SSB — Part 13: The Weight of Manifestation and the Veil of Red (Nāmas 36–37)

 

36) Stanabhāra-dalanmadhya-paṭṭabandha-valitrayā

(She whose waist, pressed by the weight of Her breasts, bears three horizontal folds like a triple girdle)

Here the text becomes architectonic. Beauty is no longer merely seen; it bears weight.

Lalitā’s breasts are heavy—not with flesh, but with creation itself. The abundance of manifestation presses downward. Her waist, exquisitely narrow, appears almost unable to sustain this plenitude. And so, three horizontal lines arise, as though a golden band were wound thrice around Her middle to hold the worlds in place.

These are not decorative folds. They are structural principles.

Tripuṭī Revealed in the Body

The three lines signify the primordial tripuṭī:

• the observer

• the observed

• the relation of observation

This is not philosophy imposed on the body; it is the body confessing metaphysics. Wherever there are two, a third necessarily appears. Duality cannot exist without relation. Out of One, three arise—not by intention, but by the intrinsic dynamism of awareness.

The navel above is the one centre.
Below it, the three lines appear as the supporting field of manifestation.

The waist thus takes the form of an hourglass—figure-eight—suggesting polarity emerging from unity. One becomes two, and the tension between them births the third. Creation begins not with matter, but with relation.

The Three Paths, Already Contained

This tripuṭī is lived as three possible resolutions:

• When observer absorbs observed → jñāna mārga

• When observed absorbs observer → bhakti mārga

• When relation alone dominates → karma mārga

These are not competing paths. They are biases of resolution. Each collapses the triad differently, but all dissolve into identity. Identity alone is the final relation—one that includes even the absence of relation, sākṣībhāva, witnessing without division.

Thus the three lines both support the One and are supported by the One. Higher and lower here are only levels of description, not of truth.

Cosmic Correspondence

In the Śrī Cakra, this is seen as the bindu supported by triangular lines below it. In the cosmos, it is Brahmā–Viṣṇu–Īśvara and their śaktis Sarasvatī–Lakṣmī–Kālī. In the body, it is the waist holding the weight of creation.

But Lalitā is prior to all these. She does not merely generate gods and demons—She is them. Highest and lowest, pure and impure, witness and object—She plays all roles without exhaustion. Hence She is mother, daughter, wife, enemy, friend, and indifferent absolute—because She is not confined to any single relational axis.

All relations finally collapse into identity.

“Aham brahmāsmi” is not a declaration; it is the body recognizing itself.

---

37) Aruṇaruṇa-kausumbha-vastra-bhāsvat-kaṭītaṭī
(She whose hips shine, clad in a deep crimson garment)

Now comes the veil.

Below the three lines, Lalitā wears a cloth of intense red—aruṇāruṇa, crimson upon crimson. This is not modesty. It is cosmic necessity.

Below the tripuṭī, manifestation thickens. What descends further is governed by space, time, causality. Attraction and repulsion dominate. Passion, lust, anger—these are not moral failures; they are optical densities. Consciousness, looking at itself through matter, forgets itself.

Red is the colour of rāga—attachment, heat, blood, life. The cloth covers the womb, the yoni of worlds. That which generates bodies must be veiled, for if seen directly, it would dissolve form.

Above the navel, there is no covering.
Truth needs no veil.
But below it, concealment is compassion.

Thus Lalitā Herself chooses to hide Her own source—not out of shame, but to allow līlā. The covering enables forgetting; forgetting enables play.

The so-called modern fashion of wearing the garment low is, unknowingly, already encoded here. The Goddess knew long ago where the boundary lies: above—revelation; below—incarnation.

The red cloth does not negate divinity. It stages it.

Where there is no veil, there is no world.

SSB — Part 12: Śṛṅgāra Made Visible, the Axis Revealed (Nāmas 29–35)

 

29) Anākalita-sādṛśya-cibukaśrī-virājitā
(She whose chin shines with a beauty beyond comparison)

The chin of Lalitā admits no analogy. It is not measured against form; it completes form. Its roundness is pūrṇatā—wholeness. Where the face descends toward speech and ascent toward vision, the chin seals harmony. This śrī is not ornamented; it is auspiciousness. In Śrī Vidyā, roundness signifies non-fracture—knowledge and bliss resting without edge. Here beauty is not provocation but assurance: the form is complete, therefore peaceful.

---

30) Kāmeśa-baddha-māṅgalya-sūtra-śobhita-kandharā
(She whose neck is adorned by the auspicious marriage-thread tied by Kāmeśvara)

The first ornament placed upon Her is the māṅgalya-sūtra—sign of union, love, and irrevocable saubhāgya. It circles the neck, the junction between head and heart, liṅga and yoni reconciled. This is not modest concealment but sacred proximity: the sign of union rests where breath and devotion meet.

In the old vision, the Goddess stands unveiled. There is no arousal of lust here because the ornament does not incite appetite; it awakens memory. It reminds Kāmeśvara of union already consummated. Beauty here stabilizes eros into fidelity. Śṛṅgāra matures into dharma.

---

31) Kanakāṅgada-keyūra-kamanīya-bhujānvitā
(She whose arms are made lovely by golden aṅgadas and keyūras)

Her arms bear the golden aṅgada and keyūra. These are not restraints but affirmations of capacity. Arms signify action—kriyā-śakti. Gold, uncorroding, declares action purified of motive. When Lalitā moves, the worlds move; when She rests, action resolves into stillness. The ornaments do not beautify the arms—She beautifies the ornaments.

---

32) Ratnagraiveya-cintāka-lola-muktā-phalānvitā
(She adorned with jewel-necklace, flashing cintāka, and a row of pearls)

Three adornments encircle Her neck:

• Ratnagraiveya: nine jewels—nava-rasa—the totality of aesthetic experience held without conflict.

• Cintāka: the flashing line of gold and silver—lightning between polarities, thought transmuted into brilliance.

• Muktā-phalā: a garland of pearls—liberated beings strung by grace, not by bondage.

When Kuṇḍalinī rises to Viśuddhi, speech dissolves into clarity; pearls appear where silence is perfected. Liberation here is not escape—it is order.

---

33) Kāmeśvara-premaratna-maṇi-pratipaṇa-stanī
(She whose breasts were given as the price to obtain the jewel of Kāmeśvara’s love)

Love is purchased here at an exorbitant cost: the giving away of one’s own heart. Lalitā offers Her breasts—sources of nourishment—as the price for love. Thus love is never cheapened. It is sustained by self-gift.

Having bought love, She loses nothing. Kāmeśvara adorns what was offered; the gift returns magnified. From these cosmic breasts flows the milk that sustains the worlds. As Mother, She feeds the gods; Gaṇapati and Ṣaṇmukha drink and become ageless. Love, once given without reserve, grants immortality.

---

34) Nābhyālavāla-romāli-latā-phala-kucadvayī
(She whose navel-hair creeper bears the twin fruits of Her breasts)

From the navel rises a delicate line of hair, a creeper ascending the body. The breasts stand as its twin fruits—ripeness, abundance, fulfillment. The imagery is botanical and cosmic at once: growth from center to nourishment.

In meditation, Her breasts glow with jewel-light; what was offered returns adorned. The devotee who approaches Her as Mother is fed—not symbolically, but truly—by the milk of consciousness.

---

35) Lakṣya-roma-latādhāratā-samunneya-madhyamā
(She whose slender waist is inferred by the hair-line that holds it)

Her waist is so subtle it is known only by indication—the hair-line proves its existence. This slenderness is not fragility; it is precision. The navel marks the center—maṇipūra, the fire-axis.

Here fire is both bodily and cosmic. Concentration on this center reveals the blazing self: an eruption of light, a lightning-flash within. When Kuṇḍalinī reaches Maṇipūra, the brahma-granthi is pierced—the identification with the body collapses. Boundaries explode. The individual center expands into the universal fire.

This is the first true vision of the Self as effulgence—not form, not thought, but living radiance.

---

Thus, in these nāmas, Śṛṅgāra is no longer decorative. It becomes structural. Beauty maps the inner axis; ornament discloses realization. Lalitā’s form is the scripture—read not with eyes alone, but with the awakened fire at the navel.

SSB — Part 11: The Smile of Lalitā and the Mystery of Kāmakalā (Nāma 28)

 

28) Mandasmita-prabhāpūra-majjatkāmeśa-mānasā

(She whose gentle smile floods the heart-mind of Kāmeśvara with light)

Śrī Devī is ever-smiling. The heart of Kāmeśvara is helplessly drowned in the flood of light emanating from Her gentle smile. This smile of the Devī is said to be born as Mohinī from the churning of the ocean of milk, when gods and demons churned it using Mount Mandara as the churning rod and Vāsuki, the serpent, as the rope—this serpent being none other than the primal power of Kuṇḍalinī. Mohinī emerges bearing the cup of nectar—amṛta—which is also Ratī Devī, Sudhā, the very essence of bliss. She distributes this nectar to the gods while depriving the demons of it.

Within this Purāṇic imagery lies a timeless allegory of the inner drama of meditation.

Esoteric Meaning

Mandara / Meru, the mountain used for churning, is tall, straight, and axial—its symbolism unmistakably points to the liṅga. Vāsuki, the serpent coiled around it, represents Kuṇḍalinī, the power of awareness, circulating again and again around the axis. The ocean of milk is the primal womb, the undifferentiated field of bliss.

As the churning proceeds, awareness circulates as contact-awareness. Since awareness itself is Lalitā, Her bliss naturally manifests as a smile—this is Mohinī, the power of enchantment. Continued churning produces the nectar of immortality, the kulāmṛta, the seed of bliss-consciousness.

This nectar is then “distributed” between gods and demons.

What does this mean?

• Gods are those who do not entertain duality.

• Demons are those who do.

Gods act from love; demons act from lust.

When passion is mastered and not compulsively discharged, the seed is retained and transmuted. If released purely at the physical level, it leads to mortal birth. If refined and released mentally or causally, it gives rise to jewels of consciousness—Lakṣmī, divine insight, immortality.

Thus the ancient teaching of brahmacaryam is not repression, but:

• retention of the seed, and

• abidance in uninterrupted bliss.

The Śruti declares:
“Ānando brahmeti vyajānāt” — Know bliss itself to be Brahman.

Immortality is attained not through momentary climax followed by depletion, but through sustained, relaxed, orgasmic continuity—where desire is mastered and transformed into love.

Sādhana

When lust is fully mastered, one becomes Kāmeśa—the Lord of Desire. Kāmeśa is the eternal consort of Lalitā. Only when lust has been transformed into love does Lalitā reveal Her supreme erotic and aesthetic forms. But this vision is granted only when one has truly become Kāmeśa.

The upāsanā of Lalitā proceeds through Kāmakalā on three planes:

1. Physical Plane

Two devotees unite in sexual communion. The coupling of liṅga and yoni is not an end in itself, but a means to awaken Kuṇḍalinī, the contact-awareness.

2. Mental Plane

The act is internalized and visualized, synchronized with the Śrī Devī mantra received from the Guru.

• The male identifies with the Guru.

• The female identifies with Śakti.

3. Causal Plane

The mantra itself dissolves into Devī, who assumes Her own indescribably beautiful form. The witness in both becomes Kāmeśa.

Thus arises a sixfold identity:

Principle	Identity
Male sādhaka	Female sādhakī
Guru	Kuṇḍalinī Śakti
Kāmeśa (the witness)	Śrī Devī (the Mantra)

In this Kāmakalā upāsanā, all egoic identities, dualities, and bondages dissolve. Lust is fully mastered—not by force, but by transcendence.

What follows is this sequence:

• Nāda (inner sound) absorbs the mantra,

• Bindu (mind-seed) absorbs nāda,

• a momentary avyakta (darkness, void) appears,

• then Kalā manifests—the radiant superconscious vision of Lalitā.

Beyond nāda–bindu–kalā lies the non-vacuous reality of sat–cit–ānanda, unconditioned existence-consciousness-bliss.

Kuṇḍalinī Across the Planes

• Physical plane: Mūlādhāra–Svādhiṣṭhāna

• Astral plane: Maṇipūra–Anāhata

• Causal plane: Viśuddhi–Ājñā

Beyond all three, Kuṇḍalinī unites with Sadāśiva in the Sahasrāra, the thousand-petalled lotus. There, Lalitā’s forms are witnessed by the pure Self—Kāmeśa, Her eternal consort.

And there, one knows directly:

“Ekam eva advitīyaṁ brahma”
Brahman is One alone, without a second.

SSB — Part 10: Fragrance of Mantra and the Voice of Absolute Truth (Nāmas 26–27)

 

26) Karpūra-vīṭikāmoda-samākarṣi-digantarā
(She whose camphor-scented betel attracts all directions)

Lalitā delights in chewing pān prepared from betel leaves, areca nuts, spices, condiments, and exquisite oriental flavors. The fragrance emanating from this karpūra-vīṭikā draws the whole world toward Her—from every direction, near and far.

When mantras are uttered repeatedly with absorption, they generate divine ecstasy in the practitioner and confer the capacity to transmit this grace to others. These are the flavors that attract beings across distances. Divisive, separative forces can only be countered by forces of attraction. Therefore, the power of attraction is to be cultivated—not for domination or exploitation, but to enlighten, to dissolve suffering born of attachment, and to increase joy in the world.

Power exists to protect the weak, not to trample them for personal enrichment. Selfless attraction serves a profound purpose: it gathers souls into a society of the awakened, each striving to expand joy in this world and beyond through continual self-giving. The pervasive fragrance of generosity and selflessness naturally draws beings together.

Upāsanā of Mātaṅgī and Śyāmalā at the Anāhata (heart center) bestows this power of attraction. It must be used to guide others toward Devī Upāsanā, for such worship liberates them from narrow self-centered patterns that severely limit spiritual growth.

Rāja Śyāmalā Upāsanā emphasizes attention on the heart—specifically the region of the breasts. Music, literature, dance, sculpture, and painting are the means by which Śyāmalā’s grace is obtained. In this worship, a consecrated partner or group is offered karpūra-vīṭikā, and with awareness anchored in the heart, Devī is worshipped through mantra, song, dance, and musical compositions known as yakṣa-gaṇas. Music is the milk that flows from the breasts of Mātaṅgī.

The name Mātaṅgī bears layered meanings:

1. She is the Mother of Speech (gi = speech, mātam = mother).

2. She is the Caṇḍālī, symbolizing Kuṇḍalinī rising through the suṣumnā, giving rise to intuitive song and dance.

3. She also denotes a woman who accepts worship as a consecrated partner in Kaula upāsanā.

---

27) Nija-sallāpa-mādhurya-vinirbhartsita-kacchapī
(She whose own sweet speech surpasses the veena)

Her own lilting, intimate speech surpasses the sweetness of the vīṇā. The word nija means both “her own” and “truthful”—both senses apply here.

Upāsanā of Mātaṅgī is rooted in attentive listening to the sound of Praṇava (Oṁ) at the Anāhata, with an undistracted mind. All music is contained within Oṁ. When one hears this inner music of the spheres and merges into it, one experiences the truth of Lalitā’s voice surpassing even the vīṇā.

These inner musical revelations have been described as the flute of Kṛṣṇa, the celestial songs of Nārada, Tumburu, and the Kinnaras. Lalitā’s voice is the inner voice of God, heard in meditation, leading the seeker to the highest truths—the Mahāvākyas of the Vedas and Upaniṣads.

They are five in essence:

• “Prajñānam Brahma” — All knowing is Brahman.

• “Ayam Ātmā Brahma” — This witnessing Self is Brahman.

• “Tat Tvam Asi” — You are That.

• “So’ham” — That (Brahman) am I.

• “Neha nānāsti kiṃcana” — There is no multiplicity here at all.

The first three, drawn from Ṛg, Yajur, and Sāma Vedas, are imparted by the Guru to the disciple.
“So’ham,” from the Atharva Veda, is the disciple’s spontaneous realization—Ajapā Gāyatrī.
The final statement arises from the Upaniṣads, which concern themselves solely with Brahma-jñāna, free of ritual.

All mantras arise from the ocean of sound within Praṇava. The Vedas themselves emerged from Oṁ in the hearts of the ṛṣis as revealed knowledge.

Regarding So’ham, the scriptures declare:

hakāreṇa bahiryāti sakāreṇa punarviśet
ajapā nāma gāyatrī jīvo japati sarvadā

“With ‘ha’ the breath goes out; with ‘so’ it returns inward.
This Ajapā Gāyatrī is recited by every living being at all times.”

Sa is Śakti, ha is Śiva; their union is the bindu (ṁ), effected by Oṁ.
So’ham = Sa + O + Ha + Ṁ.
O itself is A + U:
A — Nirguṇa Brahman, the unmanifest.
U — awareness of existence.

Thus this mantra is profound on multiple levels:

• It is the rhythm of breath, the biological clock.

• It equates cosmic creation with individual creation.

• It reveals sexual union as a reflection of Brahman’s creative bliss.

At the moment of orgasm, there are not two persons, but a third—unmanifest life itself. To the brahmajñānī, every breath witnesses this supreme creative bliss.

The Upaniṣads affirm:
“Brahma veda brahmaiva bhavati” — One who knows Brahman becomes Brahman.

Such is the knowledge Lalitā imparts in meditation—knowledge that is music to the soul. United with the joy of Brahman, said to exceed orgasmic bliss tenfold, no instrument—not even the vīṇā—can rival the ecstasy of Her voice.

SSB — Part 9: Solar–Lunar Ornaments and the Revelation of Initiatory Knowledge (Nāmas 22–25)

 

22) Tāṭaṅka-yugalī-bhūta-tapanoḍupa-maṇḍalā
(She whose ear-ornaments are formed of the Sun and the Moon)

The Sun and the Moon have become pendants to Her ears.

In meditation, the cool orbs of the sun and the moon are perceived as a natural consequence of following the sound-channel wherever it leads. This cause–effect relationship between sound and light is expressed symbolically as earrings.

The Sun is the creative energy of the cosmos, the sovereign of the day. The Moon is the queen of the night; waxing and waning, it governs moods of hope and gloom. The Moon represents the mind, the bindu. The womb of the Moon is filled with the light of the Sun during the bright half of the month and emptied during the dark half. This lunar light is released into the subconscious, becoming the hidden source of love, fear, and other deep-rooted emotions.

This cosmic exchange of light between Sun and Moon is reflected in the biological rhythm of woman—the menstrual cycle. Human biorhythm follows cosmic rhythm. Passions wax and wane with the Moon. If one abandons self-centeredness and becomes cosmic-centered, one can perceive Sun, Moon, and Earth simultaneously through a shift of inner perspective. To such a one, there is no waxing or waning; the Moon is always full, the Sun never sets.

Thus the seven great sages are described as the stars of the Saptaṛṣi Maṇḍala—fixed points in the cosmos. From that vantage, the Sun is merely another star, and Earth and Moon disappear altogether. Such is the sages’ detachment from the world.

---

23) Padmarāga-śilādarśa-paribhāvi-kapolabhūḥ
(She whose cheeks outshine mirrors made of red ruby)

The land of Her cheeks puts mirrors of red padmarāga jewels to shame. The jewels are nothing but the blushes of color playing upon Her cheeks.

The word padmarāga also means the lotus of attachment. Since the lotus symbolically represents an immense number (one followed by many zeros), the love She can express is immeasurable. Rāga itself means love or attachment.

Seen from outer space, the Earth resembles a blue jewel set in white clouds, with red patches peeking through—like gems. The Earth itself is a cheek of Lalitā. In ancient imagination, the Earth was envisioned as a fiery red sphere except where cooled by oceans.

In yogic experience, when Kuṇḍalinī abides in the sexual center, a raging fire of desire arises—this is the vahni maṇḍala.
When Kuṇḍalinī reaches the heart center, the Sun is seen in meditation, along with the unstruck sound Oṁ (Anāhata).
When Kuṇḍalinī ascends to the thousand-petaled lotus at the crown, the Moon is perceived.

Thus:

• Red (fire) corresponds to libido,

• Orange (Sun) to emotion and heart,

• Bluish white (Moon) to mind and seed.

Waters and oceans in meditation reflect the release of sexual tension. Lalitā’s cheeks and solar–lunar ornaments encode these experiential truths.

---

24) Navavidruma-bimbaśrī-nyakkāri-radanacchadā
(She whose lips surpass the beauty of fresh coral and vermilion)

Her lush lips defeat the brilliance of newly polished vermilion stones.

From these lips flow descriptions of meditative experience. They are red with eros, with love of life and joy—just as the experience of Brahman itself is. Speech arising from realization carries the same life-force as the bliss it seeks to express.

---

25) Śuddha-vidyāṅkurākāra-dvijapaṅkti-dvayojjvalā
(She whose shining rows of teeth are like sprouts of pure knowledge)

Her pure white teeth are the 32 mantras of Pūrṇa Dīkṣā, the complete initiation. One enumeration of these mantras, drawn from the Raśmi Mālā, is as follows:

• Tripada Gāyatrī — Mūlādhāra

• Indra — Anāhata

• Sūrya — Ājñā

• Praṇava — Brahmarandhra

• Turīya Gāyatrī — Moon

• Mahā Viṣṇu — Mūlādhāra

• Tārā — Brahmarandhra

• Gaṇapati — Mūlādhāra

• Śiva–Śakti — Anāhata

• Parā Brahma — Brahmarandhra

• Varṇamālā — Moon

• Kuṇḍalinī — Moon

• Bālā — Mūlādhāra

• Annapūrṇā — Mūlādhāra

• Aśvārūḍhā — Mūlādhāra

• Śrī Pādukā — Mūlādhāra

• Mātaṅgī — Anāhata

• Vāgvādinī — Anāhata

• Nakulī — Anāhata

• Śrī Guru Pādukā — Anāhata

• Mātaṅgīśvarī — Anāhata

• Rājaśyāmalā — Anāhata

• Kādi Vidyā (Śuddha) — Anāhata

• Vārāhī — Ājñā

• Svapna Vārāhī — Ājñā

• Tiraskariṇī — Ājñā

• Śrī Pādukā — Ājñā

• Vārtālī — Ājñā

• Kādi Pūrtī — Brahmarandhra

• Rājarājeśvarī — Brahmarandhra

• Parā Ṣoḍaśī — Brahmarandhra

• Mahā Guru Pādukā — Brahmarandhra

Each mantra has a precise location in the body and an associated mood:

• Mūlādhāra – female generative center (vulva and womb); mood: coital ecstasy

• Svādhiṣṭhāna – male generative center; mood: orgasmic release

• Maṇipūra – navel; mood: anger, fire

• Anāhata – heart; mood: song, dance, floating joy

• Viśuddhi – throat; mood: space-like calm

• Ājñā – between the brows; mood: detachment, witness-consciousness

• Brahmarandhra / Sahasrāra – womb of Brahman; experience of Ardhanārīśvara, unending orgasmic bliss (Brahmānanda), peace beyond understanding

Thus, Lalitā’s smile itself is initiation, and Her teeth are the luminous seeds of liberating knowledge.

SSB — Part 8: The Path of Sound and Devotional Ecstasy (Nāma 21)

 

21) Kadambamañjarī-kḷpta-karṇapūra-manoharā
(She whose ears are adorned with clusters of kadamba blossoms, who steals the mind)

Lalitā’s ears are surrounded by garlands of flowers; She is bewitchingly beautiful to behold. The word manoharā also means “that which takes the mind away.” Utter beauty has precisely this effect on the mind: the mind ceases its usual activity and remains fixed on the object in silent wonder.

Sādhana

The ear is an instrument of the mind for perceiving sound. The flowers around the ears signify beautiful sound-forms—music full of melody and harmony. When such sound is used for contemplation and worship, the mind becomes totally absorbed in happiness. The Upaniṣads declare of Brahman: “Raso vai saḥ”—indeed, Brahman is bliss itself.

Tyāgarāja, Muthuswāmy Dīkṣitar, and Śyāmā Śāstri are a few examples of musician-saints who attained Godhead through music as worship. Tyāgarāja says:

“Saṅgīta jñānamu bhakti vinā; sanmārgamu galade manasā”
—Without devotion, is there any true path for music?

Even earthly love is transformed into divine glory when it is directed toward God. The love mortals are capable of is minute; only God contains infinite love and its expressions as visions, music, dance, and ecstasy. In the Vaiṣṇava tradition, many saints deny themselves total merger and instead choose to pine eternally for divine love—so powerful is God’s love. The torrents of devotion to Kṛṣṇa released through the Mahābhārata and Caitanya Mahāprabhu still flow today, as seen in the Kṛṣṇa consciousness movement.

Lalitā is the feminine form of Viṣṇu Māyā, the Jaganmohinī, consort of Sadāśiva. Soul-stirring music expressing the devotee’s love for God is a direct means of reaching and merging with the Divine Heart. The path of the ear is the path of love, bhakti, which admits of no logic. It has its own illogical logic. To followers of the path of knowledge, this may appear as self-imposed bondage—until they taste the sweetness of God. Once tasted, there is no return.

When music becomes ecstatic, tears flow, the heart melts, and one’s very life seems suspended on the continuation of a single note. When the music ends, one “dies”—yet nothing has died. These ecstatic states defy reason; they unite fullness and emptiness simultaneously.

In meditation, sound merges into the mind; the mind then merges into divine forms or visions. In its elemental state, the mind is full of seeds capable of becoming thoughts. Hence, in ancient India, the mind was likened to semen, both denoted by the word bindu. Concentration on sound (nāda) leads to an orgasmically blissful state in which the bindu dissolves. In that peace lies the vision of God as desireless—because all desires are fulfilled.

Music mirrors intercourse: prelude, build-up, mounting tension, climax, release. Hence its unparalleled power to express passionate devotion to God. Bhajan gatherings approach a collective orgasmic release of human frustration into divine love—music as a socially sanctified climax.

From contemplation of sound arose the entire mantra-śāstra and its powers. Kuṇḍalinī initially expresses itself as sexual ecstasy, later as music, dance, and art, then as divine visions and powers, and finally as merger with Godhead. This worship of sound, especially through music, is called Nāda–Bindu–Kalā. Kalā refers to visions of the Divine in manifest form.

SSB — Part 7: The Stellar Mark and the Paths of Liberation (Nāma 20)

 

20) Tārākānti-tiraskāri-nāsābharaṇa-bhāsurā
(She whose radiant nose-ornament outshines the brilliance of stars)

In meditation, Lalitā is the most aesthetically perfect and beautiful form one can ever hope to behold. Among Her myriad beauties, none surpasses the rays of light emanating from the star She wears as a nose stud.

It is important to note the color of the ray emanating from Her nose ornament if one beholds Lalitā in meditation, because it indicates one’s remaining saṃskārās (latent propensities) and the path most suited for liberation. Broadly, the meanings of the colors are as follows:

White
The upāsanā will be predominantly sāttvic. This indicates that the aspirant is already at an advanced stage of sādhana.

Violet
Indicates a passionate temperament. Passions should not be curbed but fully expressed, while consciously offering pleasure to Lalitā at moments of deepest ecstasy. One should cultivate mādhura bhāva, relating to the Devi as one’s lover, and use the mantra received from the Kula Guru to rhythm and sanctify pleasure-seeking activity.

Blue
Indicates that the path of vairāgya, detachment, and renunciation is most suitable. One follows the path of the divyas. Siddhis may arise naturally but are consciously renounced.

Green
A path combining jñāna (knowledge) and detachment. One does not renounce the world but lives within it without clinging, learning through experience.

Yellow
The path of pure knowledge. Devotion is minimal or absent in the early stages. One becomes a Vedāntin, often dry and logical, with bhakti arising only toward the end.

Orange
Indicates a highly creative individual, forceful without coercion. Likely to renounce later in life. Karma mārga predominates. Powers of attraction are used for collective human good.

Red
The path of love, harmony, and passion. The aspirant is deeply devoted, receives direct revelations, and moves beyond knowledge into wisdom and intuition. Eros becomes the primary mode of worship. Such practitioners contribute greatly to happiness and may organize orgiastic modes of worship, dear to Lalitā as the Goddess of Love. This is a powerful path through which even materially oriented individuals can attain liberation via orgasmic love.

---

There are various emotional approaches to Godhead: seeing God as protector, benefactor, parent, child, friend, lover, or even enemy through denial. All these bhāvas are valid, differing only in effectiveness.

The lowest forms are those of protector and benefactor. The Upaniṣads declare:
“Those who maintain a distinction between themselves and God experience God as fear itself. God treats them like animals, for they fear punishment and expect reward.”

Relating to God as parent or child is a higher mode, allowing intimacy and freedom. Love leads toward merger; since physical union with the formless is rare, love often culminates in a mental union whose reality may surpass physical union.

The final mode—denial or atheism—is paradoxically the most intense. God does not tolerate self-denial indefinitely and hastens resolution. Atheism, lacking compensatory joy, collapses inward upon itself. Since God is infinite joy, seeking joy is ultimately seeking God.

True joy lies not in seeking happiness for oneself, but in seeking happiness for all. When joy is sought only for oneself, it remains singular. When sought for all, it multiplies exponentially.

Thus, the path of spreading love, harmony, and joy, of total self-giving, is recommended for those capable of it. When one loves others—physically, mentally, and causally—by seeing God in them, the distinction of “other” dissolves. The object merges into the subject; the subject loses its individual address.

The world collapses into the saintly lover, and Lalitā shines as the star that outshines all stars.

SSB — Part 6: The Face of the Goddess and the Yoga of Seeing (Nāma 16–19)

 

16) Mukhacandra-kalaṅkābha-mṛganābhi-viśeṣakā
(She whose moon-like face bears a kastūrī mark resembling a lunar blemish)

She wears kastūrī as the eyebrow lining for Her third eye which is the half moon. Or, the beauty spot in Her moon face is made of kastūrī. Kastūrī is the famous Indian perfume extracted from the navel of an animal named Kastūrī, found rarely in the Himalayan range of mountains in North India.

---

17) Vadanasmara-māṅgalya-gṛhatoraṇa-cillikā
(She whose face is the auspicious abode of Smara, and whose eyebrows are like the festoon adorning its doorway)

Her face is like the auspicious house of Manmatha (also known as Smara), and Her eyebrows are like the row of mango leaves tied in front of the entrance. Manmatha is the son of Lakṣmī; he lives with his father and mother; his house is the house of Viṣṇu. Manmatha is the inciter of passionate love; love comes into action when material prosperity is abundant—that is, when Lakṣmī abounds. So prosperity is the mother of desire, love, and passion.

The house of Smara, the Smara-gṛha, also means the yoni, the vulva, the sight of which excites passion in Śiva, the phallus.

Her eyebrows are equally capable of exciting sentiments of love, because Manmatha uses them as a bow to shoot his arrows onto the target. As we have seen already, the arrows of Manmatha are the five senses, the most important of which is easily the sense of sight, which goes out from the bow of the eyebrows.

---

18) Vaktralakṣmī-parīvāha-calanmīnābha-locanā
(She whose eyes move like fish swimming in the stream of facial Lakṣmī)

Her eyes are forever moving like fish with the flow of a river. They are like fish floating and gliding in the river of prosperity, well-being, and happiness that is Lakṣmī. Her looks bring Lakṣmī to the devotee, to be made his own in identity with Viṣṇu, the space-like universal consciousness.

This name has very deep implications for sādhana. It prescribes a procedure for bringing the roving sense of sight under control, to make Lakṣmī one’s own.

Sādhana

The movements of a fish in a flowing river are always streamlined. Every movement is a study in grace and elegance of execution, which minimizes the effort required to produce the required result. In other words, every movement is a yogic movement, because yoga is perfect felicity in action—an action that maximizes the result and minimizes the effort itself. The highest stage of yoga is to obtain results without action at all.

The principle of least action is well known in physics; it is the controlling law behind dynamical systems. If we want to gain control over nature, we must study its movements and guide them without violating them. Nature must supply its own energy, yet move as we intend.

A fish does not always go with the flow of the river; sometimes it goes against it. Yet even then, it draws most of its energy from the very flow it resists. This is the lesson for sādhana.

An aspirant must avoid jerky movements and cultivate deliberate, continuous, steady actions so that every movement becomes a dance. Yoga applied to martial arts teaches how to use the opponent’s strength against himself; it teaches how not to get angry when hurt.

In meditation, the principle of least action means that one should not jump from one thought to another randomly. Instead, one must build thought-bridges, so that thinking becomes a continuous stream rather than a chaotic scatter.

Yoga consists of eight stages:

1. Yama – Non-violence, non-stealing, truthfulness, dwelling in joy (brahmacaryam as abiding in Brahman), non-acquisition.

2. Niyāma – Cleanliness, willpower, contentment, learning, worshipfulness.

3. Āsana – A posture that is comfortable, joyful, and steady for long periods. Siddhāsana is especially recommended.

   For men: the heel presses at the root of the penis, producing a mild erection that aids blissful concentration.
   For women: the heel presses gently at the junction of the clitoris and vulva, producing a similar settling of the mind.

   Padmāsana is also recommended, especially for saṃnyāsins.

4. Prāṇāyāma – Inhalation, retention, and exhalation in the ratio 1:4:2. Slowing the breath slows the biological clock.

The first four prepare the body. The next four refine the mind.

5. Pratyāhāra – Withdrawal from the immediate environment by entering a rich inner world: forests, mountains, temples, rivers, living deities.

6. Dhāraṇā – Settling on a single joyful thought and holding it.

7. Dhyāna – Effortless absorption where seer and seen are still distinct.

8. Samādhi – Complete merging where the distinction disappears.

Samādhi is an unending orgasm of consciousness. Death is unending sleep. Samādhi followed by death is bliss without interruption. Hence the realized one proclaims: aham brahmāsmi.

Settle for nothing less.

---

19) Navacampaka-puṣpābha-nāsādaṇḍa-virājitā
(She whose nose-bridge shines like a fresh campaka flower)

The column of Her nose shines like the fresh yellow color of the campaka flower.

The campaka flower has a lovely, fresh perfume evoking early summer. Since the nose is the organ of smell, this is a transcendent analogy: it smells its own freshness.

The Upaniṣads proclaim that Brahman, having created the cosmos and the senses through Māyā, entered into it to know Himself. He is the eye of the eye, the nose of the nose.

What is to be known—the experience or the experiencer? Experiences are common. To know the experiencer is yoga.

To observe nature is to see multiplicity. To observe the observer, one must step out of body, mind, and thought. In that unitary experience, contradictions merge: you see and do not see; you know and do not know; you are smaller than the smallest and larger than the largest.

Meditate on the present moment: an infinitesimal instant that contains an entire lifetime. Zero time contains infinite time. Likewise, the unmanifest scans the manifest. This scanning power is Māyā.

Thus, to know yourself, you become the universe; yet the knower remains unknowable. You are the universe and nothing at once. The experiencer is unexperiencing experience.

This is the secret hidden in the nose of the Goddess.

SSB — Part 5: Sensory Manifestation, Cosmic Crimson, and the Ornamentation of the Goddess

 

11) Pañcatanmātrasāyakā

(Wielding the five arrows of the subtle elements)

Lalitā wields five flowery arrows in Her lower right hand—sound, touch, form, taste, and smell. These are the five channels through which the individual perceives the cosmos, coupling with the five sensory organs of the mind: ear, skin, eyes, tongue, and nose.

These five modes of perception are also the five properties (tanmātras) of the elements: space (sound), air (touch), fire (form), water (taste), and earth (smell). They correspond to progressively denser states of awareness, analogous to the sequence of aggregation of matter: vacuum, gas, plasma, liquid, and solid.

Space is the first condensation of awareness; gas is a condensation of space (curved space-time around matter); liquid condenses from gas or plasma; solid condenses from liquid; and black holes represent the ultimate condensation of solid nuclear matter.

It may appear paradoxical that sound is associated with space, since sound does not travel in a vacuum. Here, “sound” is to be understood in a generalized sense as vibration. Electromagnetic waves—light, radio waves, microwaves, heat, ultraviolet—travel through empty space. So do other less obvious waves: matter waves, thought waves, neutral currents. All are vibrations. Grouping them under “sound” is a poetic extension rather than a physical limitation.

Thus, space–time itself is Her hands. In them She holds attraction and repulsion, creating the cosmos; the mind; and the faculties of perception—seeing, hearing, feeling, knowing—creating the individual. The stage for the illusion of separateness between seer and seen is complete, and the bewitching drama of manifestation can begin.

Sādhana

Why are the senses called arrows? Because they seem to fly outward, reminding us that the cosmos perceived “outside” is in truth projected from the mind itself. The arrows leaving the bow return to their source.

The senses are also the arrows of Manmatha, the god of desire, who is the sage of the Kādi Vidyā in Śrī Vidyā Upāsanā. When one knows that the objects of the senses are not separate from oneself, worship of sensual experience—offered inwardly to Devi as awareness—becomes sādhana. This is the Kaula path, where full sensual enjoyment and liberation coexist under divine guidance.

---

12) Nijāruṇa-prabhāpūra-majjadbrahmāṇḍa-maṇḍalā

(The entire cosmos immersed in Her crimson radiance)

The whole universe is suffused with the crimson glow emanating from Her. Crimson is red infused with a bluish undertone—the color of blood leaving the heart and returning to it. It is the color of life’s ebb and flow, of love and passion.

Having created the cosmos, Lalitā, the Universal Mother, fills it with life meant to be lived and enjoyed, not rejected. Crimson is the color of the womb, of generative organs, of the dawn sky that becomes the womb of wakefulness for earthly life. Earth itself bears this hue—terracotta, brick red. The flush on a young woman’s cheeks carries the same glow.

Śiva, dwelling in every man as liṅga, becomes red when aroused and is then called Rudra, “the red one.” He is the Universal Father. When Mother and Father turn toward creation, love’s color envelops them. Without love, there would be no world. It is created by love, sustained by love, and evolves through love.

Love is therefore a valid object of worship and meditation. Indian temples reflect this truth openly: voluptuous sculptural forms invite contemplation without repression. At the sanctum stands the Śiva-liṅga—erect phallus within the yoni—symbol of eternal union. Abhiṣeka, the ritual bathing with milk, honey, ghee, curds, and fruit, symbolizes the perpetuation of bliss.

For the initiated, this ritual awakens inner bliss at the sexual center; for the uninitiated, it dissolves subconscious guilt around sexuality. The message is clear and uncompromising: union is sacred, joy is divine, and creation flows from pleasure embraced, not denied.

---

13) Campakāśoka-punnāga-saugandhika-lasatkacā

(Her hair fragrant with campaka, aśoka, punnāga and other blossoms)

Now begins the description of Śrī Devī from head to foot. Her hair naturally carries the fragrance of the most exquisite flowers. As trees are the hairs of Mother Earth, all floral perfumes of the world belong to Her. Every garden’s scent is but an echo of Her presence.

---

14) Kuruvindamaṇi-śreṇī-kanatkoṭīra-maṇḍitā

(Adorned with a diadem blazing with rows of rubies and diamonds)

She wears a crown studded with lines of rubies and diamonds. If the night sky is Her flowing hair, the stars are the gems adorning Her diadem—the Milky Way itself forming the jeweled band upon Her brow.

---

15) Aṣṭamīcandra-vibhrāja-dalikasthala-śobhitā

(Her forehead radiant with the crescent moon of the eighth lunar day)

Her forehead shines with the half-moon of the eighth lunar phase, a sign of saubhāgya—auspicious fulfillment—and also the eye of knowledge. This moon marks the balance point between growth and dissolution, passion and restraint, beauty and wisdom.

SSB — Part 4: On Cosmic Effulgence, Space-Time Powers, and the Architecture of Mind

 

6) Udyadbhānusahasrābhā

(Effulgent as a thousand suns rising together)

Was this the vision of the sages who wrote this Sahasranāma, the first vision of the Goddess, each of Her thousand names itself shining like a Sun?

Was this the vision of the Big Bang, the breaking of the cosmic egg to bring forth a universe? Be what it may, after the first explosive lightning-like experience of God in meditation, the subsequent experiences of Godhead mellow down to a cool, effulgent light, rather like a rising sun in consciousness. When a most beautiful woman makes Her first appearance, the eyes are not capable of taking in all the beauty at once, but perceive it as a glow of light—hazy at first, clearing gradually to reveal myriad beauties.

The divine beauty and grace of Lalitā grow upon the devotee at various levels of consciousness. The Īśāvāsyopaniṣad relates the story of a man on his deathbed singing a hymn to the Sun in meditation:

“Hiraṇmayena pātreṇa satyasyāpihitaṁ mukham,
tat tvaṁ pūṣannapāvṛṇu satyadharmāya dṛṣṭaye.”

“A golden lid covers the face of Truth. O Pūṣan, remove that lid so that I may see the Truth concealed within.”

It is striking that the man on his deathbed is not concerned with wealth, family, or survival, but seeks the truth hidden behind solar effulgence. Such a man is no ordinary man; he has already seen God within himself. For him, death holds no fear. The truth behind the solar effulgence of meditation unfolds in the following names.

---

7) Caturbāhusamanvitā

(Endowed with four arms)

Out of the strange glow, four hands emerge as the first discernible feature. They are not two hands as in an ordinary female form, but four—indicating a transcendental being requiring symbolic interpretation. The number of hands of Indian deities varies—four, six, eight, eighteen—all even numbers.

Here, four has a deep significance. It refers to the three dimensions of space and the single dimension of time in which divine awareness chooses to express itself. Space is Viṣṇu; time is Kalā or Śiva. Space has three dimensions; time has one, with the unique property of flow. The flow of space–time appears as four rays—four hands of Lalitā.

How consciousness manifests in space–time through the four weapons held in these four hands is revealed in the following nāmas.

---

8) Rāgasvarūpapāśāḍhyā

(Holding the noose whose nature is desire)

In Her upper left hand, She holds the noose—an instrument of binding. This noose is not made of rope but of attachment. Lalitā binds a portion of pure consciousness with a subtle thread called desire. Desire is the only means by which infinite awareness can be localized.

Desire is the first structure to arise, closest to the divine—almost a limb of the Goddess herself. From desire arises ego, and from ego arises the apparent separation of the cosmos from the individual. From the human-centered view, ego and cosmos appear co-created. From the cosmic-centered view, the individual ego is a transient structure—like droplets forming on waves in an ocean.

The hands represent the space–time complex, the powers of Viṣṇu and Śiva. In sandhyāvandanam it is declared: Śiva is the heart of Viṣṇu, and Viṣṇu is the heart of Śiva. Their mutual transformation—space into time, time into space through velocity—creates the universe.

Attraction and repulsion are the two fundamental interactions. Attraction is generalized desire—the noose.

What of repulsion?

---

9) Krodhākārāṅkuśojjvalā

(Shining with the goad whose nature is anger)

In Her upper right hand, She wields anger—the repulsive, separative, explosive force. Anger is frustrated desire turned outward. Light itself is repulsion made visible—pure energy, matter released from its bonds.

Light travels away from its source, measuring space. Hence Lalitā is effulgent with anger. Ujjvala means radiant brilliance.

The Goddess holds attraction to create matter and repulsion to create light, enabling perception. Without light, matter remains unseen. The cosmic stage is thus prepared. But without the individual who perceives—what meaning would desire or anger have?

The link between anger and light is deeply embedded in Indian thought. The Ṛgveda begins: “Agnim īḷe purohitam”—I worship Fire as the source of revelation. In the Devī Māhātmya, Devi’s fury blazes as a thousand suns against destructive forces. Fire rituals with Saptaśatī recitation have two effects:

1. Catharsis—transforming violence into harmony.

2. Revelation—a torrent of visions and insight.

Kuṇḍalinī itself is described as a furious, blazing ascent. Paradoxically, concentration on this least attractive weapon—anger—leads to liberation.

Sādhana

The mind behaves like a pendulum; this oscillation is vikṣepaśakti. Anger expressed outward harms the self; anger suppressed rebounds destructively. The skillful path is ritualized expression—directing anger inward against inner enemies.

Recitation of Caṇḍī Saptaśatī achieves precisely this. One identifies with Devi, and that identification is liberation.

---

10) Manorūpekṣukodaṇḍā

(Holding the sugarcane bow whose nature is the mind)

In Her lower left hand, Lalitā holds a bow made of sugarcane—symbol of the mind. The string is made of honeybees, which scatter easily, symbolizing the difficulty of aligning thoughts.

Why sugarcane? A sugarcane stalk has hardened joints and branches into roughly ten ends. It symbolizes the medulla oblongata branching into sensory and motor pathways.

The junction where branches emerge represents the coupling of mind with perception and action.

The five sensory organs:
ear, skin, eyes, tongue, nose.

The five motor organs:
speech, hands, feet, excretion, reproduction.

These ten form the mind’s field of operation, rooted in the spinal column. The hardened joints represent nerve junctions distributing consciousness throughout the body.

Motor organs act without external contact; sensory organs connect with the cosmos. The channels are external to the body but internal to consciousness—the same consciousness that created the cosmos itself.

Thus the bow is mind, the string is attention, and the battlefield is existence.

SSB — Part III: Devakāryasamudyatā — On the Work of God and the Dissolution of Separateness

 

5. Devakāryasamudyatā

Poised for doing the work of God.

What is the work of God? To express His infinite possibilities in better and better ways. To evolve life towards higher and better forms. To reduce misery and increase happiness of all life forms, which are His expressions. To create a higher harmony, love, and bliss, using the least coercive means.

God cannot, will not denounce Himself, no matter how lowly a form He decides to take on. God will not praise Himself, no matter how exalted a form He decides to take on. His view of Himself is totally balanced. His work is to generate this balanced view in all.

What are the obstacles to such a balanced view? The root cause of all such obstacles is the illusion of separateness between the observer and the observed. We think that we are different from the world that we see. Flowing as consequences from this illusion are the obstacles to happiness such as: lust, anger, greed, obsession, ownership, envy, etc. Let us examine each of these in turn.

When we see a desirable object, we wish to possess it intensely, sadly, so that no one else should have that object; when we do possess that object, we enjoy the fruits of possession to the point even of pain to the object concerned. This happens especially in human relationships. This is lust. The origin is obvious. The idea that the object is separate from me is at the root of my desire for it. If there was no desire in the first instance, there could be no lust either, and there would be no pain of being possessed felt by the object of our lust.

Here one might ask: “Can there be no desire for an object when I know it is mine already?” The answer is obviously yes, there can be desire. But note this: the desire I have to enjoy my husband or my wife is not on the same level of lust as my desire to enjoy a paramour; it’s not lust at all. The fact of ownership reduces the intensity of desire from lust to love; from inflicting pain on others through our lust to the cooperative enhancement of mutual pleasure.

When we know that the world we see is ourselves, lust for “objects” of the world gets changed into love. The difference between lust and love is that while both of them are based on desire, lust hurts the object of lust, while love enhances the object of love. In lust, possession is not a reality; in love, possession is a reality.

Anger results when a lustily desired object or an end is prevented from being realized. It is a direct consequence of frustrated action. The amount of anger one experiences is in proportion to the intensity of the desire for the object or the end. A frustrated date with a girl might not cause much anger; but withholding the pay packet might arouse one to strike work.

While lust tends to hurt the object of lust, anger turns back and hurts the very person who is angry. This occurs because whatever action is performed in anger cannot be a well-considered action; because anger is an emotion much stronger than reasoning, its energy subtracts from the energy to do clear thinking. Frustrated love causes no anger but patience, which neither hurts the lover nor the object of his love.

Greed is obviously an emotion related to the idea that I do not have something. This goes away when I have everything in this world. Obsessive pursuit also results from the notions of separateness, ownership, and the pride thereof, which are again illusions based on limitations.

Ownership means: I only own this house, this property, these servants, these pastures, and nothing else; so instead of being the absolute owner of all that I see, I have restricted my ownership to such and such. Before I bought a car, all cars in the universe were mine; after I bought a car, only that one car has become mine, while I lost the ownership of all the other cars in the world.

The last thing we have to consider is envy, or jealousy. This is an emotion capable of doing very much harm to happiness because it hurts a person not for what the person has or does not have, but for what another person has. Since there are many, many persons about whom one can be jealous, the potential danger from this source is very great indeed.

The concept of ownership, for example, can wreck a happy married life simply because the wife or husband succumbed temporarily to sensual attractions of a third party. All that has happened in reality is that there has been a little extra happiness for one of the married partners. Instead of this being a source for joy for the partner, greed, possession, and jealousy have combined together to form a destructive force leading to a divorce—from happiness.

It is quite clear from the little analysis above that the root cause behind all the forces working for misery and against happiness is the idea of separateness from what is seen. If one can settle down to the idea that the whole world he or she sees is himself or herself, the root cause behind these divisive, destructive forces can lose its strength and eventually drop off.

But this is a very bold idea that seems contrary to experience. How can this world that I see be me? If my finger is pinched, I feel the pain. If your finger is pinched, I don’t feel the pain. On the contrary, I can feel pleasure! Or, to put it another way, if I have a million dollars, I can buy many things with it. You, a pauper, can’t get these things. You must be out of your senses to say that all this world, which is outside of me, is me. Well, this is the average man’s view.

Looking at the fearful consequences such an egotistic and self-centered view forces on the world, it is worth considering whether there could be something after all in the “crazy” idea that the world I see is myself.

How do I know that there is in fact a world out there, outside of me? Because I see it out there. Let me say then that everything that I see or can see is not myself, and see where exactly such a position will take me.

I see this scenery, so this scenery is not me.
I see this house in which I live, so this house is not me.
I see my hands, legs, body; my hands, legs, and body are not me.

When I close my eyes and sit down, I see my thoughts. So my thoughts are not me. (This is getting to be a little dangerous argument! But let us continue.)

When I am not thinking, what am I seeing? There are two cases to consider.

In sleep, I am not thinking anything.
In dreams, of course, I am seeing the dreams. So I am not my dreams either.

In dreamless sleep, I am seeing nothing. So I am not nothing either. In sleeping, I may be seeing my unconscious thoughts. So I am not my unconscious thoughts either. But here, since I am not sure whether or not I am seeing my subconscious thoughts, let me say I am not sure whether or not I am my subconscious.

So it seems our postulate “What I see is not me” demands that in order to be me, I should be something that I cannot see or know. But since there are times when I see nothing and I am awake, at those times I cannot be nothing.

It is this unknowable part of me that is real to me, if we accept our initial postulate. Since this me is unknowable, it can’t be hurt if my body is pinched. These arguments can obviously be extended to states before my birth when I knew nothing about this or any world, and to states after my death, if we can assume reasonably that the states, if any, before and after death are similar or identical.

So we have to accept that the real me is not known, cannot be known by me. So even if it were to feel the pinch when someone else is hurt, that fact would not be felt by me. The real me does not feel anything—not even my own body, thoughts, or pains. It is truly actionless, a mere witness.

But there is something truly disturbing about it, this me. It seems to be nothing, but it is not nothing also. It is nothing and something also, capable of switching between these two states. What is this? It is actionless and all action. Now both cannot be true unless action itself is actionless—that is, action is a myth, or an illusion, an illusory reality.

We are thus led to the conclusion that since there are times when I see the world, and there are times when I do not, when I am seeing the world I am nothing; and when I am not seeing the world I am that which I am not seeing—I am the world.

Is it not logical then to conclude that I am the world which includes me? On the other hand, if we started with the assumption that “I am what I see,” then we are straight away led to the conclusion that “I am the world I see,” without any intermediate steps.

THERE IS NO ESCAPE FROM THE FACT: YOU ARE THE WORLD YOU SEE.

This is true whichever assumption you start with. You have every right to say, “I am not convinced.”

Let us try another approach.

I come to know this world through my thoughts alone; there is no other way for me to know. When I am seeing something, it is the thought of my seeing that something which is the primary reality. When I hear, it is the thought of my hearing that is the first reality through which I infer that there was something that could have produced the sound.

The same situation holds in the case of every sensory or motor channel; it is only thoughts, thoughts, thoughts. The world outside is only an inferred world; its reality is on the same level, or even a level lower, than thoughts.

Since the substance of thoughts is imaginary, the substance about which thoughts occur are even more imaginary than thoughts.

As proof of these statements, consider the following: Where was this world of space, time, and objects when I was asleep? Where was it for me before I was born, or where will it be after I am gone? There is one world which I see when I am awake, and many others when I am dreaming. Why should I ascribe a higher reality to one of these more than the others?

If I say that the world I see with my open eyes has a higher reality than the worlds of my dreams because I see it more clearly, or because the world is not changing so fast as my dreams, a little reflection shows that none of these arguments has any truth in it.

Should clarity of personal vision be the criterion by which reality is to be tested? What about the existence of a visible world for a person born blind? If he argues that there can be no visible world because he has never seen it, do we, who can see, accept his argument as true?

So the dream worlds have the same degree of reality as the “real” world, even if they lack clarity or consistency.

Next, the time scale for which a dream world lasts: if our life span were a million years instead of a hundred, the very cities of civilizations would look like dream worlds to us, so short is their life compared with our lifetime. So changeability cannot be a criterion for deciding reality.

Even the fact that many people agree that there is a common waking world outside cannot constitute an invariant yardstick for measuring reality. Such a yardstick would have to be acceptable to an ant, a seal, a tiger, and a thousand-eyed life form.

Who can say that even two human beings see exactly the same world? Have exactly the same experiences? Where is the commonality of experience?

There is no escape from the fact that the world is really only a world of thoughts and has no substance in it. The reality of experience is always subjective.

Subjective reality implies that the reality we see is created in our minds by ourselves and none else. This implies that since the world is a figment of my rich imagination, it is a part of me; it is me—in the same sense as my thoughts are me, as my body is me, as my car is mine.

If we accept the truth that “the world I see is me,” then, as explained earlier, the root cause working against happiness in this world falls off. With it, the support systems of thought for the egoistic, self-centered forces of lust, anger, greed, obsession, ownership, jealousy, etc., fall off.

The advances of civilization have always been accompanied by movements away from man-centeredness.

First, there was the idea that the whole world revolved around the earth. This gave place to the sun as the center. Science has pushed the center even further away—to the galactic center, and perhaps even beyond, far away in space and time, to the original big bang which created this cosmos.

The surprising thing is that since the big bang can be seen even today and for all time in the cosmic microwave background everywhere, the center is no more a point but has spread out everywhere and to all times. Thus science has done its job of spreading the center, exploding the center to the whole universe.

The last bastion of the center concept resides deep within the mind, and it has to be exploded if there is to be progress in the real sense of the term—if there is to be happiness in unbounded measure.

This, then, is the work of God: the self-improvement of every life form towards a higher harmony based on egolessness.

Lalitā is poised to accomplish just that.