spirituality – Page 2 – Demystifying Kundalini

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 28: krodha or anger in quantum world as second basic emotion

Krodha, in its profoundest sense, is not merely an emotional eruption but a cosmic principle of resistance. Just as Kāma expresses itself as the drive toward union, Krodha emerges as the force that confronts, opposes, and fractures anything that obstructs the cosmic flow. In the language of physics, this duality is mirrored in the fundamental interactions that hold the universe together—attraction and repulsion. If Kāma corresponds to the gravitational and electromagnetic pull that binds particles, stars, and even living beings, then Krodha can be seen as the repulsive quantum force that prevents collapse, preserves identity, and destroys what blocks equilibrium. At the subatomic level, this resistance manifests in the Pauli Exclusion Principle, nuclear repulsion, and opposing spin states that forbid particles from occupying the same quantum space. Without such repulsive dynamics, matter would merge into a featureless mass and the cosmos would have no structure. Thus, Krodha is not a negative force; it is the fierce protector of balance, the destroyer of excess, and the guardian that upholds individuality within the universal play.

1. Electron–Electron Repulsion (Pauli Exclusion Principle)

In quantum physics, no two electrons can occupy the same quantum state or crowd too closely together. This resistance is not accidental but a fundamental expression of nature’s law known as the Pauli Exclusion Principle, which manifests as a fierce repulsive force preserving individuality at the subatomic level. In human psychology, anger often arises in the same manner—not as blind aggression, but as a boundary-restoring impulse that protects one’s identity, personal space, or energetic integrity. Just as electrons repel to prevent collapse of matter into a formless mass, anger emerges to prevent the collapse of the self into submissiveness, exploitation, or erasure. Thus, Kāma and Krodha play complementary roles: Kāma seeks to unite what is separate, while Krodha separates what must remain distinct. Love without boundaries dissolves into chaos, while anger without the memory of love becomes destructive. When understood together, they form a balanced polarity that sustains both cosmic order and psychological wholeness.

2. Matter–Antimatter Annihilation

In the quantum realm, when matter encounters its perfect opposite—antimatter—they do not merge, negotiate, or coexist. Instead, they annihilate one another in an instant, releasing a burst of pure energy in the form of gamma radiation. This dramatic event echoes a subtle inner phenomenon within human consciousness. When opposing forces within us—such as ego and truth, desire and reality, or illusion and clarity—collide without harmony, the result is often an explosive surge of emotion, most commonly anger. Yet this anger is not merely destructive; it is a radiant conversion of contradiction into awareness, just as annihilation transforms dense particles into light. At its deepest core, anger becomes the soul’s rage for truth, a force that burns away falsehood, hypocrisy, and self-deception. What seems violent on the surface is, in essence, an alchemical process: a transformation of emotional density into pure insight, much like matter turning into luminous energy.

When elders suddenly prohibit youngers from their actions they become angry as there wrong action collide with the right action. They think elders as source of anger and get annoyed with them. But when they are tactfully guided towards right action, still little anger is produced in them but it’s gradual, controllable and its energy well transformed into right action. In former case they are scolded and prohibited from doing, not guiding them to right action. So their freed energy don’t get channelised but becomes source of anger.

3. Quantum Fluctuation Instability

In the quantum vacuum, energy is never quiet. Even in what appears to be empty space, virtual particles constantly flash into existence and disappear again, creating a ceaseless turbulence. These fluctuations are normal, but when they grow too intense, they disrupt the stability of entire systems. This same principle operates in the human mind. When the manas, the subtle mental field, is stirred by unmet desires or unresolved needs, its energy begins to oscillate restlessly. If this inner fluctuation becomes excessive, it breaks through as irritation or anger. In essence, anger is the restless vibration of energy trying to restore balance, much like unstable quantum fluctuations seeking equilibrium. In yogic terms, such anger can be understood as Kundalini striking against obstructions in the nāḍīs, attempting to clear pathways for a smoother flow of consciousness.

Just as physics describes virtual particles as momentary fluctuations of a quantum field—not real objects popping in and out of existence—anger too is not a real entity inside the mind. It is simply a temporary disturbance in the mental field, a spike of energy created when desire, fear, or resistance disrupt inner equilibrium. Quantum fields ripple when pushed from balance, and the mind-field does exactly the same: a small fluctuation passes unnoticed, but a strong one rises as irritation and, if amplified, appears as anger. In both cases the “thing” is illusion; only a transient pattern exists. The moment the field regains stability, virtual particles disappear back into silence, and anger also dissolves into clarity—revealing that neither ever had solid, independent existence.

Quantum fluctuations and human anger share the same dual nature: both can create or destroy depending on their intensity. In physics, gentle quantum fluctuations seeded the early universe with tiny density variations that later grew into galaxies—creation born from subtle disturbance. But when fluctuations become too strong, they destabilize fields, trigger phase transitions, and can tear apart atomic bonds, as seen in high-energy collisions or during cosmic inflation—destruction born from excess disturbance. The mind behaves the same way. Mild anger can be constructive; it breaks stagnation, energizes action, and helps correct injustice, just as small fluctuations help the universe reorganize into higher order. But intense, uncontrolled anger overwhelms the mental field, breaking relationships, clouding judgment, and damaging the body—just as large fluctuations can collapse stability in quantum systems. In both worlds, small ripples generate growth, while violent waves shatter equilibrium.

A quantum field trapped in a false vacuum and Kundalini caught in obstructed nāḍīs are reflections of the same cosmic principle: energy becomes dangerous only when denied its path. In physics, a field resting in an unstable valley looks calm on the surface, yet holds immense tension beneath; one strong fluctuation is enough to push it out, releasing a burst of energy powerful enough to reshape spacetime itself—as happened in the early universe, or as could occur in a hypothetical false vacuum decay. In the inner universe of the human being, Kundalini behaves no differently. When nāḍīs are open, the rising energy becomes insight, strength, and awakening. But when obstructions hold it down, the same force strikes repeatedly against the blocks, erupting as anger, frustration, or emotional upheaval. The danger never lies in the energy, whether cosmic or human; it lies in the confinement. When the pathway is clear, the energy transforms creation; when blocked, it becomes destruction. Thus, both cosmos and consciousness whisper the same truth: unobstructed flow is harmony, trapped energy is turmoil.

If the early universe had remained trapped or blocked forever in a false vacuum (vaccume with high potential energy like a water filled dam at a height), creation would never have unfolded. A false vacuum carries immense energy, yet its confinement blocks its transition to true vaccume (vaccume with lowest potential energy) needed for matter, atoms, and galaxies to arise, leaving the cosmos as an endlessly inflating but forever empty expanse—a reality suppressed before it can even begin. When the false vacuum transitions to a true vacuum, its excess potential energy is converted into the kinetic energy of quantum fields. This additional motion strengthens the fluctuations within the fields, and these amplified vibrations manifest as quantum particles. The same principle appears within the human being: when life-energy rises and meets a permanent obstruction in the nāḍīs, the resulting anger is not merely a burst of emotion but a sign of trapped potential that cannot evolve. If the blockage never clears, the energy remains frozen, unable to rise into clarity, creativity, or growth. Thus, whether in the vast universe or the inner world, trapped energy does not destroy through violence but through suppression—by preventing higher states of reality from ever emerging. in contrast, if nadis are open, the life energy rushes up and distributed to entire body in low energy form as basic energy form. The excess energy released then becomes available for transformative thoughts and experiences that support growth. But if this surge of high energy remains permanently blocked in the inner channels, it merely expands the time-space of life without forming new ‘particles’ of experience. When such energy cannot express or transform, it often appears outwardly as anger.

I am writing from my own practical experience. There was a time when I used to be angry almost all the time, frustrated with everything and everyone, living in a constant off-mood filled with suppressed anger. In truth, it was not people who troubled me—my energy itself was suppressed, blocked like a dam. I was always in a fighting mode, not for attack but for defence as I had tolerated sudden attacks, and not like a classic wrestler, but like a puncher or knocker, and though I actually fought only two or three times, the aggression had become my inner habit. Because of this constant inner tension, my health began to suffer, and even the so-called “energy boosters” I used only harmed me in the long run. Then, by God’s grace, I met a tantric-type person—fully functional in worldly life yet inwardly deep—who taught me an intuitive, indirect tantric method of channeling energy upward through the backbone. It was more of a mental tantra than a physical one, yet with time it naturally benefited the body as well. When the obstruction in my Kundalini flow dissolved, my anger disappeared instantly. I could laugh, love, and feel intimacy again. That once-trapped energy transformed me, opening beautiful states of awakening and setting me on a path of continuous writing and book creation that still flows today.

Why hide anything from sincere readers? In truth, I simply surrendered to that long-suppressed romantic image — even went clean-shaven like a laughing Buddha in front of it. Lol. It laughed, I laughed, the world laughed, and eventually even life itself laughed. That very surrender opened the back channels on its own. I did no formal practice. The once-suppressed love awakened in the mind with the support of Mūlādhāra energy, rewiring and refreshing my brain enough to bring a complete transformation—rising happiness, renewed clarity, and a successful worldly life. In time, as life and inner maturity ripened, that same love-energy in the form of love-image naturally redirected itself toward the guru-image, deepening through yoga and tantric sādhanā and culminating in awakening.

True and False Vacuum of the Mind: A Scientific Analogy of Dhyāna and Cosmic Quantum States

In deep Dhyāna, two types of mental states are experienced. Both appear like a thoughtless vacuum. During the preparatory phase, the mind first passes through a dull, thick, unstable, and darker vacuum that can be called the individualised false vacuum. Its excess energy is dissipated in the form of fleeting thoughts, which are effortlessly witnessed due to slow and regulated observation of the breath. Because of this witnessing, these thoughts gradually dissolve, and the mind enters a peaceful, thin, blissful, lighter, and low-energy vacuum that appears stable. This can be called the individualised true vacuum. It is possible that this true vacuum draws energy from deeper subconscious layers as the power of Dhyāna penetrates the mind over time.

After about an hour, this calm state again shifts into a heavy, agitated, and high-energy vacuum. This state feels unstable, and a desire to stop Dhyāna naturally arises. However, if one continues sitting, the mind releases its excess energy again through fleeting thoughts, just as the cosmic false vacuum transforms into the cosmic true vacuum by releasing energy in the form of quantum particles through agitated quantum fields. By allowing this process to continue without interference, the mind once again settles into the individualised true vacuum. This cycle of alternating states—false vacuum and true vacuum—can continue repeatedly, as long as one remains in Dhyāna.

I personally observed this during a seven-day Bhāgavatam Katha Śravaṇam. The daily Katha lasted for three hours, and I remained in Dhyāna throughout, witnessing these cycles, each phase lasting slightly less or more than an hour. Such a spiritual environment made it easier to sit effortlessly. In daily life, however, this atmosphere is not present, so after completing one full round in Dhyāna, I usually end the practice when the false vacuum returns due to lack of time and supportive surroundings.

Interestingly, ending Dhyāna while still in the false vacuum allows its excess energy to dissipate into non-dual worldly activities, which makes the next Dhyāna session begin with a faster transition to the true vacuum. If one maintains a non-dual attitude throughout the day, the arising thoughts in the false vacuum are naturally witnessed and dissolved, gradually bringing the mind back to the true vacuum.

However, if a person engages in worldly activities with duality and attachment, or without proper witnessing of fleeting thoughts, one remains stuck in the energetic false vacuum for a long time. In such a case, no spiritual growth occurs, and the energy remains stagnated at a high potential. Although the release of this stored energy into worldly pursuits can temporarily create a brief sense of peace, satisfaction, and fulfilment, the human mind soon fills this space again with physical and mental clutter, returning to the habitual false vacuum. Therefore, the true vacuum must be sustained for a longer duration through spiritual behaviour, otherwise the false vacuum becomes the default state of life.

Upon finishing the task, or during the next sitting, when the practitioner again begins Dhyāna, the light mental vacuum automatically returns for the first hour. This implies that the extra energy contained in the heavy mental vacuum was dissipated through worldly action when done in karmyoga style with the help of nondual darshan like sharirvigyan darshan or quantum darshan. This process resembles cosmic creation, where the false vacuum decays into the true vacuum, and the excess energy is used to produce the universe. The true vacuum is closer to God, the ultimate state of absolute stability. Thus, one may say that creation occurs through inspiration from God. Just as the energy of the mental false vacuum produces dualistic worldly actions, the energy of the cosmic false vacuum decays to create diverse quantum particles by breaking the symmetry of quantum fields and forces.

These vacuums are actually quantum fields. They are never still and always remain in motion. Their lowest state of fluctuation is called the true vacuum, while a higher fluctuation state is called the false vacuum. This implies that the mind is also a quantum field—an inner or individualized quantum field—which never comes to rest, just as it has long been known in philosophy that manas is chanchal (restless).

A time comes in a yogi’s life when even this true vacuum appears to dissolve into a fully motionless mind-field. This is the experience of the Self in its completeness, known as mature Nirvikalpa Samādhi. This experience suggests that there may also be a stage in cosmic devolution when even the last traces of quantum fields disappear. In this sense, the quantum fields dissolve into a baseless, infinite space—also referred to as God.

The same has been described in the Vedas by ancient seers, especially within Vedānta philosophy. Vedānta states that creation emerges again in the same—but reverse—order during cosmic evolution. First Prakṛti or Māyā arises within Paramātman, and from it the universe unfolds in an orderly manner. However, the Sāṅkhya school offers a more “modern” or so called scientific approach by proposing that Prakṛti, or the grand quantum field, is eternal like Puruṣa (Paramātman) and does not dissolve into it. Thus, Sāṅkhya recognizes two primordial eternal realities, while Vedānta accepts only Brahman as the sole eternal principle. However, the Vedānta explanation feels more authentic to me, because it mirrors the inner cosmos just as perfectly as the outer cosmos.

The ancient seers did not observe cosmic events through telescopes, they did not build particle accelerators, nor did they fill papers and books with mathematical formulas. They observed within themselves, and through that inner exploration, they inferred the laws governing the external cosmos.

4. Electrical Discharge (Lightning Analogy)

Lightning is born from imbalance. As electric charge builds up in storm clouds, the difference between cloud and ground becomes too great to contain, and the sky releases its tension in a sudden, blazing discharge that restores equilibrium. The same pattern unfolds within the human psyche. When emotional charge—frustration, desire, insecurity, or pressure—accumulates without release or grounding, it seeks a way out. If not guided, it discharges as anger, sharp words, or destructive behavior, just as lightning strikes indiscriminately. The spiritual lesson is simple: unreleased energy leads to tension, and accumulated tension eventually explodes. But when a person learns to ground awareness, to hold the charge with clarity instead of reaction, the same energy can be transformed rather than discharged blindly. The yogi, therefore, does not waste the bolt outward; he channels it upward, turning raw emotional electricity into illumination.

Once, in a moment of anger toward someone close, I experimented with grounding this emotional charge instead of letting it explode outward. As soon as I drew the rising energy downward, it felt as though the fire in my head dropped into the chest, and the mind instantly became still—like a tense cloud suddenly releasing rain. Yet something remarkable happened: from the chest, the energy flowed into both arms, filling them with an unexpected surge of strength. The impulse to attack vanished, but the vitality remained, as if the body had been prepared for action without aggression. Had there been danger, that same force might have served as powerful self-defense, but since the mind was already calm, it simply settled into the muscles as pure potential. This experience revealed that anger is not merely destructive; when grounded, it transforms into usable strength. The energy does not disappear—it becomes power without violence, readiness without rage.

5. Entropy Increase and Chaotic Reordering

In quantum thermodynamics, every system naturally moves toward greater entropy—toward disorder—and when its balance is disturbed, chaos erupts not as a failure but as a route to a new equilibrium. Disorder becomes the catalyst for reorganization. The same principle operates within human emotion. Anger may appear destructive, yet it often shatters rigid patterns of stagnation, revealing truths we have ignored, confronting boundaries we have tolerated, or dismantling situations we have silently endured. In that sense, Krodha becomes not merely a breakdown but a breakthrough, a force that burns away what has become stale, false, or suffocating. Philosophically, this is Shiva’s Tāṇḍava at work within the psyche—fierce, transformative, purifying. It is the universal law of creative destruction, through which new harmony arises only after the old has been consumed by the fire of change.

For example, when an electron rests quietly in its ground state, it is in a low-entropy, perfectly ordered condition. The moment a photon strikes it, this order is shattered—the electron absorbs the energy, jumps to an excited state, and enters a phase of instability and unpredictability. This brief chaotic state is entropy rising, just as anger breaks the rigid calmness of the mind and throws the inner system into disorder. But the chaos does not last; the electron soon releases the extra energy as a photon and settles into a new stable level. Although order returns, it is never the same as before—the system has emitted energy, interacted with its surroundings, and permanently increased the universe’s entropy. This is the quantum picture of creative destruction: old order breaking, chaos rising, and a new equilibrium emerging, exactly like Krodha functioning as Shiva’s tandava within the psyche. In this sense, entropy is not merely the spread of disorder; it is the universe’s own method of development. What appears as chaos is often a necessary breaking of rigid patterns so that creation can continue in a new form. Just as Krodha functions in the psyche—disrupting the old order so a deeper harmony can arise—entropy, too, serves as the silent architect of evolution, transformation, and renewal.

We often see people living in the same comfortable nest for years. After a while, they become stagnant and even feel it themselves. A desire to rise above that ground level arises—this is kāma. But when someone interferes with their upward movement, anger is produced within them. This anger is like an excited energy state: powerful, but impossible to sustain for long. Eventually, they compromise and settle at a middle level—slightly above their previous base state, yet below the unstable, excited level of krodha. This krodha is beneficial for their transformative development, provided it remains controlled and within human boundaries. Just as an electron does not harm its environment while undergoing its own ‘krodha-like’ excitation, but instead contributes to new formations and growth, a person must use anger constructively. Those who get carried away by the emotion and lose control may take harmful missteps—something that can be avoided through contemplation rooted in the quantum darśana.

In truth, anger often arrives like a friend to support one’s upward movement, but many people misunderstand it—especially when its intensity feels uncomfortable. They see it as an enemy that has come to ruin their life, instead of recognising it as a force that needs tactful handling and redirection for growth. When they resist or suppress it, the pressure only builds instead of reducing. Just as a gun’s barrel is damaged if the muzzle is blocked and the trigger is pressed, suppressed anger can harm the body and mind. What it really needs is redirection—transforming it into love, friendship, courage, or firm positive determination. Anger is a powerful form of energy that can accomplish great things when used wisely, but can cause harm when left uncontrolled. Inside a heater’s element, electrons collide with atoms and push their electrons into excited states. The atoms do not resist this agitation; instead, they safely bring their electrons back down to the ground state of calmness by releasing the excess energy as photons, illuminating the world. In the same way, the excess energy of krodha should light up one’s life with clarity and strength thus lighting the entire world, not create the darkness of inhumanity.

Deeper Understanding

Within the cosmic cycle of forces, three currents continuously sustain existence. Kāma, the impulse to create and unite, corresponds to Brahma, the generator of forms and relationships. Krodha, the force that breaks, resists, and destroys what obstructs harmony, reflects the fierce energy of Rudra, who dissolves what has outlived its purpose. Between them flows Śama, the quiet balance of peace and preservation, expressed as Vishnu, who maintains order and nurtures continuity.

Seen in this light, anger is not an impurity to be suppressed but a sacred movement of Rudra that rises only when dharma—or natural order—is disrupted. It is the impulse of the cosmos to correct imbalance. In quantum language, this same principle governs fields and forces: when energy accumulates unevenly, nature releases it to restore equilibrium. Thus, anger is not merely human emotion—it is a corrective discharge of imbalance, a divine mechanism through which harmony is renewed.

Chapter 27: kama or desire emotion in quantum world

The Core Idea

In human beings, Kāma (desire) is the emotional or energetic pull toward union, fulfillment, or creation.
In the quantum world, while we don’t have “emotion” in the human sense, we do find analogous tendencies — fundamental attractions and drives toward interaction, combination, or balance.

So, although electrons or photons don’t feel, their behavior symbolically reflects the same universal principle that, in human consciousness, manifests as desire.

Quantum Analogies to Kāma

The attraction between an electron and a proton is the universe’s simplest example of union. Just like the attraction between lovers or the complementary pull of Shiva and Shakti, opposite energies naturally move toward each other. In the quantum world, an electron can be seen as “desiring” the proton because opposite charges attract and try to become stable together. When the electron finally binds to the proton, it releases energy in the form of light, similar to a radiant release in human intimacy. This event becomes the universe’s most basic act of union, where attraction creates balance, light, and the transformation of pure energy into the structured form of matter.

Quantum Entanglement

Just as two people can share a deep emotional or psychic connection, feeling each other’s state even when far apart, the quantum world also shows a similar mysterious bond. When two particles interact and become entangled, they remain connected in such a way that any change in one instantly affects the other, no matter how distant they are. This strange link reflects a hidden oneness beneath apparent separation — a silent reminder that everything once united continues to long for unity. In human consciousness, this same tendency appears as love, attachment, or a subtle longing to remain connected with what we feel to be a part of us.

Quantum Entanglement and the Unity of All Beings: A Scientific Path Toward Understanding Soul and God

Experiments that violate Bell’s inequality proved that the relationship between entangled particles is not predetermined by any hidden instructions, as Einstein once proposed. The two particles do not secretly decide in advance how they will behave in the future, nor any communication happens between them later on. In these experiments, the particles are probed in different ways—almost like questioning and counter-questioning them—to reveal whether they were “lying” with pre-decided answers. I myself became confused while trying to follow the detailed logic of the experimental tricks, and finally accepted the result without going deeper into the complex questioning pattern. The second key point is simple: no information was allowed to pass between the two particles, because in the experimental design they were separated in such a way that even light could not travel between them in time to coordinate their answers. Yet the particles still responded in a correlated manner. Since no signal can travel faster than light, their behaviour cannot be explained by communication. This means non-locality—or a kind of universal connectedness—wins. If so, then the particles in my body are, in principle, entangled with the particles in your body, and even with particles formed in the Big Bang, because all particles that ever interacted carry traces of that connection. Throughout the journey of countless births, everyone has lived in close proximity to everyone else. This means all beings are entangled with one another and, in a sense, fundamentally united. Once two entities interact, they remain entangled—strongly or faintly—forever. This implies that the whole cosmos is internally united. And perhaps, hidden within this unity, lie the foundations of soul and God.

Energy Transitions and Excitation

At first, the electron needs extra energy to move away from the proton. It absorbs a photon and escapes to a higher orbit, just as a person driven by a desire for independence gathers energy to break away from a relationship. But this separation is unstable. The electron cannot remain satisfied at a distance, just as a human cannot feel complete while roaming “alone in the jungles” without the cooperative support of a beloved companion.

Eventually, the electron naturally longs to return to its original stability. As it moves closer to the proton again, it releases the excess energy it no longer needs. This released energy appears as a photon — a flash of light — just as two lovers who reconcile radiate joy, harmony, and a shining life born from cooperation. In this way, the cycle of separation and reunion mirrors both physics and human love: the return to natural union brings light.

Symmetry Breaking (Birth of Diversity)

Just as humans feel a creative urge to express themselves and to emerge as individuals from pure unity, the universe too seems to have expressed a similar impulse. In the quantum world, the very beginning of existence unfolded when the perfect symmetry of the early universe “broke,” and this breakdown produced particles, forces, and structure — in other words, existence itself. This act of differentiation can be seen as the cosmos’ own desire to manifest, as if creation itself were an expression of love, emerging from unity to reveal itself in countless forms.

Quantum Superposition (Potential Before Choice)

Before a desire takes shape within us, there is a silent moment filled with unmanifest potential — a state of uncertainty before we choose what to feel or do. In the quantum world, something similar happens: a particle exists in many possible states at once, holding the “potentialities of becoming,” until it is observed. Spiritually, this suggests that desire acts like observation; it collapses possibilities into a single experience. When consciousness pays attention, it “chooses” a reality, just as desire gives form to what was unmanifest. In this way, observation becomes a kind of divine Kama — the creative impulse that brings one possibility out of countless potentials into lived reality.

Quantum Decision-Making: How Human Choices Mirror Wave Interference and Collapse — A unique, Wonderful and Scientific Analogy

When a person with wide exposure and a large “mental wavelength” who has travelled the entire earth, considers two destinations such as Mumbai and Kolkata, his mind naturally spreads over both possibilities for he has already covered such places and now want to point out any uniqueness in either of the destinations to follow. These options act like two narrow slits through which his mental wave passes, producing an interference-like comparison that may reveal a third, more appealing destination through constructive overlap of thoughts. With a single option like Goa acting like a single slit, no comparison arises and his choice moves straight, though with a slight spread toward neighbouring places, much like diffraction. Little more spread because he already know this place and not heavily concentrated only on it. If his wavelength is small—say he has never travelled far enough—then even two options appear large enough for his mind to fit through separately, preventing any interference; he simply selects one without much deliberation. It is like the case when wavelenth of quantum wave is smaller than the size of slit and so it passes only through single slit. In case of double slit like scenerio, if someone suddenly asks him, “Where are you going?”, the questioning acts as a measurement that collapses his spread wave of choices into a single definite answer such as “Mumbai,” destroying interference on the spot. By this, being already fixed, he forgets to compare both places so he does not get new ideas about other places and go straight to Mumbai without showing interference of destinations. This is like quantum collapse. And if the environment disturbs him—through stress, urgency, or emotional noise—his mind loses the calm coherence required to compare both cities equally. One option becomes more vivid while the other fades, producing a state of decoherence: the second choice still exists, but no longer aligns with the first, so no interference or superposed comparison can form. He naturally moves toward the option with the stronger inner amplitude of joy that aligns with the energy wave in back moving more towards topmost chakra, just as a quantum wave tends to settle into the most stable outcome shown by highest amplitude. In this way, human decision-making subtly mirrors the behaviour of quantum waves—sometimes spread, sometimes collapsed, sometimes coherent, and sometimes decohered by the world around them.

This analogy is a clear-cut example of how similar behavioural patterns repeat from the quantum level all the way to the grand cosmic level, showing no difference between the small and the large, the near and the far, the subtle and the gross, the living and the non-living, and the conscious and the non-conscious—perfectly aligning with the principle of nonduality. Every life activity seems to be already built into the quantum world; humans have merely made it experiential.

This excellent analogy further shows strongly that a human being is essentially a nondual quantum particle, and the world around him is likewise made of quantum particles. Realizing this can make a person detached, nondual, and egoless, just like a quantum particle. This mode of thinking is similar to the ancient practice of worshipping nature.

Philosophical Bridge

In Tantra and Vedanta, Kāma is not sin — it is the creative pulse of Brahman, the wish “Let me become many.”
In Quantum field theory, the same pulse appears as fluctuation in the vacuum — spontaneous emergence of particle–antiparticle pairs.
Both are the play (Līlā) of one unified field expressing its innate dynamism.

How Kāma Blocks Spiritual Progress: The Hidden Rebound Effect of Minimalism and Solitude

Kāma is the topmost hurdle in spiritual progress. Even the slightest trace of desire diverts attention away from spiritual practices. That is why, since ancient times, sages have advocated a life of minimalism, and even today this lifestyle is becoming increasingly popular. Great kings once renounced their kingdoms and sought solitude for the peace of the soul. I experienced a similar effect during my own lonely living far away from my ancestral home. However, this seems to be a rebound effect: if a person has long been surrounded by various forms of kāma, then shifting to solitude feels transformative. And if, during the rush of desires, one maintains a nondual attitude supported by practices and philosophies like Sharīravijñāna Darśana, this transformation increases manyfold.

But when this rebound force is consumed and diminishes, the solitary life begins to feel normal again—almost like a lower state—with less spiritual momentum. It feels as if a new cycle begins. One day I even bought a simple halogen-based body warmer, and it immediately drifted my mind away from evening dhyāna. I could not enter deep meditation, nor could the breath become subtle or subdued on that day. This experience reminded me that even the smallest comfort can revive dormant desires, and true spiritual progress demands constant awareness of how subtle forms of kāma silently return; yet one must also remember that kāma is a necessary tool for basic body care and maintenance and even yoga too, so it needs to be purified—not suppressed or blocked.

Chapter 26: The Cosmic Connection: Sāṅkhya and Quantum Physics

The universe begins from a quiet background that holds all possibilities but expresses none. Sāṅkhya calls this Prakṛti, and quantum physics describes it as the undifferentiated quantum field—the vacuum that contains every potential pattern of behaviour. In this original state, nothing is separate. There is no world, no mind, no matter, and no individuality. Only a field of pure potential waiting to move. Alongside this stands Puruṣa, the silent witnessing awareness, comparable to the observer in quantum theory. It does not act, but without it, potentials do not become definite.

When the still Prakṛti undergoes the slightest disturbance, the first form of order appears. This is Mahat or Buddhi. In ancient terms, it is the dawning of cosmic intelligence. In quantum terms, it is the first symmetry-breaking where the basic behaviours of reality appear—attraction, repulsion, oscillation, motion, and balance. This is the beginning of structured behaviour in the universe. Nothing is individual yet, but the field is no longer completely still.

Prakṛti is not a physical point before the Big Bang; it is the totally unmanifest potential where nothing is expressed — no space, no time, no particles, no fields, no laws, no symmetry. When this perfect sameness of guṇas is minutely disturbed, the first expression that appears is Mahat, which is pure cosmic order: the universe’s first structured state, like the perfectly symmetric, massless pre–Higgs early universe where all forces are unified and no individuality exists. Mahat is not particles — it is the first “law-framework” that makes particles possible, just like the unified electroweak field before symmetry breaking. When this initial order further differentiates (Ahaṅkāra), symmetry breaks — exactly like the Higgs field choosing a non-zero value — and now distinct behaviours arise. Actually, with the rapid expansion of the universe after the Big Bang, rapid cooling occurs, and the Higgs field condenses just as water freezes when it becomes cold. Some quantum fields interact strongly with this condensed Higgs field and gain mass (like W and Z bosons), and some remain massless (like the photon). This is the stage where individuality begins. From here, subtle qualities (tanmātras) and then space, forces, energies, and finally particles and matter (mahābhūtas) emerge. In essence: Prakṛti is pure unmanifest potential; Mahat is the first perfectly symmetric order; Ahaṅkāra is the symmetry-breaking that creates separateness; and all matter arises only afterward.

From this early order, a definite identity emerges. This is Ahaṅkāra, the principle that creates “this” and “not this.” Quantum analogies are direct: symmetry breaking, origin of differentiation or duality, wavefunction collapse, decoherence, and the emergence of particles from a spread-out field. Ahaṅkāra is not psychological ego; it is cosmic individuality. It is the moment when a section of the universal field becomes a distinct centre of activity.

Once individuality forms, three streams unfold from Ahaṅkāra. The first is Manas, the coordinating mind. It is not intellect; it is simple internal movement—attention, comparison, and the handling of impressions. This matches quantum oscillations, phase changes, and internal state-shifts. In Sāṅkhya, Manas is the most basic layer of mind—not intellect and not identity—but the simple internal mechanism that receives sensory impressions, shifts attention, compares possibilities, doubts, and coordinates information between the senses and Buddhi. It is fundamentally a movement, a flickering, undecided mental activity. This function matches quantum behavior at the structural level: quantum systems constantly oscillate between possible states, their phases keep changing, and their internal configurations shift rapidly before any measurement stabilizes them. Just as a quantum state exists in superposition, oscillating between alternatives until a collapse fixes it, Manas keeps flickering among impressions without final judgment, leaving decisive understanding to Buddhi. Thus, Manas corresponds to the mind’s continuous, oscillatory, pre-decisional activity, analogous to the quantum field’s continuous state-shifts, fluctuations, and oscillations.

The second stream is the rise of the five Jñānendriyas, the cosmic capacities to receive information: vibration (hearing), force-contact (touch), light-form (sight), bonding-pattern (taste), and density-pattern (smell). These correspond to the five primary types of information present in the quantum world.

In simple quantum terms: hearing is like receiving tiny packets of vibration (phonons) — imagine little ripple-packets that travel through a material and make nearby atoms briefly ring; touch is like feeling invisible pushes and pulls (electromagnetic interactions) — like two magnets sensing a push before they meet; sight is like catching tiny packets of light (photons) that carry color and direction, so when they hit an atom they change its state and deliver a visual signal; taste is like two electron-wave patterns meeting and either harmonizing or clashing — if the electron clouds match in shape and energy they bond (a “pleasant” fit like tasty or sweet dish), if not they repel like repelling bitter poison; and Smell is like tiny quantum particles (molecules) floating around. When they hit another particle, they transfer a little bit of their vibration energy. The receiving particle changes its state because of this small energy transfer. That state-change is the “smell” signal.

The third stream is the rise of the five Karmendriyas, the capacities for action: emission, grasping interaction, motion, release, and replication. An excited electron dropping to a lower level and emitting a photon is like doing work or loosing body-matter and hence getting exhausted by it. Just like the body emits actions outward, the atom releases light outward. An electron absorbing a photon and catching its energy is the quantum version of “grasping” or eating an incoming impulse to grow. A quantum particle tunneling through a barrier is the complex motion or movement exhibited by it. In quantum terms, release is like an atom that briefly holds extra energy and then lets it go as a photon. It is like emission karma. The energy is kept for a moment in an excited state, and when the atom settles back down, the photon escapes into space as its excreta—just as the human system releases what it no longer needs. In the quantum vacuum, energy constantly blossoms into pairs of virtual particles that appear, duplicate themselves for a fleeting moment, and vanish again. This spontaneous sprouting of particle pairs is a far cleaner parallel to replication—something arising from a source, dividing into two, and then returning—mirroring the creative, generative aspect of the Karmendriya. Every physical system from particles to organisms expresses these five modes in some form.

After these capacities arise, the universe expresses five Tanmātras—subtle patterns that underlie all experience. These are not physical; they are the core behavioural signatures of reality: oscillation (śabda), interaction (sparśa), electromagnetic form (rūpa), cohesion (rasa), and density (gandha). In modern understanding, they resemble fundamental field-patterns that guide how matter and energy will behave. They are the bridge between pure subtlety and gross manifestation.

When a child first experiences the world, each sense reveals a subtle behaviour of reality: sound shows that space exists for vibration to travel; touch shows invisible interaction like air, pressure, or warmth; sight shows form, light, and the fire-quality of brightness; taste shows cohesion and blending like water; smell shows density or solidness even before a shape is seen. These five Tanmātras—sound for oscillation, touch for interaction, rupa or form, rasa for cohesion, and smell for density—then generate the five elements: space, air, fire, water, and earth respectively. It means the child understands the character of the five basic elements of outside world by experiencing their five subtle essences, called Tanmātras. In the quantum world the same logic appears in subtler form: oscillation of a quantum field is the proof of space-time itself; interaction among fields is the microscopic version of touch and air; electromagnetic patterns carried by photons create visibility, form, colour, and heat; cohesive forces in atoms and molecules create liquidity and blending; And the subtle drifting of tiny particles here and there gives a clue that, somewhere nearby, their gathering creates a dense form.

When these subtle patterns condense, the physical world appears as the five Mahābhūtas. Space (ākāśa) arises from vibration-patterns; motion or air (vāyu) from interaction-patterns; fire or energy (tejas) from EM-patterns; water or fluidity (apas) from cohesion-patterns; and earth or solidity (pṛthvī) from density-patterns. These five are not metaphors—they are the five classes of physical expression seen everywhere from subatomic behaviour to galaxies. The gross universe is simply the final stage of a flow that began much earlier with pure potential.

A human being grows by repeating the same sequence in miniature. At conception and birth, the individual begins as a packet of pure potential—its own Prakṛti, carrying tendencies, instincts, and latent qualities. When the first internal stirrings of awareness appear, they function as Mahat or Buddhi. As the infant’s consciousness becomes clearer, a sense of “I” forms—Ahaṅkāra. This is the child realising it is separate from the surrounding world. Once individuality is set, Manas begins to operate with simple mental movements, while the five sensing capacities (jñānendriyas) gradually awaken and the five action capacities (karmendriyas) develop through natural growth.

As the newborn senses begin working, the subtle tanmātras are recognised one by one. Through vibration, the child perceives space element in which it travels; through touch, it perceives contact that’s the pure quality of air element as it’s invisible to other senses; through light, it perceives form element; through taste, it perceives bonding or liquidity or water element as everything in mouth become mixed with liquid saliva to be tasted; and through smell, it perceives the nature of solids or earth element because things when dried to solid form start emiting odour. In this way, the gross world is built in the mind through the meeting of inner capacities with outer patterns. The world is not given first; it is assembled through the flow of tattvas. Many people think that the gross world formed first and that the subtle elements emerged from it. This leads to an indirect praising of the gross world, which results in attachment to it. In reality, the reverse is true: the gross emerges from the subtle elements. This understanding leads to an indirect praising of the subtle realm, helping one avoid attachment to the gross world and move toward the subtle realm, whose pinnacle is the soul itself. The subtle realm is the only true realm because it is always present, whether the gross world exists or not. The gross world, however, does not exist when only the subtle realm remains. Even when both appear together, the gross world has no independent identity; its identity lies hidden deep within the subtle realm upon which it is layered. We encounter this subtle realm during deep dhyāna.

Because the universe and the individual follow exactly the same developmental order—from silent potential to ordered vibration, individuality, mind, senses, subtle patterns, and finally the physical world—it becomes clear that they are not two. The human is the cosmos expressing itself on a small scale, and the cosmos is the human writ large. Since the cosmos is directly regulated by the quantum world, this also proves the fundamental sameness between the human being and the quantum entity once again verifying the validity of quantum darshan. This mirroring is the simplest proof of Advaita: one reality flowing through many forms. Quantum theory shows that the observer and the observed arise together; Sāṅkhya shows the same through the tattva sequence. Ishwar of sankhya is the same observer of quantum science causing quantum decoherenc and quantum collapse to build classical world as seen by us in gross form. Both point to a single underlying truth—that the separation between the universe and the individual is only apparent. At the foundation, they arise from the same field and follow the same path of unfoldment.

All bhāvas, emotions, rasas, ṣaḍ-doṣas, and the countless subtle feeling-patterns are not inventions of the human organism. They are primordial forces, woven into the fabric of the cosmos from the very beginning. The human body does not create these states—it merely experiences and expresses the eternal patterns already present in the universal field. What we call “emotion” in a person is only the local manifestation of a cosmic principle. By understanding that all emotions, bhāvas, and inner movements are cosmic patterns rather than personal creations, one can cross the ego barrier more easily. When feelings are seen as impersonal forces passing through the body—not “mine” but expressions of the universe—attachment naturally dissolves. The individual realizes that if the cosmos holds these patterns without suffering or bondage, then there is no need to identify with them or be burdened by them. This shift in perspective brings effortless detachment, clarity, and inner freedom.

In the chapters ahead, we will reveal how these feeling-patterns exist in the quantum substratum, long before any biological or psychological form appears. The structures and behaviours found in the quantum world are the same structures that shape the cosmos at every scale, because the quantum layer is the most fundamental building block of all existence. By understanding the quantum patterns, we understand the cosmic patterns; by understanding the cosmic patterns, we understand ourselves in true way.

First, we will examine human mental functions aka gyanendriyas through the lens of the quantum world—beginning with the Ṣaḍarivarga, then exploring the ashta-bhāvas, and finally the shada-rasas. After this, we will analyse the bodily functions aka karmendriyas of the human organism at the same quantum depth. Earlier in this book, we gave a brief, atomic-level explanation of these processes, but now we will unfold them directly at the level of quantum behaviour one by one in detail, using the electron and other fundamental entities as our reference point.

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.

Chapter 23: The Atom Is You – A New Way to See Yourself

From the great canvas of cosmos where stars swirl like sparks scattered in infinite space, the journey once again narrows its focus, drawing the gaze back toward the human form. The previous exploration had revealed how the same rhythm that patterns galaxies also structures the body, how the vast universal flow reflects itself in the miniature figure of flesh and bone. It was a movement outward, tracing the human outline until it dissolved into the map of stars. Now the path turns inward with equal wonder, asking with trembling curiosity: if the cosmos is within the body, what lies within the very atom that builds this body?

The human body is not merely made of atoms; it is the dance of atoms. There is no gap where something called “body” exists apart from them. The eyes that watch, the hands that move, the thoughts that arise, all are formations of vibrating atomic fields. To say “my body” is already a step too far, for what ownership can be claimed over trillions of particles borrowed from earth, water, air, and fire? Atoms flow through food, through breath, through the touch of the environment. They do not belong to an individual; they simply assemble for a while in the pattern that is recognized as a person.

Ego, however, is clever. It rushes forward like a signature stamped on a moving river, claiming that this function of walking, this act of speaking, this thought of dreaming, is mine. Yet in truth it never possessed the materials of its claim. The muscles are shaped by proteins from food that grew in distant fields, the thoughts are stirred by impressions absorbed from a world stretching beyond sight, the very breath is gifted freely by trees and winds that circle the planet. Ego is like a shadow insisting it owns the sun.

Think of your true self like the sun—always shining, always there. Your ego is like a shadow—always around you, moving with you. The shadow never really controls the sun, but it can’t help acting like it does. In the same way, your thoughts, your roles, and your “I am this” ideas feel important, but they aren’t who you truly are. They only reflect the real you. No matter how much the ego claims or worries, the true self stays free, untouched, and shining on its own.

Consider the simple atom. It seems so small that the mind struggles to picture it, yet it is a kingdom of vastness in itself. Within it, electrons spin in mysterious clouds, protons and neutrons huddle in a vibrant heart, and within that heart quarks shimmer like restless sparks. Each layer recedes into deeper mysteries, like a hall of mirrors extending without end. The more science peers into the atom, the less substance it finds, until matter itself dissolves into probabilities, vibrations, and wave-like dances of energy. Thus the atom is not a hard grain but an event, not a brick of reality but a doorway into uncertainty. It’s more like a little event or a happening—always moving, always changing. You can’t pin it down completely, and it behaves in ways that are a bit unpredictable. So instead of thinking of atoms as fixed building blocks, think of them as tiny sparks of activity that make up the world around us.

Now pause for a moment and realize: the body is nothing but the collective appearance of these doorways. What is called “flesh” is a swarm of events, what is called “thought” is a ripple of atomic processes, what is called “emotion” is an orchestration of subtle biochemical storms. To identify with them as a permanent self (mind-body sense of self) is like mistaking a rainbow for a solid bridge. The rainbow glows, astonishes, and vanishes—yet no one can catch it. The self too appears as a dazzling formation, radiant yet elusive, made of atoms that do not stay in one place, do not belong to one being, and do not even truly exist as solid matter.

If the body is made of atoms, and those atoms also make up the world, then the ego is only a claim over what was never truly ours. It is like writing your name in sand while the waves keep washing the shore. With every breath, atoms flow out into the air; with every meal, atoms flow in from the earth. Each day, billions of particles leave the body and billions more enter, so the boundary called “me” is never fixed. A person is more like a whirlpool in a river—shaped for a time, distinct to the eye, yet made only of water that flows in and out. What we call “me” is never separate from the stream it belongs to, but part of the river’s continuous, unbroken flow.

Yet there is an even deeper turning in this inquiry. For just as the body is not separate from atoms, and atoms are not separate from the universe, so too the person is not truly separate from awareness itself. While accepting the physical unity between body and world, how can we deny their mental or spiritual unity as well?This is the final and most delicate insight of Sharirvigyan Darshan, leading us to the ultimate non-physical through the doorway of the physical. Atoms appear, bodies appear, worlds appear, but they all rise within a field of witnessing or silent and pure awareness that itself cannot be touched, weighed, or measured. Awareness does not belong to atoms any more than the sky belongs to clouds. Clouds drift and scatter, yet the sky is not reduced or enhanced by their passing. In the same way, awareness remains open, untouched, while atoms whirl and assemble into the temporary form of a body.

This recognition overturns every ordinary assumption. When the body is mistaken as self, life becomes heavy with fear and desire. Fear arises because what is owned can be lost, and desire arises because what is lacking seems to complete the self. But when it is seen that the body is only an arrangement of atoms, the grip loosens. There is no need to clutch at what was never owned. The hands may still work, the heart may still love, but the compulsion to control lessens, replaced by a spacious ease. Even death itself begins to appear in new light—not as the end of a self but as the recycling of atoms into new patterns, like clay reshaped into new vessels. This means we need not meditate separately on the pure self; simply seeing the body as a temporary arrangement of atoms is enough to bring the pure self into view. This contemplation looks similar to that experiential facet of Sharirvigyan Darshan, where body cells are seen as complete human beings in every aspect—a contemplation that led the author to a Kundalini awakening and a glimpse of self-realization.

Science too whispers of this mystery, though in different words. It tells that energy cannot be destroyed, only transformed. The carbon of the body once burned in stars, the oxygen once flowed through ancient forests, the water once traveled in rivers older than mountains. At death, these elements scatter once more into the world, ready for new cycles. Awareness, however, is not part of this cycle of matter. It does not scatter or rearrange, because it is not made of atoms. It is the stage upon which the atomic drama unfolds.

This is the new way to see oneself: not as a solid individual enclosed within skin, not as a fixed identity defined by thought, but as the open awareness within which atoms gather and dissolve. The “I” that ordinarily feels so heavy is only an appearance, like an add on to pure awareness or like moving and chaotic reflections upon clean and still water. To recognize this is not to deny the body but to appreciate it more deeply, as one appreciates a song without claiming ownership of each note.

Mystics of many traditions hinted at this long before modern physics unfolded its revelations. They spoke of the world as maya, as dreamlike appearance, as shimmering play. Now science confirms that matter is not solid but probability, not substance but energy. Means, matter is not truly solid but energy shaped as a cloud of probabilities, where particles can be in many possible states at once. Only when observed or interacted with do these probabilities collapse into a single definite event we call “reality.” The mystic gaze and the scientific gaze meet at the threshold of the atom, both astonished at the emptiness and wonder that lie within.

This insight does not remove life’s responsibilities or dissolve the needs of the world. Rather, it lends them a gentler context. Work is still done, relationships are still cherished, struggles still appear. But underneath, there grows a subtle knowing that no function is truly “mine.” All our actions come from the whole, shaped by atoms and situations. They appear in pure awareness for a moment and then fade back into it. Ego may still claim them out of habit, but the claim no longer deceives as it once did.

To live with this understanding is to live like a wave that knows it is ocean. The wave rises, dances, and falls, yet never ceases to be ocean in essence. In the same way, the human being may rise in laughter, fall in grief, shine in love, tremble in fear, yet beneath every form lies the same undivided pure awareness. Atoms may assemble into different names and faces, but awareness remains one, endless, without division.

Thus the atom becomes not merely a scientific curiosity but a spiritual mirror. It teaches that the smallest unit of matter is already a gateway into infinity. It makes us see that nothing is really ours to hold on to, because everything is always changing and flowing. Behind all this change there is a quiet awareness that never changes. When we realize this, we find a freedom that nothing in life can shake, because it rests on what is permanent, not on what is temporary.

Our journey can move outward, studying the body and the cosmos, and inward, exploring atoms and finally the awareness that observes them. At first we see only the physical world—our body and the stars—but the real adventure leads us back to the center of our own consciousness. When this is seen, life appears as a play of light and energy, like atoms glowing as tiny fireflies or conscious beings within pure awareness. In that vision, we no longer feel the need to possess or control anything, but instead feel deeply connected, belonging to the whole.

Quantum darshan; Chapter 19 – Parity: The Tilt of Creation

At the very start, the universe was almost perfectly balanced — like a mirror showing the same picture on both sides. It simply means, In the beginning, the universe was perfectly symmetric—there was no left-right distinction between object and image, no real-virtual difference between the two, and although charges, forces etc. were opposite, they were exactly equal, creating a state of complete balance. Every particle, every force, every tiny action had an equal and opposite twin. If the universe had stayed this way, nothing would have moved. Nothing would have changed. Nothing would have existed as we know it.

But the universe didn’t stay perfectly balanced. It tilted. Even a tiny tilt was enough to start everything moving and changing. This small imbalance is seen in two important ways in science:

Parity asymmetry – Some forces in nature, like the weak nuclear force, do not treat left and right the same. Tiny differences here meant that the universe could have direction, that one side could behave differently from the other. The weak nuclear force is the only one that prefers one “handed” direction over the other, breaking the mirror symmetry of nature. This tiny one-sidedness preferred reactions that allowed matter to win slightly over antimatter after the Big Bang, making the very existence of stars, worlds, and life possible. Likewise inside the body, If prana flowed perfectly symmetrically in the Sushumna, meaning equal left and right, equal up and down, there would be no directional impulse—no manifestation of individual experience, no creation of worlds—just pure nonduality, just as perfect parity symmetry would prevent matter from winning over antimatter, leaving the universe empty. This imbalance in the magnitude of prana drives specific emotions and actions. When the upward-moving prana is dominant, a person becomes more spiritually oriented; when the downward prana is stronger, one is more physically inclined. Similarly, greater prana flow in the left channel (Ida Nadi) makes a person more feminine, while dominance in the right channel (Pingala Nadi) makes one more masculine. When prana becomes equal in all directions, the opposing currents neutralize each other, leading to breathlessness in Kevala Kumbhaka or Nirvikalpa Samadhi—a thoughtless pre-creative state, just like the stage preceding the beginning of creation.
Matter-antimatter imbalance – At the beginning, matter and antimatter were almost equal. But there was a tiny excess of matter. This small difference is why stars, planets, and life exist at all. Without it, everything would have destroyed itself in a flash of energy. Likewise inside the body, at the very beginning, the potentials for stillness and manifestation were almost equal: the upward and downward currents in the Sushumna flowed symmetrically, just as matter and antimatter existed in nearly equal amounts. Then a tiny excess of upward flow appeared, creating just enough imbalance to spark individual experience—thoughts, sensations, and life—allowing consciousness to unfold into worlds, while a small excess of matter over antimatter allowed stars, planets, and life to exist. Without this slight tilt, everything would remain in perfect nonduality, like a universe where matter and antimatter annihilate each other completely, or a Sushumna where energy flows perfectly symmetrically, producing no manifestation at all.

Let us rewrite this in further detail. At the very beginning, the universe was almost perfectly balanced, like a mirror reflecting an object — left and right were opposite in appearance but equal and followed the same rules. Although they appear slightly unequal—differing only in direction—they remain identical in their underlying laws and reactions. In other words, both have been said equal with respect to rules obeyed, not appearance. This is called symmetry: even if something looks reversed, its behavior is still predictable and is equal to parent form. But if the universe had stayed perfectly symmetric meaning if particles and their mirror images were equal in number, nothing would have moved or changed. Everything would have cancelled out with its mirror image. Matter and antimatter would have destroyed each other, forces would have canceled out, and creation could not have begun. Treat antimatter as mirror image of matter. A tiny tilt — a small breaking of symmetry of number or force — changed everything. Weak forces began to treat left and right differently, a scientifically proven effect called parity violation, and some reactions slightly favored matter over antimatter — a phenomenon known as CP violation or charge-pairity violation. Matter and antimatter always have opposite charges. Matter is what makes up the universe — electrons, protons, and neutrons — while antimatter is their “mirror opposite,” like positrons and antiprotons. Normally, when matter and antimatter meet, they annihilate each other, producing energy. But in experimental particle decays, there is a slightly higher probability for matter to form than antimatter. Though these differences are extremely tiny, they pile up repeatedly in the early universe, eventually creating a small excess of matter that formed all the stars, planets, and life we see today. Even at the quantum level, particles exist in multiple possibilities, and one outcome becomes real when measured — this is called quantum collapse. Together, these scientifically proven effects explain how the universe tilted, giving direction to galaxies, allowing stars to burn, molecules to have “handedness,” and life to grow. Symmetry alone is stillness, like calm water; breaking symmetry is motion, like a river flowing. Creation began with this first tilt, the subtle imbalance that turned potential into reality, stillness into movement, and possibility into the living, evolving universe we see today. Yet at the deepest level, why nature has these rules — why left differs from right, or matter slightly outweighs antimatter — remains one of the greatest mysteries of existence. The same mystery extends to the body as well: why Ida differs from Pingala, or why the upward surge of energy outweighs the downward flow, remains one of the greatest mysteries of existence. Philosophically, it may be regarded as the growth-oriented wish of the Almighty Supreme.

If we dissect it further, in the universe, symmetry is subtle and sometimes broken. Parity (P) violation shows that nature is not perfectly left-right symmetric — the weak force “prefers” one handedness. Charge (C) violation reveals that swapping particles with their antiparticles (means replacing particles with their antiparticles or in other words charged particle made oppositely charged antiparticle) does not always produce identical behavior and weak nuclear force does not affect them equally. CP violation goes deeper: even after combining a mirror flip with a particle-antiparticle swap means after directional swap and trying to correct it with charge swap, a tiny asymmetry still remains. While P and C can be violated independently, Parity violation (P) was already known in the weak force — it treats left and right differently. When scientists combined parity violation with charge conjugation (C), which swaps particles with antiparticles, they expected the two violations to cancel out. But experiments showed that even this combined symmetry (CP) is slightly violated — meaning a small imbalance still remains. In other words, CP violation means that an imbalance — arising from the combined effects of charge violation and parity violation — still remains, although it is reduced after attempting to correct the parity violation through particle swapping. This tiny leftover asymmetry is crucial, as it helps explain why matter dominates over antimatter in the universe, showing that the cosmos itself carries an inherent, subtle bias at the most fundamental level. In yogic terms, If the asymmetry between the upward and downward prana is balanced by shifting the flow between Ida and Pingala, a subtle imbalance still remains — and this residual asymmetry gives rise to thoughts.

In yoga and the human body, symmetry too is subtle and often incomplete. The two sides of the body — ida and pingala, lunar and solar currents — represent the left-right (P) aspect of our internal energy field. Perfect balance between them creates stillness; imbalance generates movement and evolution. The charge (C) aspect parallels the polarity of emotion and intention — attraction and aversion, desire and renunciation — our human version of positive and negative charge. Yoga gradually harmonizes these forces, yet even after deep purification, a faint residue of imbalance often remains — the yogic equivalent of CP violation. This subtle leftover tendency — neither purely active nor passive, neither fully detached nor fully engaged — becomes the creative bias that sustains individual existence, just as cosmic CP violation sustains matter itself. Without that faint asymmetry, neither the universe nor the yogi would manifest as a living, evolving expression. Hence, the aim is not to erase all imbalance, but to realize its sacred role — the gentle imperfection that allows consciousness to experience itself as creation.

In another analogy, In the beginning, both the universe and a perfectly still mind were in flawless balance—no left or right, no real or virtual, just pure symmetry. Yet, tiny biases—like subtle impulses in meditation or CP violation in particles—created small differences. Normally, perfect balance would erase them, but a slight openness lets them persist, seeding growth: in the cosmos, it became stars and galaxies; in the mind, it becomes evolving awareness. From the subtlest imperfection, the greatest creations arise.

Think of a pot of water. If the pot is perfectly still, the water stays still. Tilt it just a little, and the water flows. That’s what happened with the universe — it leaned slightly, and the flow of galaxies, stars, and life began.

In Indian philosophy, this is like Shiva and Shakti. Shiva is stillness, perfect balance. Shakti is movement, the first tilt, the first action that starts creation. Without Shakti, the universe would remain frozen and silent.

Even at the tiniest level, in the world of quantum particles, things can exist in many possibilities at once. When a particle is measured or interacts with something, one possibility becomes real — this is called quantum collapse. By itself, quantum collapse doesn’t create the universe’s tilt, but it shows how possibilities become reality. The real tilt comes from nature’s small preferences — like the slight favoring of matter over antimatter.

In the human field of consciousness, countless thoughts, emotions, and intentions also exist in superposition — potential realities waiting to be chosen. The moment awareness focuses on one thought or emotion, that possibility collapses into experience — just like a quantum event manifesting from probability. Meditation trains this awareness to become a silent observer, reducing unnecessary collapses caused by mental restlessness. Yet, even in deep stillness, the mind retains its subtle bias — its own version of nature’s tilt — a gentle preference shaped by tendencies (vasanas) and latent impressions (samskaras). The subtle bias within consciousness sustains individuality, propelling life’s continuity from moment to moment. Yoga doesn’t erase this bias but purifies it until the remaining preference aligns with truth itself. Then, consciousness begins to choose effortlessly — not from ego, but as pure intelligence expressing harmony. What once was mental decision becomes spontaneous movement, free of tension or motive. Every action, word, or thought arises as if the universe itself is flowing through the individual. This is quantum darshan — the direct seeing where observer and observed merge, and infinite potentials collapse into form by the silent will of Truth. Life then unfolds naturally, every moment luminous, precise, and whole — not chosen by someone, but happening through the still radiance of awareness itself.

Because of these tiny tilts, the universe works the way it does:

Galaxies spin in certain directions. This is reflection of directional preference of quantum world.
Stars burn matter, not antimatter. This is like life shines with ascending energy in spine.
Life uses molecules with a preferred “hand” (left-handed or right-handed). Amino acids of proteins, the main building blocks of body have left handed twists.
Time moves forward, never backward. On paper or equation, it can move backward but in reality, time always moves forward.

Without these tiny imbalances, nothing would grow, nothing would change, nothing would exist. Symmetry is like calm, still water. Asymmetry is like a river flowing toward the sea. Symmetry is silence; asymmetry is life itself.

Everything we see — from the tiniest particle to the largest galaxy — began with a tiny tilt, the first small imbalance that made the universe start moving, growing, and creating.

Similarly, within the human being, perfect balance is pure stillness — samadhi, where all dualities dissolve into calm symmetry. Yet life as we know it arises from tiny tilts within that stillness — the pull of desire, the urge to breathe, the impulse to move, to love, to seek. Just as the cosmos began from a minute asymmetry, the human journey unfolds from the faint imbalance between rest and expression, awareness and activity, Shiva and Shakti. Too much symmetry and one dissolves into stillness; too much asymmetry and one is lost in turbulence. Yoga is the art of keeping this sacred tilt alive — not erasing it, but refining it until it flows in harmony with the universal rhythm. In that subtle dance between silence and movement, the yogi mirrors the cosmos: still at the center, yet ever-creating at the edge.

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.

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.

1. Nothingness Is Never Truly Empty

2. The Vacuum as a Restless Ocean of Possibilities

3. How Energy Hides Inside the Vacuum

4. The Sudden Birth of Inflation

5. When Tiny Ripples Become the Architecture of Creation

6. The Vacuum as the Womb of Matter and Mind

7. Yogic Analogy: The Mind as a False Vacuum

8. The Subconscious and the Cosmic Blueprint

9. Quantum Darśan — Consciousness as the Ground of All

Final Realization

One-Line Essence

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1. Electron–Electron Repulsion (Pauli Exclusion Principle)

3. Quantum Fluctuation Instability

True and False Vacuum of the Mind: A Scientific Analogy of Dhyāna and Cosmic Quantum States

4. Electrical Discharge (Lightning Analogy)

5. Entropy Increase and Chaotic Reordering

Deeper Understanding

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The Core Idea

Quantum Analogies to Kāma

Quantum Entanglement

Quantum Entanglement and the Unity of All Beings: A Scientific Path Toward Understanding Soul and God

Energy Transitions and Excitation

Symmetry Breaking (Birth of Diversity)

Quantum Superposition (Potential Before Choice)

Quantum Decision-Making: How Human Choices Mirror Wave Interference and Collapse — A unique, Wonderful and Scientific Analogy

Philosophical Bridge

How Kāma Blocks Spiritual Progress: The Hidden Rebound Effect of Minimalism and Solitude

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

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

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

Summary Insight

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