The Invisible Architecture of Human Experience - Exploring What Lies Between an Event and Our Experience of It

“I thought you would have handled this better.”

Just one sentence.

Five seconds, perhaps.

But those five seconds can set off quite a bit of activity inside!

There may be a little tightening somewhere. The breathing changes. Something shifts around the chest or stomach. An emotion appears. And before long, the mind has joined the conversation.

What does he mean by that?

I did the best I could.

Doesn't he know what I had to deal with?

And if the mind is in particularly good form that day, it may even retrieve something the same person said three years ago, with surprising speed and accuracy!

The sentence lasted five seconds.

The inner conversation can happily continue for the next five hours.

I find this fascinating.

What exactly happened between those few words reaching my ears and this whole experience unfolding inside me?

We might simply say:

“His comment upset me.”

Fair enough.

But did the comment really travel through the air carrying a small packet of hurt and deposit it somewhere inside me?

Obviously not.

Another person hearing exactly the same words might shrug, laugh, become angry, feel embarrassed or simply say, “You may be right.”

The words were the same.

The experience wasn't.

So something rather interesting must be happening between the situation outside and the experience inside.

That gap is the territory we are exploring in Figure 1.

Figure 1: What happens between event and experience?

That “something in between” is what I have been trying to understand.

I have started thinking of it as the Invisible Architecture of Human Experience.

Not as a grand new theory, I am certainly not proposing another branch of human anatomy!

It is simply an attempt to bring together some ideas I have been exploring about the body, energy, mind, emotions and the ancient understanding of our inner architecture.

Before the Mind Has Finished Thinking…

Let us hear that sentence again:

“I thought you would have handled this better.”

Before I have prepared my defence or counterattack, the body may already have responded.

The jaw tightens. The stomach contracts. The heartbeat changes. The breath becomes shallower.

Sometimes the body seems to have received the message before the mind has finished reading it!

We may also notice something harder to describe:

“I suddenly felt drained.”

“Something sank inside me.”

“My energy changed.”

Then the mind gets busy.

That was unfair.

He doesn't appreciate me.

Maybe he thinks I am incompetent.

The mind doesn't simply register what happened. It interprets it.

The same comment could become: “He thinks I am incompetent.” or “Maybe I could have handled that differently.”

Same words.

Very different inner experiences.

So perhaps we do not experience events quite as directly as we imagine. Something within us receives, reacts, interprets, remembers and gives meaning.

Our Sages Had Another Way of Looking at This

Long before brain scans, ECGs or EEGs, our sages were exploring human experience through observation, introspection, contemplation and meditation.

But how do we make sense of something as complex as ourselves?

One useful way is to create abstractions, simple conceptual maps that help us separate, observe and understand different aspects of something that, in actual experience, functions as an interconnected whole.

This is how I find it useful to look at the traditional ideas of the shariras and koshas.

They need not be imagined as separate physical structures hidden somewhere inside us. Rather, they offer different ways of organising our understanding of the human experience.

The three shariras give us one broad view:

Sthula Sharira -  the gross or physical body
Sukshma Sharira -  the subtle body
Karana Sharira -  the causal body

The five koshas offer another, more differentiated view:

Annamaya Kosha -  the physical sheath
Pranamaya Kosha -  the vital-energy sheath
Manomaya Kosha -  the mental-emotional sheath
Vijnanamaya Kosha -  the sheath of discernment and understanding
Anandamaya Kosha -  the innermost sheath, traditionally associated with bliss

Figure 2 brings these two ways of looking at our inner architecture together.

Figure 2: Our Inner Architecture

I don't find it particularly useful to imagine the koshas as five physical layers stacked neatly one inside another.

They become much more interesting if we ask:

Could they represent different dimensions through which our experience unfolds?

Our five-second criticism now becomes a useful little laboratory.

From Situation to Response: The Koshas at Work

The words are heard.

The body responds - the domain of Annamaya Kosha.

There is a shift in vitality or activation - Pranamaya Kosha.

Thoughts and emotions arise - Manomaya Kosha.

And perhaps, after a while, another faculty enters:

Wait. Why is this affecting me so strongly?

Is there some truth in what was said?

Do I really need to react immediately?

That brings in Vijnanamaya Kosha - perspective, discernment and the possibility of conscious choice.

Finally, something comes out into life.

I may argue, withdraw, explain myself, ask a question - or respond quite differently after reflecting.

Figure 3 shows how I find this model most useful: not as a conveyor belt through which experience travels in a fixed sequence, but as interacting dimensions continuously influencing one another.

Figure 3: How an experience moves through us
From situation to response through the koshas

A thought can change the breath.

An emotion can alter our sense of energy.

Physical exhaustion can influence the mind.

Changing the breath can soften an emotional reaction.

A new understanding can change the whole experience.

The koshas are less like separate floors in a building and more like rooms in which everyone seems to be talking to everyone else!

That, for me, makes this ancient model much more alive.

Where Does the Subtle-Energy Architecture Fit?

Within this picture, Pranamaya Kosha deserves a closer look.

Our traditional understanding of the subtle body describes an energy architecture involving prana, nadis, chakras and granthis.

The nadis are traditionally described as pathways through which prana moves.

The chakras are described as important centres within this subtle-energy system.

And the granthis, literally “knots” point towards binding or attachment.

I would be cautious about treating these as physical anatomical structures waiting to be found by a medical scanner.

For me, their value lies in the questions they help us ask about our own experience.

Seven Chakras or Seven Recurring Human Concerns?

Consider how much of human life revolves around a surprisingly small number of concerns:

Security and stability.

Pleasure and relationship.

Confidence and personal power.

Love and connection.

Expression and communication.

Understanding and insight.

Meaning and transcendence.

These correspond closely with experiential themes traditionally associated with the seven chakras.

Figure 4 brings these themes together as a simple map of human experience.. from security and stabiility at Muladhara, through relationships, confidence, love and expression, to understanding and the search for meaning.

Figure 4: Same words. Different inner response.

Seven Centers - Seven recurring dimentions of life

Now let us return to our critical comment.

Why did those few words affect me?

Did they disturb my sense of security?

Did I feel rejected?

Was my confidence or sense of competence challenged?

Did I feel unappreciated?

Was there something I wanted to express but couldn't?

The same comment can therefore touch different dimensions of our inner world and sometimes more than one at the same time.

This is one reason I find the chakra framework useful, not merely as seven points on which to concentrate during meditation, but as a map for observing some of the recurring themes through which we experience life.

When the Present Touches an Old Knot

There is another complication.

We do not process today's experience using only today's information.

The mind has an impressive archive - memories, old hurts, successes, failures, fears, expectations and ideas about ourselves.

So today's criticism may quietly bump into something much older.

Perhaps I have always felt that people underestimate me.

Perhaps recognition is especially important to me.

Perhaps failure frightens me.

Suddenly, I am not responding only to one sentence spoken this morning.

Several old files may have been opened.. sometimes without asking permission!

This is where the traditional idea of granthis becomes particularly interesting.

Granthi literally means a knot.

What a wonderfully human image.

We become attached to possessions, relationships, opinions, old hurts and identities.

Perhaps the comment has touched an old identity:

“I must be seen as capable.”

or

“People should appreciate what I do.”

Then the intensity of my reaction begins to make more sense.

The five-second comment has found a knot.

Fortunately, We Are Not Limited to Our First Reaction

Now imagine that somewhere in the middle of all this, I catch myself.

Wait a minute… why am I reacting so strongly?

The hurt may still be present. The body may still be tense. And the mind may still have several excellent arguments ready for immediate deployment.

But something has changed.

I am beginning to examine my reaction instead of simply being carried by it.

Perhaps I ask:

Is there some truth in what was said?

Am I reacting to the comment... or to my need to be appreciated?

Is an old experience getting mixed up with this one?

What response would actually help?

This is where Vijnanamaya Kosha becomes especially significant.

Perspective.

Understanding.

Discernment.

Choice.

The situation has not changed.

But my relationship with it has.

A little space has appeared between reaction and response.

But Now Something Curious Appears

Let us slow down here.

My body became tense.

I noticed it.

My energy shifted.

I noticed that too.

I felt hurt.

I knew I was hurt.

Thoughts started racing.

I could see those thoughts.

An old memory surfaced.

I knew I was remembering.

And now a rather interesting question arises:

How did I know all of this was happening?

Until now, everything we have explored has been part of the content of experience.

Body sensations are experienced.

Energy states are experienced.

Emotions are experienced.

Thoughts and memories are experienced.

Even the identity I am trying to defend can become something I observe.

So what is it that knows them?

Perhaps Awareness Isn't Another Box

It is tempting to extend the map we have been building.

We have spoken about the body, energy, mind and discernment as different dimensions of experience. So perhaps Awareness is simply one more dimension to be added to the picture.

But something doesn't quite fit.

Everything we have described so far is something we can experience or observe.

The body changes.

Energy changes.

Emotions and thoughts change.

Memories come and go.

Even our understanding of ourselves changes.

Yet somehow, all these changes are known.

This leads me to an interpretation I find increasingly meaningful:

Awareness may not be another component inside the architecture of human experience.

Perhaps it is that through which the entire architecture, and everything happening within it, is known.

This is the shift that Figure 5 tries to capture. Until now, our figures have explored what happens within experience. Here we step back and look at the whole architecture differently.

Figure 5: The Architecture within Awareness

A different way of seeing the whole picture

Not another part of the experience, but that through which the experience is known.

For me, this seemingly small shift changes the whole picture.

And Then Shiva and Shakti Appear…

At first, this may seem like an unexpected turn.

We usually encounter Shiva and Shakti as divine forms.. deities we worship, stories we have grown up with, images we see in temples and homes.

But what if, for a moment, we look at them not only as deities but also as symbols of something happening within us all the time?

Suddenly, the connection becomes fascinating.

Everything we have explored so far is in movement.

The body responds.

Prana moves.

Emotions rise and fall.

Thoughts appear and disappear.

Words are spoken.

Actions happen.

Life expresses itself.

This movement, energy and expression can be seen symbolically as Shakti.

And throughout all this movement, the movement is known.

That still, knowing presence can be seen symbolically as Shiva.

So perhaps Shiva and Shakti can also become a beautiful way of contemplating two inseparable dimensions of our experience:

Shakti — everything that moves, changes and expresses.

Shiva — the Awareness in which that movement is known.

Every thought is Shakti moving.

Every emotion is Shakti moving.

Every action is Shakti expressing.

And Awareness?

Perhaps that is where we begin to glimpse Shiva.

Not somewhere far away, but right here.. in the middle of an ordinary human experience that began with seven rather uncomfortable words:

“I thought you would have handled this better.”

Meditation Then Becomes a Laboratory

Seen this way, meditation need not simply be about stopping thoughts.

That is fortunate, because thoughts often appear not to have received that instruction.

Meditation can become a laboratory for exploring this invisible architecture.

I notice the body.

The breath.

Changes in energy.

Emotions.

Thoughts.

Memories.

Resistance.

Attachment.

And gradually the question may shift from:

“What am I experiencing?”

to:

“What is aware of this experience?”

That is a very different kind of exploration.

Ancient Maps and Modern Windows

There is a temptation here to make everything fit neatly together.

Prana must equal this.

A chakra must correspond exactly to that.

A kosha must be the ancient name for some modern physiological system.

I think we should be careful.

Modern science and the our contemplative traditions developed through different methods and often asked different kinds of questions.

Science investigates the brain, nervous system, hormones, breathing, cognition and behaviour.

Traditional contemplative systems gave us other maps.. shariras, koshas, prana, nadis, chakras and granthis.. largely emerging from introspection, contemplative practice and philosophical inquiry.

We don't have to force one vocabulary into the other.

Perhaps they are better seen as different windows looking at the extraordinary phenomenon of being human.

When Life Becomes the Practice

The next time somebody says something that gets under your skin.. and life is usually generous in providing such opportunities, try a small experiment.

Don't suppress the irritation.

Don't immediately try to become spiritual about it.

Just become curious.

What happened in my body?

Did my energy change?

What emotion appeared?

What story did my mind create?

Did this touch an older hurt, fear or expectation?

Can I see another perspective?

And then, perhaps after a little pause:

What is aware of all this happening?

You may not get an answer.

That is perfectly all right.

Perhaps this is one of those questions where finding a quick answer is less important than learning to stay with the question.

Because this invisible architecture isn't operating only when we meditate.

It is active while having breakfast.

While driving.

While reading a WhatsApp message.

While receiving praise.

While being ignored.

While arguing with someone we love.

Life keeps arriving.

Our inner architecture keeps responding.

Most of the time it happens so quickly that we simply call the result: “My experience.”

Perhaps there is value in occasionally slowing it down.

A situation.

The body responds.

Energy shifts.

The mind interprets.

The past sometimes joins in.

Discernment may appear.

A response emerges.

And somewhere along the way comes a rather remarkable discovery:

I am aware that all of this is happening.

Perhaps understanding the Invisible Architecture of Human Experience is ultimately not about creating a more complicated theory of ourselves.

Perhaps it is simply about understanding a little better how we experience life, creating a little more space between reaction and response, and becoming curious about that quiet presence through which the whole fascinating drama is known.

From Muladhara to Kailasam: A Journey Within the Shiva Lingam

 

Our Visit to the Maheswaram Sri Shiva Parvathi Temple, Chenkal

Some temple visits stay with us because of the deity, some because of the architecture, and some because of the atmosphere.

Our visit to the Maheswaram Sri Shiva Parvathi Temple at Chenkal, near Neyyattinkara in Thiruvananthapuram, stayed with me for a different reason. It brought together, in a remarkable physical form, several ideas that have fascinated me for years - the chakras, meditation, the inner journey and the symbolism of Shiva.

Asha, Pratibha and I travelled to Chenkal by road from Tirunelveli, a journey of about three hours. It was raining heavily for almost the entire drive, and by the time we approached the temple, all three of us were a little tired.

And then, almost as if nature had decided to give us a small window, the rain paused as we reached the temple.

What had particularly attracted me to this temple was its enormous 111-foot Shiva Lingam. But its height was not really what drew me there.

I had heard that one could actually enter the Shiva Lingam, and that inside it was a tower structured around the chakras.

That immediately aroused my curiosity.

Entering the Shiva Lingam

From outside, the Mahalingam is impressive simply because of its scale. But the real experience begins when we step inside.

The interior has been conceived around the ancient idea of Shadadharam - the six principal energy centres leading upward in the inner journey. There are six meditation levels associated with Muladhara, Svadhishthana, Manipura, Anahata, Vishuddha and Ajna, along with a prayer level below and the symbolic Kailasam at the top.

The journey upward is through a spiral, cave-like passage.

And slowly, it begins to feel less like climbing a tower and more like moving through a symbolic representation of the human energy system.

At each level, the atmosphere changes. Large chakra symbols, the characteristic lotus petals, colours and other symbolic elements create an ambience corresponding to that particular energy centre.

For someone who has spent years exploring the chakras, seeing these concepts translated into an architectural and experiential space was fascinating.

But for me, something more personal was happening.

As I ascended from one chakra level to the next, I found myself consciously connecting with the corresponding chakra within me.

Muladhara was no longer merely a symbol on a floor. Svadhishthana, Manipura, Anahata and the other chakras were not simply concepts to be observed. At each level, I paused inwardly and allowed myself to resonate with the quality of that chakra.

The physical climb was gradually becoming an inner journey.

There was another interesting experience. We had arrived feeling somewhat tired after the long, rainy drive. Yet as we climbed, Asha and Pratibha too felt that, rather than becoming more tired with each floor, they seemed to be gaining energy.

Whether it was the movement, the atmosphere, the excitement of discovery or something subtler, I cannot say.

But the experience was unmistakable: we had entered tired, and as we climbed, we felt increasingly energised.

108 Shiva Lingams

Another striking feature is the presence of 108 Shiva Lingams within the structure, distributed across the chakra levels.

The number 108 carries deep significance in Indian spiritual traditions. Here, the Lingams also recall the traditional account of the 108 Shiva temples associated with Parashurama in Kerala.

Along the journey are also representations of 64 forms of Shiva, together with figures and imagery connected with sages, meditation and the spiritual tradition.

There is something to discover almost everywhere one looks.

Yet, for me, the individual sculptures were not the most impressive part.

What impressed me much more was the thought behind the whole creation.

Ancient Knowledge Made Visible

As I moved from one level to another, I kept thinking about the enormous effort that must have gone into this project.

Someone had to go back into the traditions and scriptures, gather the different strands of knowledge, understand their symbolism and then ask:

How can all this be represented in a form that an ordinary visitor can actually experience?

That, for me, was the real beauty of the Chakra Tower.

Concepts such as chakras, energy centres, meditation and the ascent of consciousness can remain abstract. We can read about them, discuss them and meditate upon them.

Here, an attempt has been made to give those ideas space, form, colour and movement.

You don't merely read about an ascent through the chakras.

You physically climb.

You move from one level to another.

You pause.

You observe.

And, if you choose to, you turn your attention inward and experience what each level evokes within you.

Finally, you reach Kailasam at the top.

From Muladhara to Kailasam

There is something beautiful about that symbolism.

The journey begins at the lower energy centres - the dimensions of our existence connected with physical life, security, relationships, emotions and personal identity.

As we move upward, the symbolism gradually takes us towards love, expression, awareness and finally transcendence.

At the highest level is Kailasam, represented by Shiva and Parvathi beneath the Sahasrara symbolism.

For me, having consciously connected with each chakra during the ascent, arriving at Kailasam had a special significance. What began as curiosity about an unusual temple structure had quietly transformed into a meditative experience.

Whether one interprets the chakras literally, energetically, psychologically or simply as a profound spiritual metaphor, the message is powerful:

The journey towards Shiva is also a journey within ourselves.

Perhaps that is why the experience touched me so deeply.

Shiva, Shakti and the Journey Within

In Chakra Dhyanam, we often explore the relationship between Shakti and Shiva - energy and awareness.

Shakti is the movement of life within us: our thoughts, emotions, desires, actions and energies.

Shiva represents the silent awareness in which all these movements are experienced.

Standing inside that enormous Shiva Lingam and moving upward through the chakra levels gave this familiar idea another dimension.

The outer structure was a Shiva Lingam.

But the journey was happening inside it.

And, in a curious way, another journey was happening inside us.

Perhaps that itself carries a message.

We spend much of our lives searching outside for experiences, answers, fulfilment and even spirituality. Yet our ancient traditions repeatedly turn our attention in the opposite direction.

Look within.

The chakras themselves can be viewed as milestones in that exploration—not merely as coloured symbols or energy centres, but as mirrors through which we can understand different dimensions of ourselves.

More Than a Monument

I went to Chenkal curious to see a 111-foot Shiva Lingam and its Chakra Tower.

I came away appreciating something much deeper.

Certainly, the scale of the structure is impressive. The 108 Shiva Lingams distributed across the chakra levels, the different forms of Shiva, the enormous chakra symbols and the ascent to Kailasam all make it a unique experience.

But what delighted me most was the effort to bring together ancient spiritual knowledge and transform it into an experiential journey.

For me, that was the real achievement.

A scripture can explain.

A teacher can interpret.

A meditation can help us experience.

And sometimes, architecture can make an invisible idea visible.

Our visit to Chenkal was one such experience.

We arrived after a long journey through the rain, somewhat tired.

We entered a Shiva Lingam.

We climbed through the chakras.

Somewhere along the way, the tiredness seemed to give way to energy.

And we reached a symbolic Kailasam.

What began as a visit to an extraordinary temple became, for me, a gentle reminder:

The distance from Muladhara to Sahasrara may be measured in floors inside a tower.
The real journey, however, is measured in awareness.

And that journey is within.

Ganesha and the Journey Within

From Grounding to Expanded Awareness

Whenever we begin something new, many of us instinctively remember Ganesha.

A new venture, a journey, a ceremony, a new phase in life.. we seek his blessings before taking the first step. Ganesha is Vighnaharta, the remover of obstacles, and the deity of auspicious beginnings.

But there is another way in which I like to look at Ganesha.

What if the journey on which he accompanies us is not only a journey into the world outside, but also a journey within ourselves?

Why Does the Journey Begin with Ganesha?

In the yogic tradition, Ganesha is associated with Muladhara, the root chakra.. the foundation of our energy system.

I find this association fascinating.

We normally imagine a spiritual journey as an ascent towards something higher - greater awareness, deeper consciousness or transcendence. Yet the journey begins at the root.

Perhaps there is a simple message here: before we rise, we must be grounded.

A tree reaches towards the sky because its roots are firmly anchored in the earth. In the same way, an inner journey need not begin by escaping our ordinary life. It begins by being fully present in it, with our body, responsibilities, relationships and circumstances.

Ganesha, firmly associated with the foundation, seems an appropriate guardian of that beginning.

The Remover of Which Obstacles?

We usually pray to Ganesha when we encounter or anticipate obstacles in the external world.

But meditation gradually introduces us to another kind of obstacle.

Fear, anger, attachment, old hurts, expectations, the need for approval, habitual reactions, and  opinions we cannot let go of.

Some obstacles are obvious. Others remain hidden because they have become so much a part of us that we no longer recognise them as obstacles.

This is where meditation becomes interesting.

When we sit quietly, we begin to notice what is happening within us. We see thoughts appearing without invitation. We notice emotions arising. We become aware of our reactions and recurring patterns.

The obstacle may not immediately disappear.

But we begin to see it.

And perhaps seeing clearly is itself the beginning of removing an obstacle.

Ganesha as a Symbol for the Inner Journey

Even the familiar form of Ganesha offers several opportunities for reflection.

His large ears can remind us to listen.. not merely to the words of others, but also to what is happening quietly within ourselves.

His small, focused eyes suggest attention and the ability to look deeply rather than merely glance at the surface.

His trunk combines remarkable strength with extraordinary sensitivity. It can uproot a tree, yet delicately pick up something tiny. Perhaps our inner strength too need not mean rigidity; true strength can coexist with sensitivity.

And then there is Ganesha's little mouse.

The contrast is striking, an enormous Ganesha with a tiny, restless creature as his vehicle.

One interpretation sees the mouse as representing the restless mind and its endless desires.. constantly moving, searching and nibbling at one thing after another. Yet in the presence of Ganesha, this restless creature is not destroyed. It becomes his vahana - his vehicle.

I find that symbolism particularly meaningful for meditation.

Meditation is not necessarily about destroying or suppressing the mind. It is about developing a different relationship with it.

The mind remains.. but we need not be carried away by every movement of the mind.

From Mind to Awareness

As meditation deepens, a subtle shift can sometimes be noticed.

Initially, we are completely involved in our thoughts:

I am worried.
I am angry.
I am disturbed.

Gradually, another possibility appears:

I can see that worry is arising.
I can notice anger within me.
I am aware that my mind is disturbed.

The situation may not have changed. The thought may still be present. Yet something has changed in our relationship with it.

There is awareness.

And this raises a fascinating question: What is it within us that is aware of the movements of the mind?

We may not need to hurry to find an intellectual answer. Meditation allows us to stay with the question and explore it through experience.

Perhaps this movement, from being completely identified with every thought and emotion to becoming aware of them, is one small doorway towards understanding consciousness.

Returning to Ganesha

This brings me back to why I find the symbolism of Ganesha so appropriate for the inner journey.

He sits at the foundation.. reminding us to remain grounded.

He is the remover of obstacles.. inviting us perhaps to recognise not only the obstacles outside us, but also those within.

His form reminds us to listen, observe, develop sensitivity and learn to live with the restless mind without necessarily becoming its servant.

And meditation gives us a way of exploring all this.  Not merely as ideas, but through our own experience.

Perhaps that is why beginning with Ganesha has a significance that goes beyond ritual.

Before trying to change the world around us, we begin by looking within.

Before removing an obstacle, we learn to see it.

Before seeking expanded consciousness, we establish ourselves firmly at the foundation.

And before beginning the journey, we pause.

We become aware.

We invoke Ganesha.

And then, the journey within begins. 

From Chakra Meditation to a Journey of Self-Discovery

 

I have been practising Chakra Meditation for nearly four decades.

For many years, it remained largely a personal practice. As my own understanding deepened, I began sharing the practice with a few people around me through in-person sessions. Then came COVID. Like many other activities, the sessions moved online and that unexpectedly became the beginning of something much larger.

What started simply as teaching Chakra Meditation gradually evolved into a structured journey of self-discovery and understanding life through understanding ourselves.

Bringing Ancient Wisdom and Modern Science Together

One question has fascinated me throughout this journey:

What actually happens within us when we meditate?

My interest in the science of meditation led me to explore neuroscience and other scientific perspectives alongside what our ancient scriptures and yogic traditions tell us.

This gradually became an important part of the course.

Rather than asking participants simply to practise a technique, I wanted them to understand the body, mind and energy processes associated with meditation, and how sustained practice could potentially influence the way we perceive, become aware and respond to situations in everyday life.

The course therefore evolved into a blend of ancient wisdom, personal experience and contemporary scientific understanding.

A Journey Into the Self

Over successive batches, the programme became more structured and experiential.

Today, the journey explores several interconnected dimensions: the mind and its patterns; the subtle-energy architecture of chakras and nadis; prana or life-force energy; interactions between body, mind and energy; our receptivity to universal life-force energy; gratitude and affirmations as part of inner practice; vibrations and frequencies; and exercises for cleansing and quietening the mind.

But I have consciously tried not to make these merely subjects to be taught.

The intention is to create experiences through which participants can observe what is happening within themselves.

Meditation then becomes more than sitting quietly with closed eyes. It becomes a way of understanding ourselves, and perhaps gradually transforming the way we live.

Can We Measure What We Cannot Easily See?

Another area that has fascinated me for many years is the measurement of subtle energies.

Can something that we experience subjectively during meditation also leave measurable effects on the body or mind?

This led me to explore different approaches to observing the state of mind, physiological changes and patterns associated with what traditions describe as life-force or subtle energy.

I eventually introduced an entire session called “Measuring the Unseen” into the programme.

During the session, we discuss - and in some cases demonstrate - different approaches such as physiological measurements, Kirlian / GDV-type imaging, aura or bio-field scanning, and other emerging approaches such quantum-physics based approaches that attempt to interpret subtle or subconscious patterns.

I am careful to distinguish between what science can measure directly, what can only be inferred from measurable effects, and what still remains exploratory.

For me, that distinction is important. Spiritual experience does not need to be forced into science, nor should scientific terminology be used merely to legitimise spiritual ideas. Both can contribute to our understanding when we remain curious about what each can, and cannot, tell us.

The Life Mirror

This exploration eventually led me in another direction.

I began working on an AI-assisted reflection framework based not on instruments, but on something much closer to everyday life:

How do we respond to situations?

An unexpected expense, criticism, rejection, recognition, disappointment, hurtful words, uncertainty etc.

Our responses to ordinary situations can reveal a great deal about what is happening within us.

The framework therefore looks separately at two dimensions: (1) our expression or response, and (2) our awareness of what is happening within us while we respond.

The purpose is not diagnosis, nor is it to attach a label to a person. It is a self-reflection tool - a mirror that may help participants observe patterns across different dimensions of life and revisit them after continued meditation practice.

I call it the Life Mirror.

Eighteen Batches - and Still Evolving

In the early days, I documented very little. I was more interested in conducting the sessions and observing how people experienced them.

Later, I realised that the programme itself was evolving and needed to be documented systematically.

Since beginning that documentation, I have completed 18 batches, and Batch 19 is now being planned in couple of weeks.

I don't advertise the programme. Participants have come almost entirely through word of mouth from people who have experienced the course themselves.

I deliberately keep each batch small, with a maximum of around 30 participants. We meet twice a week, and the ten-session journey is completed over approximately five weeks.

Participants have joined from different parts of the world, bringing very different life experiences into the same exploration of the self.

The Journey Continues Beyond the Course

The sessions themselves are only one part of the journey.

We also have a vibrant WhatsApp community called Chakra Dhyana Sadhana, where conversations continue around meditation, awareness, mind, energy and everyday life.

Questions, reflections, small experiments and polls often turn into interesting discussions.

It does take a considerable amount of my time.

But I thoroughly enjoy it.

Much of what I share is knowledge that I myself have received, studied, experimented with and gathered over many years. Being able to pass some of it on, and seeing people use it for their own self-development, is deeply fulfilling.

A Different Kind of Guru Dakshina

The course is completely free.

Occasionally, participants ask whether they can offer me a Guru Dakshina.

I tell them that I am happy to receive their gratitude in the form of energy rather than money.

If they still feel they would like to give something, I request them to donate an amount of their choice to an NGO that I am associated with, working in the neurodiversity space.

That, for me, makes the circle complete.

What Began as a Meditation Practice...

When I look back, it is interesting to see how something that began as my personal Chakra Meditation practice nearly four decades ago has taken on a life of its own.

It became a meditation course.

The course became a journey into the mind, energy and awareness.

That journey led to questions.

The questions led to research.

The research led to experiments, measurements and new frameworks for self-reflection.

And every batch teaches me something new.

Perhaps that is what I find most satisfying about this entire journey: I may be conducting the sessions, but the learning is never one-way.

We explore together. We experience together. And, in many ways, we all learn from each other.

The journey continues.

Transitioning to Independent Living: Pratibha's First Month at TTC

It has been a month since we moved to The Together Community (TTC), Hosur on 22nd June.  Looking back, I feel this transition to independent living did not happen in a month. It is the culmination of years of preparation, patient planning, and the support of an extraordinary team.

The Together Community (TTC) is a thoughtfully designed residential community for adults with Autism and developmental disabilities, where independent living is supported through a caring ecosystem of families, Direct Support Professionals (DSPs), medical support, and community life. It is an initiative of the Together Foundation Trust, with Smt. Sangeetha Chakrapani, Founder of the Trust and the driving force behind the TTC project, providing the vision and leadership behind this unique model of supported independent living.

Right from the beginning, Sangeetha Chakrapani guided us with a well-thought-out transition plan. Her suggestion was simple but brilliant - we recreated the ambience of the studio apartment in our own bedroom. We arranged two beds: one for Pratibha and one for her Direct Support Professional (DSP), Basanti Yadav. This gave the two of them an opportunity to get to know each other in a familiar environment before moving into the studio apartment.

Initially, we were contemplating whether Pratibha really needed a dedicated DSP. We thought that perhaps a shared caregiver, supporting two or three special adults, would be sufficient, considering Pratibha's functional independence. Looking back now, we feel that having a dedicated DSP during this transition phase made a big difference. It allowed trust to develop naturally, gave Pratibha the reassurance of a familiar face, and helped her adapt to her new environment much more smoothly than we had imagined.

The following Monday, Pratibha shifted to her studio apartment. To make the transition gentle, Asha stayed inside the studio apartment with her for the first week. We could see that Pratibha was making a genuine effort to adapt to her new surroundings.

What probably helped the most was the preparation that had begun long before we came to TTC. For more than five years, we had been talking to Pratibha about independent living. We had tried to help her understand that one day she would have a home of her own and that we wanted her to live as independently as possible with the right support. So, when she entered the studio apartment, she didn't see it as a temporary place. She genuinely tried to make it her own home.

Our weekend routine also became an important part of the transition. Every Friday evening, Pratibha comes to our villa, spends Friday night with us, attends her day activities on Saturday, returns home on Saturday evening, and stays with us until Sunday evening. On Sundays, we prepare some of the food that we are used to so that neither Pratibha nor we miss our familiar Konkani cuisine. After dinner on Sunday, she happily goes back to her studio apartment, where Basanti joins her.

Gradually, beautiful signs of belonging began to appear.

She started practising her sitar in the studio apartment with my help. She arranged her belongings comfortably. More importantly, she began referring to it as "my house" or "my studio apartment." Every time I heard those words, I felt an indescribable sense of relief. Those simple words told me that she had begun to accept the studio apartment as her own home.

Pratibha Practising Sitar in Her New Home

Another heartwarming development was the relationship that blossomed between Pratibha and Basanti. What started as a professional support relationship gradually transformed into a warm friendship. Pratibha started calling her affectionately "Basantu," teasing her, laughing with her, and treating her like a buddy rather than a caregiver. Watching that bond develop has been one of the most reassuring aspects of this transition.

After the first week, another carefully planned step was introduced. Instead of sleeping inside the studio apartment, Asha started sleeping outside the room. Pratibha knew her mother was just outside, and that reassurance helped her become increasingly comfortable sleeping independently while continuing to strengthen her bond with Basanti.

After reviewing Pratibha's progress with Sangeetha Chakrapani and the Team Leads, it was decided that, beginning Monday, 20th July, she was ready to stay independently with Basanti.

Pratibha knew that the review meeting with Sangeetha was taking place couple of days before this planned date. Though she repeatedly told Asha, "I am happy to stay without you," we could sense the emotional struggle she was going through. That emotional discomfort also manifested itself in a few physical symptoms. We were, however, confident that these would gradually reduce as her comfort and confidence increased. It was a courageous moment for her. Like every major life transition, it carried both excitement and anxiety.

Since 20th July, Pratibha has been staying independently in her studio apartment while we stay in our villa. We continue to meet her every day in the cafeteria during meal times, and she happily looks forward to coming home to our villa every Friday evening for the weekend.

Life is slowly settling into a beautiful rhythm.

Every day, I spend time with her helping her practise her sitar. Those sessions have become precious moments for both of us.

Asha spends about an hour with her every afternoon in the studio apartment, giving her emotional reassurance while still allowing her the space to build her own independent routine.

Basanti has been wonderful in helping Pratibha with her daily living skills, including ensuring that she takes the right portions of food during meals. The Medical Centre meticulously manages and monitors her medication - now limited to vitamin supplements - giving us tremendous confidence that her health is being looked after with great care. The team has also started helping Pratibha learn to ride a bicycle - something we never imagined would become part of her routine. Every new skill she acquires is another small step towards greater independence.

Looking back, I feel this successful transition is the result of meticulous planning by Sangeetha and the remarkable execution by the professional Team Leads. Every step was introduced gradually, never abruptly, allowing Pratibha to adjust at her own pace.

What has touched us equally is the warmth of the entire TTC community. The families here, the uncles and aunties, fellow special adults, the cafeteria staff, the DSPs, the Team Leads, and the Medical Centre have all played their part in making Pratibha feel accepted and at home. Independence, we have realised, does not mean living alone. It means living confidently within a caring community. The warmth and acceptance that surround her every day have made this transition far easier than we had imagined.

As parents, we often wonder whether our children will find a place where they truly belong after we are gone. Over the past month, TTC has given us the confidence that Pratibha is not just living in a place - she is becoming part of a family.

As parents, we are keeping our fingers crossed and praying that this beautiful journey continues just as smoothly.

This is still only the beginning.

But today, when Pratibha proudly says, "This is my house," I know that years of preparation, patience, hope, and countless small steps have finally begun to bear fruit.

I thought of sharing this experience because many parents of adults with special needs cherish the same dream that we have cherished for years - that their child should one day experience a life of dignity, belonging, and as much independence as possible.

Our experience over the past month has reinforced one important lesson: Independence is not achieved in a single day. It is built over years of preparation, trust, compassionate support, and the courage to let go - one small step at a time.