Dhis is tantra. That is divine.

The crucial question is whether such a sacred encounter is only possible in romantic love, as tradition and romanticism suggest - or whether it can arise when we open our being completely, beyond reason and rationality, beyond ego, desire or obligation. I believe it can. But it has nothing to do with climax as a goal. It's about intimacy. It can be as simple as a touch, a smile, a heartbeat - sparks that can sometimes lead to something much more powerful. Certain energies only reveal themselves in the union of love. But this too is a spiritual path - one that sees the body as a temple, the self as multi-layered and reality as far more than matter.

It is the sacred union with the divine consciousness. And this union is not the same as the union of the awakened. With an awakened consciousness rooted in spirituality, it feels natural to connect with the world and with others, to experience everything as one and to recognize the unity of consciousness as the root of the material world. But the real secret lies not in connection alone, but in what we choose to share with others - and what we choose not to share. I am not talking about wealth, possessions, recognition or resources. I'm talking about something much more intimate: who we allow to witness our innermost being, our soul - who we allow to see us, and how. I'm talking about love and sexuality, about liberation from expectations, performance, posturing and egotism.

When I meet another on an intimate level - a touch, a smile, a heartbeat - a connection is created through presence and awareness. I feel, I sense, I allow myself to be seen, felt and touched on the level of the soul. This can happen with a loved one, a stranger or the person I am in love with. But sometimes something doesn't feel right. Someone expects too much, sees differently, feels something I don't share, or shares something I don't feel. In these subtle negotiations, I find myself figuring out who I'm allowing to see me, what connections I'm engaging in, and how deep I'm willing to go. When things are not in alignment, I shut down. I stop talking, smiling, performing. My body, my mind, my soul - everything withdraws.

My soul is too precious. It is sacred. I refuse to jeopardize it or allow it to be deformed. I can bend my ego - that's easy. The roles I play, the expectations I fulfill as a member of society, the community, the culture - they can be bent. Sometimes it can be amusing or painful to bend them. It can bring growth or trauma, success or suffering. We can share that. We can heal or exploit, empower or wound. These are the exercises of the ego. But that's not what I'm talking about.

I am talking about the soul - that which we must discover, that which is given to us, that which is greater than us, that which is eternally connected to the divine. This connection is sacred. It can take spiritual form as practice, as devotion, as the pursuit of enlightenment or the embrace of deep love. This is the secret of Tantra - of Shiva and Shakti, the union of the fundamental principles of existence. They are connected by eroticism, but not by eroticism as it is commonly understood. It is an eroticism of truly being seen. It is much more about being seen than actively seeing.

We cannot see the divine. But we can feel that we are seen by it - anchored in it, a part of it - by making our senses available so that the divine can experience itself through us. I am a vessel. My soul is the bridge. I can be seen by the Divine through the senses that another person provides for this sacred perception. This sacred union of Shiva and Shakti is the core of Tantra.

So when I close myself off, when my body withdraws, it is not a childish reaction, a question of performance or an immature defense. It is the soul protecting its sacredness and saving itself for a meaningful encounter. This kind of encounter is rare - especially in intimacy, where the energy field is most immediate, powerful and fragile. It is easily corrupted and often buried under external desire. Saying no, withdrawing, shutting down is an act of self-preservation. It reveals that something sacred is present - something worth protecting. It is the whisper of realization. I have had moments when I was truly seen.

Der Beitrag Sacred Energy erschien zuerst auf New Spirits - Reading Deleuze in India.

Lou read Sri Aurobindo again and again at long intervals. Why not absorb everything much and quickly and finally bring order into my world of thoughts, which wants to break free from the consequences of rational monotheism? Why don't I give my intellect the freedom, concentration, calm and strength to embark on one of life's greatest adventures?

As a student, I once very naively went swimming in the Rhine, somewhere off Basel, where the water was clear and cold, flowing fast and wide through green mountain landscapes. As soon as we jumped into the river, we found ourselves in the middle of the stream. The bank passed by at breakneck speed and we knew we had to get out again quickly, because we had simply gone into the river somewhere and had to find our way back to our clothes somehow. We were excited, alive, reborn. It felt like diving into the river of life. The senses sharpened, the world as a process showed its power in a loving way, the self asserted itself against the five elements. The intellect was quiet, the experience of the sublime great, the breath active. This is one of the images in my memory that helps me to follow the Upanishads.

This experience, like every experience, consists of images. In contact with the outside world, the outer senses convey an inner sense, a perception that can become an experience. This inner sense, mediated by the nerve endings of the outer senses, is fed by the vibration of light, sound, touch, taste and smell. And this inner sense can in turn express itself through sound, gestures and representation. This inner sense is consciousness.

In spiritual philosophy, the world of the inner sense is the world of the subtle in contrast to the world of gross matter. The images that manifest themselves in the subtle reality are real (Schopenhauer and Bergson also recognized this). And just as images of trees and butterflies, people and art, pain and joy manifest themselves in this world, we also find traits of character, personality structures, power constellations, larger contexts that we recognize as images. We ask ourselves why someone does something or why I perceive something in a way that is not good, right or true. We can confide in images that appear to us as illusions; we can perceive the illusion as reality and we can have the feeling of being trapped in something that exceeds our own possibilities of control. So we perceive things that do not correspond to any external object that could have touched my external senses. We can formulate the logic of these images in hypotheses and 'test' them against reality. Consciousness precedes reality. In the past, this world was structured by the gods of the pantheon. Today we pretend that it is science.

Subtle and crude reality

We try to understand the world of gross matter with the help of the natural sciences, although this is actually a euphemism, because the natural sciences are not really concerned with investigating nature, because what constitutes nature is the connection to that subtle reality. So would it be more honest to stick to the narrower concept of empirical science? The science that concentrates on what can be repeatedly experienced? This also seems to be misleading, because many things in the subtle world can indeed be experienced and described empirically. What about the individual sciences such as physics, medicine and sociology? They impose a self-restriction on themselves by concentrating on the material world and deriving general laws from it. These laws of nature in turn describe a deeper reality, a metaphysics. As long as metaphysics excludes consciousness, it is allowed to assume very complex theories and elementary particles, as long as it does not become entangled in contradictions (although this is also often permitted).

What is it that prevents modern science from dealing with consciousness? What has discredited the inner world of experience to such an extent that we do everything we can to deny it? The answer is double-edged. Rationality, which opposes the phenomenology of consciousness, accelerates the applied sciences through its basic research; and in the form of enlightenment, it attempts to critically scrutinize abuses of power. On the other hand, it leaves behind an emptiness that is concealed by consumption and a culture industry of whatever kind, creating a kind of Disneyland (Adorno). The confrontation with spirituality is marginalized and relegated to the realm of the obscure. Are there perhaps good reasons for this? After all, the success of the Enlightenment in the 20th century could not even be halted by the catastrophe of the Holocaust. The exploitation of our environment allowed a feudal lifestyle for the masses in the West. I am not an opponent of progress, but it has its price.

India

How do the fact that 16% of the population in India are malnourished and 97% say they are spiritual fit together? Does one have nothing to do with the other? Is the question a classic category mistake? Is an inwardly enlightened society that owes its prosperity to the exploitation of the global South more successful than a colonized spiritual society whose tolerance of suffering ensured its survival? Can any conclusions be drawn from such polarizing statements? I mention this here to suggest that a question about spirituality and consciousness need not or cannot necessarily be discussed in connection with progress, as this quickly becomes very confusing.

I live here in the south of India, partly in a pre-modern world. The suffering of many is difficult to bear from a modern perspective, religious practice sometimes appears naive, social structures are patriarchal and archaic on the surface, culture is traditionally oriented, knowledge is conservative. I am very aware of my privileged position here and try to avoid romanticizing. Nevertheless, there is something in this world that has been lost in modernity: the integrity of being. Being is not merely the suffering of the individual self and its urge for self-realization, but being is part of cosmic reality, within which the self is part. That this notion can be richer, freer and more self-realized at the end of the day is the power of spiritual thinking that delves into the subtleties of subtle reality.

Der Beitrag Strom des Lebens erschien zuerst auf New Spirits - Reading Deleuze in India.

Et is so wonderful and also so sad to live in a world that sees the West as foreign. I am adopting this perspective more and more and no longer understand many things. The obsession with career, comfort, security, prosperity, accuracy, correctness, know-it-all attitude and arrogance, ignorance and intolerance. All of this is becoming clearer, it is almost evident.

I was sick for a few days and, as many people do, I watched movies, nothing inspiring. Series garbage. I hadn't done that for a year and I felt sick afterwards. My brain was overloaded, my synapses were firing, and the ideology of a perfect world that needs to be protected from the bad guys in order to strengthen the community and help the individual to be 'right' is actually unbearable.

But then I wanted a few nice memories of the culture that I left so far behind. That's always the music for me. And that's how I came across Purcell. It's not particularly original, but it's still beautiful.

A friend told me about her idea of love. It's so different from anything I know that I don't even want to outline it here. Chastity would be one word, but that's a complete misnomer. So I listened to Purcell Solitude... and I was again overcome by that feeling of self-pity that is expressed in such music. The pain of loneliness, the longing for death, comfort and fear, the search for stability that only finds peace in melancholy. This great feeling of Europe, melancholy, what would Europe be without melancholy? A joke?

Now that I was already listening to Purcell, I gave in and found Jessie Norman. I was tired of seeing beautiful young white women. And there she appeared majestically, in a universe of mirrors, begging to be remembered. And so this image became a symbol of the beautiful sadness of the subject exploring herself, largely without regard for others or anything else. A narcissistic disorder. Self-pity, melancholy and self-righteousness, and so beautiful. The head of Medusa. This whole culture is built on misunderstanding.

And before the music algorithm switches to French pop, I'll end this here.

Om

Der Beitrag Der Westen als Fremde erschien zuerst auf New Spirits - Reading Deleuze in India.

Vany of my friends have a strong will, they are creative, they design, make, act, do... They confront the world with their own will and add themselves to it or refuse to accept it as it is. This generates creativity, change. It is the power of Shakti, the creative energy of the universe.

I am different, I observe, I try to understand the world as it is. I don't want to change it, even though I see a lot of suffering and injustice, I observe, I listen... It all seems to me to be a question of perspective. Changing your own position means seeing things differently, I don't have the urge to change the world. A work of art, a cultural configuration, a temple, a birthday party, a planned vacation, a project idea... these are all things that I see, I like to participate, help and get involved. But I don't have this urge to create and I always ask myself why that is. Is there something missing in me? Do I have no driving force within me, no will to create?

It seems to me that my way of creating lies in meditation, it is the way I change my own perception, change my perspective, see the world differently, focus on a different aspect. Is this a form of passivity, of procrastination, or a form of reflection, a power of consciousness, a manifestation of the spirit?

The world needs different perspectives of a consciousness that holds it together, in the truest sense of the word. It is the writers who create worlds. Schriftsteller is a beautiful German word, because its root means that someone uses writing to present, set out or depict, set up and set down, impute, juxtapose something. In the act of writing, a world is created that does not attempt to change the world itself. The presented writing, a text, can change the world if it is read and stimulates action, but the text itself is pure consciousness, the writing merely the medium, it can be translated and transcribed conditionally, set to music, or illustrated... (This paragraph is mistranslated by Google translate)

A contemplative consciousness, in concentration and meditation, is a kind of writing.

Greetings to Kafka

Der Beitrag Eine Welt des Willens? erschien zuerst auf New Spirits - Reading Deleuze in India.

So far back as my memory goes, I remember that I always enjoyed listening to music. It is a matter of concentration, of enjoyment, of devotion, of self-dissolution. It was always a mystery to me what this power of music is, because it is very fleeting, ephemeral, it usually comes out of a loudspeaker. A technical device produces sound waves and the listener sinks into inner landscapes. What happens there? It is the Vibration. In the Kenaupani pity it became clear that the mixture of different vibrations constitutes consciousness.

I would like to try to differentiate this a little today. Starting from a meditative state, the question arises as to the qualitative constitution of this consciousness. In a state of high concentration, the sensory impressions from outside are reduced. It is not really possible to mute the outside world, but it is possible to concentrate in such a way that the sensory impressions are perceived as such in a first stage and are 'released' from consciousness in a second stage. It is not so much a phenomenological epoch in which the existence of the outside world is placed in an epistemic bracket, i.e. the question of its existence is kept open, but rather a withdrawal of attention. It is a dispassionate observation: Ah this impression is now present, or this thought comes, or that memory appears... Letting all these pass by as what they are is a first stage of meditation. In an inner vision, it then becomes clear how consciousness is constituted.

Inner rooms

A space filled with consciousness opens up. However, this does not react to sensory stimuli, but is pure and clear. This is where the forces of consciousness manifest: my body (matter), my breath (the life energy/prana), my mind (which analyses and visualizes), the experience of existence (rapture/ananda), pure consciousness (chit). In this consciousness, which is aware of its various levels, the self moves freely. Here the Self (Atman) meets the soul (Purusha) and realizes that consciousness itself, which encompasses everything (Brahman), is the Creator (Sat). This is where the forces of our world become visible as such: love, war, compassion, pleasure, beauty, suffering in all their forms. They are real in our consciousness and it makes little sense to deny them. We experience them, and we name them, and we communicate and share them, we live them out and realize them, they become very real forces in the world, working in them. All of this is undeniable. It is a little difficult to explain and that is why science often pretends that they are epiphenomenal, that they are merely insignificant side effects of physical processes. But this is not very wise, as it robs us of our own essence.

Music

I have expanded a little here because I think that this inner space has several antechambers, and art occupies many of these antechambers. In music, for example, I enter an inner space that is created by vibrations. I can move freely in it, because music helps me to let everything that is not music pass by. In this space, I can then go on inner journeys, which is why we always go into musical spaces when we are happy or sad. We relive past experiences and process them. These are fundamental psychological principles. But here too we can climb the ladder of consciousness. Our body and breath can be explored in dance, our mind can visualize the music, clarify its structure, bring its composition, execution, interpretation before the inner eye. But when I really concentrate and contemplate the music, as I now do best with Dhrupa of Bahauddin Dagar, then the music becomes pure sensuality (Rasa). And suddenly the question is no longer how a technical device can produce sound waves that can generate such a consciousness. This question belongs to the world of the rational mind. The music itself, the vibration with which my consciousness merges, opens up a different space, a space of simulation, contemplation, insight and light. Active listening to music is very close to deep meditation.

My aim is to give the experience its own space and not to grind it into reductionist contradictions. Music takes place in the antechambers of the meditative space. And this is almost identical for painting, sculpture, dance, architecture, literature and poetry etc... if I engage with their core qualities. It has its meaning here. The question of what music is has not been fully answered, but its function, its meaning, its effect is now a little clearer to me. It is no longer a mysterious secret, but a beautiful tool. It belongs to Saraswati.

Art, it now seems to me, is understood from here in India. And it is from here that Ananda Coomaraswamy's criticism of Western art is understood as 'retinal' clear.

Der Beitrag Die Macht der Musik: Eine Meditation über Bewusstsein und innere Räume erschien zuerst auf New Spirits - Reading Deleuze in India.

An intense month comes to an end. Moving, spatial separation, friends parting, the love of godchildren, new friendships, longings, waiting... I could write a screenplay about the last few weeks in Provence. Every day filled with pain, compassion and love - collectively in different constellations. But I don't want to tell these little stories, even though Marcel Pagnol might have enjoyed them.

What concerns me is the question of pain. Life is suffering, say Buddhists - very abbreviated. Wanting and desire are the causes of frustration and suffering. But life itself, thirst and hunger, the body's desire, also causes suffering. I have never fully understood this. I understand that desire that does not come to rest creates more and more desire. Bringing this craving to rest is part of meditative and spiritual practice. And the moments of happiness? Do they only create more craving, or can't we simply let them be as such? I.e. be able to enjoy them by letting go.

Today I met a neighbor. With all the changes at the moment, I always don't know how to answer questions. I usually say: I don't know. He understood immediately, he defended me in the round and said he just doesn't know, that's what it means to be able to let go. I was very happy about that.

When we are very attached to something, we find it difficult to let it go. Sometimes these are practical constraints. We had gotten used to it. Now we have to say goodbye. That causes suffering. So is it better not to enter into a relationship at all, for example? And if a connection breaks up, should we just stay calm? Is that even possible? Isn't that what our life is all about, these intense experiences?

A phase, perhaps. Our mental and spiritual growth goes through these phases. Siddhartha was not enlightened at the age of 5, but as an adult who had already experienced a lot, had seen a lot... growing pains. What doesn't knock us down makes us strong? That's nonsense, of course, but in essence it's interesting, because borderline experiences allow us to grow. Discovering new things, living through them and then being able to let go. This is the only way we can really develop. It would be nice if we didn't ruin the planet in the process. Stay mindful!

Der Beitrag Wachstumsschmerzen erschien zuerst auf New Spirits - Reading Deleuze in India.