vacuum Decay, the Human Mind, and the Kundalini Yogi: A Metaphorical Cosmology of Worldliness and Stillness

From the Physical Vacuum to the Inner World

Vacuum decay sounds as if empty space suddenly disappears, but in modern physics a vacuum is not simply empty space. Quantum fields exist throughout space, and what we call particles are excitations of those fields. A vacuum is a particular state of those fields. That state can, in some theories, be a local minimum of potential energy rather than the absolute lowest one. Such a state is called a false vacuum, while the lower-energy state is called the true vacuum. Quantum mechanics allows a metastable false vacuum to tunnel into a lower-energy state. The transition is described through a tunnelling or bounce solution and can produce a bubble of the new vacuum. If the bubble is too small it can collapse, but beyond a critical condition it can expand, potentially approaching the speed of light and replacing the old vacuum. When gravity is included, the situation becomes even more profound because vacuum energy affects spacetime itself. This physical picture led me to see a possible metaphorical correspondence with the human mind.

False Vacuum as Worldly Mind

I began thinking of the false vacuum as similar to the darkness of an ordinary worldly mind. Here darkness does not simply mean evil or absence of knowledge. It means the unseen, unexamined and latent structure through which worldliness is continually generated. The more strongly a person is identified with the world, the greater this darkness appears to be. Beneath conscious thought there are memories, expectations, fears, desires, habits, identity, comparison, social conditioning and countless subtle associations. Much of what maintains our ordinary mental world is therefore not consciously visible. It is already present in a subtle or encoded form, ready to produce further thoughts, emotions, desires and actions. In this sense I see worldliness as a kind of latent world-generating potential.

This also gives a useful metaphorical meaning to the high energy of a false vacuum. In physics, one should not simply say that every high-energy vacuum necessarily has larger quantum fluctuations, because fluctuation behavior depends on the particular fields, masses and couplings. Yet higher-energy field configurations can possess substantial potential for excitation and manifestation. This is the part of the analogy that interests me. The false vacuum is not itself the particles, just as the subtle structure of the mind is not itself every individual thought. Rather, it is the underlying condition from which manifestations can arise. Quantum excitations arise from the field configuration, while thoughts, emotions and worldly responses arise from the latent organization of the mind. Therefore I began to think of the subtle information of worldliness as something like the potential structure hidden within the false vacuum. It is not a literal storage of every object or event, but a hidden capacity from which the manifest world can continually be regenerated.

Quantum Fluctuations and the Mental World

In this metaphor, mental activity can be compared with fluctuations. An ordinary mind continually moves through memory, desire, anticipation, fear, pleasure, pain, identification and planning. One thought produces another, one emotion activates another, and the resulting actions produce fresh impressions. The process therefore becomes self-maintaining: desire produces thought, thought produces action, action produces consequences, and those consequences produce new desire. The worldly mind can thus be imagined metaphorically as a high-activity state with substantial capacity for generating further manifestations. This does not mean that psychological activity is literally caused by quantum fluctuations, nor that the human mind can be physically equated with a cosmological vacuum. The correspondence is structural and phenomenological: hidden potential gives rise to visible manifestations.

The Sage as True Vacuum

A profound transformation appears when an ordinary person becomes a sage, or what I also call a kundalini yogi in this metaphor. The change is not simply that the person has fewer thoughts. It is more radical. The underlying compulsion to continuously construct and maintain a personal worldly cosmos becomes quiet. A deep contemplative state can therefore be imagined as a true vacuum: a state of minimal psychological agitation, minimal compulsive fluctuation and minimal dependence on the continual generation of worldly experience.

This does not necessarily mean that the sage has lost all information. A Buddha can remember people, language and teachings, and a kundalini yogi may still function normally in the world. The deeper change is that information no longer has the same power to generate attachment, identity, craving and psychological continuation. Thus the useful distinction is not information versus no information, but information that actively generates worldliness versus information that remains without compulsive identification. In this sense the true vacuum metaphor represents the lowest world-generating activity rather than literal mental emptiness.

When an Individual Changes State

The transformation of an ordinary householder into a sage can therefore be compared metaphorically with false vacuum becoming true vacuum. The old worldly state is a metastable condition, apparently secure but still carrying the possibility of transition. A brief mystical experience may be like a subcritical bubble: an extraordinary moment appears, but the ordinary mental structure reasserts itself and the experience collapses. A deeper realization may cross a critical threshold. At that point the new state becomes sufficiently stable that the previous organization cannot easily restore itself.

The critical bubble in this analogy is not a physical radius. It represents the depth, stability and integration of realization. Below the threshold, worldliness is stronger than realization; above it, realization becomes strong enough to sustain itself. The “bubble wall” can be understood metaphorically as the resistance between the old and new states: attachment, identity, fear, habit, conditioning and the fear of losing the familiar self. Spiritual practice then becomes a gradual weakening of the barrier between the ordinary worldly state and inner stillness.

From One Mind to Many Minds

The analogy becomes even more interesting when realization spreads. One person’s transformation can affect others through speech, example, teaching and direct influence. A sage may become a source from which other people begin to observe their own minds, question their attachments and discover a quieter state. One transformed mind can therefore influence another, and that mind can influence another, creating a chain of transmission. In this metaphor the sage becomes a nucleation center of a different mental state.

This is where the idea of a critical bubble becomes collective. A person’s realization may remain localized if it does not spread beyond the individual. But if it becomes sufficiently powerful and transmissible, the psychological bubble can expand into a community, a tradition, a civilization and perhaps, over very long periods, a wider transformation of collective consciousness. Figures such as Buddha can be viewed in this philosophical sense as extraordinary examples of a personal realization becoming a lasting field of influence. Krishna can similarly be treated as a theological or archetypal representation of a consciousness that transforms the relationship between action, attachment and liberation. I do not mean that these figures literally altered the quantum vacuum; rather, their significance lies in the ability of a transformed mode of consciousness to propagate through human minds.

Two Different Meanings of Cosmic Destruction

This metaphor also clarifies what it means to say that a sage “destroys the cosmos.” The physical universe is not necessarily destroyed by enlightenment. Stars, planets, bodies and ordinary physical processes can continue. What is diminished is the mentally constructed cosmos: the personal world of “I,” “mine,” desire, fear, comparison, memory, expectation and attachment. In that sense spiritual liberation is not necessarily annihilation of the external universe but cessation of the psychological machinery that continually recreates one’s experienced worldly universe.

The idea can therefore be expressed at three scales. At the level of physics, a metastable vacuum can theoretically transition into a lower-energy vacuum through quantum tunnelling and bubble nucleation. At the level of an individual, a worldly mind can metaphorically transition into profound stillness. At the collective level, a deeply realized person can transmit that transformation to others. The common pattern is a seemingly stable state containing hidden potential for transition, followed by a movement toward a state of lower activity and a possible expansion of the new state.

The Larger Cosmological Question

This metaphor naturally raises a much larger possibility. Perhaps the physical cosmos and the experienced cosmos should be distinguished: one is the universe described by quantum fields and spacetime, while the other is the universe constructed in consciousness through sensation, memory, interpretation, desire and identity. Vacuum decay belongs to the physical description, whereas enlightenment belongs to the phenomenological and spiritual description. There is currently no established scientific evidence that a sage’s mental realization causes physical vacuum decay. That would be a speculative hypothesis, not accepted physics. Yet the structural similarity is striking: a high-potential state, hidden possibilities, manifestation through excitation, a transition to a lower-energy condition and, under certain circumstances, expansion of the new state.

This gives a final way of expressing the whole idea. The false vacuum is not merely “empty space with energy”; metaphorically, it is a latent world-generating condition. The worldly mind is similarly not merely a collection of conscious thoughts; it contains subtle structures capable of continually regenerating its experienced world. The true vacuum, by contrast, represents the deepest stillness, where the compulsive generation of that personal cosmos has greatly diminished. A householder becoming a sage is therefore metaphorically a false vacuum becoming a true vacuum. A temporary realization is a subcritical bubble; a stable realization crosses the critical threshold; and a rare, extraordinarily powerful sage may become a center from which a different mode of consciousness spreads through many minds. In this sense the language of vacuum decay becomes a powerful metaphor for the movement from worldliness to stillness, from latent psychological complexity to liberation, and from the continuous creation of a mental cosmos toward its profound inner dissolution.

It should not be surprising, then, if cosmic vacuum decay has a corresponding reflection in the individual mind, just as other cosmic principles can be reflected in the individual. This is also expressed in the scriptural idea “yat pinde tat brahmande”—what is in the individual is in the cosmos, or what exists in the microcosm is reflected in the macrocosm. From this perspective, the individual is not separate from the larger cosmic process but can be regarded as its smaller reflection. Therefore, studying the individual mind may provide a way to study corresponding principles of cosmology, just as studying cosmological processes may provide metaphors or models for understanding the individual. In this sense, the possibility that a cosmic vacuum transition could have an inner psychological counterpart is not an arbitrary comparison but follows naturally from the microcosm–macrocosm principle. The physical correspondence itself remains a hypothesis rather than established science, but the philosophical method of looking for the same pattern in the individual and the cosmos is ancient.

The Cosmic Apocalypse Reflected Within the Individual

Thus the cosmic apocalypse may have its corresponding reflection within the individual as a mental apocalypse. According to the scriptural vision, God first brought forth the universe and then entered into it in order to experience and sustain it. The Upanishadic idea that the Divine, having created the world, then entered into it expresses this profound principle. If the human being is itself a miniature form of the universe, then the Divine did not merely enter the vast cosmos from outside; it first created a miniature cosmos in the form of the individual and entered that miniature through the individual soul, thereby entering the universe in concentrated form. The human body by itself is inert; it becomes a living centre of perception, thought, action and experience when animated by the soul. In this sense, the individual is a microcosm through which the macrocosm experiences and operates itself. Therefore, if the universe can undergo its own cosmic processes, including a possible transition from one vacuum state to another, a corresponding process may also be contemplated within the individual as a transformation of the mental cosmos. The worldly mind continuously maintains its experienced universe through memory, desire, identity, perception, thought and subtle tendencies; when these world-generating processes become profoundly quiet, that inner cosmos can undergo its own apocalypse—not necessarily the destruction of the physical world, but the dissolution of the mental world through which it is experienced. Thus the individual can be studied as a miniature expression of the cosmos, and the transformation occurring within the individual can offer a way of contemplating corresponding transformations in the larger universe. This remains a metaphysical interpretation rather than an established scientific description of cosmology, but within the scriptural understanding of the microcosm and macrocosm, the correspondence is natural: the Divine enters the cosmos through its living miniature, and the dissolution of the worldly cosmos can therefore be contemplated not only in the vastness of space but also in the deepest stillness of the individual mind.

Sharirvigyan Darshan and Quantum Darshan: A Practical Bridge from Sankhya to Advaita Vedanta

Can Ancient Indian Philosophy Become Practical Again? A Personal Search

For many years I lived with a question that slowly became deeper than meditation itself. Ancient Indian philosophy beautifully explains consciousness, liberation and the nature of existence, yet I repeatedly wondered why these teachings often remain difficult for ordinary people to apply in daily life. My own spiritual journey gradually revealed that the answer may not lie in choosing one philosophy over another but in discovering how different philosophies naturally become useful at different stages of inner evolution.

One question especially transformed my contemplation. If pure consciousness is completely detached and inactive, how can the entire universe function with such astonishing intelligence? How can something that never acts still remain connected with every process of creation, every memory of the past and every possibility of the future? Complete non-existence cannot organize anything. Therefore pure existence cannot simply be an absence. It appears to be the silent background that constitutes everything without becoming entangled in anything. This insight slowly made creation appear less like a machine and more like one immense living organism whose countless activities continue while the underlying reality remains untouched.

The Beauty and Limitation of Classical Sankhya

My reflections naturally returned to Sankhya philosophy. Sankhya explains that Purusha is pure witnessing consciousness while Prakriti performs every action. Purusha neither acts nor becomes attached. Prakriti alone evolves into body, mind, intellect, ego, senses and the entire universe. This immediately explains why detachment is possible. Purusha never needed to become detached because it was never attached in the first place.

The more I contemplated this, the more I realized that detachment itself is perhaps the greatest lesson taught by Sankhya. Purusha is detached not because it practices detachment but because detachment is its very nature. Spiritual practice therefore becomes the gradual recognition that body, mind, emotions and actions belong to Prakriti while the witnessing self remains forever untouched.

Yet another question quietly appeared. If Purusha is absolutely inactive, how does Prakriti become so intelligently organized merely by its proximity? This question has inspired many philosophical traditions, including Advaita Vedanta and Kashmir Shaivism, each providing different explanations. Rather than rejecting Sankhya, I began searching for a practical bridge.

The Birth of Sharirvigyan Darshan

During my contemplations I realized that perhaps the easiest teacher already exists inside the human body.

Every cell performs astonishingly intelligent activities. Cells communicate, repair tissues, defend against disease, reproduce, generate energy and maintain life continuously. Yet I do not consciously perform these cellular activities. They continue automatically.

Then a deeper analogy emerged.

Suppose every cell possesses its own witnessing principle just as the human being possesses a witnessing self. The important point is not whether science presently accepts such a hypothesis. The important point is the structure of contemplation.

Just as my self remains detached from my body’s activities and their results, the self of the cell would remain detached from the activities and results of the cell. Neither becomes identical with the body through action.

This is the heart of Sharirvigyan Darshan.

It does not teach that the self of the cell is the cell itself. Nor does it immediately ask the seeker to accept that everything is one consciousness. Instead, it repeatedly invites contemplation of the relationship between self and body.

The cell performs.

The self witnesses.

The body acts.

The self remains detached.

Through this simple contemplation, detachment becomes easier to experience than through abstract metaphysical discussion.

Quantum Darshan Extends the Same Principle

Exactly the same structural principle later appeared in Quantum Darshan.

Only one illustration changes.

Instead of beginning with cells, Quantum Darshan begins with quantum particles.

Again, the philosophy does not claim that the self of a quantum particle is identical with the particle itself. Rather, the same contemplative relationship is extended to a deeper level of nature. Means self of quantum particle is detached from it. The body performs according to its own laws while the witnessing principle remains detached from action and its consequences.

Thus both Sharirvigyan Darshan and Quantum Darshan become beginner-friendly. They do not force the mind to grasp the extremely subtle nondual statement that everything is one. Instead, they first teach the practical experience of witness-consciousness through familiar structures.

Why Direct Advaita Vedanta Was Difficult for Me

My own spiritual journey taught me something very important.

When I first approached nondual Vedanta directly, it was extremely difficult to stabilize in everyday life. The mind found it difficult to understand how becoming and non-becoming could coexist. The statement that everything is one consciousness remained intellectually attractive but practically difficult to maintain while living an active worldly life.

Sankhya-based contemplation proved completely different.

By repeatedly recognizing that body and mind belong to Prakriti while the witnessing self remains detached, I gradually developed stable inner detachment. This was not suppression of worldly life. Rather, it became freedom while living within worldly responsibilities.

Only much later did nondual understanding arise naturally.

My Spiritual Experience Revealed an Unexpected Cycle

One of the most surprising discoveries during my years of Tantra, yoga and meditation was that Sankhya and Vedanta did not appear as rivals. Instead, they seemed to support one another at different stages of consciousness.

While living actively in the world, my attention naturally returned to Sharirvigyan Darshan. The contemplation of the detached self became my greatest support. It helped me perform duties while remaining inwardly free.

Then, after prolonged meditation, Tantra and deep yogic absorption, something changed naturally.

Worldly identification became weaker.

The sense of separation gradually dissolved.

Without forcing any philosophical conclusion, awareness itself began experiencing nonduality. The distinction between myself and everything else became less important than the underlying unity of existence.

Interestingly, at that stage the Sankhya-based contemplation became less necessary because nondual awareness itself had become natural.

However, whenever worldly responsibilities increased again, attention naturally returned to Sharirvigyan Darshan. It again became the practical method through which detachment stabilized until nondual awareness gradually re-emerged.

This cycle repeated many times.

Worldly engagement naturally encouraged Sankhya-like contemplation.

Deep meditation naturally matured into Vedantic realization.

Neither philosophy opposed the other.

Each appeared precisely when needed.

An Adaptive Philosophy Rather Than a Fixed Philosophy

This gradually led me to a new possibility.

Perhaps Sharirvigyan Darshan and Quantum Darshan function as adaptive contemplative systems.

During active worldly life they operate practically like Sankhya by strengthening witness-consciousness and reducing attachment.

During deep meditation, yoga and Tantra they naturally flower into nondual understanding without requiring a separate philosophical conversion. I could easily contemplate that my present state of being is present everywhere at all times because the same universal laws are working everywhere. This became my natural mode of contemplation during the nondual phase, rather than focusing on the distinction between the detached self and its body, which was my primary contemplation during the worldly phase.

The philosophy itself does not change.

Only the seeker’s state of consciousness changes.

When the mind is deeply engaged with worldly activity, attention naturally rests upon the distinction between self and body.

When meditation matures and identification weakens, attention naturally recognizes the underlying unity of existence.

Thus the same contemplative framework serves both stages.

A Humble Proposal for Researchers and Spiritual Seekers

I do not present these reflections as established scientific facts or final philosophical conclusions. They are the outcome of sustained personal contemplation, meditation and practical observation. They invite discussion rather than demand agreement.

If these ideas prove useful, they may offer a practical bridge connecting Sankhya, Yoga, Tantra, Advaita Vedanta, consciousness studies, contemplative psychology and even modern scientific models of biological and quantum organization.

Most importantly, they suggest that perhaps beginners need not begin with the most abstract metaphysical doctrines. They may first learn detachment through direct observation of life itself. As detachment matures, deeper nondual realization may arise naturally rather than intellectually.

My own experience repeatedly followed this path.

Sankhya-like witness consciousness supported me while living in the world.

Deep meditation revealed nonduality.

Returning to the world revived practical witness-consciousness.

Returning inward restored effortless nonduality.

Instead of contradiction, I discovered complementarity.

Instead of choosing between Sankhya and Vedanta, I found that practical detachment and nondual realization can become successive expressions of the same spiritual journey.

Why Sankhya Appears More Practical Before Nondual Realization

From my own experience, Sankhya appears more practical during active worldly life. As long as the mind is deeply engaged with work, relationships and responsibilities, it is easier to cultivate detachment by contemplating that the witnessing self is distinct from the body, mind and actions. In contrast, if one begins directly with the Advaita Vedanta view that Purusha and Prakriti are ultimately one, it can be difficult for many beginners to understand how the same reality can both manifest as the world and yet remain completely detached from it. This subtle paradox may become clear only after deep meditation and inner maturity. My experience has been that Sankhya-based contemplation naturally prepares the mind for this realization. Once detachment becomes stable through practice, nondual awareness arises effortlessly, and the apparent contradiction between distinction and unity gradually dissolves through direct experience rather than intellectual reasoning. This is why Sharirvigyan Darshan and Quantum Darshan are presented not as alternatives to either Sankhya or Advaita Vedanta, but as practical contemplative bridges that guide the seeker from witness-consciousness to nondual realization according to the seeker’s stage of inner development.

Quantum Darshan, Kundalini Meditation, and My Second Awakening: How a Living Meditation Image Led to Nondual Awareness

From Sharirvigyan Darshan to Quantum Darshan

After my first awakening experience during adolescence, many years passed before I experienced another glimpse of awakening. During those years, my understanding of spirituality gradually matured through contemplation and direct observation.

One of the most important developments was what I later called Sharirvigyan Darshan. Through this contemplation, I began to see the body’s cells not as lifeless components serving a central self, but as equal participants within a larger living system. This simple shift had a profound effect on the mind. The sense of being a separate controller standing above everything else gradually weakened.

Over time, this contemplation naturally expanded beyond the body itself. If body cells could be viewed as equal participants in existence, why stop there? This question eventually led me toward what I later called Quantum Darshan.

Quantum Darshan was never intended as a scientific theory. Its purpose was contemplative rather than scientific. I did not require scientific proof for it to be useful. In spiritual practice, effectiveness is often more important than verification. A contemplative framework only needs enough plausibility for the mind to engage with it deeply.

From ordinary observation and intuitive reasoning, I felt that existence displayed continuity from the smallest to the largest scales. Whether science ultimately agrees or disagrees was secondary. What mattered was that the contemplation reduced separation and expanded awareness.

Why Spiritual Effectiveness Matters More Than Scientific Proof

Many contemplative methods throughout history have operated in this manner. Their value lies not in laboratory confirmation but in their transformative effect upon consciousness.

For me, the practical question became simple.

Does a contemplation reduce separation?

Does it increase mindfulness?

Does it help dissolve judgment?

Does it make awakening more accessible?

If the answer is yes, then the contemplation has value regardless of scientific debates.

This was how I approached Quantum Darshan. The contemplation encouraged a sense of equality throughout existence. Human beings, body cells, thoughts, sensations, objects, and the countless expressions of reality could all be viewed as participating within the same existence.

The contemplation did not attempt to prove anything scientifically. Instead, it served as a practical support for expanding awareness and reducing the sense of isolation.

Nondual Contemplation as a Support for Mindfulness

Over time, I also discovered that nondual contemplation and mindfulness support one another.

During awakening itself, there is no need to think, “I am everything” or “I am everywhere.” The experience speaks for itself. Everything already appears equal and interconnected.

However, ordinary life is different. Mindfulness does not always remain equally strong. Daily activity can weaken it.

Whenever mindfulness diminished, I often found it helpful to contemplate, “Whatever exists, I am already therein.” Such contemplations, helped by the nondual philosophies described above, naturally replenished mindfulness and reduced the sense of separation.

What happens is that clinging to any specific sensation or thought with attachment or aversion produces a block to mindfulness. In my experience, resistance to mindfulness appears to be a natural safety response of both the mind and the body. Judgment tends to pull a person away from the deeper self by creating division, preference, and separation. So, when judgment is applied to one thought, the mind resists all thoughts, thinking that this will further push it away from pure awareness.

Although mindfulness reduces this process of judgment, the mind does not believe it in the beginning. It thinks that if judgment of one thought made it fall down, what will happen if the full mind tends to be judged? It may be that the mind unconsciously fears that if even one judgment is made, hundreds can also be judged. Since the mind is accustomed to maintaining its familiar patterns, it tries to avoid mindfulness in the very beginning.

However, when a person becomes genuinely nonjudgmental toward even a single thought, a small movement toward the fuller self takes place. The mind then experiences a subtle benefit from this reduction in conflict and separation. Motivated by this, it gradually becomes willing to include other thoughts, sensations, and experiences as well. One acceptance encourages another. The field of awareness slowly expands, collecting more and more of what was previously rejected. In this way, mindfulness grows naturally, progressing from acceptance of a single thought toward increasing inclusiveness, fullness, and ultimately the realization of the full self.

Looking back, the trigger for my mindfulness during adolescence appears to have been the mental image of Devrani. For some reason, the mind remained naturally nonjudgmental toward that image. There was neither strong rejection nor deliberate effort to sustain it. Because the image was allowed to remain as it was, without judgment, it gradually encouraged the same nonjudgmental attitude toward other thoughts, sensations, memories, and experiences. In this way, mindfulness continued to grow naturally and eventually culminated in my first awakening experience.

In the case of my second awakening, the trigger was different. There, the central meditation image was that of Dadaguru. Unlike the first case, this image was deliberately nourished through spiritual practice and gradually became vivid, alive, and powerful within awareness. It gathered attention, reduced mental fragmentation, and helped expand mindfulness. Yet, as in the first awakening, the final awakened state itself was not centered on any particular image. The image functioned as a trigger and doorway, but during the awakening experience everything appeared equal within a vast, nonjudgmental, and blissful field of awareness.

Earlier in my adolescence, I practiced nondual contemplation passively and continuously, mainly through studying science deeply enough to generate a reduction in the sense of personal doership and ego. However, the effectiveness of such contemplation increased significantly later through the more active philosophical frameworks of Sharirvigyan Darshan and, subsequently, Quantum Darshan. These frameworks gave practical depth and structure to nondual thinking and helped make mindfulness more stable and sustainable. In my view, the effectiveness of Sharirvigyan Darshan was demonstrated by its role in preparing the ground for my second awakening. The effectiveness of Quantum Darshan itself also appears to be at least partially supported, since both contemplative frameworks seem closely correlated and contributed to the same overall movement toward greater mindfulness, nonduality, and awakening.

In this way, I came to view mindfulness and nondual contemplation not as competing methods but as complementary supports. Nondual contemplation helps establish mindfulness, and mindfulness naturally moves toward awakening.

The Deliberate Cultivation of a Meditation Image

Unlike my first awakening, which arose spontaneously, my second awakening involved deliberate spiritual practice.

This practice centered around a meditation image. Over time, the image became increasingly vivid, alive, and attractive within awareness. Yet even then, the process differed from ordinary concentration techniques. It was more of technical advanced tantric yoa.

But in earlier years before first awakening, I was not merely forcing attention upon a single object. Many images, memories, impressions, and forms continued to exist within awareness. They appeared naturally and often possessed equal brightness.

Among these images, two stood out more strongly than the others. One was associated with Devrani, while the other was associated with Dadaguru. These appeared especially bright and vivid within the mind. Yet even these were not deliberately forced into existence. They simply appeared naturally.

The meditation image that eventually became central was not sustained through strain or effort. It gradually developed through attraction, devotion, and repeated presence. As the image matured, it seemed increasingly alive.

Kundalini and the Living Meditation Image

My understanding eventually became that a Kundalini image is essentially a meditation image strengthened by Kundalini Shakti residing at the base.

As the tantra-yoga assisted meditation image grew stronger, more and more mental energy flowed toward it. This produced an unexpected effect.

Because so much energy was absorbed by the image, less energy remained available for judgment, comparison, analysis, and mental fragmentation.

The mind naturally became quieter.

Mindfulness appeared without deliberate effort.

Nonduality appeared without deliberate effort.

I did not need to continuously repeat philosophical ideas.

The image itself performed much of the work.

Its presence gradually gathered the mind into a more unified condition.

Interestingly, whenever I try to become nondual or mindful, the meditation image naturally expresses itself and lingers in the mind. It often appears without deliberate effort, as if it is closely connected with the movement toward mindfulness itself. From my personal experience, this provides psychological evidence that yoga and mindfulness are not entirely separate processes but may be different expressions of the same underlying movement of consciousness. The meditation image seems to support mindfulness, while mindfulness naturally nourishes the meditation image. As a result, both appear to work together toward greater inclusiveness, reduced judgment, and a deeper awareness of the self. Although their methods may differ, their essential direction and effect often seem to be the same.

How the Second Awakening Emerged

Eventually, this process culminated in a second awakening experience during waking consciousness.

The awakening itself lasted approximately ten seconds, much like the first one.

Before the awakening, the meditation image functioned as a powerful focal point. It gathered attention, energy, and awareness. In this sense, it acted as a doorway.

However, once the awakening actually occurred, something important happened.

The special status of the meditation image disappeared.

Everything became equal.

The image remained present, but it no longer occupied a privileged position.

Thoughts, sensations, memories, objects, inner experiences, and outer experiences all appeared within the same field.

The doorway dissolved into the whole.

The Equality of All Appearances

One of the most remarkable similarities between my two awakening experiences was the complete equality of all appearances.

During awakening, there was no central object.

There was no special image.

There was no preferred experience.

Everything stood on equal ground.

In my first awakening, natural scenes appeared first and human forms appeared later.

In my second awakening, a meditation image served as the trigger.

Yet in both cases, the awakened state itself was characterized by equality.

The trigger and the awakening were not the same thing.

The trigger helped initiate the transition.

The awakening itself transcended the trigger.

Infinite Fullness and Infinite Void

As in my first awakening, the second awakening involved a profound sense of fullness.

This fullness was not created merely by thoughts and sensations.

Instead, awareness seemed connected to an infinite void.

Paradoxically, the void did not feel empty.

It felt limitless.

Because it was limitless, awareness felt completely full.

Thoughts and perceptions appeared like waves moving within an infinite ocean.

The mind contained everything while remaining connected to something beyond all limits.

This produced a state of extraordinary bliss and completeness.

The Common Essence of Both Awakenings

Although the methods differed, the essential nature of both awakenings was remarkably similar.

The first awakening emerged from natural mindfulness, inclusiveness, curiosity, and openness during adolescence.

The second awakening emerged through deliberate practice, Kundalini energy, and a living meditation image.

Yet both culminated in the same fundamental qualities.

Everything became equal.

Judgment disappeared.

Separation weakened.

Mind and world appeared together.

Fullness merged with infinite void.

Bliss became overwhelming.

For a brief period lasting about ten seconds, reality revealed itself as a single, all-inclusive field of awareness.

Looking back, I do not see Sharirvigyan Darshan, Quantum Darshan, mindfulness, nondual contemplation, Kundalini practice, and awakening as separate subjects. They appear as different expressions of the same movement toward greater inclusiveness. As awareness becomes increasingly full, separation decreases. As separation decreases, the infinite becomes more accessible. And when fullness finally extends into the limitless void, awakening reveals itself directly.

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