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When Breath Dissolves: A Real Experience of Deep Dhyana, Prana Movement, and Silent Awakening

Sometimes I feel a quiet repentance for breaking my breathless Dhyana for small worldly reasons—like taking a meal. Yesterday evening, after many days, I found myself alone in perfect silence, almost like being in a forest retreat.

For the first hour, my breath was irregular, sometimes resembling Kapalbhati. It felt as though the Pranas were adjusting themselves, preparing for breathlessness. I broke this preparatory phase two or three times by standing up, changing asana, or making small neck movements. Once, I even went to the kitchen to check if my dinner had arrived. When the tiffin man called to say his scooty had broken down, I told him not to worry—I suddenly felt grateful, as this delay gifted me more time for Dhyana.

The Deepening Stillness

I sensed that my difficulty in entering Dhyana might be due to sitting in Padmasana, so I shifted to Vajrasana. To my amazement, within fifteen minutes, my breath began to calm and regulate on its own, and Dhyana deepened.

Because the state was still fragile, I remained extra alert—aware that even a slight movement or swallowing of kuf (phlegm) voluntarily could disturb it. As I allowed it to deepen, my legs slowly became numb. I tolerated it patiently and then changed posture to Sukhasana with utmost care, keeping awareness steady on breath and movements minimal. Interestingly, as blood returned to the legs, the Dhyana deepened further.

Soon, my neck began to stiffen. I gently alternated between left, right, and central positions, staying for a while at each position as per guidance of dhyana without losing awareness. This small movement stabilized the Dhyana even more.

The Movement of Prana

It felt as if imperceptible breathing currents were flowing through different chakras—sometimes at the rear Ajna, sometimes Vishuddhi, sometimes Anahata. Later, while in Siddhasana, subtle activity appeared even at Swadhisthana and Muladhara, though faintly. I couldn’t easily focus at the Navel Chakra, though a very slight alignment was felt there too. However, while trying dhyana later on after dinner, energy had seemed focusing more on naval chakra.

It felt as if a blissful yet mildly tired sensation was developing at certain chakras that needed attention. When I focused on that sensation during inhalation and exhalation, both breath and awareness seemed to converge there naturally.

During inhalation, as energy rose from that chakra, my attention simultaneously descended onto it—like the merging of Prana (upward force) and Apana (downward force). I realized this might be what ancient texts refer to as the union of Prana and Apana during deep Dhyana.

When I heard the tiffin man’s voice in the kitchen, I replied without seeing him—calmly, directly, without disturbance. There was still some very light mental activity, but it was stable and non-chaotic, like thoughts moving in slow motion and dissolving soon—either directly or after transforming into two or three subtle thoughts, often of the meditation image or Guru form.

The Silent Ocean Within

I started mental chanting of “Ekarnava,” connecting with the sense of the endless, wave-less cosmic ocean. The vibration of the mantra felt alive and meaningful.

Later, as I tired in sukhasana and again shifted to Siddhasana for grounding energy in the lower chakras, mild fatigue appeared in this asana too after sometime. The call of dinner tempted me to end the session. I finally rose, already grounded and centered, without losing worldly balance.

A subtle repentance followed: why didn’t I just change posture and raise the energy again, instead of ending the Dhyana altogether? Hunger had already faded due to the deep state, and I could have continued longer. But I accepted that perhaps the energy had already been sufficiently expended.

Dinner was light, taken without much appetite—very different from the earlier days when I felt strong hunger after immature Dhyana. It seemed as if the body’s energy for digestion had been diverted toward Dhyana.

Interestingly, I usually enter Dhyana more easily after meals, but this time, in an empty stomach, the state felt more genuine and spontaneous. Taking a meal may make energy forcefully downward and so calming breath and awareness just like artificially. After dinner, I couldn’t re-enter the state, perhaps because the accumulated Yoga Shakti had already expressed itself.

Short vs. Long Immersions

Many yogis say short, regular sittings are better than long, infrequent ones. Yet, occasional long immersions, supported by daily shorter Dhyana, have their unique benefits. This session reaffirmed that balance is key—neither suppression of the body’s needs nor indulgence in them.

That night, I also had faint dreams of talking with subtle beings or spirits—not vivid, and not much memorable but peaceful and meaningful in their own way.

Reflections

Looking back, I realized a few gentle truths:

  • Dhyana never truly breaks; it only shifts form.
  • Body needs are not obstacles, but part of the spiritual rhythm.
  • Repentance arises from attachment and ego; gratitude dissolves it.
  • The movement of Prana among chakras is self-guided, not to be forced.
  • After-effects like calm hunger or subtle dreams are natural signs of internal rebalancing.

A simple reminder arose within:

“Let what was revealed in stillness spread through movement also.”

Every act, even eating or walking, can then continue the same Dhyana in motion.

Diwali Week: A Yogi’s Practical Insights Through Temple Experiences

This Diwali week, after a long journey, I visited my ancestral home and stayed there for several days. It was a joyful time — being again with family, relatives, and friends, celebrating the festival of lights in full enthusiasm. Yet along with the outer joy, many new practical yogic experiences unfolded naturally.

I was so involved in the living flow of the festival — meeting people, travelling, helping family, and feeling the spirit of Diwali — that I could not write them down then. But within those days, in between the busy movements, I received sharp insights that no book or teaching could give. These experiences came in the most natural settings — especially when I got moments of solitude inside the city temples while my family was shopping nearby.

Day 1 – Durga–Bhairav Temple: The Dual Anchor of Meditation

On the first day, after dropping my family at a city shopping complex, I went straight to a Durga temple.
There, in front of the large and powerful idol of Maa Durga, I sat in padmāsana. The moment I closed my eyes, deep stillness descended. Soon, the breath became effortless — almost absent — and I entered Kevala Kumbhak, the natural breathless dhyāna.

At intervals, I opened my eyes and looked at the idol. Every single glance into the serene face of Durga instantly deepened the state again, as if the outer image was helping the inner form stabilize. The image remained alive even after closing the eyes, glowing vividly in the mental screen — not as imagination, but as a living vibration.

In front of Durga’s idol was a smaller statue of Bhairav. When the attention slightly tired or mind became neutral, I gazed at Bhairav’s image instead. Strangely, his gaze and energy acted as another anchor, rekindling the stillness from a different polarity — sharp, grounding, and stabilizing.

Thus, I discovered a beautiful rhythm: when Durga’s compassionate presence began to feel saturated, I turned to Bhairav’s fierce calmness; when that too reached a plateau, I returned to Durga.
It was like alternating currents of Shakti and Shiva, feminine and masculine energy, balancing and sustaining each other — a living demonstration of Ardhanārīśvara tattva.

Perhaps this is the deeper reason why Durga and Bhairav idols are placed together in many temples. For ordinary devotees, it represents protection and blessing. But for a yogi, it becomes a direct energetic mechanism — allowing both polarities of consciousness to support dhyāna.
The ordinary mind may see the idol as an object, but the yogic mind perceives it as a mirror of consciousness.

I realized that idols (pratimā) are not merely symbolic or devotional aids — they are scientific instruments of meditation. For a sincere meditator, the benefit is immediate and measurable: the mind falls into stillness the very moment one connects with the living image. That is direct proof, not belief.

Others, who approach idols only through tradition or emotion, also receive benefits, though subtler and delayed. But to a real yogi, the result is instant — the statue becomes alive, the mind becomes no-mind.

Evening – Shulini Sister Temple: The Silent Pindi and the Deep Breathless Stillness

In the evening of the same day, when my family again went for shopping, I visited Shulini Mata’s sister temple.
The environment was deeply sattvic like earlier temple: gentle movement of people, occasional ringing of the temple bell, mantra chants from distant devotees, the fragrance of burning incense, oil lamps glowing in rows, and from time to time, the conch sound from the priest echoing through the hall.
Each element seemed perfectly tuned to draw the consciousness inward.

The main deity was not a fully personified idol but a stone pindi — a simple mound of stone representing the goddess. Silver eyes were fixed on it, with tiny black dots marking the pupils, and a nose faintly carved in the middle. Despite this simplicity, or perhaps because of it, the image radiated immense power.

As I sat before it, the same Kevala Kumbhak arose again naturally — effortless, spontaneous, and prolonged. The experience was even deeper than in the morning. I remained in vajrāsana for forty-five minutes to an hour. My legs went numb, yet the body felt weightless, pain absent. Awareness remained centered, breath minimal, mind absorbed in the living vibration of the pindi.

That evening, I learned that personification is not necessary for divine connection. Even a symbolic form — if approached in stillness — can become a complete doorway to samādhi.
What matters is the state of mind, not the complexity of the idol.

Day 2 – Shani Temple and Saraswati Painting: The Spontaneous Prāṇāyāma Emerges

The next day, while on the way to relatives’ home, my family again stopped for shopping. I dropped them out of the car, parked it safely, and started searching for a new temple — a change that could help me enter deeper dhyāna again without feeling bored. It made me realize that the more temples there are, the better it is for a seeker; one can keep visiting different temples daily and repeat the cycle once all have been covered. This means it is good, both socially and economically, to build as many temples as possible. That is exactly why we see countless temples in pilgrimage towns. Some people may ask, “Why so many? Why not just one?” But human likings differ — just as there are many kinds of sweets, not only one. The same principle applies here. I found a Shani temple nearby and decided to sit there for a while. The main sanctum was closed, but on the outer wall was a small painting of Goddess Saraswati. I sat on the cool marble floor and used that painting as my dhyāna anchor. As concentration deepened, something remarkable happened: effortless rhythmic breaths began — not forced, not practiced, but arising on their own. Each inbreath was imperceptible; each outbreath carried a subtle sound — like a soft, continuous “gharr” vibration, resembling bhrāmarī prāṇāyāma but much subtler and self-born.

The awareness stayed steady, and the breath pattern continued automatically — a clear reminder that real prāṇāyāma is spontaneous, not mechanical.

Scriptures mention countless types of prāṇāyāma and their benefits, but the essence is often misunderstood. The yogi who practices Kundalinī Yoga eventually discovers that these classical prāṇāyāmas are natural by-products of inner awakening — not techniques to be imitated but symptoms of true meditative absorption.

When energy begins to move naturally through the channels (nāḍīs), prāṇa itself reshapes the breathing pattern according to the need of inner transformation. Trying to imitate these states from scriptures — without the foundation of dhyāna — may give some outer sensations, but they are superficial.
Such imitation can even give illusion of attainment — a feeling that one has mastered all prāṇāyāma — while in truth, the deeper awakening remains untouched.

Therefore, one must understand that the real prāṇāyāma of the scriptures refers to the spontaneous phenomenon arising during deep kundalinī sādhanā, not the deliberate breathing exercises often mistaken for it. I don’t know, but perhaps these superficial forms of prāṇāyāma gradually lead to deeper dhyāna, either in a worldly or spiritual way. One may also become accustomed to them, so that when spontaneous prāṇāyāma arises naturally, it doesn’t come as a shock. Therefore, even these external practices should be taken positively.

Summary Insight

Across all these temple experiences, one truth became clearer:

  • Idols, images, and symbols are not only external aids but also living focal points for consciousness.
  • The feminine and masculine energies (Durga–Bhairav) act alternately to balance the mind.
  • The form of deity — whether human-like or abstract — is secondary; the stillness it invokes is the real prāṇa.
  • True prāṇāyāma, like true samādhi, happens naturally in the state of inner silence.

These few days of Diwali brought me both family joy and spiritual refinement. I returned back with a deep gratitude — for the divine presence that works through simple images, through silence, through breathless stillness, and even through the seemingly ordinary circumstances of daily life.

In this way, the festival of light truly became a festival of inner illumination.

Riding Over Sleep

The very next day, my sleep broke at 2:30 a.m. I left the bed and sat on the ground in asana. The breath was agitated but not as rocket-like as the previous day. After trying for an hour, I did yogasana for the next half hour, followed by spinal breathing. Then I again tried dhyana for an hour — no success, though the witnessing of buried thoughts continued with a sense of bliss. But how can the mind be satisfied with that once it has tasted the deep breathless dhyana?

Afterwards, I ate a bowl of khichari, a ripe apple, and some herbal tea. However, the herbal tea, being strong, caused a little acidity, so I decided not to use it in a strong ratio in the future. Then I sat again for half an hour, but there was not much improvement. The morning light has grown outside. After that, I did chakra meditation on each chakra. A blissful yogic pressure arose, and I felt dhyana ripening. There was some throat obstruction, so I did jala neti. At various moments during the entire sitting since beginning, pranic energy was rushing upward.

Then deep dhyana launched — the breath became very shallow, and there was a partial entry into pure awareness. For a moment or two, the breath stopped completely, with total merging into pure awareness, but it was too transient. Suddenly, the face of a man seemingly practicing distorted tantra appeared with a strange, cursing expression—though silent, it felt as if he were speaking ill behind my back. This vision dislodged me from that dhyana despite my attempt to remain unaffected.

A new understanding emerged — Dictatorial control, even if positive in intent, should not be held in mind toward such selfstyle people. The amazing thing is that it becomes little bit difficult to reopen the pranic channels and flow energy inside them even after just a few days of yogic inactivity or worldly involvement, or both. Moreover, sexual energy had also been drained away to clean and freshly refill the reservoir. This, too, had slightly slowed the upward movement of energy. Truly, successful yoga depends on many positive contributing factors, not just one. Each factor adds gradually, culminating in a unified whole. Like bricks coming together to build a sturdy home, all these elements combine to create the full structure of yoga practice. Let us now pick up the formal yoga blog next.

Riding Over Sleep

There’s something I keep noticing — sleep and yoga feel almost the same sometimes. When I sit quietly, some people around me say I’m not meditating, just sitting and pretending while actually dozing off. They don’t know how thin that line really is.

In a jagrata, during an all-night bhajan or kirtan for Mata or Shiva, something similar happens. You ride on the wave of sleep instead of letting it swallow you. The body is tired, but you don’t collapse. You stay alert through music, rhythm, and devotion. Slowly the boundary between waking and sleep melts. If you manage to stay aware at that edge, you touch a state that feels like Nirvikalpa — awareness without thought, just stillness watching itself. However if one is highly tired, he may sleep too while sitting in meditation pose. Moreover, it is better to meditate at a sufficient distance from such kirtans; otherwise, the loudspeaker’s sound can be disturbing. However, it should still be faintly audible so that its sattvic vibrations can have an uplifting and purifying influence.

Spiritually it makes sense. The repetition of divine names and surrender quiets the usual noise of the mind. Consciousness stays bright though the body is dull. You hover right between wake and sleep — the thin doorway the scriptures call Turiya, the state behind waking, dream, and deep sleep.

Even physiologically it fits. Chanting soothes the nerves, slows the breath, and keeps you relaxed but awake. Sleep pressure builds, yet rhythm and emotion don’t let you slip into full sleep. The brain rests while awareness stands guard — a soft, glowing balance that scientists call a hypnagogic state, and yogis call bliss.

So yes, jagrata can really open that doorway if the inner condition is right. Not everyone reaches Nirvikalpa through it, but the path runs that way.

The Mandukya Upanishad describes this beautifully. It speaks of four states — waking (jagrat), dream (svapna), deep sleep (sushupti), and the fourth one, Turiya. The first three come and go, but Turiya stays untouched. When you are at that sleepy edge during bhajan yet remain aware, you are already brushing Turiya.

Yoga Vasistha echoes the same truth. Sage Vasistha tells Rama that a wise person “sleeps even while awake and is awake even while asleep.” It means a yogi’s awareness doesn’t blink, no matter what the body does. What ordinary people call rest becomes conscious rest for the yogi. The body may be half asleep, yet awareness shines quietly. This is Yoga Nidra or Jagrat Sushupti — wakeful deep sleep, the art of riding over sleep instead of sinking into it.

Now, look at it through the Kundalini–Tantra eye. The state between waking and sleep — jagrat sushupti sandhi — is where prana turns inward. Usually energy flows outward through senses. In sleep it withdraws, but awareness also fades. If, by mantra or kirtan or still meditation, awareness stays awake while energy turns inward, you catch the serpent of sleep consciously — that’s Kundalini entering Sushumna, the central channel. This edge is the real turiya-dwara, the doorway to the fourth state.

During long chanting or meditation, breath evens out, emotions settle, Ida and Pingala — the left and right flows — come into balance, and Sushumna opens. Energy that once fed thoughts now rises upward. When awareness is pure and surrendered, it merges into silent consciousness — Nirvikalpa-like stillness. When awareness wavers, it still brings a wave of bliss or devotion, though not full samadhi.

Tantra says nothing is to be rejected, not even sleep. “Whatever binds you can liberate you, when seen rightly.” Even sleepiness can help if you meet it consciously. At that edge, Muladhara energy melts upward, the Ajna and Sahasrara light up. A tired body with wakeful awareness is fertile ground for spontaneous samadhi. That’s why many saints reached awakening through music, love, and surrender rather than severe austerity — their prana rose gently, effortlessly.

If you learn to watch yourself at the point where waking becomes sleep and stay aware with devotion or mantra, that small passage turns royal — it takes you straight toward Turiya. Nothing to force, nothing to do, just don’t fall unconscious.

The same energy that pulls you into sleep can, when met with awareness, lift you into samadhi.

It all began from a simple feeling that yoga and sleep seem alike. Yet behind that simple resemblance hides a deep secret — both touch the same doorway. In jagrata or devotional wakefulness, sleep stops being an enemy. It becomes a wave to ride — one that can carry you beyond waking and dream into that luminous stillness where only awareness itself remains.

When Sleepiness Became Dhyana

After a few days of worldly indulgence—caught up in the sense of heightened ambition for a minor physical property, working tirelessly for it—I noticed my yoga routine faltered. The rhythm that once carried me into calm depth grew shaky. My sittings reduced, and the familiar breathless stillness in dhyana did not appear.

When the worldly deal finally finished, I spent two or three days trying to regain the lost acceleration. As soon as I opened my eyes in the morning—whatever the time—I would rise from bed and first sit for dhyana, then yoga, alternating both. Today I rose around three-thirty in the morning. I went through everything including both types of neti and also dhouti, yet the breathless dhyana eluded me.

Later, after lunch, while sitting in vajrasana, I caught a small glimpse of that breathless state. In the evening I sat long—from four-thirty to five-thirty. The breathing was like a rocket, fast and fierce, and it wouldn’t calm down despite simple watching and the mental recitation of Soham. Then a kind of drowsiness appeared, an urge to lie down. I resisted it, and soon the body grew tired enough that it couldn’t keep pace with the breath. The breathing itself began to subside and finally became breathless, although not fully as earlier. I couldn’t hold it beyond an hour, but something new dawned on me: perhaps deep dhyana is like sleep—but with awareness.

It felt like a discovery. If I keep trying while sitting, and tiredness and sleepiness develop, deep dhyana comes of its own accord. There seems to be a lot of similarity between sleep and yoga, so much so that many people say I’m just sitting and pretending to do yoga while actually sleeping.

That realization opened an inner understanding. What I had stumbled upon matched what the old yogic insights describe. After intense worldly activity, the rajas in the system—the restless energy of ambition—agitated the prana and made the mind outward-bent. That’s why my yoga was disturbed. Yoga thrives on sattva, on balance. The disturbance wasn’t a fall; it was simply the pendulum of prana swinging outward before returning inward.

When I sat again, the period of “rocket-speed” breathing was the body’s way of clearing that outward energy. The prana was neutralizing the residue of worldly intensity. Such rapid breathing often comes when sadhana resumes after heavy worldly engagement.

Then the fatigue came. The body wanted rest. I understood that this sleepiness wasn’t an obstacle—it was a doorway. When the body tires, egoic control relaxes. Effort softens. The automatic patterns of breath and thought lose momentum. If awareness remains present, if I do not slip into ordinary sleep, what unfolds is wakeful stillness—a state like sleep, yet suffused with consciousness.

In yogic terms, this is the threshold where the transition from waking (jagrat) toward turiya begins, passing through a “sleep-like” quiet where only awareness remains and the body and breath rest deeply. Breathless samadhi doesn’t come through effort but through the total exhaustion of effort.

It became clear that when striving ends and awareness simply watches, the body may fall into sleep-like repose, breath may stop, and consciousness alone remains. That is the path leading into Yoga Nidra, Dhyana, and Turiya alike.

Yoga Nidra, Breathless Dhyana, and Turiya—One Thread

I saw that all three—Yoga Nidra, Turiya, and breathless Dhyana—are reached through the very process I experienced. The difference lies only in depth and continuity.

Yoga Nidra happens when body and senses withdraw, mind slows, thoughts fade, and a gentle sleepiness comes while awareness stays faintly awake. Breath grows light or pauses briefly. I realized that the tiredness and sleepiness bringing deep dhyana are the same threshold where Yoga Nidra begins.

Deep Dhyana or Kevala Kumbhaka unfolds when mind and effort both stop. Awareness is steady and bright. Because the mind’s vibration ceases, breath naturally ceases too. The breathless state comes not from control but from silence itself. Here time and body vanish; only luminous stillness remains.

And Turiya—the “fourth state”—is that awareness of awareness itself. It’s the substratum beneath waking, dream, and sleep. When I stay aware through the Yoga-Nidra-like stillness, without slipping into sleep, consciousness recognizes itself. Breathlessness is incidental; the real mark is unbroken awareness through all states.

Yoga Nidra quiets the mind; Dhyana stills both mind and breath; Turiya shines as the background of all. They don’t come strictly one after another in time but unfold in depth. Breathless dhyana uncovers Turiya; Turiya is what remains when even the sense of meditating dissolves.

So, the relationship is simple:
Yoga Nidra is mental slowing with calm breath,
Breathless Dhyana is total stillness of mind and breath,
Turiya is the foundation discovered when stillness itself is seen to be one’s own nature. Means it is like samadhi. Actually turiya is background state and samadhi is process of achieving it. When with repeated practice of samadhi the background awareness starts remaining always then this is turiya.

When Turiya Is Seen

Once Turiya is truly seen, something irreversible happens. It is not a passing state but the ever-present background consciousness of every state—waking, dream, or deep sleep. The first recognition feels like an experience, yet soon it’s clear it was never gained or lost—only revealed.

Even when worldly activity resumes, a quiet background of awareness remains beneath all movement. At first it flickers—noticed at times, forgotten at others—but it never disappears completely, because the illusion of separateness has been pierced.

Then the role of meditation changes. Before this recognition, meditation is a practice, an effort to reach stillness. Afterward, meditation becomes resting in what already is. Earlier, one did dhyana; now dhyana happens. Effort stops; awareness pervades everything—thoughts, actions, and breath.

This is why saints describe Sahaja Samadhi—the spontaneous abiding in Turiya during all activities. Meditation doesn’t end; it becomes continuous. Some still sit each day, not to attain, but because the body finds harmony in that posture and prana refines itself further. It’s simply joy—like a musician who still plays, not to learn but because sound itself is blissful.

The essence is this:
Meditation ends as effort, not as awareness.
Turiya is not practiced; it is noticed.
The only “practice” afterward is non-forgetfulness—remembering that all movements of life rise and fall within the same unmoving awareness.

When Turiya is clearly recognized, peace no longer depends on meditation. One may sit in silence simply because it is natural. Awareness rests in its own delight, unaffected by whether the breath is still or moving.

The Understanding Now

Looking back, I can see the full sequence in my own journey:

  • The worldly ambition disturbed the balance of prana.
  • Sitting again, the high-speed breathing purified that outward rush.
  • Fatigue drew the ego into surrender.
  • Sleepiness appeared, but staying aware within it opened the gate to stillness.
  • The breath stopped, revealing a silence beyond effort.
  • From that silence, the recognition dawned—this unmoving awareness was there before, during, and after every experience. Although it remains a fleeting and unstable experience, that is why the effort to achieve it continues.

And that awareness, once seen, never completely leaves.

Chapter 18: The Polarity of Creation – How Quantum Charge Weaves the Web of Attraction and Repulsion

If spin is like the dance step of particles and momentum is their direction of travel, then charge is their invisible magnet, deciding who hugs, who runs away, and who stands apart.

It is one of the most magical qualities of quantum particles because it sets the stage for the push and pull of the universe. Without charge, everything would simply sit in one bland soup. With charge, sparks fly, patterns form, and structures are born.

Charge: The Invisible Tug-of-War

Every fundamental particle comes with its charge already written into its identity.

  • Electrons always carry a negative charge.
  • Protons always carry a positive charge.
  • Neutrons carry no charge and act as mediators.

This is not something they decide later, nor is it chosen during wave collapse. It is an inborn property, as fixed as your fingerprint. The moment a particle comes into existence, its charge is already determined.

And this little detail is what decides the destiny of matter.

  • Negative electrons are forever pulled toward positive protons.
  • Protons seek electrons to balance themselves.
  • Neutrons stand in between, stabilizing the fragile harmony of the atomic world.

These rules are simple, yet when repeated trillions upon trillions of times, they give rise to chemistry, biology, and even thought. Your heartbeat, for example, is nothing but a grand orchestra of ions—charged particles—rushing in and out of cells in rhythmic waves.

Attraction Builds, Repulsion Shapes

Creation is not only about joining things together—it is also about keeping them apart in balance.

Think about the architecture of a house: bricks hold together by mortar, but spaces are left open for doors and windows. Without gaps, there would be no air, no light, no movement. Similarly, in the cosmic design, attraction builds molecules and stars, while repulsion prevents them from collapsing into a meaningless lump.

When electrons (negative) dance around nuclei (positive), they do not crash into each other. Instead, their mutual repulsion and attraction create a delicate balance of orbits. This balance later gave birth to the periodic table of elements, the grammar of all matter.

With just this push and pull, the universe writes its story.

The Cosmic Magnetism of Design

Picture the first moments after the Big Bang. Particles were buzzing like tiny fireflies in a stormy night sky. They did not need to “decide” their charge—it was already built-in.

Electrons carried negativity, protons carried positivity, neutrons stayed neutral. And out of this fixed polarity, a grand web of relationships emerged:

  • Electrons found protons → atoms were born.
  • Atoms joined → molecules appeared.
  • Molecules combined → chemistry awakened.
  • Chemistry blossomed → biology emerged.
  • Out of biology came thought, culture, poetry, and the very question: “How did all this begin?”

All this because polarity was written into the very fabric of particles.

Creation as a Game of Loves and Distances

If spin is the rhythm and momentum is the direction, then charge is the love and dislike of the universe.

It decides not only who pairs with whom but also who must keep their distance. Without it, everything would collapse into a single, undifferentiated lump of energy. With it, the universe blossoms into complexity.

Think of magnets scattered on a table. Some snap together with a click, some stubbornly refuse to touch, and some lie unaffected. Watch long enough, and they arrange into little clusters and chains.

Now stretch this imagination to the cosmic stage—the same principle plays out at unimaginable scales.

The Subtle Spiritual Mirror

In Indian Darshana, charge and polarity echo in the eternal dance of Shiva and Shakti, Purusha and Prakriti, masculine and feminine.

It is the cosmic principle that says: without the pull of opposites, nothing stirs. And without the balance of repulsion, nothing lasts.

The universe itself is woven from this dance of duality—union and separation, attraction and balance.

Quantum Collapse – The Director, Not the Creator of Charge

If charge is inborn, what then is the role of quantum collapse?

Collapse does not assign charge—it simply decides where and how a charged particle shows up in space-time. The electron is always negative, but collapse decides whether it appears here or there, inside this atom or that one.

In this way, collapse is like the director of the play, while charge is the personality of the actors. The script is written, but collapse chooses which stage to light up at each moment.

Without collapse, all charges would remain as shadows of probability. With collapse, they take concrete form, shaping stars, rivers, flowers, and even the thoughts dancing in your mind as you read this line.

To clarify further, every object in nature carries a silent signature called charge. Unlike spin or position, which may remain hidden in superposition until observed, charge is not undecided—a particle is born positive, negative, or neutral. Yet the way these charges interact—the attraction, repulsion, or balance—first exists as a cloud of superposed possibilities, collapsing into one outcome only when interaction takes place. This superposed possibility does not concern the form of the charge, but rather its location — whether it will be near an opposite charge for attraction or near a like charge for repulsion. Human thought offers a parallel: our likes and dislikes are embedded in our nature, but how we finally respond—whether with connection, avoidance, or neutrality—remains suspended in the field of thought until a decision collapses it into action. The form of liking, like quantum charge, will not change — only the way it is placed or handled, whether positively or negatively. Moreover, Man can keep away from an attractive thing, and similarly a quantum particle can collapse to a position away from an opposite charge. Therefore, even in the presence of opposite charges, attraction may not occur—showing that collapse provides the final decision. In this way, Sharirvigyan Darshan mirrors quantum reality: polarity is the inner law, collapse the outer choice of interaction. At the quantum level, a positive charge naturally seeks a negative, while negatives repel each other, not as personal decisions but as eternal laws of nature. Yet the exact form of their meeting—the orbit, the bond, the release of energy—remains in superposition until collapse selects one reality. This dual dance of polarity and collapse builds the architecture of existence, just as the human mind holds both affection and aversion but must choose one at each moment, giving rise to the ongoing play of life and cosmos.

Thus, polarity is not just a scientific detail—it is the very heartbeat of diversity. Every attraction and every repulsion, from the bonding of hydrogen and oxygen into water to the neurons firing in love or anger, owes its existence to this fixed, inborn quality of charge.

From Quantum Charges to Conscious Waves

Just as quantum charges weave a web of attraction and repulsion at the microscopic level, human consciousness and social interactions operate according to remarkably similar principles. The subtle energies within us — our pranic waves, the oscillations of thought, and the flow of awareness — mirror the quantum fields. In this section, we extend the analogy from physical charges to the waves of consciousness that guide greetings, choices, and interactions, showing how coherence, decoherence, and probability manifest in everyday life.

Coherence and Decoherence in Social Interaction

Consider Smith entering a group where he is welcomed with warmth and sympathy. Surrounded by acceptance, he feels no need to select a specific form of greeting. Instead, he smiles or nods, embracing everyone in his heart through that simple gesture. In this state, Smith exists in a superposition of greetings: his smile carries within it the essence of all possible salutations without collapsing into any one of them. However good greeting words are socially more accepted than countless mental options. The best way is to use an appropriate greeting outwardly, while inwardly holding countless positive greetings in superposition within the mind — along with a gentle smile.

When Smith enters a group that feels attuned to him, it is like a particle in the double-slit experiment left unobserved: his inner wave holds many greeting possibilities in superposition, resonating with itself, and the outcome can spread into a rich interference of options. A high amplitude of Namaste can be overlapped by a low amplitude of Good afternoon, creating a combined amplitude higher than either of them individually. If the group carries only a mild expectation, it resembles a particle observed at one slit: the superposition collapses into a single path, yet the wave nature remains, producing a broad diffraction pattern—Smith still has time and space to choose among several fitting greetings. But if the group immediately sees him as a stranger or outsider, the collapse happens at once, like a quantum particle generated and spotted instantly and strongly without traveling as a wave of possibility; no spread or exploration is allowed, and he is forced into a hurried, often unfit greeting. In the same way, society shapes human potential: where love, harmony, and sympathy prevail, people remain coherent, with freedom to explore widely like a full wave of possibilities; where only mild expectations exist, their freedom is narrowed but not lost; and where rejection or alienation dominates, their options collapse before they even begin, leaving them confined to hurried and limited choices. Where Smith’s inner wavefront aligns with the collective energy of the group, that is a state of coherenc. His expression is unbounded, free, and fully resonant with the surrounding field. However, as soon as the group begins to expect a definite word, gesture, or confirmation, this anticipation acts like a measurement in quantum physics. Just as a particle’s superposition collapses upon observation, Smith’s openness is now constrained into a particular outcome. He must choose one greeting — “Namaste,” “Good Afternoon,” or another.

While being in coherence with the group members, the amplitude of the energy wave is reinforced constructively, and the prana rises in the spine as high as possible, resulting in a greater probability of selecting an advanced form of greeting. Even a single greeting-character contains different sub-characters, each with its own independent probability distribution along the spinal wave. For example, expressions like “Namo Namah” or “Shat Shat Naman” have higher probability in the upper-chakra zone, while “Good Afternoon” is more likely in the mid-chakra zone, and simple expressions like “Hello” or “Hi” are more probable in the lower-chakra zone. Thus, when the energy wave peaks in the upper chakras, refined and reverential greetings such as “Namo Namah” naturally arise. When the amplitude centers around the mid-chakras, formal greetings like “Good Afternoon” are more probable. And when the amplitude peaks only in the lower chakras, casual greetings such as “Hello” or “Hi” appear, often without much enthusiasm. Actually, these expressions are simply placement-based names given to the single greeting-character. When the greeting arises in the Sahasrāra zone, it is expressed as “Namo Namah.” When it arises in the mid-chakra zone, it takes the form of “Good Afternoon,” while in the lower-chakra zone it appears as “Hello” or “Hi.” The greeting is only an example to illustrate the parallel between quantum probability and mental probability.

In quantum mechanics, energy and probability are distinct: a particle’s energy is tied to the wavelength or frequency of its wave, while probability is tied to the amplitude of its wavefunction. Yet in the pranic analogy, these two aspects converge into one. As the pranic wave swings with greater amplitude through the chakras, it not only carries more energy but also increases the probability of higher expressions manifesting. In lived experience, this is why when prāṇa surges upward, one feels both heightened vitality and a stronger tendency to express elevated greetings or actions — such as Namo Namah instead of a casual Hi. Thus, while physics separates energy and probability, in the pranic field amplitude embodies both at once, blending intensity and likelihood into a single force of expression.

When meeting a best friend in a truly heartfelt way, no words are needed — only joy, a smile, and simple, casual talk flow naturally. There’s no need for formal or honouring words like aap; instead, spontaneous words like tu arise effortlessly. It feels as if all positive emotions rush together toward the friend, and trying to confine them into a specific, polished gesture or phrase feels limiting — it breaks the charm. In the same way, showing particular formal greetings or forced emotions toward close family members feels unnecessary and even a bit artificial. Some children are especially sensitive to this — they sense the disturbance when love is expressed in rigid, social ways. They respond best to an atmosphere of natural love, care, and harmony, without expectations of formal gestures. Yet, when among outsiders, they naturally follow social norms as needed.

This pattern mirrors quantum mechanics, where a particle’s wavefunction spreads its probability across multiple energy states. Just as higher-energy states carry greater amplitude and thus greater likelihood of expression when the system is energized, the upper chakras resonate with more refined greetings when pranic energy rises to their level. Mid-level amplitudes correspond to more ordinary states of expression, while lower amplitudes give rise to simple, minimal outcomes. In both cases—whether quantum states or human greetings—the probability of expression depends on where the wave peaks, with energy amplitude guiding the most likely manifestation. However, frequency or energy of pranic wave can be higher or lower at any amplitude or chakra height. On its peak being at Swadhishthan Chakra, it can be rapidly or slowly oscillating between Muladhar and Swadhishthan. If rapidly oscillating, energy will be higher, and the expression on Swadhishthan will be highly probable with stronger intensity; but if slowly oscillating, probability will be still higher, though intensity of expression will be low.

Through its cascade of interactions, the quantum essence unfolds into multiplicity, shaping particles, matter, life, and ultimately the networks of human society. In every system, from the tiniest particle to the human body and beyond, the same principle applies: potential exists in coherence, yet interaction brings specificity. In this light, consider Smith in a group—when the environment is open and accepting, his gestures reflect the full spectrum of possibility. Suppose in that moment, Smith enters decoherence. The infinite field of possibilities reduces to a single, observable expression shaped by the environment. Human interactions mirror the dance of quantum particles: when harmony and resonance prevail, we live in the openness of superposition, embodying many possibilities at once; when external expectations arise, our potential collapses into defined roles and responses. Just as the quantum essence organizes particles into order, so too do our lives unfold between coherence and collapse, freedom and necessity—a ceaseless play of unity expressing itself in multiplicity.

Quantum Darshan in Everyday Greetings

As we were exploring the psychology of greetings through the lens of quantum principles, we see that even simple salutations unfold from a field of infinite possibilities. When we say “Good Afternoon,” “Namaste,” “Ram Ram Ji,” or “Radhe Radhe, hello, hi or simply welcoming smile with gesture” it may appear as if we consciously choose the words. In reality, beneath the surface exists a spectrum of potential greetings, each carrying its own likelihood, of course zero or minimal likelihood for unwelcoming or unsocial words, much like a quantum particle in superposition. These possibilities resonate along the inner spectrum of energy, from heart to head, awaiting expression.

Some expressions naturally rise to the forefront. A heartfelt “Shat Shat Naman” flows effortlessly, while “Koti Koti Naman” may appear slightly less frequently. Other greetings emerge occasionally, and offensive expressions remain absent, their probability effectively zero. this is because they often lies on darkness of muladhara that has zero wave amplitude thus having zero probability.

This unfolding is not guided by deliberate choice. Just as a quantum particle collapses into a definite state upon interacting with its environment, the social and energetic field around us channels the greeting into a single expression. What we call “I” choosing is, in truth, the dance of possibilities responding to context. Even in these small gestures, we participate in the universal play — a microcosm of the same coherence and decoherence that flows from the primordial quantum essence to the vast networks of life, matter, and consciousness.

The ego, or the sense of “I,” is ultimately an illusion; humans do not truly act as independent agents. Just as a quantum particle has no self and collapses into a specific outcome according to the influence of external interactions, human actions and responses arise according to external stimuli, internal conditioning, and momentary context. The feeling of “I am doing this” is therefore false and constructed, not the ultimate truth. Yet the experience of ego naturally arises, and sensing it is not wrong. It can be used temporarily as a practical tool to navigate worldly life — for decision-making, responsibility, and action — but it should never be mistaken for the final reality. Awareness of this allows one to live effectively in the world while recognizing that the ego is provisional and not the true self. It also doesn’t mean abstaining from work. Ego cannot be neutralised in the absence of action. There is no benefit in suppressing the ego through inaction; the real benefit lies in neutralising the ego that arises during action. Moreover, One might misunderstand it as acting foolishly — no, no, a big no. It simply means acting with perfect norms, yet without ego.

In reality, all other living characters, expressions, and human interactions follow the same thumb rule — their form of expression depends on the energetic placement within the human system, just as quantum outcomes depend on the probability distribution of the wavefunction.

Character Waves and Chakra Energy

As we touched this earlier, human behavior can be understood as character wave, the oscillations of pranic energy across the body’s chakras. We cannot even call it a character wave, but simply a wave, because all characters lie upon this single pranic wave, just as all the qualities of a quantum particle remain on a single quantum wave without disturbing one another. When prana swings from Mulādhāra (root) to Sahasrāra (crown), the amplitude is maximal. Such full-body waves generate peak joy and awareness, making corresponding actions highly probable.

Consider a greeting again. If Smith’s inner prana tends to rise fully to Sahasrāra while contemplating or simply thinking of expressing “Namaste or even better form like namaskar,” causing awareness and joy to touch peak, then this greeting is most likely to be expressed. If he is in a low-energy or depressed state, the pranic oscillation may reach only the navel chakra, then he will be bypassing higher-amplitude options and favoring a lower-energy greeting, like “Good Afternoon.” This means that in this case while thinking about ‘Namaste’ and other greeting options, he may inwardly dismiss them and instead choose the lower-energy option of saying ‘Good Afternoon.’

In this framework, the wavefront of character is the pranic oscillation, and options that generate maximal swings, joy, or resonance and even more stability and balance are naturally favored. This phenomenon can be explained in terms of resonance or constructive interference. Every greeting word carries its own vibrational signature or frequency. When a person chooses a greeting word that aligns with the current vibrational frequency of their chakra, the two waves — the individual’s chakra frequency and the word’s vibrational frequency — resonate. This resonance creates constructive interference, which amplifies the combined vibration and elevates the awareness at that chakra to a higher state. If the oscillation reaches up to Sahasrāra as top possible amplitude of the character-wave, then outward expression from Sahasrāra is the most probable. This effect is best achieved when the chosen greeting word’s vibrational frequency aligns with the frequency of the Sahasrara Chakra. In such a case, the resonance between the two produces a highly coherent and powerful wavefront. The resulting constructive interference amplifies the energy to a level comparable to, or harmonized with, the Sahasrara’s own subtle vibration — leading to an experience of heightened awareness and unity. Expressions from lower chakras can also arise; this is the play of probability, much like quantum probability. A person most often selects expressions that resonate with his highest active energy level, as these reflect his inner worth to the world. Words carrying such high-frequency vibrations include “Namaste,” “Namaskar,” “Namo Namah,” and “Shat Shat Naman.” At times, however, one may overlook the higher energy and express from a lower chakra, feeling slightly out of tune—as if something within is being concealed from society. Lower-amplitude expressions occur less frequently and depend on mood, context, and coherence with surrounding energy fields. In a low mood or while interacting with people of lesser or decohered energy, one may naturally adopt a low-energy expression; yet the probability of this remains low, since such choices demand conscious effort. By contrast, expressions that harmonize with one’s prevailing energy level arise spontaneously and effortlessly. Thus, the amplitude of pranic energy mirrors quantum probability—the greater the amplitude, the higher the likelihood of an action or expression manifesting.

In quantum mechanics too, when a particle ends up in a low-probability state, the reason is usually linked to its interaction with other particles or the environment. Strong, resonant interactions tend to channel the particle into its most probable states, much like a person naturally expressing from his highest energy level. However, external disturbances, weak couplings, or unfamiliar contexts can nudge the particle into less likely outcomes. This is similar to how a person, when in a bad mood or among unsympathetic people, may deliberately adopt a lower-amplitude expression. In both cases, the system does not act in isolation—the surrounding conditions shape whether the natural, high-amplitude expression unfolds or whether a rarer, lower-probability path is taken.

If someone’s energy is rising from Mūlādhāra to Sahasrāra and he accompanies a person whose energy is falling from Sahasrāra to Mūlādhāra, it is like the crest of a wave meeting the trough, where energies neutralize or cancel each other and grounding occurs, making the probability of life expressions almost zero so that he becomes neither this way nor that but neutral. When two rising energies meet, resonance happens and both rise further, which is the effect of good company, while two falling energies meeting create an even deeper trough than normal. Actually, it is like a basic line further sinking deep, not amplitude growing in the trough, as happens in tantric union. Unlike quantum mechanics, where crest and trough amplitudes are symmetrical and there is no positive or negative amplitude, in the human body the base chakra can be seen as the zero line, for there the probability of lively expressions is zero, a state of ignorance-filled darkness with no minus amplitude below it. In Tantric union, however, the partner completes the wave below the baseline, making the wave full, so that both amplitude peaks enhance each other and the energetic expression of characters is doubled.

If we take the Mulādhāra as the baseline of the wave, then the male spine rising toward Sahasrāra can be seen as the crest of positive amplitude. His tantric consort, by contrast, embodies the complementary trough of negative amplitude, extending her energy below the baseline and reaching her own Sahasrāra as the opposite crest. When united, the two together complete the full span of the wave, doubling the amplitude of living expression. This mirrors the tantric truth that Śiva and Śakti are not separate but two poles of the same oscillation, their union giving rise to the fullness of life and consciousness. A clear quantum counterpart exists here: just as a wave requires both crest and trough to exist, and just as two wavefunctions can merge in superposition or entanglement to form a richer and more powerful reality, so too does the union of the tantric pair generate constructive resonance. In this way, pranic union mirrors quantum interference, where two halves converge into a single, luminous wholeness.

Dhyana, Shabd Brahm, and Quantum Consciousness

Meditation on Shabd Brahm, the primordial sound, manifests the same quantum-like principles. Sound, as an atomic or quantum essence, awakens awareness and reveals the nondual Brahman. When the mind engages with Shabd Brahm, the sound reveals our complete identity, expressing the nonduality between the self and quantum particles — for sound itself is the movement of those particles, reflecting the unity of consciousness and matter.

Just as a quantum particle exists in pure potential until observed, the essence of a human being is also a wave of possibility. The pranic energy oscillating from Mūlādhāra to Sahasrāra mirrors the amplitude of a quantum particle’s wave. When the full wave spans all chakras and oscillating at maximum speed, it represents maximal probability distribution of living potential, energy and awareness, while different points along the oscillation correspond to specific chakras. Outer forms, identities, and ego are only transient coverings — beneath them lies a common wave-like essence, reminding us that separation is superficial. In this sense, a quantum particle is, in essence, the entire human body expressed in its most fundamental form.

Law, Karma, and Human Responsibility

Some argue that inhumanity is excusable because circumstances compel action. But it is not true. While natural phenomena — floods, storms, quantum particles — are fully egoless and unbound by karma-phala, so their apparent inhuman karmas are excusable, humans remain subject to moral consequences. Actions within humanity can be understood in context, as both humans and quantum particles are egoless by nature and compelled by circumstances to perform karmas and thoughts — yet inhumanity breaks this natural harmony and slows spiritual progress. This is because a human can never become fully egoless while working; it is a fixed rule. Nature operates with impersonal law, but humans carry karma and responsibility, ensuring that choices aligned with dharma are bound by ethical consequence.

Pranic Wave Collapse and Experiential Settlement

As we were discussing, the settlement of experience depends not only on the amplitude of the pranic wave but also on the type and strength of interaction. Just as a quantum wavefunction appears to collapse through interaction with a measuring device or its environment, pranic waves converge into an experiential center according to the context of life. Other interactions also influence this convergence, and the manner of collapse or decoherence varies depending on the nature and strength of these interactions. While the peak amplitude of energy may reach Sahasrāra, an emotional impact—such as fear, attachment, or joy—can cause the wave to collapse most often at Anāhata (heart), because the nature of the interaction biases the collapse toward that chakra. However, if Sahasrāra is active, the experience is not confined to Anāhata alone; it can be simultaneously felt at both Sahasrāra and Anāhata, reflecting the full span of the wave. In other words, the peak of pranic energy at Sahasrāra amplifies awareness of the emotion, while the heart provides its experiential “seat.” Similarly, in quantum mechanics, a particle may have maximal amplitude in one state, yet upon measurement it can collapse into another state if the measurement operator couples preferentially to it, while residual amplitudes in other states can continue to influence the system what comes next. The peak amplitude indicates maximal potential, but the locus of settlement is determined by the type and strength of coupling with the environment. In both realms, randomness arises naturally from the complexity and coupling of the system: minor deviations and less probable outcomes remain possible, while the peak of probability guides the most likely expression. Thus, human experience, like quantum behavior, unfolds in a structured yet non-deterministic manner, where potential, interaction, and overlapping amplitudes together shape the final expression.

  • Divine or transcendental interactions: Collapse at Sahasrāra, manifesting as peak illumination.
  • Fear or survival situations: Collapse at Anāhata, generating heart-centered fight-or-flight responses.
  • Oral or expressive interactions: Collapse at Viśuddhi, producing speech.
  • Intellectual interactions: Collapse at Ājñā, revealing thought and insight.
  • Digestive or sustenance-related interactions: Collapse at Maṇipūra.
  • Sexual interactions: Collapse at Svādhiṣṭhāna.
  • Inertia or ignorance: Collapse at Mulādhāra, the unconscious base.

Even as collapse occurs at lower centers, Sahasrāra remains the site of highest probability if energy-wave amplitude is peaking at it, just as quantum mechanics allows multiple outcomes but favors certain states under strong coupling. The chakra system is a living probability distribution, with the crown chakra as its luminous attractor.

The wave analogy is complete:

  • In quantum mechanics, the particle’s wavefunction oscillates, forming crests and troughs, with every point contributing to probability.
  • In yoga, the pranic wave spans the chakras; the highest expressions are visible, yet the lower chakras silently support every experience.
  • The crown chakra reveals consciousness’s brilliance, while Mulādhāra provides foundational support — unseen, but indispensable.

Unified Field of Potential

Human consciousness, social interactions, and the quantum realm share a common principle: a unified field of potential that unfolds through probability. Coherence allows freedom and superposition; decoherence collapses possibilities into expression. Pranic waves, chakra energy, and quantum wavefunctions are parallel manifestations of this field.

In every greeting, thought, or action, the universe orchestrates its spontaneous play. Understanding this principle allows us to navigate life with clarity, awareness, and resonance, harmonizing our inner waves with the cosmic field. This same underlying intelligence is reflected in the natural world, where every form and pattern reveals a subtle orchestration beyond mere chance.

Nature looks beautiful because there seems to be hidden intelligence in it. If we observe every aspect deeply, a grand intelligent design emerges: why is the mountain on this side, why this height, why this type of soil, why does the water channel flow this way? Does this not prove that nature, guided by quantum particles, works tirelessly in the growth of humanity, remaining engaged in the interactive world and learning from challenges just like a moral human being?

The Quantum Essence and the Probabilistic Dance of Life

The dual forces of attraction and repulsion govern the very fabric of the universe, orchestrating the dance of matter and energy. From the alignment of atoms in a crystal to the balance of social interactions, polarity creates order while allowing diversity to emerge. Within this field of polarity, a single primordial quantum essence holds the potential for everything that unfolds in creation. In the earliest moments of the universe, this unified field—the undivided source—underwent a cascade of transformations, giving rise to the multitude of quantum fields we now recognize: electrons, photons, quarks, and more. Each field is an expression of that original essence, just as every particle is a ripple or excitation within it. Through countless interactions and recombinations, these fields produced the fundamental particles that eventually built the complex structures of matter, life, and consciousness.

In the physical, inanimate world, quantum interactions exist everywhere, but they are relatively sparse and simple. Particles follow probabilistic laws, yet the complexity of their interactions remains limited by physical constraints. It is in the biological world that quantum principles expand to remarkable complexity. Life harnesses these interactions, amplifying them through networks of molecules, cells, and organs, producing behaviors and structures that mirror the subtle dynamics of human social interactions. The probabilistic flexibility of quantum processes, when embedded in living systems, reaches its peak—coordinating cooperation, communication, learning, and adaptation in ways that reflect the rich interplay of society itself.

In this sense, the organization of the human body mirrors human social structures as described in the modern Sharirvigyan darshan. Cells specialize like individuals, organs cooperate like communities, and the entire organism functions as a harmonious society. Just as the quantum essence gives rise to particles that interact and form networks under the polarity of forces, so does nature orchestrate the emergence of life and social systems. The human body, like the universe, is a living network of interactions, bound by underlying rules yet expressing flexible outcomes.

Even when a quantum particle appears still—bound in a rock or floating in vacuum—it is not inert. Its stability is rooted in the fixed laws of physics, yet its behavior remains probabilistic, shifting with interactions, environment, and circumstances. Rigidity at the law level coexists with adaptive, responsive behavior at the level of manifestation. In this way, the particle is dynamically poised, ready to respond to the world, much like a yogi in nirvikalpa samādhi: outwardly still and absorbed, yet fully capable of action when the conditions arise.

Scriptural stories, such as Brahmā producing the Prajāpatis who then filled the world with progeny, can be seen as allegories of this very process. The single quantum essence, like Brahmā, unfolds into multiplicity, cascading into ever-diverse forms, yet remaining rooted in the undivided source. In every interaction, from the smallest particle to the largest organism, the intelligence of this quantum essence guides organization, growth, and learning—revealing the hidden design and harmony of nature.

Humans, too, operate under fixed laws or disciplines: to act within the boundaries of humanity, to work as if worshipping, to learn from mistakes, and to cooperate with society. Yet within these boundaries, human actions are probabilistic and flexible, shaped by circumstances, environment, and internal disposition. While the framework is fixed, the specific choices cannot be predetermined, much like a quantum particle governed by immutable laws but expressing outcomes probabilistically.

As we discussed earlier, nature appears beautiful because there seems to be a hidden intelligence within it. When we observe every aspect deeply—the position of a mountain, its height, the type of soil, or the course of a river—a grand intelligent design emerges. Does this not suggest that nature, guided by quantum particles, works tirelessly for the growth of humanity, remaining engaged in the interactive world and learning from its challenges? Even in stillness, it is poised, dynamic, and full of potential, reminding us that creation itself is a living, learning, and evolving quantum play.

Thus, the polarity of attraction and repulsion, combined with the probabilistic flexibility of the quantum essence, underlies not only the physical universe but the moral, social, and conscious worlds as well. Every action, every interaction, every oscillation of energy is guided by these intertwined principles—fixed in law, yet fluid in expression—a cosmic dance of order and freedom.

Some Days the Door Opens Differently

Yesterday my yoga practice took me effortlessly into breathlessness, the kind of inner stillness where thoughts dissolve and awareness shines clear. Today, I tried to repeat everything step by step: jal neti for cleansing, gajkarni and throat cleaning, kapalbhati, anulom vilom, neck tilts, shoulder rotations, even extra asanas like snake pose. Yet the result was different. I could only reach a state of sloughed breathing that gave me a witness-like dissolution of thoughts, not the entry into pure awareness I tasted before.

This difference made me reflect. Maybe I did not need all those kriyas today, or maybe a cleansing like dhauti would have been more suitable, though I skipped it for lack of time. It feels that on some days only certain procedures are required, while on other days the body asks for different ones. The variation could be due to the changing needs of our organs and systems. Some mornings the nose demands special attention, on others the throat, and sometimes the stomach, especially if there has been a lot of talking or heavy, spicy, non-satvik food.

Slowly I am learning that yoga is not about mechanically repeating a routine but listening to the day’s condition. A quick body scan is enough to know: if the nose feels heavy, jal neti or kapalbhati clears the way; if the throat feels coated, gajkarni and water do the healing; if the stomach is sluggish, agnisar or a light abdominal pump is more useful; if stiffness sits in the shoulders, a few rolls or a cobra stretch is all it takes.

Alongside the body check, the mind too has its rhythms. On days it races, anulom-vilom or bhramari brings calm. On days it feels dull, kapalbhati or surya bhedi lifts it. Sometimes thought quiets enough for witness-consciousness, sometimes it melts completely into pure awareness. Both states have their value, both are steps on the path.

What I also realized is the importance of how we close practice. After any cleansing or pranayama, the system is charged. If I rise immediately, restlessness lingers. But if I sit quietly for about five minutes and just watch the natural breath without control, everything settles. This simple breath-witnessing grounds the energy, normalizes heart and prana, and seals the benefit of the practice.

The learning is clear: don’t chase the same state every day. Let the body and prana guide you. Sometimes purification itself is the achievement, sometimes breathlessness and silence arrive. Yoga is not a fixed door but many doors, and each morning a different one may open.

My Inner Dussehra

✨🙏 Happy Dussehra 🙏✨
May this day remind us that just as Lord Rama conquered Ravana, we too can conquer the Ravanas within—ego, doubt, and restlessness—and let them merge into the light of awareness. Wishing you and your family joy, strength, and the victory of truth over all that holds us back. 🌸🔥🌿

Today, on Dussehra, I woke up early around 4 am and sat for dhyāna. The breath was fast, the mind restless, but I chose not to interfere. I just allowed it to flow and kept watching like a witness. After some time, when the sitting felt uneventful, I stood up for water and herbal tea. Once refreshed, I sat again but still no stability came. Then I turned to cleansing practices—jal neti and gajkarni. The water that had slipped into the throat, I drew back up through the nose to clear it. A few sneezes followed, and then with kapalbhati and anulom vilom I dried the remaining water passages. Gentle neck tilts and shoulder rotations released the stiffness.

After this preparation, I again sat for meditation. This time, the mind settled quickly. Breathlessness deepened and I found myself resting in pure awareness, like Narayana in the vast ocean of ekarnava. For half an hour, there was a depth filled with bliss. Later, when family called me to get ready for a visit to the city, I moved from that deepness back into a witnessing state. Breath became minimal, almost absent, while thoughts arose and merged one by one into pure awareness—just like Ravana’s heads burning and dissolving into Rama’s light.

It felt as if my Dussehra had been celebrated inwardly before the outer festival. The inner Ravana—restless thoughts and subtle ego—was burned and offered into the inner Rama—pure awareness and bliss. Standing up, I felt fresh and ready for worldly duties, yet carried within the fragrance of this inner victory.

Festivals hold meanings much deeper than rituals and celebrations. When seen inwardly, they become reminders of our own inner journey, of the battles we fight silently, and of the joy of transformation that blesses not only us but also those around us.

An Evening Conversation on Faith, Spirits and Yoga

A few days ago, while on my evening walk after an early dinner, I stopped at a fellow’s shop to sit for a while. His neighbour, who runs a gosadan (cow shelter), and known to me since few months had recently broken his arm when a herd of cattle rushed toward the gate, breaking it while he was leaning on it. I had come there to offer sympathy and a helping hand, but he was not there at that moment. A few months earlier, his 14‑year‑old son had passed away from a rare disease.

I had often noticed a mysterious dark mixed glow in this man’s eyes. Despite his suffering, he is a devout follower of Lord Shiva and every year he, along with his entire team, arranges food (langar) for pilgrims during the month‑long Manimahesh Yatra in the hills.

While sitting there, I said to the shopkeeper that perhaps the neighbour was under bad stars or some evil influence and that he might visit a nearby city yoga guru to remove this effect. The shopkeeper immediately denied the efficacy of yoga for removing evil spirits.

I told him, “I have myself evaded such a spirit.”
He asked, “How?”

I explained: “Whenever that spirit tries to come in my dream, my guru appears there and tells it to leave me and come to him. I simply put my dhyana on my guru and pray for the peace and liberation of that spirit. It is not evil, but who would want to frequently encounter something paranormal?”

Hearing this, he softened a little.
Then he asked, “Who is your guru?”

I replied, “It should not be told to anyone.”
He asked again, “But it must have some form?”

I said, “Yes. Sometimes my guru appears as my Dadaji, sometimes as Shiva, and sometimes as Narayana, depending on the situation.”

Hearing this, and being himself a member of the Manimahesh team, he began speaking as if he knew more. He said, “Shiva cannot be worshipped. Shiva is Mahakaal. He doesn’t save, he destroys as per one’s Karma. One can become Shiva but can’t worship him. One has to become Shiva to gain benefit.”

I wondered silently: How can one become one’s favourite deity without first admiring, honouring, and worshipping it?

Then he added, “Only a Satguru can save from evil spirits, not others.”

Again, I reflected: He first opposed yoga but now he praises the Satguru — and a Satguru becomes functional only through yoga and dhyana.

That small conversation once again highlighted for me the importance of open discussion to grow and to deepen understanding.

Healing Through Dhyana: My Journey of Heart and Throat Chakra

A few days ago, I experienced a strong emotional blow due to social reasons. I had high expectations from highly paid laborers, expecting some great work, but they delivered nothing more than child’s play. I was deeply disturbed. That evening, when I sat for dhyana, I noticed my breathing naturally suspended at my Anahata chakra. Instantly, I felt immense relief, and my heart was healed surprisingly and immediately.

The very next day, I faced a heated debate with a few fellows, which tensed and disturbed me. Being more tired that evening, I skipped my dhyana practice. However, I did receive some relief through sympathetic family interactions. On the following morning, I noticed my breathing naturally settled at my Vishuddhi chakra, and during dhyana, I experienced a smooth breath suspension and healing at the throat. This taught me that worldly conflicts are not necessarily opposing dhyana. In fact, when tactfully handled, they can sometimes favor it rather than hinder it.

This experience led me to reflect on the deeper mechanisms of chakra energy, breath, and meditation. The emotional blow activated my Anahata chakra, which is the center of love, trust, and emotional processing. Breath suspension during dhyana allowed prana, or life energy, to flow precisely where it was needed, releasing tension and producing immediate healing. This shows how meditation can catalyze self-healing by aligning breath and awareness with the chakra that has been activated by specific emotional events.

Even when I skipped dhyana during the heated debate, some relief still came through external emotional resonance, like the support and sympathy of family members. While this relief was partial and slower than meditation, it shows that external support can act as a mild substitute for dhyana in harmonizing chakras.

The shift to Vishuddhi chakra the next morning was directly related to the intellectual and verbal stress from the debate. The throat chakra governs communication, expression, clarity, and mental processing. After tension in Anahata, the energy naturally rose to Vishuddhi, allowing breath suspension there and smooth, instant energetic recalibration through dhyana. This shows that chakras respond to context-specific triggers: the heart for emotional stress, the throat for intellectual or verbal challenges.

One of the key insights from these experiences is that worldly conflicts can actually favor dhyana. When handled tactfully without being drowned in the drama, meditation can utilize activated chakras for healing and alignment. Life stress can thus become a guide, highlighting where energy is stuck or needs refinement, rather than an obstacle.

The general mechanism appears as follows:

  1. Trigger → Chakra activation → Breath aligns → Awareness directs prana → Healing.
  2. External stress does not block dhyana; instead, it creates a map of where energy is stuck, which meditation can resolve.
  3. Each chakra responds to a preferred type of stress:
    • Muladhara → survival, security
    • Svadhisthana → relationships, pleasure
    • Manipura → power, confidence
    • Anahata → love, trust, emotional hurts
    • Vishuddhi → speech, clarity, mental tension
    • Ajna → intuition, decision-making
    • Sahasrara → transcendence, cosmic awareness

Through these insights, I realized the intelligent interplay between emotional triggers, energetic responses, and meditation. Dhyana does more than quiet the mind—it serves as a precise tool for emotional and energetic recalibration. Conflicts, when approached with awareness, can become openings for inner work, and each chakra reacts to the stress that naturally pertains to it.

In essence, meditation works in harmony with life’s challenges. Emotional pain or tension doesn’t block growth—it illuminates the path for healing, showing exactly where awareness and prana should be directed. My personal journey through Anahata and Vishuddhi chakras illustrates this beautifully.

For anyone practicing meditation, this experience emphasizes that being tactful in worldly interactions and observing where stress manifests in the body can guide dhyana to the most needed areas. Emotional, intellectual, and verbal challenges can activate corresponding chakras, and dhyana can then harmonize them, turning ordinary life events into precise tools for self-healing and awakening.

Enhancing Dhyana through Yogic Cleansing Techniques

Recently, I noticed that after performing rubber neti, a distinct sensation persisted along my left nostril passage. When I sat down for dhyana and focused on this sensation, my breath felt partially suspended, and I could observe subtle internal responses. I had also done vastra dhauti, and together these practices led me into a wonderful state of kevala kumbhaka during dhyana. This shows that such cleansing techniques truly support meditation. This heightened sensitivity is likely connected to the internal awareness cultivated through yoga and pranayama practices.

Later, during Vastra Dhauti, I ingested a full-length gauze bandage of about one and a half feet, though I captured its end carefully with my hand to ensure safety. Unlike earlier experiences where I felt resistance from the lower esophageal sphincter, this time it came out easily when I pulled it. I reflected on why the sphincter’s grip was different this time. Physiologically, sphincter tone naturally varies due to factors like relaxation, digestion, hydration, and nervous system state. From a yogic perspective, classical texts describe the resistance as the body’s natural “gate” holding impurities, which can reduce as the body becomes cleansed and the channels more open.

I also considered recent influences on my internal state. About fifteen hours earlier, I had consumed a beverage containing a small percentage of green tea along with herbal components. That night, I experienced strong GERD with momentary suffocation during sleep. The combination of caffeine, catechins, and acidic foods like sour lassi and curry likely contributed to LES relaxation, increased stomach acid, and heightened sensitivity to reflux. Even sleeping with my head elevated 20–25% did not fully prevent the episode, highlighting that LES tone, residual acid, and heightened internal awareness can overpower positional benefits.

This experience reinforced my observation that prana-raising yoga can heighten sensitivity to GERD. Pranayama, Kundalini, and other prana-focused practices modulate the autonomic nervous system — often increasing vagal tone and at times sympathetic activity. These shifts can contribute to transient relaxations of the lower esophageal sphincter and, combined with heightened interoceptive awareness from yoga, may make sensations such as reflux more noticeable. Even a standard wait period of three to three and a half hours after meals does not always prevent reflux for someone with heightened sensitivity. That is why, in Yoga, cleansing techniques such as Vaman and Dhauti are prescribed — they help purify the digestive tract and may indirectly support functions like those of the LES.

I have clearly found that Keval Kumbhak Dhyana helps reduce GERD and gastritis. When I lie down to sleep in a bad mood, feeling bored or stressfully tired, acid often rises, burning my esophagus and throat, and even eroding my teeth. But when I sit for Keval Kumbhak Dhyana, I become cool and refreshed. After such practice, I notice that during subsequent evening or night sleep, acid reflux does not occur. This clearly proves that deep dhyana reduces stress and promotes healthy forward gut motility. I also feel an increase in appetite after dhyana. It means that easy and calm yoga, without strenuous or rapid energy shifts, is better in this condition.

GERD is primarily caused by transient lower esophageal sphincter relaxations (TLESRs), which are neurogenic reflexes mediated through the vagus nerve in the parasympathetic system. Excess vagal activation, often triggered by gastric distension or autonomic shifts, is what induces these relaxations. Constant sympathetic dominance by itself does not usually cause GERD, but it can impair esophageal clearance, slow digestion, and heighten stress-related sensitivity to symptoms, making reflux episodes feel worse. Thus, it is the dynamic shifts and imbalances between parasympathetic and sympathetic activity—rather than a single constant state—that underlie both the occurrence of reflux and the way it is perceived. So, it’s really over-activation or imbalance (too much of either, or rapid shifts between the two) that creates the problem — not their normal physiological levels. In yoga, however, the deliberate play of the sympathetic and parasympathetic nervous systems may often cause surges in either and rapid shifts between both states, which explains why heightened awareness of reflux can occur during intense prana-raising practices. However in yoga, both mechanisms can play a role — sometimes it’s just heightened awareness of normal reflux, and sometimes the practice itself can physiologically trigger reflux through vagal reflexes, abdominal pressure, or autonomic shifts.

I also explored alternatives to reduce such effects while retaining benefits. Non-caffeinated or decaffeinated green tea provides the antioxidants and catechins of green tea without stimulating the nervous system or relaxing the sphincter excessively. Choosing decaf blends or herbal infusions allows for the health benefits without aggravating GERD, making them more compatible with yogic cleansing practices.

Finally, I considered a safety protocol for Vastra Dhauti after reflux-prone days: waiting 24 hours after acidic or caffeinated foods, checking stomach comfort, ensuring well-lubricated gauze, maintaining upright posture, breathing calmly, observing LES response, and monitoring for soreness or burning afterward. This cautious approach, combined with attention to diet, posture, and timing of prana-raising practices, helps sustain the benefits of yogic cleansing while minimizing discomfort or risk.