Sometimes I feel a quiet repentance for breaking my breathless Dhyana for small worldly reasons—like taking a meal. Yesterday evening, after many days, I found myself alone in perfect silence, almost like being in a forest retreat.
For the first hour, my breath was irregular, sometimes resembling Kapalbhati. It felt as though the Pranas were adjusting themselves, preparing for breathlessness. I broke this preparatory phase two or three times by standing up, changing asana, or making small neck movements. Once, I even went to the kitchen to check if my dinner had arrived. When the tiffin man called to say his scooty had broken down, I told him not to worry—I suddenly felt grateful, as this delay gifted me more time for Dhyana.
The Deepening Stillness
I sensed that my difficulty in entering Dhyana might be due to sitting in Padmasana, so I shifted to Vajrasana. To my amazement, within fifteen minutes, my breath began to calm and regulate on its own, and Dhyana deepened.
Because the state was still fragile, I remained extra alert—aware that even a slight movement or swallowing of kuf (phlegm) voluntarily could disturb it. As I allowed it to deepen, my legs slowly became numb. I tolerated it patiently and then changed posture to Sukhasana with utmost care, keeping awareness steady on breath and movements minimal. Interestingly, as blood returned to the legs, the Dhyana deepened further.
Soon, my neck began to stiffen. I gently alternated between left, right, and central positions, staying for a while at each position as per guidance of dhyana without losing awareness. This small movement stabilized the Dhyana even more.
The Movement of Prana
It felt as if imperceptible breathing currents were flowing through different chakras—sometimes at the rear Ajna, sometimes Vishuddhi, sometimes Anahata. Later, while in Siddhasana, subtle activity appeared even at Swadhisthana and Muladhara, though faintly. I couldn’t easily focus at the Navel Chakra, though a very slight alignment was felt there too. However, while trying dhyana later on after dinner, energy had seemed focusing more on naval chakra.
It felt as if a blissful yet mildly tired sensation was developing at certain chakras that needed attention. When I focused on that sensation during inhalation and exhalation, both breath and awareness seemed to converge there naturally.
During inhalation, as energy rose from that chakra, my attention simultaneously descended onto it—like the merging of Prana (upward force) and Apana (downward force). I realized this might be what ancient texts refer to as the union of Prana and Apana during deep Dhyana.
When I heard the tiffin man’s voice in the kitchen, I replied without seeing him—calmly, directly, without disturbance. There was still some very light mental activity, but it was stable and non-chaotic, like thoughts moving in slow motion and dissolving soon—either directly or after transforming into two or three subtle thoughts, often of the meditation image or Guru form.
The Silent Ocean Within
I started mental chanting of “Ekarnava,” connecting with the sense of the endless, wave-less cosmic ocean. The vibration of the mantra felt alive and meaningful.
Later, as I tired in sukhasana and again shifted to Siddhasana for grounding energy in the lower chakras, mild fatigue appeared in this asana too after sometime. The call of dinner tempted me to end the session. I finally rose, already grounded and centered, without losing worldly balance.
A subtle repentance followed: why didn’t I just change posture and raise the energy again, instead of ending the Dhyana altogether? Hunger had already faded due to the deep state, and I could have continued longer. But I accepted that perhaps the energy had already been sufficiently expended.
Dinner was light, taken without much appetite—very different from the earlier days when I felt strong hunger after immature Dhyana. It seemed as if the body’s energy for digestion had been diverted toward Dhyana.
Interestingly, I usually enter Dhyana more easily after meals, but this time, in an empty stomach, the state felt more genuine and spontaneous. Taking a meal may make energy forcefully downward and so calming breath and awareness just like artificially. After dinner, I couldn’t re-enter the state, perhaps because the accumulated Yoga Shakti had already expressed itself.
Short vs. Long Immersions
Many yogis say short, regular sittings are better than long, infrequent ones. Yet, occasional long immersions, supported by daily shorter Dhyana, have their unique benefits. This session reaffirmed that balance is key—neither suppression of the body’s needs nor indulgence in them.
That night, I also had faint dreams of talking with subtle beings or spirits—not vivid, and not much memorable but peaceful and meaningful in their own way.
Reflections
Looking back, I realized a few gentle truths:
- Dhyana never truly breaks; it only shifts form.
- Body needs are not obstacles, but part of the spiritual rhythm.
- Repentance arises from attachment and ego; gratitude dissolves it.
- The movement of Prana among chakras is self-guided, not to be forced.
- After-effects like calm hunger or subtle dreams are natural signs of internal rebalancing.
A simple reminder arose within:
“Let what was revealed in stillness spread through movement also.”
Every act, even eating or walking, can then continue the same Dhyana in motion.
Demystifying Kundalini 