Author’s Note
This meditation emerged not from philosophy alone, but from the quiet spaces between breaths — those rare pause when existence reveals its fragile beauty. I have often wondered about the nature of time and the unrepeatable quality of each passing moment. Life, in its simplest truth, is a sacred procession from birth toward dissolution — a journey shaped by forces far greater than the self.
In this reflection, I have tried to translate the silent dialogue between my being and the universe into words. It is neither a declaration nor a doctrine, but a whisper — a reminder that to live is to witness the eternal dance of creation and disappearance. Each instant is a universe, born and gone in the same heartbeat.
If these words awaken even a fleeting sense of reverence for your own moments, then this meditation has fulfilled its purpose.
— Dilip Changkakoty
I was born to die.
That simple, yet profound realization has followed me like a silent companion through every breath of my existence. It is not a morbid statement, but an acknowledgment of the ultimate truth — that life itself is a journey from manifestation to dissolution. Between these two points, every moment is a universe unto itself — alive, evolving, and irreproducible. No moment can ever return as it once was, for the environment that holds it, the consciousness that perceives it, and the universe that sustains it are all in constant motion.
To live with this awareness is to understand that each instant is sacred. It arises from an infinite network of cosmic causes — from the shifting of stars, the dance of atoms, and the pulse of unseen energies that shape reality. Thus, every moment is uniquely crafted for me — not by my will, but by the unfathomable design of existence itself.
The Uniqueness of Each
Moment
The moment that is happening right now — this very breath, this very thought — will never happen again. The molecules in the air will disperse, the position of the Earth-Sun-Milkyway will change, and the state of my consciousness will evolve. Even if I attempt to recreate a past experience — a memory, a conversation, a performance — it will always be an imitation, a shadow of what once was.
This is why I say: we can never recreate a moment. We may act it out on stage, we may reproduce its circumstances, but it will always remain an illusion. Illusion is never truth; it is merely a reflection, a deception born of longing. The true moment, once lived, becomes a ripple in the eternal river of time — felt, remembered, but never retraced.
To understand this is to live consciously. Each moment becomes a
creation, not a repetition. The uniqueness of existence demands that I
participate in it with full awareness — not as an actor performing a script,
but as a witness and creator of the now.
Guarding the Sanctity of
One’s Moment
Because each moment is created for me, I feel a responsibility toward it. I do not wish for the purity of that moment to be invaded by external interference — what I call the “third party influence.” The third party could be anything: another person’s opinion, societal conditioning, digital noise, or even my own restless ego whispering distractions.
In the stillness of being, I sense that every moment carries a private dialogue between me and the universe. It is a sacred correspondence, where silence speaks and existence listens. When another force intrudes upon it — when my thoughts are colonized by external desires or fears — I feel the sanctity of that dialogue dissolve.
And yet, life does not unfold according to my preferences. There are moments when, despite all caution, the third party enters. A stranger’s presence, an unexpected event, a sudden change — they merge into the fabric of my moment without permission. At first, I resist. But then I realize that even this intrusion may be part of a larger cosmic orchestration. Perhaps, the universe itself is writing a script where I must surrender, allowing these external forces to shape my path.
In that surrender lays wisdom. For who am I to separate myself from the totality of existence?
The Universe in Motion
The universe is not static — it is a vast, living organism in perpetual motion. Every galaxy spins, every atom vibrates, and every consciousness within it pulsates in rhythm with the great cosmic heartbeat. Against such immensity, my life seems insignificant — a fleeting sparks in the eternal expanse.
Yet, paradoxically, it is within this insignificance that I find meaning. For if I exist within the universe, I am also part of its very movement. The same laws that govern the stars govern me. The same energy that drives galaxies into collision also drives my thoughts, my emotions, and my choices.
When I say, I have come into this world for a very short time, it is not resignation — it is reverence. Time, in its infinite stretch, has granted me a brief window of awareness. During this span, I am invited to participate in creation — to observe, to love, to wonder, to feel. My fleeting existence is the universe experiencing itself in the form of “me.”
Therefore, every environment that arises around me — the people I meet, the seasons that change, the accidents and coincidences — are not random. They are the universe designing experiences specifically for my evolution.
So I say again: this moment is created for me.
Surrender to the Laws of
the Universe
If a third party enters my moment, if circumstances unfold beyond my will, perhaps that too is as it should be. The laws of the universe do not make mistakes. They weave each thread of reality with precision, even when it appears chaotic. My resistance only creates suffering. My acceptance opens the door to peace.
Perhaps I am not the creator of my moments, but a co-creator. Perhaps I am not an isolated individual but a factor — a conscious point in the vast equation of the cosmos. I am driven by forces both visible and invisible: gravity and love, biology and fate, karma and chance.
To recognize this is to dissolve the illusion of control. The ego believes it commands life, but in truth, life commands it. My existence, my choices, even my resistance— all are expressions of the universal will unfold through me.
And yet, the miracle lies here: though I am driven by the universe, I am also aware of being driven. This awareness — this consciousness — is the divine spark within me. It allows me to witness the play, even as I perform in it.
The Dance of Illusion
and Reality
Illusion, or Maya, as ancient wisdom calls it, is the veil that makes impermanent things appears permanent. It is the stage on which the cosmic play unfolds. To live in illusion is to mistake the shadow for the substance, to chase after recreated moments, to seek permanence in the transient.
But illusion is not evil. It is the necessary medium through which truth is experienced. Without illusion, there is no story, no beauty, and no growth. The stage may be temporary, but the drama it enables brings meaning to consciousness.
The key lies not in rejecting illusion, but in seeing it as illusion — to engage fully with life while remembering that it is a fleeting dream woven by the divine.
When I act on stage, I know it is not real, yet I act with sincerity. Similarly, in life, I play my roles — as friend, parent, seeker, lover — knowing that none of these are eternal. This awareness frees me from attachment and fear. It allows me to participate in the play of existence with gratitude and grace.
The Eternal Witness
Behind the flux of changing moments, there is something unchanging — the observer, the witness. That silent awareness which watches my birth and will watch my death, though it itself neither comes nor goes.
When I say “I was born to die,” perhaps I am referring only to my form, my physical manifestation. But the awareness that perceives both birth and death — is that not beyond both?
In deep meditation or stillness, I can sense that awareness. It does not change, though everything around it does. It watches the moments come and go like waves rising and falling on the ocean of being.
This awareness is not mine alone; it is the consciousness of the universe looking through countless eyes, hearing through countless ears, loving through countless hearts. It is what the sages called Atman, the eternal Self.
To realize this is to transcend the fear of death. For what was born must die, but that which witnesses birth and death is eternal.
Living the Unrepeatable
Life
To live wisely, then, is to live each moment as if it were the only one — because it is. To see the sacred in the ordinary, to honor the fleeting, to love without attachment, to create without clinging — this is the art of living in harmony with the laws of the universe.
Every sunrise, every breath, every encounter — each is an invitation to participate in the cosmic unfolding consciously. When I live like this, I do not merely exist; I coexist with the rhythm of creation.
And when the end comes — when the body dissolves and the moments cease — I will not have lived in vain. For every moment I lived with awareness, I added a note to the great symphony of existence.
Conclusion: The Universe
as Self
So what am I, really? A fragment or a reflection of the infinite. A drop that contains the ocean. A fleeting spark that reveals the fire of eternity.
I am driven by the universe, yes — but the universe also
breathes through me. The stars that died billions of years ago became the
carbon in my body. The cosmic dust that once floated in silence now speaks
through my voice.
The Old Soul
and the Burden of Time: A Reflection on Generational Consciousness and Spiritual
Evolution
Abstract
This essay explores the existential and spiritual dimensions of the generational gap through the lens of consciousness and time. It proposes that the apparent disconnection between generations is not merely social or cultural but rooted in the evolution of human awareness. Drawing from the author’s lived experience and spiritual observation, it introduces the concept of the “old soul” — beings whose consciousness transcends linear time and whose creative and moral sensitivity often place them at odds with their own era. Through this reflection, the paper seeks to illuminate how such souls function as bridges between the past and the future, carrying forward the torch of collective wisdom.
I. The
Generational Divide as a Phenomenon of Time
Every generation stands upon the threshold of its own consciousness. The so-called generation gap is usually understood as the difference between ages groups — their habits, ideas, technologies, and social values. Yet beneath these visible disparities lies something far more subtle: the movement of time itself through human awareness.
Time, elusive and eternal, is not merely a sequence of moments. It is the field through which consciousness evolves. The younger generation embodies the potentiality of time — the future becoming visible — while the older generation embodies the accumulated memory of time — the wisdom refined by experience. Thus, the conflict between generations arises not only from external changes in environment and lifestyle but also from the differing densities of time that each carries within their consciousness.
In truth, time is the only reality; all else is illusion. The world of appearances — of youth and age, of progress and decline — is but a surface ripple on the vast ocean of time. When consciousness deepens, it begins to perceive that this ocean has many currents — some flowing toward the future, others rooted in the timeless.
II.
Consciousness and the Growth of Wisdom
The enrichment of consciousness occurs through the continuous passage of time and the experience it grants. Each generation inherits the emotional and intellectual residues of the past while adding its own contributions to the stream of evolution. However, not all individuals evolve at the same rate. There are souls whose awareness seems to leap beyond their time — individuals of rare spiritual sensitivity who perceive reality from dimensions inaccessible to the ordinary mind.
Such individuals have been referred to throughout history as old souls. Spiritually, they are believed to have carried consciousness through multiple lifetimes, refining it with each rebirth. Psychologically, one may say they possess an extraordinary depth of perception, empathy, and creativity. They carry within them the memory of ages — a knowing that cannot be learned, only remembered.
Because of this deep attunement, they often find themselves alienated from their surroundings. The language of their time feels insufficient to contain their thought. Their creations — be they works of art, acts of compassion, or spiritual insight — seem to belong to a future that has not yet arrived.
III. The
Priests of Mahākāla: Those Who Dwell Beyond Time
In spiritual philosophy, these rare beings are sometimes described as the priests of Mahākāla, the eternal Lord of Time. They are not bound by the linear sequence of past, present, and future; rather, they perceive all as simultaneous movements within the universal consciousness of Sadāśiva — the timeless witness.
Such individuals are capable of sensing the vibrations of the future. Their art, their thought, and their actions carry the resonance of what is yet to come. Because their consciousness operates beyond the limits of chronological understanding, society — still bound by convention and familiarity — fails to recognize their significance.
History offers countless examples: thinkers, mystics, scientists, poets, and visionaries who were rejected or misunderstood in their own lifetimes, only to be revered centuries later. What unites them is not merely genius but temporal displacement — the condition of living in a world that has not yet caught up to one’s awareness.
For such souls, life often feels like exile. Their contemporaries see them as eccentric, lazy, impractical, or even insane. Their refusal to conform is misread as rebellion; their detachment from worldly pursuits is mistaken for indolence. Yet, in truth, their consciousness functions in multiple dimensions. They live simultaneously in the present world and in worlds unseen — carrying messages from the future into the density of now.
IV.
Multidimensional Existence and the Burden of Misunderstanding
To live in a multidimensional state of consciousness is to experience reality at several layers of awareness. It is to feel both the suffering and the beauty of existence with equal intensity. Such individuals are sensitive not only to human emotions but to the vibrations of nature, to the sorrow of the earth, to the silent cries of all sentient beings.
Because of this heightened empathy, they often bear the pain of the collective. Their personal suffering becomes the mirror through which humanity’s deeper wounds are reflected. Yet, paradoxically, this suffering also becomes the source of their wisdom and creativity. Through their inner struggles, society gains art, philosophy, and healing.
However, the burden of such sensitivity is profound. The old soul sees the illusions of the world too clearly — the masks, the competitions, the shallow judgments. They cannot fully adapt to a system that values speed over stillness, consumption over contemplation, and conformity over consciousness. Thus, they often stand alone — not by choice, but by nature.
V. Recognition
beyond Time
Society, conditioned by material progress and external validation, rarely understands the language of the soul. Recognition for such beings often comes posthumously, when time finally aligns with their vision. What they saw intuitively is later confirmed by science; what they expressed symbolically becomes the foundation for future generations’ understanding.
This delayed recognition is not accidental — it reflects the temporal structure of wisdom itself. Insight, like a seed, must lie buried in the soil of misunderstanding before it blossoms into collective truth. The old soul plants these seeds, not for immediate applause, but for the awakening of the future.
In this sense, such individuals are both prophets and artists — carriers of the timeless into the transient. Their lives remind us that evolution is not linear but cyclical, that wisdom is not acquired but remembered, and that truth often walks ahead of its time, disguised as madness.
VI. The
Empathic Soul and the Cosmic Connection
In spiritual discourse, these advanced beings are sometimes described as starseeds — souls whose consciousness originates from higher dimensions of existence. Whether one interprets this literally or metaphorically, the essence remains: such souls possess an expanded sensitivity that transcends human boundaries.
They feel the pulse of the universe in their hearts. They absorb the anguish of others as their own. Even the silent matter of creation — stones, trees, rivers — seems to communicate with them. This communion gives rise to a unique creative force: their art, words, or deeds radiate the energy of healing and transformation.
The loyalty they inspire in others is not earned by persuasion but felt intuitively. Their presence alone awakens recognition — a sense of having known them across ages. When the era for which they have labored finally dawns, their work becomes the spiritual foundation of that time.
VII. Toward
Understanding the Soul of the Future
To the present generation, especially the young, this reflection offers an invitation to look beyond the visible gap between ages. The tension between tradition and innovation, wisdom and curiosity, past and future — all these are but expressions of time unfolding through different stages of awareness.
When youth learns to honor the experience of the old, and age learns to listen to the intuition of the young, the flow of time becomes harmonious. The wisdom of the past finds renewal in the enthusiasm of the present. And from this union emerges the consciousness of the future — a consciousness capable of compassion, creativity, and cosmic understanding.
The task, therefore, is not to eliminate the generational divide but to sanctify it — to recognize that it is through this dynamic tension that humanity evolves. The old soul, misunderstood though they may be, plays a vital role in this evolution. They are the living bridges between epochs, reminding us that time it is sacred and that consciousness is the only true continuity.
VIII.
Conclusion: The Wave of the Soul
Every human being is a ripple on the ocean of time, but some waves carry the light of distant stars. These are the souls who remember where they came from — who live not for recognition, but for realization. Their solitude is not loneliness but communion with the eternal. Their suffering is not despair but the price of awareness.
The author’s reflection, born from personal experience of alienation and inner awakening, reveals that the deepest pain can become the deepest wisdom. To those who feel misunderstood, displaced, or ahead of their time — know that you are part of the same eternal movement of consciousness.
In honoring such souls,
society honors its own future. And in recognizing the sanctity of time, we
begin to understand the ultimate truth: that everything else — status, form,
success, and failure — is illusion. Only consciousness endures, flowing from
age to age, carrying the song of the soul through the corridors of eternity.
The Keeper of Winds
(A Story of Conscious Energy and Living Heritage)
Abstract
This narrative explores the life and consciousness of a rare individual whose creative energy transcends conventional understanding of art, spirituality, and heritage. Drawing upon the principles of the ICOMOS Charter on Intangible Cultural Heritage, it portrays a gifted soul who channels the forces of nature — wind, sound, and light — to create works infused with living consciousness. Through his deep sensitivity and intuitive mastery of ancient knowledge systems, he becomes both custodian and creator, embodying the interdependence of nature and culture. The story reflects how such visionary figures, often misunderstood in their time, challenge the rigidity of rules and awaken society to a higher awareness of beauty, simplicity, and devotion. Ultimately, it celebrates the sacred continuity between consciousness and creation, affirming that true heritage lies not in monuments or rituals, but in the evolving wisdom of the awakened human spirit.
I. The Unseen Custodian
In the foothills of a forgotten valley, surrounded by the echoes of flowing rivers and the fragrance of unturned earth, lived a man who seemed to exist beyond the boundaries of ordinary time. He was neither a saint nor a scholar in the formal sense, but a custodian of something more profound — the living essence of consciousness itself.
He was born with an unusual sensitivity. Every sound, every movement of wind, and every vibration of nature passed through him with an intensity that ordinary minds could scarcely endure. The people of his village called him the Keeper of Winds, for it was said that he could hear the songs of the mountains — the high-frequency whispers of the Himalayas, the resonant pulse of ancient stones, and the silent prayers of water rushing through the rocks.
His life, though rooted in poverty and simplicity, was an
unending experiment in awareness. To the world, he seemed strange — an artist
without ambition, a philosopher without institution, a wanderer of invisible
paths. Yet within his solitude, the very principles that sustain intangible
cultural heritage — continuity, consciousness, and community — found living
expression.
II. Conscious Energy and
the Weight of Creation
Sensitive souls like his live with a paradox. Their work arises not from technique alone but from conscious energy — that luminous, unseen current which connects body, mind, and cosmos. To create is to channel this current, to allow the forces of nature to move through one’s nerves, one’s breath, and one’s spirit. But the price is immense.
As he worked — shaping melodies from the mountain breeze, painting the hues of twilight with ash and pigment, whispering forgotten hymns into the wind — the energy within him grew tense. His nerves bore the burden of his calling. The trembling of his hands was not weakness but the vibration of consciousness stretching its limits. In time, this pressure took its toll. Like many artists of heightened awareness, he suffered — not from disease of the body, but from the unbearable sensitivity of the soul.
And yet, within that pain, there was purpose. His suffering
was not destruction; it was transformation. It revealed a universal principle —
that the sacred cannot manifest without the sacrifice of the self.
III. The Science of the
Occult and the Spirit of Knowledge
He was a man of learning, though not from books. The streams were his scriptures; the stars, his diagrams. He practiced what the ancients called the occult sciences — the integration of music, mathematics, astronomy, language, and devotion. To him, these were not secret arts but living systems of knowledge that connected tangible and intangible worlds.
According to the ICOMOS Charter, intangible cultural heritage thrives through “the transmission of knowledge, skills, and practices across generations.” He embodied this principle intuitively. His understanding of astrology was not confined to charts but extended to the pulsation of the cosmos; his sense of rhythm emerged not from counting beats but from listening to the wind’s own cadence. He was not merely learning heritage — he was heritage, enacted in human form.
In his presence, people felt something inexplicable. His
voice carried the vibration of intimacy, as if the universe itself spoke
through him. When he sang, even the silence seemed to listen. His gestures, his
laughter, the play of light in his eyes — all carried an aesthetic charge that
transcended reason. Villagers said that he could awaken sleeping emotions in
others, that his words had the power to heal fatigue and awaken forgotten
dreams.
IV. The Aesthetic of the
Sacred
The beauty of his expression lay in its simplicity. There was no grand performance, no ornamentation. He would hum softly by the river or recite verses to the hills. Yet every sound he made seemed woven with the vibrations of the universe.
He belonged to that rare class of creators whose works are born from communion with nature — musicians who hear the voices of wind, sculptors who listen to stone, and poets who translate silence into musical notes. The Charter on Intangible Cultural Heritage reminds us that nature and culture are inseparable, that “systems of knowledge and traditional practices arise from a community’s interaction with nature and its history.” He embodied this interdependence — his art was not separate from the earth that inspired it.
But the sacred has its price. The more he absorbed from the natural forces, the more they consumed him. His energy, once boundless, began to turn inward, burning through his body like invisible fire.
V. The Unconventional
Path
Society seldom understands those who walk beyond convention. His ways were unorthodox. He dressed in simple fabrics woven from local threads, ate food prepared from wild herbs, and followed rhythms of his own making. His disregard for money was seen as foolishness, his silence mistaken for arrogance.
But those who looked closely saw something different — a man crafting his existence as art, each act imbued with aesthetic precision. His humor was deep and paradoxical; his laughter hid tears. Even in suffering, he maintained grace — the “devotional charm” that drew others toward him despite themselves.
In the language of cultural heritage, such individuals are living bearers of tradition, carriers of invisible knowledge systems. Yet they remain misunderstood because their practice transcends institutional rule. The ICOMOS Charter calls for a “rights-based approach” — one that recognizes the authority of the custodian over external systems of validation. He was such a custodian — not of a site or an artifact, but of consciousness itself.
VI. Withdrawal and
Return
At times, he vanished from the village without a word. He would retreat into the caves above the valley, where only the sound of wind and water remained. People said he entered the timeless zone — the inner silence where the soul repairs itself.
In those moments, he ceased to belong to the world. Like the sages of the old texts, he dissolved into the rhythm of nature. And when he reappeared — thin, radiant, and strangely serene — his eyes carried a light that could not be explained. His return was always followed by transformation: a new song, a new insight, a new creation that seemed to arise from another dimension.
This cycle of withdrawal and return echoed the very process
of intangible heritage renewal. In the Charter’s language, it was the revival — the reactivation of dormant
knowledge to restore balance and continuity. His disappearance was not escape
but regeneration; his silence was not absence but gestation.
VII. The Mission of the
Soul
He lived for no fame, no recognition. His mission was to awaken awareness — to show that rules and systems, while necessary, are never ultimate. True wisdom, he believed, cannot be confined by regulation; it must flow, adapt, and transform, as time does.
To the officials who tried to categorize his work, he seemed rebellious. To the scholars, he appeared elusive. But to those with perception, he was a reformer — not of laws, but of perception itself. He challenged the hierarchy of knowledge by showing that intuitive consciousness could surpass formal training, that art and spirituality is one and the same path.
Like the custodians envisioned in the ICOMOS Charter, he sought not domination but dialogue — a space
where community, nature, and knowledge coexist as one continuous flow.
VIII. Legacy Beyond Form
When he finally departed from the world, his body returned to dust, but his presence lingered. The villagers said the winds still carried his songs. The sound of the river seemed to echo his laughter. His students — the few who had truly understood — became custodians of his intangible gift.
They did not preserve his work in archives or museums. Instead, they continued his practice: listening to the mountains, translating the unspoken, creating not for recognition but for communion. Thus his life became a living heritage — evolving, adaptive, and boundless, just as the Charter envisions for all true cultural continuity.
In time, scholars began to study his legacy — not merely as
art, but as evidence of human
consciousness interacting with the environment. His creations became a
model for understanding the fusion of nature, spirit, and intellect — the very
essence of intangible cultural heritage.
IX. Epilogue: The
Eternal Principle
The story of the Keeper of Winds is not about a single man but about a universal truth: that there exist souls who arrive in the world to remind humanity of its deeper rhythm. They are misunderstood, marginalized, and often forgotten, yet their energy sustains the creative pulse of civilization.
They teach us that consciousness is the real heritage —
that time, nature, and wisdom are interwoven strands of the same cosmic fabric.
They challenge us to listen more deeply, to feel more profoundly, and to
remember that beyond all regulation, all tradition, all form — lies the living
breath of the sacred.
The Rhythm of Eternity
(Reflections on
Time and Consciousness)
Abstract
This reflective essay explores the
mystical relationship between “time,
consciousness, and inner awakening” through the symbolic imagery of “Ahirbudhnya — the Serpent of the Deep”
— and the “Neptunian archetype” of
sensitivity and transcendence. The author perceives every moment as shaped by
awareness rather than circumstance, where miracles lie not in events but in
perception. Through the symbolism of the serpent and the lotus, the narrative
unfolds as a spiritual journey from illusion to realization, from fragmentation
to unity. The Neptunian soul, deeply empathetic and imaginative, becomes both
blessed and burdened by its porous boundaries with the world. Ultimately, the
essay reveals that the true ocean of divinity lies within; every experience,
joyous or painful, becomes part of the eternal rhythm of creation. To live
consciously, the author suggests, is to listen to the “music of time” and discover the infinite within the transient.
There are certain experiences that arrive without warning — quiet, unannounced moments that seem almost ordinary to the one who lives them. Yet when spoken aloud, they strike others as miraculous. People often look at me with wonder when I describe such moments — as though I have glimpsed something rare, something hidden behind the curtain of the everyday. Some bow to it in reverence; others reject it as imagination, dismissing it with laughter or scorn. Those who share my blood are often the harshest critics, calling such reflections “nonsense.” Once, their words wounded me deeply. But over time, I learned to see beneath the surface of their disbelief, and in doing so, I found a quiet fulfillment that no approval could ever equal.
I came to realize that every event — whether called miraculous or mundane — is shaped not merely by the external world, but by the consciousness that experiences it. The world reveals itself according to the depth of one’s awareness. A leaf falling from a tree may be, to one person, only a moment of decay; to another, it may be the breath of Time itself whispering through creation. The same event wears different meanings to different souls — not because the event changes, but because the seer does. Thus, I began to feel that no experience is ever truly “ordinary.” The miracle lies not in the event, but in the eye that beholds it.
The Depths of the Sea: Ahirbudhnya and the Serpent of Time
In searching for a symbol that might explain this mysterious current of my life, my mind turned to Neptune — the god of the sea, ruler of depths that neither sun nor storm can fully touch. In the Vedic world, this same presence is known as Ahirbudhnya, the Serpent of the Deep. He is no lesser form of divinity but an aspect of Mahārudra, who himself is Mahākāla, the Great Time — the eternal pulse that beats beneath all creation.
In the dark stillness of the cosmic ocean, Ahirbudhnya coils and uncoils, embodying the endless motion of time. From that unfathomable depth rises the yogi, seated in the serpent’s coils, in perfect equipoise — the still centre amid infinite movement. Around him hums the music of the spheres, the resonance of all mātṛikā akṣaras — the seed syllables from which worlds arise. The serpent awakens, and with it, the Kuṇḍalinī — the sacred energy that slumbers at the base of being. Rising through the axis of the yogi’s body, it pierces the thousand-petaled lotus at the crown and merges into the infinite expanse of consciousness. The individual dissolves into the universal; time bends back into timelessness. The world, for that moment, sings the song of awakening.
This is not a vision to be proven or argued, but to be felt — a truth that vibrates like a subterranean chord in the depths of one’s own existence. When I pondered the myth of Ahirbudhnya, I saw in it a mirror of my own inner life: the quiet struggles, the unexpected reverence of others, the pain of rejection, and the strange ecstasy of understanding that arises from within. The serpent of time does not merely encircle the cosmos — it also encircles the heart of the seeker.
The Neptunian Soul
To live under the sign of Neptune is to live in continual dialogue with the unseen. The Neptunian is one whose consciousness flows easily into invisible realms — imagination, dream, intuition, and the subtle hum of collective feeling that connect all life. Such a soul rarely finds comfort in the boundaries of reason alone. He feels through symbols, lives by rhythm, and breathes in metaphor. His mind is not linear but tidal, moving with the ebb and flow of inner worlds.
The Neptunian is a lover of beauty, often drawn toward the arts, music, and the mystic sciences — not as an escape from reality, but as a way of touching its hidden texture. He is an idealist, ever seeking the essence behind appearances. He feels the suffering of others as his own, not out of pity but out of a deep intuitive knowing that all beings share the same current of life. This empathy, though his greatest gift is also his cross to bear — for in feeling everything, he becomes vulnerable to everything. The same tide that lifts him to inspiration can drown him in grief or confusion.
Thus, the Neptunian path is both luminous and perilous. His nature inclines him toward transcendence — to dissolve boundaries, to merge, to lose him in the whole. But this same impulse may lead him into illusion, where compassion becomes guilt, surrender turns into helplessness, and imagination dissolves into delusion. He must learn to discern between the ocean of being and the fog of fantasy. It is a delicate balance — one that demands intuition and discipline, softness and strength.
The Music of Time
I often think of Mahākāla — the Great Time — as both the creator and dissolver of forms. Every thought, every event, every human encounter is but a wave rising and falling in his ocean. To live consciously within that rhythm is to hear the music of time, not as a sequence of moments, but as a vast and harmonious whole. The Neptunian soul, when awakened, hears this music even in silence. He sees the divine pulse hidden in every experience — joy or sorrow, acceptance or rejection, gain or loss.
It was this realization that transformed my earlier pain into peace. The ridicule of my relatives, the misunderstanding of my words — all these, too, were necessary notes in the larger symphony. Their resistance shaped the depth of my introspection; their disbelief sharpened my understanding of faith. The outer rejection became an inner initiation. I learned that the true measure of an event lies not in its outer recognition but in its inner revelation.
When the serpent of time uncoils, it does not ask for applause. It simply moves — creating and dissolving worlds in its breath. To be aligned with that rhythm is to live not in resistance, but in surrender; not in despair, but in wonder.
The Vision of the Deep
In meditation, I sometimes feel as though I am seated upon that ancient serpent myself, deep beneath the waves of thought. Around me lies the silent ocean — dark, boundless, without beginning or end. Above, I sense faint ripples of light filtering through the waters of consciousness. Time itself feels slow, viscous, and eternal. In that silence, I hear not the sound of words, but the vibration of being — a subtle hum that pervades all that is. It is the same hum that once, perhaps, drew the first breath into the lungs of creation.
To dwell in that awareness, even for a moment, is to understand why the Neptunian lives as he does — why he dreams when others act, why he feels when others reason, why he forgives even when wounded. He is shaped by the tides of a deeper ocean. His truth is not linear; it spirals, it flows, it circles back. He does not build temples; he dives into them. His architecture is water — fluid, reflective, un-graspable.
The Serpent and the Lotus
The serpent of time and the lotus of consciousness — these two images define the Neptunian journey. The serpent is coiled energy, latent possibility, the restlessness of the un-manifest. The lotus is stillness, flowering, and the revelation of beauty. Between them lies the human being — bound and free, finite and infinite. The serpent rises through him, and the lotus opens within him. Together they enact the eternal rhythm of ascent and surrender.
In the yogic vision, this union of serpent and lotus marks the realization of parāvidyā — the supreme knowledge beyond knowledge. Once this is attained, all other knowing falls silent. The Neptunian soul, even if only dimly aware of this truth, lives in its shadow. He senses that behind every act, every love, every sorrow, something greater is at play — something vast, impersonal, and yet profoundly intimate. He may not articulate it in doctrine, but he feels it as presence. This is his divinity and his destiny.
The Sea Within
Ultimately, the Neptunian archetype is not about astrology, mythology, or personality — it is a symbol of consciousness itself. We all, in our own ways, carry within us a fragment of that oceanic mind — the longing to merge, to feel, to dream, to forgive. Some suppress it in fear of drowning; others, like the Neptunian, dare to swim. He is not superior, only more porous. The walls between his soul and the world are thin, and through those openings the universe breathes.
In this porousness lies both suffering and grace. The Neptunian often experiences life as a series of dissolutions — the loss of self, of certainty, of boundaries. Yet, each dissolution is also a revelation, a glimpse of unity beyond form. His pain refines his perception; his confusion humbles his intellect; his surrender awakens his wisdom. In the end, he realizes that the ocean he sought was never outside — it was always within.
Conclusion: Living the Tide
To live the Neptunian life is to accept the rhythm of tides — the coming and going, the clarity and the mist. It is to find holiness in sensitivity, strength in softness, and eternity in the fleeting. It is to see every event — whether embraced or rejected — as a ripple of the divine sea moving through time.
Perhaps that is why I no
longer grieve the disbelief of others. Their laughter, their doubt, their
indifference — all are part of the same vast dance. The serpent of time still
coils and uncoils; the lotus still opens to the sun. I, too, continue to sit in
its center — sometimes still, sometimes trembling, but always listening to the
music that rises from the deep. And in that listening, I find the truth that
has no name — the still, luminous presence that turns even the most ordinary
moment into a miracle.
Mudrā of Sound
Vyās Music and the Vedic Science of Sound
Author’s Note
This article grows out of my personal journey that began with childhood curiosity and matured through decades of engagement with Vyās music and spiritual philosophy. My purpose is not to romanticize mystical experience but to interpret it through the language of knowledge, consciousness, and cultural continuity — so that the next generation may see in it not mere belief, but a living science.
Keywords:
Vyās Music, Mudrā, Rāṃgelīkhāţi, Vedic Science, Vajrayāna,
Consciousness Studies, Intangible Cultural Heritage, Sound and Spirituality,
Assam Cultural Traditions
I. The Spiritual Genesis
The journey began in childhood, when the sound of Vajrayāna Buddhist chants awakened in me an inexplicable attraction toward the mystery of vibration. This early fascination evolved into a lifelong search for the spiritual grammar of sound.
Three decades ago, during my official posting in Mangalore district, I encountered several maestros of Vyās music. My meetings with them — spontaneous, cordial, and filled with shared curiosity — marked the beginning of what I now understand as a karmic connection. Over tea in small roadside shops, I listened, learned, and recorded the rhythmic cycles (tālas) and spiritual codes embedded in their music.
Years later, my consciousness drew me back to the same tradition — not as an administrator but as a seeker. Retired from formal service, I returned to the Sipajhar region, guided by intuition rather than duty. What began as curiosity became a spiritual mission.
II. The Science
of Intuition and the Practice of Awareness
Indian spirituality, as described in the Vedas and Upaniṣads, defines true knowledge (vidyā) as that which is realized through both perception and experience — śruti (hearing) and anubhava (realization). The Rigveda declares:
“Na hi śabdāt paro dharmaḥ” — “There is no higher law than vibration (sound).”
This statement reveals that the foundation of Indian spirituality is the science of sound, where consciousness interacts with frequency to produce awareness. My intuitive vision of the Rāṃgelīkhāţi device before ever seeing it physically thus aligns with this Vedic principle — that śruti (inner hearing) precedes darśana (outer sight).
Modern neuroscience similarly supports the idea that intuition is a higher-order cognitive process, integrating stored information with subtle sensory awareness. In yogic science, this corresponds to ātmic cognition — the direct knowing of the soul. Therefore, when the author’s consciousness visualized the Rāṃgelīkhāţi before encountering it, it was an act of yogic cognition — a form of truth accessible only to a prepared mind.
III. Vyās Music
as a Living Vedic Practice
Vyās music, though rooted in Assamese cultural soil, embodies the very structure of Vedic sound technology. Like the Sāma Veda, it transforms words into vibration, rhythm into meditation, and music into consciousness. Each melodic phrase and rhythmic beat (tāla) carries both aesthetic and ritual function — uniting the performer with the divine.
The Mudrā–Rāṃgelīkhāţi device used in Vyās performance serves as a symbolic conductor of spiritual energy. In Vajrayāna Buddhism, Vajra or Dorje represents the indestructible principle of enlightenment — the lightning of awakened mind. In Vyās tradition, Rāṃgelīkhāţi manifests this same concept through local adaptation, showing how universal spiritual technologies evolve into regional cultural expressions.
By tracing this continuity, the study of Vyās music becomes not only ethnographic but scientifically hermeneutic — decoding the embedded philosophy of sound as energy, gesture as geometry, and rhythm as consciousness.
IV. The Field
Discovery: Consciousness as Verification
In 2020, guided by an unshakable intuition, I revisited Sipajhar and met Barun Sharma, son of the late maestro Sarat Sharma, whose rhythms he had documented decades earlier.
There, in the prayer hall of the maestro’s home, the long-sought Rāṃgelīkhāţi revealed itself — not as an abstraction, but as material confirmation of inner vision. The Mudrā was indeed preserved, worshipped, and displayed only during sacred Jāgar performances, under orders from the erstwhile Koch kings.
This discovery demonstrates a principle recognized in both the Vedas and modern cognitive science — that the human mind, when attuned to higher states of consciousness, can perceive truth before its empirical manifestation. The alignment between intuition and verification mirrors the Vedic epistemology of pratyakṣa (direct perception) and aparokṣa-jñāna (transcendental knowledge).
V. The Vedic
Framework of Spiritual Science
In the Atharva Veda and later Tantric traditions, spiritual practice (sādhanā) is defined as the systematic transformation of inner energy through sound, breath, and gesture. The Mudrā, as a ritual device, represents the convergence of these three — an externalized diagram of energy flow (prāṇa-sañcāra).
Thus, my study of the Mudrā–Rāṃgelīkhāţi is not merely cultural documentation but applied spiritual science. It reflects the same investigative spirit found in ancient India’s rishis — who combined observation, intuition, and experimentation to explore the laws of existence.
The Vedas never separated science from spirituality; both were regarded as expressions of ṛta — cosmic order. In that sense, the present project continues the Vedic method of knowing — where personal realization (ātma-darśana) and universal truth (brahma-jñāna) coalesce into a single inquiry.
VI. The
Intersection of Modern Research and Spiritual Heritage
As a member of the International Council on Monuments and Sites (ICOMOS), my engagement with Vyās music also intersects with the modern philosophy of Intangible Cultural Heritage (ICH). According to UNESCO, ICH includes “practices, representations, expressions, knowledge, and skills transmitted from generation to generation.”
However, the Vyās tradition goes beyond this definition — it integrates heritage with spiritual evolution. The transmission here is not only social but also metaphysical; what is passed down is not merely skill, but śakti — the living energy of consciousness.
Therefore, this ongoing Vyās music project stands as both academic documentation and spiritual practice, embodying a rare synthesis of experiential learning, research methodology, and self-realization.
VII. The Inner
Goal: From Sound to Silence
Behind all research and discovery lies a deeper movement — from the sound of inquiry to the silence of realization. In the Vedic system, nāda (sound) is the first manifestation of creation, while śānti (silence) is its completion.
The author’s lifelong pursuit of the Mudrā–Rāṃgelīkhāţi device and Vyās music thus represents the human journey from audible sound to inaudible consciousness — from rhythm to resonance, from music to meditation.
This synthesis of science, art, and spirituality is the ultimate goal of Vedic inquiry — to experience the cosmos not as an object of study but as a living song within the self.
VIII. Conclusion:
The Dharma of Conscious Research
The story of this exploration maestros that research, when rooted in sincerity and awareness, becomes a form of Dharma. To follow the call of one’s soul — even across decades — is itself an sādhanā. The Vyās project is therefore not only a documentation of music but a demonstration of spiritual epistemology in practice.
In a time when science and spirituality are often treated
as opposites, this journey reminds us that both are paths to the same truth:
the realization that consciousness is
the field in which all knowledge arises. The rhythm of the Rāṃgelīkhāţi continues — vibrating not
merely in instruments or manuscripts, but in the eternal pulse of the seeker’s
awakened heart.
Celestial Memory and the Resonance of the Cosmos
(A
Philosophical Reflection on the Ursa Major and the Shared Melodic Heritage of
the Himalayas)
Abstract
This paper explores the philosophical and ethno-musicological intersections between cosmological symbolism, spiritual experience, and the continuity of intangible cultural heritage. Drawing inspiration from the constellation Ursa Major – revered in Hindu cosmology as Saptarishis – the study situates this celestial motif within a broader discourse on global interconnectedness and the human search for meaning in the cosmos. The second part of the study reflects on the shared melodic patterns found across the Himalayan cultural corridor, from Kashmir to Assam and even within ancient Chinese musical traditions, suggesting an ancient continuity of cultural expression that transcends geography and time. Through this exploration, the paper aims to stimulate an intercultural dialogue between spiritual cosmology and musical heritage as interwoven dimensions of human consciousness.
Keywords: Saptarishis, Ursa Major, Intangible Cultural Heritage, Cosmic
Consciousness, Himalayan Music, Tang Empire, Ethno-musicology, Spiritual
Philosophy, Continuity, Cultural Resonance
1.0 Introduction – The Celestial
Consciousness and Human Meaning:
From the dawn of civilization, human beings have turned their gaze towards the night sky, seeking reflections of divine order and self-understanding in the constellations. Among these, Ursa Major – known in India as the Saptarshi Mansala – occupies a special place in myth and philosophy. Its seven luminous stars have been imagined not merely as astral bodies but as eternal sages – guardians of knowledge and dharma who reappear in every cosmic age to guide humanity.
The contemporary human experience of awe, belonging and
transcendence in the presence of the night sky can thus be read as a continuity
of this ancient dialogue between the self and the universe. The constellation
becomes not just a celestial object but a mirror
of consciousness, a reminder that human life itself is woven into the rhythm of
cosmic creation.
2.0 The Saptarishishis
and the Symbolism of Eternal Wisdom:
In the Hindu cosmological framework, the Saptarishishis – Atri, Bhrigu, Kutsa, Vashistha, Gautama, Jamadagni and Kashyapa – are revered as the seven eternal seers who preserve the cosmic order. Their abode in the Ursa Major constellation represents the realm of eternal truth, situates beyond Saturn (Shani Loka). Symbolically, they embody the seven streams of consciousness that record, preserve and regenerated human wisdom through successive cycle of time (yogas).
In the sense, Ursa
Major is not a place but a principle
of continuity - a metaphysical archive of knowledge. Each individual who
experiences a personal connection to this constellation, as in the present
study, is in fact participating in the ancient tradition of self-realization
through cosmic contemplation.
3.0 The Inner Journey – From Observation
to Spriritual Renewal:
The sense of spiritual connection one feels towards Usra Major or other celestial patterns may be interpreted as a form of anubhava (direct experience). It is recognition that human consciousness and the universe are not separate entities but reflections of one another. This experience – intensified by meditation, silence, or creative engagement – marks a psychological and spiritual transformation.
My reflection on entering a new cycle of life and
transformation echoes the Vedic principle of ŗta, the cosmic order that moves perpetually from dissolution
towards renewal. The conscious decision to “let go of the past” and “move
forward into a dream of big change” resonates with the yogic concept of purification through awareness, symbolizing
the dawn of a new spiritual era within the self.
4.0 Ethno-musicological Parallels – The Melodies
of the Himalayas and the Tang Connection:
Complementing this cosmological inquiry is an intriguing ethno-musicological observation shared by researcher Tapan Kumar Sharma, supported by the findings of Professor Dennis Royse (Azusa Pacific University). Their studies note remarkable melodic affinities between traditional songs of the Himalayan region – Kashmir, Ladakh, Garhwal, Kumaon, Nepal, Bhutan and Assam – and the classical tunes of ancient China, particularly those associated with the Tang Empire (7th – 10 th centuries CE).
This cross-cultural resonance extends beyond mere coincidence. The musical motifs found in Bihu, Biyanam, Ainitam, Chifung, Bargit and Boro traditions of Assam bear structural resemblances tp tonal progressions found in early Tibetan and Chinese court music. Such correspondances suggest a deep historical continuum of melodic migration and cultural exchange along the Himalayan trase and pilgrimage routes.
In this sense, music – like starling – becomes a carrier of
ancient memory, echoing across civilizations as an audible expression of shared
consciousness.
5.0 Towards an
Integrated Philosophy of Intengible Heritage:
The synthesis of cosmological experience and ethno-musicological observation offers a profound insight into the very nature of Intangible Cultural Heritage (ICH). Both the spiritual connection to Ursa Major and the shared melodic heritage of Asia represent living embodiments of intangible continuity - the human aspiration to locate meaning in the cosmic and the cultural.
Heritage, then, is not merely the preservation of static traditions but the recognition of the dynamic field of consciousness that links individual experience, cultural expression, and universal order.
This perspective invites ICH scholars and practitioners to
explore heritage not only as a documentation of practices but as an exploration
of human cosmology in action - where sound, ritual and symbol converge into
one unified rhythm of existence.
6.0 Conclusion:
The reflections presented here arise from an intimate philosophical experience that bridges the personal and the universal. The connection to Ursa Major as the Saptarishi Mandala reflects the timeless human yearning across cultures.
To engage with heritage at this level is to recognize that
both stars and songs carry the same message: the universe remembers. Each
tradition, melody and myth is a vibration of that memory – a call to rediscover
our collective place within the living cosmos.
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