Tag: philosophy

Life is a Time-Lapse: Why You Are the Camera, Not the Movie

The Stationary Camera: Why Time Doesn’t Exist (And Einstein Agrees with the Rishis)

You know that feeling when you look at a time-lapse video of the night sky?

The stars are streaking across the heavens, the Milky Way is spinning like a giant cosmic pinwheel, and the earth seems to be on a wild carousel ride. But the camera? The camera sits there—rock solid, unmoving, silently watching the show.

We usually think we are the ones moving through time, getting older, rushing to meetings, and chasing deadlines. But what if we’ve got it backwards?

What if Time doesn’t exist? What if we are the stationary camera, and it’s the environment that is whizzing past us?

This isn’t just a late-night “hostel terrace” theory. It’s a place where modern physics and ancient Vedanta decide to have a cup of filter coffee together.

The Photographer’s Philosophy

Let’s look at this “Stationary Camera” theory.

In a time-lapse, two things are happening:

  1. The Changing: The stars, the clouds, the rotation of the earth.
  2. The Changeless: The camera lens that captures it all.

If the camera started moving around, the video would be a blurry mess. The only reason we see the movement of the stars is because the observer is still.

Now, apply this to your life. Your body changes (grey hairs appear, knees creak). Your mind changes (happy today, annoyed at the traffic tomorrow). The world changes (new governments, new iPhones).

But YOU—the sense of “I am”—does that ever change? The “I” that felt the sun on your face at age five is the exact same “I” reading this blog right now.

You are the camera. The world is the Milky Way.

“But Saar, What About Science?”

I can hear the skeptics (and the physics majors) clearing their throats. “Nanda, time is real! Entropy! The Second Law of Thermodynamics! You can’t un-break an egg!”

Fair point. But here is where it gets interesting.

Einstein enters the chat.
In the old Newtonian days, we thought time was a steady river flowing at one speed for everyone. Then Einstein came along with Relativity and proved that time is actually bendy. It slows down if you move fast; it warps near black holes.

When his best friend died, Einstein wrote a letter to the family saying:

“The distinction between past, present and future is only a stubbornly persistent illusion.”

Science is basically admitting that “Time” isn’t the solid container we think it is. It’s an illusion. Or, as we call it back home, Maya.

The Vedantic Upgrade: Drg-Drishya-Viveka

Our ancient rishis didn’t have DSLRs, but they had this exact same theory. They called it Drg-Drishya-Viveka (The discrimination between the Seer and the Seen).

They would say your Camera theory is perfect, with one major “Pro Mode” upgrade.

In your analogy, you might think:

  • Camera = My Mind
  • Milky Way = The World

Vedanta says: Not quite.

If a bug crawls across the camera lens, the camera sees it. If the lens gets foggy, the camera sees the fog.
Your thoughts, memories, and emotions are like that bug or that fog. They are constantly moving. They come and go.

So, the Mind isn’t the Camera. The Mind is part of the movie!

The real Camera is the Sakshi (Witness Consciousness). It watches the world move, and it watches the mind think about the world moving. It is the Sat-Chit-Ananda—the existence that never moves, never sleeps, and never changes.

The Final Verdict

So, are there holes in this theory? Only if you try to make the “Camera” into your ego. Your ego is definitely moving (and usually running late).

But the real You? You are stationary in eternity.

  • Science studies the movie (the changing particles, the biology, the entropy).
  • Spirituality studies the Camera (the Observer).

You don’t have to choose between them. You can enjoy the science of the stars while resting in the stillness of the Self.

Try this today:
Next time you are stuck in a chaotic situation—maybe traffic on Mount Road or a heated meeting—just pause. Be the camera. Let the cars and the shouting be the Milky Way spinning around you.

You might find that while the world is noisy, the Witness is silent.

The Ego: Friend, Foe, or Just Misunderstood?

For centuries, sages, saints, and that one uncle at weddings who insists he knows “the truth of everything” have been shouting in unison: shed the ego! According to them, the ego is the villain of the spiritual soap opera, the moustache-twirling bad guy who blocks us from enlightenment. One modern guru even turned it into a neat acronym: E.G.O = Edging God Out.

Sounds convincing, right? But here’s the twist: without the ego, you wouldn’t even know there was a truth to realize in the first place.

The Double Life of Ego

Think of ego like your neighborhood auto driver. On one day, he’s weaving dangerously through traffic, shouting at pedestrians, and playing film songs at full volume—annoying, loud, and best avoided. On another day, he’s the one who drops you exactly where you need to be, gives you change without grumbling, and even warns you about the pothole near the signal. Same guy, two different roles.

Ego works like that. If you identify it with your endless stream of random thoughts—“what’s for dinner?”, “does my WhatsApp DP look fat?”, “why hasn’t Netflix released Season 2 yet?”—then yes, ego is the troublemaker. But if you recognize ego as the quiet sense of “I am” that sits beneath all this noise, suddenly it becomes a signpost pointing straight toward Truth.

The Shopping Mall Analogy

Picture yourself in a shopping mall. Every shop window is blaring for attention: “Buy me! Eat me! Discount 50%!” These are your thoughts. Your ego, depending on how you use it, can do one of two things:

  1. Chase the mannequins—run around from Zara to Apple Store to the food court, completely distracted.
  2. Stand in the middle of the mall—aware that all these shops exist, but not compelled to enter. Just resting in the fact that you are present in the mall, not the stuff inside it.

One leads to exhaustion (and an empty wallet). The other leads to realization.

The Cosmic Stage Show

Think of life as a stage play. The thoughts, emotions, aches, and identities are like actors. The ego can either insist, “I’m the hero, the villain, the comedian, and also the audience—give me all the parts!” Or it can sit back as the stage itself—the screen upon which the entire drama plays.

It’s the same ego, but which way you flip it makes all the difference.

Why We Need Ego to Drop Ego

Here’s the paradox no one tells you: you need ego to even decide to shed ego. Who else is sitting there reading blogs about spirituality at 11:47 p.m. on a Tuesday? The “I” that seeks the Truth is still ego—but it’s the refined version, the ego that points beyond itself, like a GPS that tells you, “Recalculating route to Infinity.”

So maybe the sages weren’t wrong about letting go of ego. But until you use it to realize what’s beyond, dropping it too soon is like throwing away the car keys because you’re frustrated about potholes. The car’s still the way to get home.

Everyday Example: The Alarm Clock

Think of your alarm clock. It’s annoying, intrusive, and loud. You want to smash it against the wall every morning. But without it, you wouldn’t even wake up to know there is a morning. Ego’s the same. It wakes you up to the sense of “I am”—and from there, you get to see that you are more than the random noise of thoughts and identities.

In short: Ego isn’t the villain. It’s the slightly irritating but ultimately helpful character that gets you to the truth. Shed the noisy part, keep the “I am” part, and you might just find that what you thought was blocking God was really pointing to God all along.

How to Tune Into Your Inner Steady Hum

Have you ever walked past a giant generator or one of those industrial motors and felt it in your bones before you even heard it? That low, steady hum… reassuring, powerful, unbothered. It’s just there. Not shouting for attention, not needing to prove itself, but quietly powering the whole building.

That, my friend, is exactly what the sense of “aliveness” feels like.

We’re so used to identifying with thoughts—this endless parade of “should I…”, “what if…”, “oh no…”, “why me…”—that we forget there’s something far more fundamental buzzing underneath. A current that’s been running since before you knew your name, before you knew you had knees that creak when you get up too fast, before you had a list of worries that could rival a grocery bill.

The Dynamo Within

Sit still for a moment. Drop the drama. Forget the story of “you.” What’s left? A hum. Not metaphorical, but a very real sense that something is alive in you. Breathing, pulsing, steady as a ceiling fan in a summer power cut (when the current isn’t steady, you really notice!).

From that humming place, you’ll see your thoughts like little fireflies outside a streetlamp—pretty maybe, sometimes irritating, but clearly not the light itself. Even your precious “identity”—that carefully curated name, job title, Instagram bio—sits outside this hum. The aliveness doesn’t care if you’re CEO of the world or Chief Operator of the Remote Control. It just hums.

Aches, Pains, and Invincibility

Here’s the wild part: even the body’s complaints—sore shoulders, stiff back, that knee that behaves like it’s auditioning for a horror movie soundtrack—can be observed from here. You notice them, yes. But they’re not you. They’re like background noise in a café where the espresso machine hisses, chairs scrape, and the couple at the next table is arguing over pineapple on pizza. None of it stops the café from being a café.

And from here, strangely enough, there’s a feeling of invincibility. Not the Marvel superhero kind where you dodge bullets, but a deeper invincibility. Even mortality feels… well, slightly overrated. Because the hum doesn’t really start or stop—it just is.

Everyday Example: The Fridge

Think of your refrigerator. You don’t stand there all day listening for the motor. But if the hum stops, you immediately sense something’s wrong. Suddenly, all the thoughts appear: “Do I need to call the repair guy? Will my ice cream melt? How fast can I eat three tubs of Ben & Jerry’s?”

Our aliveness is like that fridge motor. It’s constant, reliable, and easily overlooked because it’s always there. But notice it, and suddenly the thoughts about melted ice cream (or anything else) are just noise outside that steady hum.

The Easy Part

Here’s the best news: nobody can deny being alive. This isn’t some mystical achievement reserved for monks in Himalayan caves. You’re alive, right now. The hum is running. Tuning into it doesn’t take effort—it takes not effort. Just notice.

The hard part? We forget. The easy part? We can remember again, any time.

So the next time you find yourself spiraling in thought or getting stuck in an ache, pause. Step back. Listen for the dynamo. That quiet, invincible hum of aliveness.

It’s been there all along, and unlike your fridge, you don’t need to call a repair guy.

The Ostrich, the Sand, and the Secret of the Universe

They say the ostrich buries its head in the sand to avoid danger.

That’s not true, of course — it’s a myth.

The ostrich does no such thing.

But if it did… ah, then we’d have a bird with a very promising career in philosophy.

Because the idea behind the myth — that shutting out the world makes it vanish — is actually a rather elegant pointer to one of the oldest truths in spiritual thought:

Everything you experience exists only in consciousness.

Sand as a Spiritual Tool

Let’s say you really were an ostrich (just for argument’s sake — no offence to your current species). You poke your head into the sand, and suddenly your vision is filled with warm, brown nothingness. No predators. No sky. No grass. No desert. The universe, for all practical purposes, is gone.

You didn’t destroy it — you just stopped perceiving it.

And here’s the big leap: the same is true for your waking life.

The so-called “objective world” is actually stitched together inside your mind. Without the light of consciousness shining on it, the whole grand spectacle collapses into… well, nothing.

The Sleep Experiment You’ve Been Running Every Night

This isn’t just poetic speculation. You prove it to yourself every single night.

When you slip into deep, dreamless sleep — that mysterious stage where there are no mental movies playing — the entire cosmos disappears. Not just your problems, not just your to-do list, but the Himalayas, the Pacific Ocean, the Milky Way — poof.

No you, no neighbour’s dog barking at 2 a.m., no neighbour either.

And yet, you wake up in the morning convinced the world “was there all along.”

But here’s the uncomfortable question: was it? Or is it that the world only exists when you are conscious of it?

Ancient Wisdom and Ostrich Wisdom

Philosophers from Advaita Vedanta to modern-day consciousness researchers have been politely trying to tell us the same thing: the “world” is an appearance in awareness, not an independent reality.

The ostrich myth, despite being zoologically false, has a certain charm here. If putting your head in the sand can make the predators vanish (from your point of view), isn’t that just the avian equivalent of closing your eyes in meditation? The outer scene fades, and you are left with the awareness that contains it all.

Why This Matters (Beyond Bird Comparisons)

If the universe only exists in consciousness, then our frantic attempts to “fix” the outside world before we’re happy might be a bit backwards.

Instead, we could turn inward and examine the one constant — the awareness in which all this appears.

That doesn’t mean you stop paying your bills or feeding the cat (even enlightened beings have to clean the litter box). But it does mean you stop clinging to the idea that the world is a fixed, external “thing” and start seeing it as a living, breathing projection in the cinema of your mind.

So the next time someone mocks the ostrich for “burying its head in the sand,” you might smile and think:

Maybe that ostrich isn’t avoiding reality.

Maybe it’s just contemplating the profound truth that without perception, the world as we know it… simply isn’t there.

And perhaps, like that mythical ostrich, we could all use a moment to put our heads down — not in sand, but in stillness — and watch the universe quietly dissolve back into the infinite awareness from which it came.

Kabir: The Weaver of the Infinite, and the Song of the Inner Beloved

“Ghoonghat ke pat khol re, tohe piya milenge…”
“Lift the veil, beloved — and you shall meet your Eternal Lover.”

The audio version of this blog

In a time divided by caste, creed, and the rigid formalities of religion, one voice emerged from the modest lanes of Kashi. It was not the voice of a scholar, nor of a priest, but that of a weaver — Kabir — whose threads joined the sacred and the everyday, the word and the Wordless.

More than 600 years have passed, and yet his voice rings louder than ever, reminding us of a simple, radical truth: the Divine is within you.

The Weaver and the World: Who Was Kabir?

Born in the 15th century — likely to a Muslim family of the Julaha (weaver) caste — Kabir remains an enigma. Legends say he was found as an infant near a pond in Varanasi and raised by a Muslim couple. Others say he was initiated by the Hindu saint Ramananda. Kabir himself defied labels, calling neither mosque nor temple his home. His religion? Love.

He made his living weaving cloth, but his true vocation was to weave unity across the fragmented landscape of Indian society. Through verses that were sharp, wise, and filled with mystical longing, Kabir sang not about a distant God, but about the Beloved who dwells within the breath.

🎧 Featured Song: “Ghoonghat ke Pat Khol Re” – A Cry of Awakening

In this iconic verse, Kabir speaks directly to the seeker. He says:

“The veil is not on your face, but on your mind.
Remove it — and you will see what has always been.”

The word “ghoonghat” refers to the traditional veil worn by women in northern India. But in Kabir’s poetry, it becomes a symbol — of illusion (maya), of ignorance, of the false belief that the Divine is outside us.

🕊️ Kabir’s Core Teachings: Simple, but Not Easy

1. God Has No Religion

Kabir rejected the labels of Hindu and Muslim, choosing instead to follow sahaj path — the path of naturalness and simplicity.

“Allah and Ram are different words,
but the One behind them is the same.”

2. Ritual Without Love Is Empty

He poked fun at rituals if they lacked bhakti — heartfelt devotion.

“You went to the temple, rang the bell.
But did you ring the bell of your own soul?”

3. The Guru Is the Boat Across the Ocean

Kabir revered the Satguru — the true teacher — as one who can destroy illusion and show the path inward.

“The Guru is greater than God,
for he shows you the path to the Divine within.”

4. Live Fully Awake

To Kabir, the real sin was spiritual sleep — not living consciously.

“Kabir soya kya kare, jo jagay so mare.
Jo mare so ubrejay, jaga hua kya dare?”

“Why sleep through life?
The awakened never fear death.”

🌍 Why Kabir Matters Today

  • He offers direct experience over dogma.
  • He affirms that awakening is possible right now.
  • His poetry is alive across traditions: sung by Sufis, Bhaktas, Bauls, and yogis.

Kabir is not a historical figure to be studied — he is a fire to be caught.

❤️ Kabir’s Love: Fierce, Fiery, and Free

Kabir’s relationship with the Divine was intimate, raw, and immediate. He didn’t seek salvation — he sought the Beloved, not in another world, but in every breath.

“Moko kahan dhoonde re bande,
Main to tere paas mein…”
“Where are you searching for Me, dear one?
I am right next to you. In you.”

🪔 Conclusion: Lift the Veil

To read Kabir is to be challenged. To sing Kabir is to be cleansed. To live Kabir is to tear away the veil and meet the Beloved — not in heaven, but in silence, in song, in surrender.

So once more, close your eyes. Listen:

May Kabir’s voice echo within your soul — until the veil lifts, and the One is seen.

Your House, Your Self: A Chill Take on Life and Beyond

Picture this: you’re standing in the middle of nowhere, just wide-open land stretching out forever. There’s mountains in the distance, a big ol’ sky above, and the ground under your feet. Birds are flapping around up high. Ants are doing their thing on the dirt. There’s some grass and bushes sprinkled around. It’s raw, it’s real, it’s just… there. So, you decide to build a house. You slap up four walls, fence off a chunk of this endless land, and call it yours. Inside, you add more walls—rooms, spaces, your own little world. Boom, it feels like your spot now, separate from all that wild stuff outside.

But here’s the thing about “owning” something—you get attached. Those birds? Their chirping starts to bug you. The ants? Suddenly they’re invaders creeping into your space. You shoo them out. Then, you lock the doors. Finally, you turn your house into a fortress to keep the outside world at bay.

Then one night, a massive thunderstorm rolls through. It’s loud, it’s scary, and it’s shaking your house like it’s made of toothpicks. You start freaking out, thinking, “What if this storm wrecks everything? My house, my space, my whole vibe—gone!” In that panic, you start imagining some big, powerful force that can save you. You call it God, give it a name, maybe even a face. You start tossing out prayers or offerings, like you’re paying for some cosmic insurance to keep your house standing.

Along comes someone else, claiming they’ve got the inside scoop on this God thing. They’re like, “Nah, you’re doing it wrong. I’m tighter with the Big Guy, so listen to me.” You are desperate to keep your house safe. You start trying to impress this person. You hope they’ll put in a good word for you.

But then another storm hits—bigger, badder. Your walls come crashing down, your rooms are toast, and you’re back standing in that same wide-open land. The birds are still flying, the ants are still marching, the grass is still swaying. It’s like nothing changed, but you feel different. Part of you recalls this entire cycle. It feels like déjà vu when you try to hold onto something that was never really yours.

And that’s when you start wondering: Was that space ever mine? Were those walls just a trick I played on myself? This is where things get kinda wild, because this whole setup is like a big metaphor for who we are.

Your House Is Your Body, the Land Is Your Mind

Think of the house as your body, the thing you’re walking around in every day. You build up this idea of “me”—your personality, your likes, your fears, your story. It’s like putting up walls to carve out a little “you” from the giant, endless consciousness that’s all around. Those walls are your skin, your thoughts, your beliefs, all the stuff that makes you feel like a separate person. Inside, you’ve got rooms—your job, your relationships, your dreams, all neatly organized.

The birds and ants? Those are the random thoughts, feelings, or distractions that pop up. They’re only annoying when you’re super attached to keeping your “house” just the way you like it. In the big picture, those thoughts and feelings are just part of the flow. They are like birds in the sky or ants on the ground.

The thunderstorm? That’s life’s way of reminding you nothing lasts forever—change, loss, even death. It shakes up your house, your body, your whole sense of “me.” Scared of losing it all, you turn to something bigger, like God, hoping it’ll keep you safe. You pray, you do rituals, whatever feels right. Then someone comes along saying they’ve got a direct line to that higher power. You follow them, thinking they’ve got the key to keeping your house standing.

But when the storm finally wipes it all out, you’re back in that wide-open land—that big, limitless consciousness. Your body is gone, your “me” fade, but that awareness, that land? It’s still there. It was never yours to own because, guess what? It’s what you are.

The Loop We Keep Living

This whole story is like a loop we’ve been running for ages. We build our houses—our bodies, our identities, our communities, our beliefs—trying to grab a piece of something infinite. We stress about keeping it safe. We pray to powers we hope will protect us. We listen to people who claim they’ve got the answers. But storms always come, and they always take down what we built.

That little memory you feel in the story? That’s your gut telling you this loop doesn’t have to keep going. You start asking: Was it ever mine? Is this “me” I’m so attached to even real? Is that big, endless consciousness something I’m just floating in, or is it actually me?

That’s when things start to shift. You realize the house isn’t a cage—it’s just a temporary setup, a way to experience this wild, infinite land. Your body, your “me,” your walls—they’re tools for living, not for owning. The birds, the ants, the storms? They’re not against you—they’re part of the same big picture you’re in.

Living Free and Easy

Living without clinging to the walls means chilling out in the big, open land without trying to fence it off. It’s about seeing your house—your body, your life—as this cool, temporary thing that’s awesome while it lasts. Let the birds chirp, let the ants march, let the storms roll through. They’re all part of you, like your thoughts and feelings.

You don’t have to ditch the house. Build it, love it, make it yours. Just don’t grip it so tight. When the storm comes, let it do its thing. When the walls fall, no big deal. You’re not just the house—you’re the land, the sky, the mountains, the whole dang scene.

And when you get that, you don’t need a God to save you. You don’t need some guru to show you the way. It’s just you and this big, beautiful, endless vibe—and you’re already right at home.

Shiva, Shakti, and the Silicon Soul: A Modern Take on Ancient Energies

Modern Take on Ancient Energies

In the cosmic dance of creation, Shiva and Shakti whirl in an eternal embrace, their energies shaping the universe. But what if we told you that this divine duo has a surprisingly modern parallel in the world of technology? Buckle up, dear readers, because we’re about to take a wild ride from the Himalayas to Silicon Valley—where ancient philosophy meets the digital age. Today, we’re exploring the theory that Shiva is potential energy and Shakti is kinetic energy, and whether this idea extends to the relationship between computers and software. Spoiler alert: it’s more connected than you might think.

Shiva: The Stillness of Potential Energy

Shiva, the great yogi, sits in deep meditation, embodying stillness and quiet power. He’s like a coiled spring, full of energy just waiting to be unleashed. In physics, potential energy is the stored energy an object holds due to its position or state—like a boulder perched on a cliff, ready to roll. Similarly, Shiva represents the universe’s unmanifested potential, the quiet force behind all that is yet to be.

In Hindu philosophy, Shiva is often described as the static, unchanging consciousness—the silent witness to the world’s unfolding. He’s the ultimate introvert, content to sit in blissful detachment, holding infinite possibilities within. But here’s the catch: without a nudge, that potential remains just that—potential. Enter Shakti.

Shakti: The Dance of Kinetic Energy

Shakti, the divine feminine, is the force that brings Shiva’s stillness to life. She’s movement, action, and transformation—the kinetic energy that turns potential into reality. In physics, kinetic energy is the energy of motion, like that boulder finally tumbling down the hill, unstoppable and full of force. In the same way, Shakti is the dynamic power that creates, sustains, and (when necessary) destroys.

Imagine Shiva without Shakti—he’d probably just sit there, deep in meditation. Shakti is the spark, the activator, the one who says, “Alright, enough meditating—let’s make something happen!” Together, their union is the perfect balance of stillness and motion, potential and action.

Is This Idea Correct?

So, does the idea of Shiva as potential energy and Shakti as kinetic energy hold water? Metaphorically speaking, yes—it’s a brilliant fit. Ancient Hindu texts don’t use the language of physics, but the philosophical essence aligns beautifully. Shiva’s stillness mirrors the latent power of potential energy, while Shakti’s vibrancy captures the essence of kinetic energy in action. It’s not a scientific definition straight out of the Vedas, but rather a poetic interpretation that bridges ancient wisdom with modern concepts. And honestly, it’s too cool an idea not to run with.

Computers and Software: A Technological Parallel?

Now, let’s teleport to the 21st century and test this analogy in the tech world. Picture your computer. The hardware—the motherboard, processor, RAM—is like Shiva. It’s the static platform, the potential waiting to be harnessed. Without software, it’s just a hunk of metal and silicon, much like Shiva in deep meditation, unmoved and unmanifested. It looks impressive, but it doesn’t do much—like a really expensive paperweight.

Software, on the other hand, is Shakti. It’s the code that breathes life into the hardware, making it perform tasks, run applications, and connect us to the digital world. Just as Shakti activates Shiva’s potential, software activates the computer’s capabilities. It’s the kinetic force that turns a dormant machine into a powerhouse of productivity (or, let’s be honest, endless cat videos).

Does this correspondence work? Absolutely. The computer hardware sits there, full of potential, but it’s the software that puts it into motion—creating, calculating, and sometimes crashing (because even Shakti has her chaotic days). In the tech world, we even have our own version of festivals celebrating this union—think software launches and tech expos, where the latest programs and apps are unveiled, bringing new life to our devices. It’s like a digital Maha Shivaratri, minus the incense and chanting (though, hey, maybe that’s next).

A Dash of Quantum Spice

For those who like their philosophy with a side of science, here’s a bonus: some modern thinkers link Shiva and Shakti to quantum physics. Shiva’s dance, the Tandava, is sometimes compared to the unpredictable, wave-like behavior of subatomic particles—pure potential until observed. Shakti, then, could be seen as the force that collapses that potential into reality. It’s a heady mix of mythology and quantum mechanics, but it adds a fascinating layer to the analogy. (Just don’t ask me to explain Schrödinger’s cat in Sanskrit.)

Conclusion: The Dance Continues

Next time you boot up your computer, think of it as a mini-cosmic dance. The hardware, your Shiva, holds the potential, while the software, your Shakti, brings it to life. The idea of Shiva as potential energy and Shakti as kinetic energy isn’t just correct in a metaphorical sense—it’s a lens that reveals harmony between ancient spirituality and modern technology. It’s a reminder that even in our digital age, the timeless wisdom of balance between stillness and action still holds true.

So, what do you think? Does this analogy resonate with you? Or do you have your own spin on how Shiva and Shakti play out in the tech world? Drop your thoughts in the comments below—let’s keep the dance going!

Disclaimer:

This blog post is written with deep respect for the sacred nature of Shiva and Shakti, revered figures in Hindu mythology symbolizing consciousness and energy. There is no intention to trivialize or diminish their profound spiritual significance. The modern language, contemporary references, and choice of words used here are solely intended to make the content relevant and relatable to today’s readers. By connecting timeless wisdom to the present day, we aim to engage and inspire curiosity about these ancient concepts in a way that resonates with modern times.

We hope readers will see this as a respectful effort to bring the essence of Shiva and Shakti into a current context, fostering understanding and appreciation without altering their divine importance.

Neville Goddard vs. Ramana Maharshi: The Truth About Reality

One of the most fascinating questions in spirituality is whether we create our own reality or whether everything is already predetermined. On one hand, Neville Goddard’s Law of Manifestation tells us that we can manifest anything we desire by assuming the feeling of already having it. On the other, Ramana Maharshi teaches that everything is dictated by destiny and that trying to change our fate is futile.

At first glance, these two views seem contradictory. If everything is already written, then what is the point of manifesting? But if manifestation truly works, does that mean fate is not real? Let’s explore both perspectives and see if they can actually be reconciled.

Neville Goddard: You Are the Creator of Your Reality

Neville Goddard’s teachings emphasize that imagination is the divine creative force. He believed that by living as if our desires are already fulfilled, we bring them into reality. According to this view, our external world is simply a reflection of our internal state. The universe responds to our feelings and beliefs, making manifestation a conscious and deliberate process.

For example, if you believe and feel that you are already successful, the world will eventually mirror that belief. The key is to fully embody the state of having what you desire, without doubt or resistance.

Ramana Maharshi: Surrender to the Divine and Accept Destiny

Ramana Maharshi, one of India’s greatest sages, had a completely different approach. He often spoke about prarabdha karma (the karma that unfolds in one’s lifetime) and how everything is predetermined by the divine will. From this perspective, trying to change our external reality through personal effort is meaningless because what is meant to happen will happen, no matter what.

Ramana advocated the path of self-inquiry (Who am I?), urging seekers to transcend their sense of individuality and surrender to the higher Self. Instead of chasing desires, he encouraged us to dissolve the ego and recognize that the true Self is beyond manifestation and destiny alike.

How Can These Two Views Coexist?

At first, it seems impossible to reconcile these two perspectives, but a deeper look reveals a potential harmony:

  1. Manifestation and Destiny Can Be Two Sides of the Same Coin
  • What we desire and try to manifest may itself be part of our predetermined path. If something is meant for us, we may naturally feel drawn to it and manifest it with ease.
  • If something is truly not in our destiny, we may struggle no matter how much we try to manifest it.
  1. Inner vs. Outer Reality
  • Neville’s teachings help us navigate and shape our external world through belief and feeling.
  • Ramana’s wisdom teaches us to go beyond the external world and recognize the deeper reality where nothing needs to be manifested because we already are complete.
  1. The Role of Self-Realization
  • Neville’s approach is useful when operating as an individual in the world, helping us improve our life circumstances.
  • Ramana’s path leads to the dissolution of the ego itself, where the concepts of manifestation and destiny dissolve into the eternal truth.

So, Which One is True?

The answer depends on how we see ourselves:

  • If we see ourselves as individuals navigating life, manifestation seems real and powerful.
  • If we seek ultimate truth, Ramana’s teaching shows that everything, including manifestation, is just part of the greater play of consciousness.

Perhaps the best approach is to blend both perspectives:
✨ Use Neville’s teachings to create a fulfilling life in the material world.
🕉 Follow Ramana’s wisdom to transcend attachment and accept life as it unfolds.

Both paths lead to greater awareness—one through creation, the other through surrender. The choice, perhaps, is also part of destiny!

What do you think? Have you experienced moments where manifestation worked? Or do you feel that life unfolds as per destiny no matter what?

Understanding Chris Langan’s CTMU: A Cosmic Perspective

Decoding the CTMU: Chris Langan’s Universe-Sized Brainchild

At nallamadras.com, we often explore fascinating intersections of science, spirituality, and philosophy. From the mysteries of meditation to the connection between music and higher consciousness, we love diving into big ideas that challenge us to think differently. Today, we venture into one of the most ambitious theories out there—the Cognitive-Theoretic Model of the Universe (CTMU) by Chris Langan, often dubbed “the smartest man in America.”

If you’ve enjoyed our previous posts, like “The Interplay of Music and the Cosmos” or “Exploring the Philosophy of Oneness”, then buckle up—because the CTMU takes the idea of interconnectedness to a whole new level.

What Is the CTMU? (Breaking It Down)

The CTMU—short for Cognitive-Theoretic Model of the Universe—is Chris Langan’s attempt to explain everything. Yes, everything. It’s a bold framework that combines science, philosophy, and metaphysics into one cohesive theory. In Langan’s words, the CTMU offers a way to “connect mind, matter, and the laws of the universe.” Sounds epic, right? It is. But let’s break it down into digestible pieces.

The Big Ideas of the CTMU

1. Reality as a Self-Simulation

Imagine the universe as the ultimate game of Minecraft, but instead of being created by a programmer, it programs itself. The CTMU suggests that reality isn’t just a physical system—it’s a self-simulating, self-defining process. It’s like the universe is its own coder, constantly evolving and updating itself.

2. The Unity of Mind and Matter

You’ve probably heard debates about whether the mind is separate from the physical world. The CTMU says, “Why not both?” Langan argues that mind and matter are two aspects of the same system. Think of it like a smartphone: the hardware (matter) and the software (mind) work together seamlessly to make the system function.

3. Reality Speaks Its Own Language

Here’s where things get poetic. Langan describes reality as a kind of language. But instead of using words or grammar, it uses logic and structure to “speak itself” into existence. That means every atom, every galaxy, and yes, even you, are part of an ongoing cosmic conversation.

4. The Universe Is Its Own Creator

Who or what created the universe? The CTMU’s answer: the universe created itself. Think of it as a cosmic Russian nesting doll—except this one is infinite, constantly redefining and containing itself.

Why Should You Care About the CTMU?

You might be thinking, “This is fascinating, but how does it apply to me?” Great question. The CTMU isn’t just an intellectual exercise; it offers profound implications for how we see ourselves and our place in the universe.

• You’re Not Just in the Universe—You Are the Universe

According to the CTMU, you’re part of the system that defines reality. Everything you think, feel, and do contributes to the greater whole.

• Your Thoughts Have Power

If reality is a self-simulating system where mind and matter are intertwined, then your thoughts might play a bigger role than you realize. In essence, the universe might not just be observing you—you’re shaping it, too.

Connecting CTMU to Spirituality

At nallamadras.com, we often explore themes of spirituality and interconnectedness, from meditation techniques to the power of bhajans and kirtans. The CTMU adds a fascinating layer to these discussions.

For example, the idea that the universe is self-aware aligns with spiritual traditions that emphasize oneness and the unity of all existence. Whether you’re drawn to the chants of Krishna Das or the meditative rhythms of shamanic drumming, the CTMU suggests that these practices tap into something fundamental about the universe itself.

Criticism and Why It Doesn’t Diminish Its Value

Of course, the CTMU isn’t without its critics. Some argue it’s too abstract or philosophical to be considered a proper scientific theory. Others say it’s nearly impossible to test or prove.

But let’s be real: when you’re trying to explain everything, a little pushback is inevitable. What makes the CTMU fascinating isn’t whether it’s flawless—it’s the fact that it challenges us to think bigger.

Making It Fun: CTMU and Everyday Life

Let’s lighten things up. If the CTMU is true, it means:

• You’re Part of a Giant Simulation: Next time you’re stuck in traffic, just remember—you’re contributing to the cosmic code.

• The Universe Is Watching: Not in a creepy way, but in a “we’re all connected” kind of way. Maybe that’s why your coffee tastes better when you’re in a good mood.

• Black Holes Are Drama Queens: According to the CTMU, even the universe loves a bit of mystery.

Why the CTMU Matters

Whether you’re a science enthusiast, a spiritual seeker, or just someone who loves asking big questions, the CTMU has something to offer. It’s a reminder that we’re all part of something far bigger than ourselves—a vast, interconnected system that’s constantly evolving.

Chris Langan’s work invites us to see the universe not just as a collection of atoms and forces but as a living, breathing system of which we’re an integral part. And that, in itself, is a pretty profound takeaway.

Curious about how this ties into other concepts we’ve explored? Check out more on spirituality and daily living or the philosophy of interconnectedness.

Let me know what you think—does this cosmic theory expand your perspective, or leave you scratching your head? Either way, the conversation is worth having!

Let me know if you’d like further edits, more links, or tweaks to the tone!

Sharanagati: Life’s Algorithm, Synchronicity, and Surrender

In case you feel lazy to read, here’s an audio synopsis of this article!

Have you ever wondered if life operates on some hidden algorithm, much like the ones YouTube and Facebook use to serve us cat videos and conspiracy theories? One minute, you’re innocently scrolling, and the next, you’re sucked into a rabbit hole of “10 Ways to Bake Banana Bread.” But what if our body-mind complex works on a similar system, curating our experiences based on our focus? And what if Hindu philosophy has been telling us this for millennia through concepts like sharanagati or surrender?

Trouble Begets Trouble—The Universe’s Auto-Suggestions

There’s an old saying: “Trouble begets trouble.” It’s almost as if the universe runs on the same principle as an algorithm: “If you liked worrying about that minor inconvenience, here are five more crises to spiral into.” Sound familiar? Hindu philosophy would call this the power of the mind’s focus, aptly explained in the Bhagavad Gita (Chapter 6, Verse 5):

“One must elevate, not degrade, oneself by one’s own mind. The mind is the friend of the conditioned soul, and its enemy as well.”

In other words, your mind can be your best friend or that nosy neighbor who keeps bringing up your most embarrassing moments. The choice, apparently, is yours.

The Great Car Color Conundrum

Allow me to confess a minor existential crisis: the time I couldn’t decide between leasing a black or steel-grey car. As if this decision would somehow alter the course of human history, I agonized over it. And then, as if the universe were trolling me, every car I saw on the road was black. It was like a cosmic nudge saying, “Pick black already and move on with your life!”

Psychologists call this the Baader-Meinhof phenomenon, or frequency illusion. Hindu sages, of course, knew this eons ago. They called it smarana—what you hold in your mind manifests in your reality. My fixation on black cars tuned my mental antenna to spot every single one on the road. The universe wasn’t trolling me; it was just playing by the rules of perception. That’s some algorithmic precision!

Parking Spots and Divine Surrender

Now let’s talk about parking. There’s this notoriously crowded street near where I live. Getting a spot there is akin to winning a cosmic lottery. Naturally, I avoided it. But life has a way of forcing us to confront what we despise. Whether it was a dinner invitation or some unavoidable errand, I kept finding myself on that street. At first, I resisted, grumbled, and railed against my bad luck. Then I thought, “Okay, Universe, I give up. You win.”

And just like that, parking spots started appearing out of nowhere. The Gita beautifully captures this shift (Chapter 18, Verse 66):

“Abandon all varieties of duty and simply surrender unto Me. I shall deliver you from all sinful reactions. Do not fear.”

Surrender, or sharanagati, is not about waving a white flag. It’s about aligning with the bigger picture, trusting that the Supreme Algorithm (a.k.a. the Universe, God, or your term of choice) has got this. When I let go of control, the parking gods smiled upon me. Coincidence? Perhaps. But surrendering felt a lot better than fuming.

Synchronicity: Cosmic Humor at Work

Carl Jung called it synchronicity; Hindu philosophy simply calls it lila—the divine play. It’s when events align so perfectly, it feels like a wink from the cosmos. The Isha Upanishad offers profound insight into this interconnectedness:

“The Self is everywhere, within and without. Whoever sees all beings in the Self and the Self in all beings feels no hatred.”

When you recognize the interconnectedness of everything, life stops feeling random and starts feeling orchestrated. Like when you think about an old friend, and they call you out of the blue. Or when you’re searching for answers, and a random podcast or book gives you just the clarity you need. It’s the cosmic algorithm in action, personalized just for you.

The Universe’s Sense of Humor

Let’s not forget that life’s algorithm comes with a built-in sense of humor. It’s like that mischievous friend who knows exactly how to push your buttons but ultimately has your back. You’re trying to plan every detail, and life goes, “How cute. Here’s a completely unexpected curveball.”

Take my parking saga. I spent months stressing over something entirely out of my control, only to realize that surrendering—truly letting go—opened the door to solutions I couldn’t have imagined. The universe, it seems, rewards those who stop micromanaging.

The Vedantic Takeaway

Hindu philosophy isn’t just about renunciation or abstract wisdom; it’s profoundly practical. Whether it’s the Bhagavad Gita urging us to master our minds, the Upanishads reminding us of our interconnectedness, or the concept of sharanagati teaching us the art of surrender, these ideas are as relevant today as ever.

So, do we all have a programmable algorithm within us? Absolutely. Is synchronicity real, or is it just our minds playing tricks? Maybe a bit of both. Is surrender the secret to peace of mind? Definitely worth a try.

In the end, life’s algorithm has a sense of humor. You might as well laugh along with it, trust the process, and enjoy the ride. Who knows? The universe might even throw in a good parking spot as a bonus.