Tag: Meditation

Sanatan Dharma as Lived Experience: When Scriptures Become a Life

A personal preface

This is not a claim, not a declaration of divinity, and not an attempt to place myself above any tradition. This is only a record of lived experience — how scriptures, relationships, stages of life, and inner practices unfolded naturally inside one ordinary human life. I write this because many people think our scriptures are theory, mythology, or outdated philosophy. My life has shown me that they are a practical way of living, happening even in the age of supercomputers, aeroplanes, and high technology.

If divine permission comes, a full book may come later. For now, this is the nutshell — for curious readers who want to understand how Sanātana Dharma actually works in living human beings.

Scriptures are not theory — they are living maps

I have seen that the great god lineages are not isolated historical events limited to one time and place. They are stages of human spiritual evolution that keep happening again and again, everywhere, in different people, in different forms. That is why this dharma is called sanātana — eternal — unlike systems tied to one prophet, one story, or one century.

Technology does not block these stages. A needle, an aeroplane, a supercomputer — none of these stop consciousness from evolving. Outer tools change, inner laws do not.

The Śiṣya phase: childhood discipline and listening

My first phase was the śiṣya phase, in childhood.

I was an observer by nature. Disciplined. Non-revolting. Whatever teachers and elders taught that felt good and right, I accepted happily and with devotion, without criticism. I now see that this phase is common to all great lineages — before anyone becomes a knower, they must become a learner.

Rama, Krishna, Buddha, Shankara — all began as disciples. Ego must soften before it can dissolve.

Dada Guru: the power of sound and atmosphere

My grandfather used to read scriptures aloud for hours every day to listeners. Those words falling on my ears shaped my inner world long before I understood them. I did not study scriptures — I absorbed them.

That is why I call him Dada Guru.

He did not give me a mantra, but he gave me atmosphere, rhythm, reverence, and sound — śabda-brahma. Those sounds later pushed me naturally toward practical living, not theoretical belief.

Krishna phase: adolescence, attraction, and refined desire

In adolescence came the Krishna phase, lasting about 1–1.5 years during senior secondary school. This phase was intense and energetic — attraction to girls, being attracted by girls, social charm, indirect sexual fun — but never vulgar indulgence.

The purpose was not enjoyment but learning the essence of kāma. Attraction was raised but held in a sattvic environment, with social distance and inner discipline. Slowly, attraction turned into bhakti. A meditation image developed by itself in the mind — Radha and Krishna appearing in each other — and this led to spontaneous samādhi, exactly as described in Bhāgavata Purāṇa through the gopīs.

This phase cannot last long; it is too volatile and needs continued physical presence. The continued physical presence of attracting partners became difficult to tolerate, and maintaining control by consciously preventing physical contact for long periods required great inner discipline. But it is essential. Without it, later renunciation becomes dry and incomplete.

Shakti / Durga phase: courage, love, and inner femininity

After Krishna phase came the Shakti phase, lasting nearly five years during university life, and continuing even after marriage due to the support of my wife.

Internally, I lived a feminine reality — sensitivity, softness, devotion — while externally I became brave, ready to fight evil in sattvic, nonviolent, tactical, and lawful ways. This is the Durga function: courage without brutality, strength without hatred. Together, the meditation image of the mental consort anchored in the mind matured even further — not merely as a thought, but as a fully living inner presence, just as Radha lived within Krishna even in her physical absence, and even while he was living his worldly life with his wife, Rukmini. In Vaishnava understanding, Radha is the hlādinī-śakti — the inner bliss-consciousness of Krishna — and when sustained joy, devotion, and fullness arose naturally from this meditation image, that experiential bliss could be understood as the same hlādinī current described in the scriptures. It was not an identity or a divine claim, but the recognition that a human inner process was unfolding exactly as the ancient maps had described: bliss arising from continuous remembrance and inwardly residing devotion.

I succeeded a little — not by force, but by alignment, what I call divine help.

Life as gurukula: gods as living people

I slowly realized that gods did not come from heaven — they came through people around me.

A naughty relative boy living at our home carried the Krishna role.
My father carried the Rama role — discipline, responsibility, order.
My uncle carried the Shiva role — depth, silence, detachment.
All the sweet girls who were part of attraction carried the Shakti role.

These were not fantasies. They were living transmissions. I merged all these roles into one integrated life. It felt as if all gods joined their powers to destroy one demon — ignorance.

Shiva phase: tantra, isolation, and upward energy

When Shakti phase reached its peak, worldly energy naturally declined and pushed me into isolation. This was the beginning of Shiva phase.

Shiva here means not only worldly isolation but tantric transformation — raw base energy rising as Kundalini toward awakening. As energy turned upward, my inner imagery changed: the feminine consort image was replaced by a male guru image. This gave me the feeling of being male again, grounded and directed.

To the world, this can look strange or misunderstood. But it was not indulgence or confusion — it was pure Kundalini meditation in tantric style, where imagery changes to match energy direction.

This Shiva phase is most dominant in my recent books because it is the most recent and intense lived phase. Older phases are less vivid and more integrated.

Rama phase: rest, order, and balance (still unfolding)

The Rama phase has just begun.

After kevala kumbhaka and small glimpses of nirvikalpa-type samādhi, this phase appeared. Rama literally means rest, āram, balance. It is not heroic drama; it is stable living after turbulence.

This phase cannot be written fully yet because it must be lived fully first. It will come as the final integration stage. Now it is up to the divinely operating world to decide how long it allows me to remain settled in this phase, though there is no doubt that personal effort also matters.

Why the world misunderstands these experiences

People see only sexuality, repression, gender, or indulgence. They do not see sublimation. That is why tantra was always kept subtle and symbolic.

I never say “I am Shiva” or “I am Krishna.” I say: that phase unfolded. Language is the thin line between wisdom and misunderstanding.

Final understanding: Sanātana Dharma is human evolution

My life has shown me that scriptures are not to be believed — they are to be lived.

They are maps of consciousness written in symbolic language. When lived, they dissolve ignorance naturally.

I am not above humanity. I am an example of how humanity evolves when sound, discipline, love, and relationships support growth.

If divine permission comes, a book will come. Until then, this blog is the nutshell — a lived proof that Sanātana Dharma is eternal because it is always happening.

Four Incarnations, Four Pillars of One Building
(Why All Paths of Sanātana Dharma Are Complementary, Not Opposing)


These four Sanātana incarnations are like the four pillars of a single building. Just as a building cannot stand if even one pillar is missing, the sense of wholeness and salvation does not feel achievable unless all these forms are embodied within a single person. This also reveals a deeper truth: the many sects and paths of Sanātana Dharma are not rivals or contradictions, but complementary forces. Even Sikhism and Jainism, which fully support Rama-like ideals of character, can be seen as sects or streams of the single Hindu civilizational tradition, rather than completely separate religions. If we expand this understanding further, even religions such as Islam and Christianity can be seen, in a broader sense, as supporting branches of the same eternal flow—so long as they uphold humanity, compassion, and moral order. In that sense, they are not completely unconnected from other dharmic streams, but participate in the same universal movement toward righteousness, truth, and human upliftment, each expressing it through its own language, symbols, and historical context. Just as the pillars together support one structure, these traditions together support one human awakening — and this is exactly how they have always functioned in living practice.

When Motion Reveals Nonduality: A Travel Darshan from Sky, Forest, and Ocean

A Journey That Was Not Just Travel

This was a family trip to coastal areas. We went by aeroplane, stayed near the sea, walked among coconut trees, and spent time watching waves. Outwardly, it looked like a normal vacation. Inwardly, something subtle unfolded. Nonduality became more visible — not through meditation, not through effort, but through motion.

I noticed that when the world moved fast, the sense of separation weakened. The faster and more total the movement, the more clearly nonduality revealed itself.

Aeroplane: Nonduality at High Speed

The aeroplane felt special. Not just because it was high, but because it was top in motion. When you sit inside a flying machine, your body is moving but you are not acting. Motion happens through you, not by you. The ground, clouds, distance, time — all flow together. Motionless non-living joins with the in motion living producing nonduality. Human considers motion as sign of life instinctively.

In this state, fixed reference points disappear. The mind cannot hold divisions. Living and non-living begin to mix. Metal, engine, sky, body, breath — everything moves as one system. This mixing itself produced nonduality.

I realized something important: motion is the primary quality of the living world. When non-living objects join a living motion-field, separation collapses. The aeroplane became a form of moving samadhi — a dynamic samadhi. It was not stillness, but total flow.

When I added quantum darshan to this perception — the understanding that at the deepest level there is no real separation between matter and life — nonduality reached near its peak.

Not the absolute peak, because motion still remains. But the highest possible nonduality within movement.

The second amazing movement of the plane is its upward rise, which feels like rising kundalini energy toward sahasrar. Sahasrar symbolically represents nonduality, bliss, and awakening, so this upward motion naturally evokes the same sense of expansion and release.

Coconut Trees: When Matter Looks Back at You

At the coast, coconut trees appeared intensely beautiful. But not because they had some special beauty different from other objects. Their beauty came from recognition.

Their shape is human-like:

  • the crown of leaves like a head
  • the long naked trunk like a body
  • the swaying like dancing
  • the rhythm like laughter and enjoyment

When wind moved them, they looked like they were communicating with each other. A group of coconut trees looked like a group of people talking, laughing, living.

This again was the same mixing of living and non-living worlds. Motion blurred the boundary.

When the thought arose that even at the quantum level they are not different from us, bliss amplified. Perception and understanding aligned. Separation dropped not only visually but ontologically.

It was not that trees became human. It was that human and tree revealed the same pattern of life.

Animal Perception: Entering the Forest Mind

At that moment I understood something else: animals perceive forests differently from humans.

Humans see objects.
Animals see patterns.

Animals read:

  • movement
  • rhythm
  • density
  • silence
  • vibration

To them, a forest is not a collection of things. It is a single living field. Wind, branches, birds, ground — all are messages. Animals are not in the forest. They are the forest sensing itself. Animals do not divide experience into “me” and “forest” just like human do. For them, there is no separate observer standing inside nature. Sensing simply happens as one continuous field of movement, smell, sound, and vibration. When something changes, the whole field responds together. That is why it feels as if the forest itself is sensing — because perception is not localized in a self, but distributed across the living field.

Animals have no benefit of objectify the world. They don’t work blindly nor they need to work so. Lack of hands and brain limits their working ability. So draining energy in objectifying world has no use for them instead it can divert energy from basic need of food and survival. So instinctively they follow sensational patterns to act and react quickly. Together, what’ll they loose natural bliss of nonduality when duality has no major worldly role to play for them. However, little duality is adopted even them as petty worldly roles also demand it but not extreme duality like human.

When I saw trees communicating, I briefly entered this animal mode of perception. But with a difference.

Animals live in nonduality, but they do not attain samadhi.

Why? Because samadhi requires awareness knowing itself. Animals are in the flow, but they do not reflect on the flow. Animals remain continuously in the flow of perception, because their attention is always responding outwardly to the environment. They cannot voluntarily slow the nervous system, pause the breath, or rest awareness in itself. They need to be always alert for survival. Humans, through calm sitting, slow pranayama, or natural stillness like keval kumbhak, can create a pause in the flow. In that pause, awareness reflects on itself. That reflection is samadhi — something animals live but cannot consciously realize. They live unity, but they do not know unity. That’s why it’s described everywhere in scriptures that animals act every way like a human act except only yoga and achieving brahman through it, so one must not waste his life in petty things without practicing yoga.

A constantly active karmayogi lives close to the natural flow of life, somewhat like animals do, where action happens without much inner division. This creates presence, grounding, and a weak sense of separation, but awareness remains outward-moving. However, unlike animals he does it with super intelligence that’s why he gets many benefits in worldly functioning. They realise they are doing karmayoga and instead of continuously being in nonduality flow helplessly like animals, they adopted it intentionally intermittently at will so they realise its real benefits and harness those for their worldly and spiritual development. I think what’s depicted each god and goddess with a companion animal is a metaphor for their nondual lifestyle. For awakening and samadhi to arise, such a person must intentionally rest, slow down, and allow attention to turn back on itself. Without this pause, even pure action cannot become realization. Yet this very life of flowing action becomes a great advantage later, because when the karmayogi finally sits in stillness, reflection happens easily and samadhi comes with less struggle.

Animals live in unity naturally, without thinking about it. Humans lose that unity, but can stop, look, and come back to it consciously. When a human returns to unity with awareness, that is samadhi.

I was perceiving like an animal and knowing it like a human — that knowing turned perception into darshan and amplified bliss.

Ocean: The Living Rhythm of Existence

The ocean felt alive. Not as a belief, but as an experience of resonance.

Waves came forward like a hug.
They went back like stepping away after a kiss — not to increase intimacy, but to prevent too much of it.

The continuous coming and going felt like human life itself:

  • approach and withdrawal
  • effort and rest
  • work and pause
  • earning and returning

The ocean was pure motion. No fixed form, no stable edge, no permanent boundary. My body, breath, and the waves moved together. Again, nonduality appeared through motion.

It was clear that the ocean was not literally hugging me, and trees were not literally dancing. This was not imagination or projection in a pathological sense. It was field perception — where meaning arises from rhythm and unity arises from shared movement.

Bliss did not come from the ocean. It came from dropping the burden of separation.

Motion as the Secret Teacher of Nonduality

Stillness is one door to nonduality. Motion is another — and often a more accessible one for worldly life.

When motion becomes total, separation cannot survive.

When matter moves like life, and life recognizes itself in matter, the world becomes a single body.

This is why:

  • travel opens awareness
  • forests heal
  • oceans calm
  • flight feels liberating

The nervous system relaxes because it stops dividing reality into inside and outside.

A Grounded Darshan for Daily Life

What happened on this journey was not escapism. I did not lose my body. I did not lose my family. I did not leave the world. The experience came, stayed, and left naturally.

This is important.

It shows that nonduality does not require renunciation. It can arise in movement, in travel, in family life, in nature, in ordinary moments.

This is a mature nonduality — one that lives with life, not against it.

Closing Note: A Simple Truth

When motion becomes shared, the boundary between human and world softens, and existence feels like one continuous activity.

This is not philosophy.
This is travel.
This is perception.
This is lived darshan.

And this is how nonduality quietly reveals itself — not in caves, but between waves, trees, clouds, and family laughter.

Gayatri Mantra, Kundalini Yoga, and Caste: Sushumna Awakening and Brahman Awareness Beyond Birth

Initial Thought About the Meaning of Gayatri

Today, a yogin visited me at my request to show some techniques of sutra neti. He is OBC by caste, as I asked him, and while responding, he said that there is no caste of yogins. While discussing it, an idea came to me that the word Gayatri contains “tri,” meaning three. I felt that this three could represent Ida, Pingala, and Sushumna. These three nadis are the fundamental energy channels in the yogic body. Ida and Pingala are both feminine in nature as they belong to Shakti, and Sushumna is the unified and highest form of Shakti. All nadis belong to Prakriti and not Purusha. Gayatri is therefore always addressed as Devi. This threefold Shakti is the basis of yogic practice and the inner origin of Vedic knowledge. That is why Gayatri is traditionally connected with yogis and Brahmins.

Gayatri as the Mother of the Vedas

It is said in tradition that Gayatri is the mother of the Vedas. This does not mean that she created books or texts. It means that Gayatri represents the state of consciousness from which Vedic knowledge arises. When Ida and Pingala are balanced, Sushumna opens. When Sushumna opens, the perception of cosmic order, called ṛta, becomes possible. This perception is Veda. Therefore Gayatri is not only a mantra but the condition through which Vedic seeing becomes available to human awareness.

Why Both Yogi and Brahmin Practice Gayatri

Originally, Brahmin did not mean caste. It meant one who abides in Brahman-awareness. Yogi means one who unites the energies through yoga. Both are describing the same inner process using different language. Gayatri japa regulates the breath, balances Ida and Pingala, and gradually activates Sushumna. For this reason, Gayatri is whispered, practiced at dawn and dusk, and given during upanayana to begin inner discipline. It is a yogic process expressed in mantra form.

Meaning of Gayatri as That Which Saves Through Singing

Gayatri is defined as “gāyantam trāyate iti gāyatrī,” meaning that which saves the one who sings or recites. Gāyana refers to rhythmic japa, especially inner recitation. Trāṇa refers to protection or release from bondage. Bondage in yogic terms is the imbalance of Ida and Pingala, which produces mental duality and repetitive samskaras. When japa is practiced, breath becomes subtle, nadis harmonize, and Sushumna opens. Awareness then shifts from mind to witness. This shift itself is liberation in a small but real form. That is how Gayatri saves.

Gayana as Inner Vibration and Its Effect on Awareness

True gāyana is not loud singing but manasika japa, inner repetition. Gayatri works best at sandhya times, when natural nadi junctions occur, and when attention is steady at Ajna or the heart. Through personal experience, it becomes clear that when attention stabilizes in this way, Brahman-awareness appears naturally without effort.

Mantra Governs Nadis, Not the Other Way Around

A necessary correction is that Gayatri is not created by Ida, Pingala, and Sushumna. Rather, she governs and regulates them. Mantra is primary, and energy follows. This maintains the correct hierarchy and keeps practice safe. The mantra acts as a regulator of the entire energetic system.

Meaning of Bhuh, Bhuvah, and Svah as Inner States

The words Bhuh, Bhuvah, and Svah represent levels of consciousness, not physical locations. Bhuh corresponds to the physical body and gross awareness. Bhuvah corresponds to prana, mind, and subtle activity. Svah corresponds to buddhi, light, and causal awareness. When Ida and Pingala dominate, awareness moves between Bhuh and Bhuvah. When Sushumna opens, awareness naturally rises to Svah.

Savitur as the Inner Illuminating Sun

Savitur refers not to the external sun but to the inner illuminator that lights all three states of consciousness. This is the central witness-light experienced when energy flows in Sushumna. It is the reflection of Brahman in buddhi and the source of inner clarity. Just as the sun is not affected by whatever abodes it illuminates, similarly pure Brahman awareness during Sushumna flow is not affected by any of the three worlds but only witnesses them.

Bhargo Devasya Varenyam as the Chosen Light

Bharga means the burning clarity that removes ignorance. It is not physical heat but luminous understanding. When Sushumna stabilizes, samskaras dissolve naturally in this light. Therefore the mantra declares this light as varenyam, worthy of choosing above all others, because other forms of light such as sensory, emotional, and mental illumination are unstable.

Dhiyo Yo Nah Prachodayat and Transformation of Intellect

Dhi refers to buddhi, the faculty of discrimination. Prachodayat means to impel, awaken, or reorganize. When Sushumna flows, buddhi is no longer personal but becomes universal. This transformation of intellect is the direct experience of Brahman-awareness. The Brahman referred to in the Gayatri mantra is the same Brahman realized through the opening of Sushumna.

Mantra, Nadi, and Awareness as One Process

Mantra, nadi, and awareness are three expressions of the same process. Mantra is the sound-form, nadi is the energy-form, and awareness is the realized state. Gayatri does not merely describe Brahman. It creates the pathway for perceiving Brahman. That is why mantra experience and Sushumna experience feel identical. They are two ways of expressing the same inner truth.

Why This Knowledge Is Encoded and Not Explained

This knowledge was traditionally encoded rather than openly explained because explanation can create desire for experience, while encoding allows only practitioners to discover it through practice. In this case, experience came first and meaning came later, which is the correct order of realization.

Personal Caution and Grounding

From personal experience, it is known that forcing Sushumna can destabilize life. Therefore mantra is the safest and most natural regulator of energy. Gayatri allows awakening to occur without loss of balance in worldly life.

Conclusion: Gayatri and Brahman Are the Same Realization

The Brahman described in the Gayatri mantra is the same Brahman realized when Sushumna opens. Gayatri is therefore the mother of the Vedas, the regulator of nadis, the awakener of buddhi, and the inner sun of awareness. She does not promise liberation as an idea but enacts it as a lived process through japa and awareness.

A Yogi is the real Brahmin

It seems that caste is not by birth in this sense. One who is a Brahmin by birth but does not do yoga does not look like a real Brahmin. But a man born in any caste who practices yoga seems to be a Brahmin. Many examples are there. Dasi-putra Vidur, Valmiki, Vishvamitra, Shabari, Kabir, Rahim, and many more were from different religions and castes, but all were awakened like yogis and are still revered like Brahmins.

Beyond Death and Liberation: Holding Consciousness Between Worlds

A Personal Reflection on Trishanku, Vishvamitra, Kundalini, and the Inner Guru

How Compassion, Ritual, and Inner Prayer Hold Consciousness Until Liberation Ripens

The Classical Story of Trishanku: The King Suspended Between Heaven and Earth

In the ancient tradition, King Trishanku of the Ikshvāku lineage desired to ascend to heaven in his physical body. When the royal priests refused to perform the rite, he approached the sage Viśvāmitra, whose tapas was unmatched. Through his austere power, Viśvāmitra attempted to send Trishanku to the celestial realms, provoking resistance from the gods. When the ascent was obstructed, Trishanku was left suspended between heaven and earth, neither accepted by the devas nor returned to the mortal world. Refusing to let him fall, Viśvāmitra established him in a unique state—neither fully liberated nor condemned—where he remained held by the force of the sage’s tapas.

Rethinking the Trishanku Story: Blessing, Not Punishment

I have often felt that the story of Vishvamitra and King Trishanku is misunderstood. Most readings stop at ego, rivalry, or defiance of the gods. But to me, it feels very different. It feels like a blessing, not a punishment. Vishvamitra did not abandon Trishanku halfway. He held him.

I feel Vishvamitra created an abode for Trishanku not out of anger, but out of compassion. However, it may be understood as a spiritual anger directed toward the devas for denying liberation to Trishanku. It was pure and positive—aimed at growth, and getting inspiration to do a great job, not rivalry. Trishanku was not ready for full liberation, yet he should not have fallen back. So Vishvamitra, through tapas, prayer, and sheer inner power, held him in between—high enough to be safe, steady enough to ripen. This suspension itself feels like grace. Liberation is not always immediate. Sometimes it is protection from regression.

Rituals for the Departed: Collective Tapas in Everyday Life

When I look at society today, I see the same intention expressed differently. People perform Bhagavatam kathas, shraddhas, yagyas, pindas, and tarpanas, prayers, rest in peace or RIP for their departed loved ones. These are not empty rituals. They are collective efforts to hold consciousness high enough so that it does not collapse back into unconscious karmic drift. Vishvamitra did this alone. Ordinary people do it together, repeatedly, across time.

Seen this way, Trishanku becomes an archetype. Not damned. Not liberated. But protected. Suspended with care.

When the Myth Became Personal: My Own Experience

This is not just philosophy for me. It touched my life directly.

Dream Visitations and the Call for Assistance

After the death of a close acquaintance, I experienced her presence repeatedly in dream visitations. These were not frightening. They were not dramatic. They felt like a seeking—an unspoken request for assistance in liberation. I did not try to command anything. I did not panic. I prayed.

Prayer, Kundalini, and the Meaning of Urging God

I prayed strongly. I urged kundalini for her peace, for her liberation, for forgiveness of acts that might be preventing liberation, for release from unresolved weight. For me, kundalini is representative of God—not as a personality, but as the deepest intelligence of integration. Urging kundalini is urging God. It is aligning intention with the highest coherence of consciousness. We may even call it a personified dhyāna-supporting chitra that often lingers during savikalpa dhyāna and, as it converges toward nirvikalpa dhyāna, enables a smooth and rapid transition.

I also urge liberation for all beings, twice daily, in my dhyana. I do this because liberation is not a limited resource. It is not like physical matter that gets exhausted by giving. It is like light. It can be wished for all, together, without loss. This understanding feels very clear to me.

Signs of Resolution: Clarity, Softening, and Residual Sadness

Over time, I noticed something important. The appearances in dreams became clearer. Calmer. More refined. Each interaction carried less confusion. There was a subtle sadness present—not fear, not agitation—but a gentle sorrow. It felt connected to not being perfectly cared for during illness and the dying phase. I did not try to fix this sadness. I simply allowed it. I know it will resolve one day on its own.

This clarity felt like confirmation—not in a grand mystical sense, but in a quiet, settling way. Something was integrating. Something was being completed.

Kundalini as Dhyana Chitra: The Inner Guru Clarified

I want to be clear about one thing. When I speak of kundalini here, I mean dhyana chitra. The inner meditative image. The inner guru. Not a voice. Not an external command. Not an authority that tells me what to do. It is orientation, not instruction. It does not demand action. It dissolves naturally in meditation.

Where Resolution Truly Happens

On careful observation, I see that nothing was resolved outside me. The resolution happened within. A tense relational field completed itself, which is why clarity increased and interactions became softer instead of more intense.

This reflects the true purpose of ancient rituals. They were meant as acts of love, not fear—support rather than rescue, holding rather than pulling. Their role was to stabilize awareness, reduce downward pull, and allow natural ripening to occur. It means these practices certainly work in this world, and they may also have effects beyond it, in the afterworld as well.

Yogic Understanding: Death as Pratyahara and Suspension

From a yogic perspective, death itself is forced pratyahara. The danger is regression into old samskaras. Holding practices—whether tapas, prayer, ritual, or remembrance—keep awareness above that collapse point or above throat chakra. Trishanku’s suspension mirrors this exactly.

Psychological Grounding: Grief, Holding, and Completion

From a psychological perspective, this is also healthy grief. Remembering without clinging. Caring without binding. Letting go without denial. Societies that abandon ritual often carry unresolved trauma because transitions are left unheld.

Responsibility Without Burden

One crucial truth remains central to me. I am not responsible for liberating anyone. I am responsible for not obstructing liberation with fear, guilt, or attachment. My prayers are permission, not intervention. Opening, not pushing.

Why Experiences Fade When Resolution Occurs

That is why these experiences naturally fade. Fewer visitations. Less emotional charge. More neutrality. Eventual quiet disappearance. Resolution softens. It does not escalate.

This is the role of the inner guru. Not to act. Not to control. But to allow completion to happen without force.

Returning to Trishanku: The Archetype of Compassionate Suspension

When I look back at Vishvamitra and Trishanku now, the story feels intimate, not mythic. One consciousness holding another until gravity loosens. One being refusing to let another fall, without pretending readiness that is not yet there.

Different methods. Same compassion.

Not a Conclusion, But a Resting Place

This blog is not a conclusion. It is a resting place. A suspension that does not need to hurry. Just as liberation itself does not hurry.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter 31: lobha third basic emotion in quantum world

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

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

Quantum Energy Quantization

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

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

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

Gravitational Accretion (Star Formation)

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

Quantum Vacuum Energy (Zero-Point Energy)

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

Magnetic Saturation and Hysteresis

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Black Holes — Ultimate Accumulators

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

Summary

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Philosophical Synthesis

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

Spiritual Transmutation of Lobha

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

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

Quantum Nonduality: How Hoarding Turned Into Spiritual Growth

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter 29: Quantum Darśan — When the Restless Vacuum Becomes the Universe and the Mind

1. Nothingness Is Never Truly Empty

We often imagine the universe beginning from absolute nothingness. But in science, “nothing” is never truly nothing. Even when space seems blank and silent, it silently vibrates with subtle energy, just like a quiet room that still contains faint echoes, hums, and air movement if we listen closely.

In physics, this restless background is called the vacuum. It is not dead space but a dynamic field filled with tiny fluctuations. Nature does not allow perfect stillness.

Just like a calm ocean that always hides currents beneath its surface, the cosmic vacuum is a sea of invisible ripples. This restlessness is the root of creation.

2. The Vacuum as a Restless Ocean of Possibilities

Even when the ocean looks calm, beneath it are vibrations, pressures, and flows. Similarly, empty space is never truly empty—it is saturated with quantum fluctuations, gentle energetic waves that appear and disappear.

Nature forbids absolute zero movement. Just as the ocean can never freeze completely still, the vacuum cannot reach zero energy. This impossibility is not a flaw; it is the creative power of existence.

These vibrations are the seeds of galaxies, just as subtle thoughts are seeds of personality.

3. How Energy Hides Inside the Vacuum

Now imagine pushing a beach ball underwater. The harder you try to hold it still, the more energy it stores. The moment you release it, it explodes upward. Trying to force perfect stillness creates hidden energy.

The same happens in the vacuum. When space is pushed toward perfect equilibrium, it stores tension inside itself. This hidden tension is called vacuum energy.

Sometimes the vacuum holds so much suppressed energy that it becomes unstable. This unstable condition is called a false vacuum, similar to supercooled water that remains liquid below freezing temperature but holds immense latent energy, waiting to release the moment it is disturbed.

This false vacuum is the root of cosmic inflation.

4. The Sudden Birth of Inflation

When the false vacuum could no longer sustain its unstable stillness, it snapped into a more natural and stable state—just as supercooled water instantly freezes when triggered.

This cosmic “snap” released the stored tension in an explosive expansion of space itself. Like a balloon that suddenly finds a weak spot and expands violently in one direction, the universe expanded unimaginably fast.

This era is known as cosmic inflation.

5. When Tiny Ripples Become the Architecture of Creation

Before inflation, the vacuum contained tiny quantum ripples, quiet and harmless like small waves on a still lake. But the hurricane of inflation stretched those ripples into giant waves. These waves carried different energies in different regions, becoming the blueprint of the universe.

Just as waves crashing on a shoreline sculpt beaches and carve patterns in sand, the stretched fluctuations shaped the large-scale structure of the cosmos. When inflation ended and space cooled, these amplified ripples condensed into matter, stars, galaxies, and clusters. Galaxies are, therefore, frozen echoes of the universe’s earliest vibrations.

6. The Vacuum as the Womb of Matter and Mind

If the universe can create everything from a restless vacuum, then nothing about us—neither the body nor the mind—is separate from the cosmos.

Just as galaxies existed as hidden ripples inside the dark vacuum of the early universe, our thoughts, emotions, and personality patterns exist as subtle vibrations in consciousness before they take visible form.

The “empty” vacuum is a womb, not a void. Likewise, the silent mind in yoga is not dead space but pregnant with awareness. The potential for life, thought, identity, and creativity rests in an unseen background, just as the galaxy rests in the vacuum before appearing.

7. Yogic Analogy: The Mind as a False Vacuum

In human life, our mind is never truly empty, just like the cosmic vacuum is never still. It is quantum reality. Even when we sit silently, there are subtle thoughts and impressions (saṁskāras) vibrating beneath awareness like tiny ripples.

When we force absolute thoughtlessness, we create more inner resistance—just as forcing vacuum stillness stores energy. A meditator who tries too hard to be “calm” builds hidden stress, like the universe storing energy in its false vacuum. Just as the false vacuum of the early universe suddenly released its trapped energy and burst into cosmic inflation, the human mind can also explode into giant waves of disturbance when one enters deep meditation incorrectly or forcefully. If subtle inner impressions are suppressed rather than gently observed, they accumulate tension the way vacuum energy builds up in an unstable state, and when this tension finally releases, it may erupt as emotional breakdown, hallucination, confusion, ego-inflation, or even madness. Proper dhyāna does not push the mind into silence by force; it allows the mind to settle naturally into stillness. This is why Yogic texts emphasize correct practice, clear awareness, and the guidance of a knowledgeable teacher, so that suppressed thoughts do not become cosmic-scale “mental inflation” inside the practitioner. True meditation is a relaxed descent into natural clarity, not a violent attempt to shut down the mind.

A person who suppresses emotions may appear peaceful but is inwardly packed with unprocessed impulses, just like supercooled water that looks quiet but holds explosive potential. When the mind can no longer sustain this artificial silence, it either breaks down or breaks through—snapping into deeper relaxation, tears, creativity, or insight. This moment mirrors the false vacuum collapsing into the true vacuum, triggering cosmic inflation.

However, this inner “inflation” of the mind can become controlled, creative, and deeply transformative when it unfolds correctly through proper guidance and authentic practice. Just as cosmic inflation did not destroy the universe but shaped galaxies when its energy settled naturally, meditation can expand our inner impressions into wisdom, clarity, and creativity when the mind is not forced into silence but gently allowed to open. When thoughts are released consciously instead of being suppressed, they do not explode as madness; they blossom into insight. Proper dhyāna amplifies the mind’s subtle currents in a harmonious way, turning unconscious material into awareness, confusion into understanding, and latent potential into higher intelligence. In this way, deep meditation becomes not a breakdown, but a breakthrough—an orderly expansion of consciousness that reshapes one’s inner world just as the universe evolved through cosmic inflation into magnificent structure.

This natural control of the mind arises through non-dual darśanas such as Śarīra-Vijñāna Darśan and Quantum Darśan, where the mind is not treated as a personal burden but recognized as a universal activity present in every quantum expression of existence. When our thoughts are accepted as part of the same fluctuation that exists everywhere in the cosmos, they are no longer suppressed or resisted; they gently release themselves into the inner “true vacuum” of awareness, little by little, without shock or force. In such non-dual vision, mental energy settles gradually, just as the universe relaxed out of inflation into stable structure. But when many thoughts are continuously suppressed through forced meditation or rigid control, their load keeps increasing like a building false vacuum, storing more and more tension until it bursts unpredictably as emotional breakdown, fear, ego-madness, or psychological collapse. This is the fundamental danger of suppression—its energy does not disappear; it accumulates. It is just like controlled energy release from aviation fuel that allows an airplane to fly steadily, whereas sudden, uncontrolled release of the same fuel causes explosion, fire, and destruction. In the same way, a mind guided by non-dual understanding evolves creatively, while a suppressed mind can erupt destructively.

Thus, just as the cosmic vacuum released its energy gradually to form stars and worlds, our emotional and psychological energy can also transform into clarity, awareness, and wisdom when it is allowed to release naturally instead of being forced down. When thoughts are accepted and observed without judgment, they dissolve into understanding the way cosmic tension dissolved into creation. But when the same inner energy is violently suppressed in the name of silence or control, it does not disappear—it becomes unstable, storing pressure like a false vacuum that can collapse without warning. Forced suppression may look peaceful on the surface, yet it hides dangerous intensity underneath, waiting to erupt as breakdown, confusion, fear, or madness. In the same way that gentle energy release builds galaxies while an uncontrolled explosion destroys, a relaxed, non-dual approach to the mind creates inner evolution, while forceful suppression risks psychological disaster. True meditation does not choke the mind; it liberates it.

8. The Subconscious and the Cosmic Blueprint

The tiny subconscious ripples within us, magnified during intense yoga, meditation, or life experiences, later shape our personality—similar to how quantum ripples stretched by inflation shaped galaxies.

Just as deep yoga expands old impressions and stabilizes them into clarity, the universe stretched fluctuations into cosmic structure and stabilized them into matter. Galaxies are the frozen patterns of primordial fluctuations; our personality and behavior are the frozen results of our subconscious vibrations.

Both journeys—the cosmic and the psychological—begin from restless “nothingness” that must release itself through creative expansion rather than forced silence.

9. Quantum Darśan — Consciousness as the Ground of All

The vacuum that generates the cosmos is not a dead backdrop; it is the field within which all possibilities exist, waiting to manifest. Yoga calls this ground Brahman, the silent witness behind all movement.

Quantum physics and yogic wisdom meet on the same foundation: everything in existence is a single reality expressing itself in different forms. What we call the universe is consciousness first becoming energy, that energy condensing into matter, and matter eventually organizing itself into life, brain, and mind. As awareness grows, the mind begins to recognize its source, and experience returns back into consciousness again. In this way, the same fundamental stillness expresses as vacuum, becomes the universe, evolves into living beings, and finally reflects back as thought and awareness. All forms are simply different stages of one reality unfolding and returning to itself.

Final Realization

Real stillness is not forced emptiness but natural settling.
The universe expanded to relieve its tension; awareness expands in meditation to relieve psychological tension. Creation—cosmic or personal—arises not from dead emptiness but from a fertile depth of subtle vibrations.

One-Line Essence

The cosmos and the mind both emerge from a restless emptiness that naturally transforms into creative expansion.

Chapter 25: A Simple Understanding of How We Create Our Inner World

Modern physics and Vedanta both tell us that the world we experience is not exactly the world that exists outside. Quantum physics says things exist in many possible states until interaction selects one. Vedanta says the universe created by Ishvara is one, but the world each person lives in is different. This difference comes from how our own mind and energy process the same situation.

Every moment, our mind goes through three steps. First, the subconscious picks one emotional possibility out of many. A single scene can hold fear, love, disgust, calmness, or joy. Which one we feel depends on our past experiences, tendencies, guna balance, energy flow, and the dominant chakra. This selection happens instantly and quietly. Next, the mind turns that selected possibility into an actual emotion—fear becomes anxiety, anger becomes heat, love becomes warmth, and peace becomes stillness. Finally, our intellect interprets that emotion and forms meaning, stories, and opinions. This is how our personal world is created.

Chakras play a big role in this process. Lower chakras make us collapse experiences into fear, desire, or anger. Middle chakras make us collapse experiences into love, empathy, and understanding. Higher chakras make the collapse lighter, calmer, and more detached. When the energy reaches Ajna or Sahasrara, emotional reactions become very subtle, and the person begins to witness thoughts and feelings without getting pulled into them.

Kundalini movement changes the collapse even more. When energy is low, the collapse is emotional and reactive. When energy rises to the heart and throat, collapse becomes meaningful and refined. When energy reaches the higher centers, collapse becomes quiet and almost neutral. In deep meditation or samadhi, collapse becomes extremely weak or stops completely. There is no emotional or mental coloring—only pure awareness remains.

Quantum physics supports this kind of idea at a physical level. A particle stays in many possible forms until interaction fixes it. But this does not mean we create the entire universe by observing it. Ishvara creates the physical universe. We only create our personal experience of it. Things happen outside, but our inner world forms through emotional and mental collapse inside us.

As we grow spiritually or through meditation, this collapse becomes less noisy and more peaceful. The mind reacts less. Interpretation becomes minimal. Awareness becomes clearer. In the highest state, there is no collapse at all—no emotion, no story, no reaction—only pure consciousness aware of itself.

In simple words:
We do not create the outer universe, but we continuously create the inner universe we live in.
The more balanced our energy and mind become, the more peaceful and clear this inner universe becomes, until finally it dissolves into pure awareness in samadhi.

How Balanced Chakra Energy Stops Emotional Overreaction and Leads Toward Samadhi

In everyday life, we react emotionally because one part of our inner system becomes stronger than the others. If lower chakras become active, we react with fear, anger, or hurt. If middle chakras dominate, we respond with empathy or emotional softness. If upper chakras dominate, we remain calm, clear, and unaffected. But through practices like chakra meditation, pranayama, and other yogic methods, our energy gradually spreads evenly across all chakras. When this balance happens, something very interesting occurs: no single emotional pattern becomes dominant. All emotional possibilities arise together, and because they appear at the same time, they naturally cancel each other out.

When chakra energy becomes balanced, cancellation does not mean we stop feeling emotions. In fact, we feel all emotional responses more clearly, but none of them overpower us. The emotions rise naturally, but because opposite tendencies appear together, they quickly neutralize each other. This creates a healthy inner balance where we remain aware of every emotion without getting trapped in any one of them. Yoga does not make us dull or detached from life; instead, it expands our capacity to experience. We sense fear, love, anger, compassion, clarity, and calmness all at once, but they do not disturb our inner state. This expanded emotional umbrella allows us to enjoy the world more deeply while staying free from entanglement. In this sense, yoga helps us live fully, feel everything, respond intelligently, and yet remain centered and unaffected. This natural neutrality is what gradually leads toward inner peace and eventually toward samadhi.

This means the mind does not fall into one fixed reaction. It doesn’t collapse into only fear, only anger, only love, or only logic. Instead, all these tendencies stay balanced. This creates an inner state where emotional reactions lose their force, and the mind remains steady and neutral. In this balanced condition, awareness becomes spacious and calm because nothing inside pulls the mind strongly in any direction. This is why the experience begins to feel like samadhi—quiet, open, and free from emotional disturbance.

For example, if someone insults us, an unbalanced system reacts from whichever chakra is strongest at that moment. Lower chakras produce hurt or anger. Middle chakras produce understanding or softness. Upper chakras produce calm detachment. But if all chakras are balanced, the lower and middle reactions rise together and neutralize each other. What remains is the clarity and calmness of the higher centers. The result is that the person does not feel shaken, and the mind stays peaceful.

In simple terms, balanced chakra energy prevents the mind from collapsing into one emotional pattern, and when no single collapse is favored, the mind naturally becomes still. This stillness is the doorway to samadhi. When the mind does not cling to any specific reaction or outcome, inner freedom appears on its own. This is the essence of why balanced energy leads to calmness, clarity, and eventually glimpses of real samadhi.

Chapter 24: When the Atom Dissolves the Ego

The exploration that began with matter and moved towards the self now reaches another doorway. Matter has been seen not as something separate but as a reflection of the self. The body has been observed not as a lifeless machine but as a field of consciousness woven through atoms, molecules, tissues, and energies. Now comes the most delicate and mysterious turn in this journey, where the very atom itself reveals the illusion of doership and quietly melts the ego away.

Every atom is endlessly active. Within it, protons and neutrons are bound in ceaseless dance, while electrons whirl around with unimaginable speed. Yet in all this activity, never does an atom declare, “I am the doer.” There is no self-assertion in its functioning. It simply acts because action is woven into its nature. The atom never claims ownership of creation, and yet without it, nothing can move. In this silent humility of the atom lies a mirror for the human being. The body, built of countless atoms, also functions in the same way. Breath rises and falls, blood circulates, thoughts appear and fade, but nowhere within does the body say, “I am the thinker.” Thoughts are not manufactured by the body; they are ripples in the vast lake of mind.

Ancient wisdom had already noticed this truth. In the Gita it is said that the gunas act upon the gunas. Forces of nature act upon forces of nature. Fire burns because it is the nature of fire to burn, wind blows because it is the nature of wind to move. Likewise, actions emerge from the body and mind because it is their nature to act. The witnessing consciousness remains untouched. The illusion of ego is nothing but the mind’s mistaken identification with this flow of actions. Ego believes, “I am doing,” whereas in truth action is happening through the gunas, just as rain falls or a flower blossoms.

Science, too, has begun to echo the same insight in its own language. Physics shows that before any particle is observed, it exists in superposition, holding many possibilities together. Only in the moment of observation does one outcome collapse into being. In the same way, before a thought arises, the mind is filled with infinite possibilities. Each thought is like a quantum collapse, a crystallization from the field of potential into the world of form. Prior to thought, there is only a vast dark stillness, a zero point where every possibility cancels itself by its opposite, leaving nothing but unexpressed energy. This state of unmanifest mind is experienced in meditation as a deep darkness, an ocean without ripples.

When one emerges from samadhi, there is often no immediate storm of thoughts. First, the still energy is felt, like a dark silence holding everything within it. Only afterwards does the chain of thoughts begin to rise, one by one, each collapse giving birth to the next. Ancient yogic language called this process vyutthana, the return of the mind from samadhi. The modern physicist calls it the movement from superposition to collapse. The meaning is the same: from pure potential arises form, from silence arises sound, from stillness arises motion.

During meditation, scattered traces of thoughts may appear like clouds on a clear sky. The seeker need not fight them. Simply allowing them to pass keeps the mind open to the vast akarnava, the boundless ocean beyond. Sometimes a gentle mental chanting of akarnava itself helps link the mind with this endlessness. And when thoughts grow heavy, the ancient method of neti neti offers a simple key. Neti means “not this.” At intervals, when a thought appears, it is quietly dissolved by remembering, “not this, not this.” The thought fades back into the void. Yet even this practice must remain subtle, for if repeated without pause, it turns mechanical and loses its power. Used occasionally, it creates sudden dips into stillness, where breath slows and relaxation deepens.

In deeper meditation, when the awareness is extended to the entire sitting body, something extraordinary is noticed. The body itself becomes a gateway to the cosmos. Every chakra within the body is a hidden archive of universal patterns. Within the heart lie echoes of cosmic emotions, within the throat the seeds of all expression, within the brow the visions of countless worlds. When the whole body is kept in gentle notice, the entire cosmos hidden within begins to open. Thoughts connected with the universe itself may arise, only to dissolve in the same silence.

Yet sometimes meditation feels blocked. Energy stuck at certain chakras creates a sensation of suffocation or heaviness. Breath automatically begins to focus on that region as if the body is trying to heal itself. This is not for oxygen but for prana, the subtle energy required by that chakra. Until these blockages are released, meditation remains shallow. Breathlessness is the sign of release. When, after working through the chakras, breath is naturally held at the end of inhalation or exhalation, a depth opens where suffocation disappears. The once-blocked chakra now feels free, or at least so subtle in its lack that it cannot stop the energy from rising. From this breathless stillness, meditation enters its deepest flow.

Actually, after mastering prāṇa through repeated yoga practice, one can hold the breath at will and focus on an energy-deficient chakra. That chakra then feels “hungry” for breath, producing a sharp, suffocating sensation. In reality, it is not hunger for air; it is hunger for prāṇa. When attention is placed on that sensation, the energy in the suṣumṇā naturally floods that chakra and satisfies it, even while the breath remains stopped or nearly absent. When all the chakras become fully nourished with prāṇa, a breathless and deeply satisfied state appears, which is wonderful and naturally leads to a mindless dhyāna-like stillness.

Seen in this light, the discoveries of Sanatan Dharma appear less as religious imagination and more as profound quantum insights in disguise. The sages saw that everything in existence is conscious in its own way, and thus they worshipped every element as divine. Stones, rivers, trees, animals, all were held as manifestations of the same conscious field. Idols and mandalas were not superstitions but symbolic mirrors to the cosmic order hidden within the atom and within the self. Today, quantum scientists too are beginning to wonder if consciousness itself plays a role in the collapse of possibilities into one outcome. The ancient and the modern are slowly meeting on the same ground.

Science shows the structure. Biology reveals the process. Matter, in its endless forms, presents the illusion of separation. But Sharirvigyan Darshan, the direct seeing of the body as a field of consciousness, dissolves ego through pure vision. In this vision, it becomes clear that the self is not an atom, not a cell, not a body. The self is the field in which all these arise and into which they dissolve. Ego may pretend to be the doer, but the atom has no such illusion. Ego may take ownership of thought, but thought itself is only a quantum ripple arising from silence.

The final freedom is nothing dramatic. It is the melting of ego, the end of false ownership. When this happens, silence itself shines forth, not as something achieved but as something that was always there. The self remains, untouched, unbroken, ever luminous. The journey through atoms, body, mind, and cosmos ends where it began, in the pure witnessing that needs no name.

Thus the story comes full circle. The human being entered the investigation thinking of himself as a separate doer and knower. He examined matter, cells, energies, and mind. He discovered that the atom does not claim doership, the body does not think, the mind does not own thoughts. The gunas act upon the gunas, and he is only the witness. In that recognition, the atom dissolved the ego. The silence behind all action became visible. That silence is the self, radiant and free.

And here ends the adventure of Sharirvigyan Darshan as Quantum Darshan, not in noise but in a quiet flowering. When the atom is seen as innocent of doership, the ego cannot survive. When the body is seen as a field of energies, the mind cannot cling. When thought is seen as a ripple in the quantum ocean, the self shines as the boundless sky. This is the final realization, simple and astonishing: the self was never hidden, only the illusion of doership covered it. With its melting, the journey finds its destination, and the seeker finds himself where he always was—free, silent, eternal.

Awareness at the Anahata Chakra – Healing Through the Goddess Within

I began my yoga practice at 5 a.m. today. The air was still, mind silent, and body ready. After spinal breathing, I moved through guru-given yoga and my own selected set, including chakra meditation from top to bottom — without holding breath. These days I avoid breath-holding to prevent excess head pressure. Yet I’ve realized there’s no real need to fear it; the head has an incredible capacity to bear and balance the force of prana.

Once, during a dream-state gastric uprising, I experienced immense head pressure, momentary choking, and a transient rise in blood pressure — but the body adjusted beautifully. It reminded me that a well-practiced body knows how to balance itself. So, my preparatory yogic routine continued for about an hour and a half — enough to create the internal yogic pressure required for launching into dhyana.

I know this yogic pressure is temporary. It gradually dissolves into the luminosity of dhyana, just like gas slowly burning out from an LPG cylinder. And when that inner fuel finishes, the practitioner naturally returns from dhyana — first through strong internal contractions from lower to upper area of body backside as to facilitate the movement of energy in the three main spinal channels, followed by the gradual deepening of breath. When the breath returns to normal, the eyes open by themselves. The same happened today.

During dhyana, Vajrasana again gave an excellent starting response. Subtle breathing began automatically at the Ajna Chakra and continued for quite long. Yet all along, I felt a kind of sexually blissful senation at the Anahata Chakra. I was including this bliss within my Ajna-to-Muladhara meditation line, so both centers — Ajna and Anahata — were simultaneously satisfied. No other centres seemed power hungry. Later, I shifted my dhyana solely to Anahata. The awareness deepened there, but the main purpose of dhyana — the realization of Shunya (void) — was not completely fulfilled there. So, I again combined both Ajna and Anahata awareness together.

I recall a Kriya Yoga expert once said that “spinal meditation alone can’t grant liberation.” He emphasized that Ajna Chakra meditation includes the whole spinal system. Today, I understood his point deeply — indeed, every chakra of the backbone is reflected within Ajna. Yet, even knowing this, my sensational awareness remained localized at the rear Anahata Chakra, unwilling to move elsewhere, although breathing awareness was on agya chakra.

Yesterday my focus was at Vishuddhi Chakra, where I had a throat infection. That infection cleared today, but the infection and along with it the energy had descended to the chest. This shows how sensitively these inner sensations mirror physical conditions — a subtle diagnostic test and often a healing mechanism. Still, medicines nowadays help more directly, supporting this inner process. In ancient times, diagnosis and healing through awareness given the form of the Goddess held prime importance, as there were not so many worldly facilities available.

As I visualized the Goddess at the Anahata, the rising sexual bliss from the Muladhara seemed to empower Her presence. I could faintly see Her fighting demons — symbolic of microorganisms — within my chest. It felt as if the Anahata Chakra itself had become a Lingam, the real blissful lingam now manifesting only there.

After about thirty minutes, when my legs cramped, I slowly shifted to Sukhasana, minimizing body movement while keeping awareness rooted at Ajna to avoid breaking dhyana. I then sat for another hour, not breaking earlier feeling that Shakti was healing my heart center and its connected tissues.

Towards the end, a magnificent experience unfolded — a clear perception of Shunya, more radiant than yesterday. It felt as though I was seeing the infinite sky directly above, though my head was hardly tilted upward.

Reflections:
The heart center feels open today — calm, luminous, and healing. The Shakti there is gentle yet profound. Awareness no longer seems confined to a point but spread like the sky itself. Every breath now feels like a hymn in the temple of the heart. Moreover, I was quite busy intellectually yesterday, so it seems that heavy intellectual work facilitates dhyana; however, it can also take a toll on the body’s health.