Saturday, 3 October 2026

The Rise and Fall of Our Ascent



There is a moment when you realise you are rising.

You feel lighter.
Your attention becomes clearer.
The mind becomes quieter.
Something within you begins to change.

And then, sometimes, without even noticing it, you begin to fall.

Not suddenly.

There is no great crash.

Just a little less meditation.
A little more ego.
A little more reaction.
A little more attention on the world outside—and a little less on what is happening within.

Until one day you wonder:

How did I get so far from where I was?

In Sahaja Yoga, Self-Realisation is not the destination. It is the beginning of our ascent.

When the Kundalini rises, our attention can enter a new state of awareness—beyond the constant movement of thought. But then comes the real journey: establishing ourselves in that state and allowing our inner growth to continue.

Shri Mataji described this growth as natural and organic. Like a tree, as we grow upwards, our roots must grow deeper. We cannot force our ascent through the mind or ego. We nurture it through meditation, attention, collectivity and awareness.

And this is where the journey becomes a knife edge.

We can rise into greater awareness, peace and joy—or we can become caught again in our conditioning, ego, desires and reactions.

The danger is that the fall is rarely dramatic at first.

It can begin with a small loss of attention.

We become preoccupied with ourselves.

We stop meditating.

We stop watching ourselves.

We become more interested in what is wrong with everyone else than what is happening within us.

Gradually, our attention moves away from the centre.

And what once felt light can begin to feel heavy.

So how do we know which way we are moving?

Not by asking ourselves whether we are “spiritual”.

Look at the quality of our life.

Are we becoming more peaceful?

More forgiving?

More balanced?

Less reactive?

More generous?

More aware of our own shortcomings?

More connected to collective consciousness?

These are signs of ascent.

And if we are becoming increasingly judgmental, restless, egotistical, dissatisfied or identified with our problems, perhaps it is time to stop and look within.

The point isn't to judge ourselves. It is to catch ourselves.

The beauty is that ascent can be restored

We don't have to fight our way back.

We return to meditation.

We raise our Kundalini.

We establish our attention at the Sahasrara.

We become thoughtlessly aware.

We seek collectivity.

And we allow the Kundalini to do the work.

The ascent is not something we manufacture.

It is something we allow.

There will be rises and falls.

That is part of being human.

But the question is not whether we ever fall.

The question is: how quickly do we become aware that we have fallen—and turn back towards the centre?

Because the abyss is not necessarily somewhere far away.

Sometimes it is simply what happens when we stop paying attention.

And ascent is simply the decision, moment by moment, to return to awareness.

Rise. Fall. Watch. Correct. Grow.

That is the living journey of our spiritual ascent.

The Left Side: How Do We Overcome It?


In Sahaja Yoga, the Left Side represents our emotional world—the past, our memories, desires and feelings. When balanced, it gives us sensitivity, creativity and compassion. But when we become too identified with it, we can become caught in guilt, sadness, worry, nostalgia or repeatedly revisiting the past.


So how do we move beyond it?


Change your attention


The past can teach us, but it doesn't need to occupy us.


When you notice yourself going around the same thoughts, don't fight them or analyse them endlessly. Simply recognise them and bring your attention back to the present.


The thought is not the problem. Our attachment to it is.


Use the simple Sahaja Yoga techniques


Meditation, footsoaking with salt, affirmations of forgiveness and regular practice can help bring balance and clarity.


But the technique is only part of it.


Go into collectivity


One of the most powerful ways out of excessive introspection is to connect with others.


Meditate together. Sing. Volunteer. Help someone. Spend time with people who bring out your better qualities.


When attention moves from “What is happening to me?” towards “What can I give?”, something shifts.


And don't forget the basics: sleep well, exercise, get outside, maintain healthy routines and stay connected. Spirituality isn't an escape from life—it should help us become more present in it.


Ultimately, balancing the Left Side is about where we place our attention.


Don't deny your emotions. Witness them. Don't live in the past. Learn from it.


The past can be a teacher.


It doesn't have to be your home.

When We Are Not Satisfied, We Cannot See What Is Already Within Us


How the lack of basic satisfaction can make obvious spirituality invisible


There is something strangely paradoxical about human life.


We can spend years searching for peace, happiness, fulfilment and meaning—and yet fail to notice that what we are really searching for cannot be found in the places where we are looking.


We accumulate experiences, possessions, achievements, relationships and recognition. We tell ourselves that when this happens, we will finally feel satisfied.


When I earn more.


When my career is successful.


When my children are settled.


When I find the right relationship.


When people appreciate me.


When my problems disappear.


And then, when one desire is fulfilled, another quietly takes its place.


The goal moves.


The finish line moves.


And we continue running.


This is where the teachings of Sahaja Yoga meditation, founded by Shri Mataji Nirmala Devi, offer a remarkably deep perspective.


The problem, according to this understanding, is not that spirituality is hidden.


It is that our attention is so occupied with satisfying the mind, senses and ego that we become incapable of perceiving something far more subtle that is already within us.


---


The hungry mind cannot see clearly


Imagine sitting in a beautiful garden.


The sun is shining. There is a gentle breeze. Birds are singing. Everything around you is peaceful.


But you are desperately hungry.


You don't notice the birds.


You don't appreciate the flowers.


You barely notice the sunlight.


Your attention has collapsed around one simple problem:


"I need food."


Once you eat and the basic hunger disappears, something interesting happens.


The garden hasn't changed.


You have.


Suddenly, you can see it.


This is an important principle of human attention.


When a fundamental need is unmet, it dominates our awareness.


And this doesn't only apply to physical hunger.


We can be hungry for security.


Hungry for love.


Hungry for approval.


Hungry for success.


Hungry for belonging.


Hungry for significance.


Hungry to be seen.


Hungry to be right.


And when these psychological appetites are constantly demanding our attention, there is very little space left to perceive anything subtler.


We may sit in meditation and wonder:


"Why don't I feel anything?"


But perhaps the better question is:


"What is occupying my attention so completely that I cannot feel what is already there?"


---


We often mistake stimulation for satisfaction


Modern life has become extraordinarily good at giving us stimulation.


Notifications.


Entertainment.


Shopping.


Social media.


News.


Work.


Travel.


Food.


Achievement.


Constant communication.


The brain is rarely allowed to become quiet.


And because stimulation produces temporary pleasure, we can confuse it with fulfilment.


But pleasure and satisfaction are not necessarily the same thing.


Pleasure says:


"Give me more."


Satisfaction says:


"This is enough."


That difference is enormous.


The first keeps us moving outward.


The second allows us to become still.


This is one of the reasons genuine spiritual awareness can seem so distant.


We have become accustomed to looking outward for the next experience.


Sahaja Yoga turns the direction of attention around.


Instead of asking:


"What else can I get from life?"


we begin asking:


"What is already within me?"


---


The attention is always moving outward


In Sahaja Yoga, the human being is understood as having an inner subtle system through which our physical, mental, emotional and spiritual states interact.


At the centre of this system is the Kundalini, described as a dormant spiritual energy within every human being.


When this inner energy is awakened through Self-realisation, it is said to rise through the central channel and establish a connection with the deeper spiritual dimension of our being.


This is not presented merely as an intellectual belief.


It is something to be experienced.


And that distinction matters.


Spirituality becomes very different when it moves from:


"I believe."


to:


"I experience."


Sahaja Yoga therefore places considerable emphasis on meditation and the experience of thoughtless awareness—a state in which the constant stream of mental commentary temporarily becomes quiet while awareness itself remains present.


This is subtle.


You are not unconscious.


You are not asleep.


You are not trying to stop thinking by force.


You are simply becoming aware of the space between thoughts.


And in that space, something extraordinary can happen.


You begin to discover that you are not merely the stream of thoughts passing through your mind.


---


The uncomfortable truth: sometimes we are not ready for peace


There is a deeper psychological paradox here.


We say we want peace.


But our behaviour may reveal that we want something else more strongly.


We may want excitement.


Recognition.


Control.


Drama.


Validation.


Achievement.


Even suffering can sometimes become familiar and strangely comfortable.


Peace, by comparison, can initially feel almost boring.


Why?


Because peace doesn't continually stimulate the ego.


The ego likes a story.


"I need to prove myself."


"They don't respect me."


"I must achieve this."


"What will they think?"


"What if I fail?"


"I deserve better."


The mind creates a continuous narrative around the individual self.


Meditation begins to loosen our identification with that narrative.


And that can be uncomfortable.


Because if we have spent decades believing that our thoughts, ambitions, fears and achievements define us, what happens when the thoughts become quiet?


Who are we then?


This is where spirituality becomes experiential rather than philosophical.


---


The difference between desire and need


Sahaja Yoga doesn't require us to abandon ordinary life.


This is important.


We still have families.


Careers.


Responsibilities.


Ambitions.


Relationships.


We still enjoy food, music, beauty, friendship and the experiences of life.


The deeper lesson is not:


"Don't enjoy anything."


It is:


"Don't make your enjoyment the source of your identity and inner security."


There is a profound difference.


You can enjoy success without needing success to prove your worth.


You can enjoy money without believing money will complete you.


You can love someone without demanding that they remove your inner emptiness.


You can appreciate recognition without becoming dependent upon it.


You can experience difficulty without allowing it to define you.


This is the beginning of freedom.


---


When the basic needs are satisfied, something else becomes visible


Maslow's hierarchy of needs offers one psychological way of understanding this.


When people are struggling with basic survival—food, shelter, safety and security—it is understandably difficult to devote attention to higher questions of meaning and spirituality.


But there is another layer to this.


Even when our basic physical needs are satisfied, we can remain psychologically hungry.


And this is where modern life becomes fascinating.


Someone can have an excellent career, a beautiful home, financial security and a loving family—and still experience an inexplicable sense that something is missing.


That feeling is often interpreted as:


"I need something else."


But perhaps it is asking a different question:


"What if the thing I am missing cannot be acquired?"


That is the point at which the search can turn inward.


---


Spirituality can become invisible through overconsumption


There is a wonderful irony here.


The more we try to fill ourselves from the outside, the less capable we can become of recognising what is within.


Think about looking at the stars from a city.


The stars are still there.


But the light pollution makes them difficult to see.


Spiritual awareness can be similar.


The inner reality has not disappeared.


Our attention has simply become saturated.


Thought after thought.


Desire after desire.


Fear after fear.


Expectation after expectation.


The mind becomes like a sky permanently illuminated by artificial light.


Meditation does not create the stars.


It reduces the light pollution.


---


The state of thoughtless awareness


One of the most beautiful aspects of Sahaja Yoga meditation is the emphasis on thoughtless awareness.


Normally, consciousness seems to operate like a river of thoughts.


One thought leads to another.


Yesterday.


Tomorrow.


What happened.


What might happen.


What someone said.


What we should have said.


What we want.


What we fear.


But occasionally there is a gap.


A moment when the mind becomes quiet.


You are completely awake, yet there is no need to follow every thought.


That silence can feel surprisingly peaceful.


And gradually we may begin to recognise:


Awareness does not disappear when thought disappears.


In fact, awareness can become clearer.


This is one of the profound possibilities explored through Sahaja Yoga meditation.


---


From seeking satisfaction to discovering contentment


There is a subtle but fundamental shift that meditation can encourage.


Instead of:


"I will be peaceful when everything is right."


we begin discovering:


"I can become peaceful even while life is imperfect."


That does not mean becoming passive.


It doesn't mean accepting injustice.


It doesn't mean abandoning ambition.


It means that our inner state is no longer completely controlled by external circumstances.


Life will still fluctuate.


People will disappoint us.


Plans will fail.


Success will come and go.


Bodies will age.


Relationships will change.


The world will remain unpredictable.


But something within us can become remarkably steady.


That is contentment.


And contentment is not the absence of ambition.


It is the absence of the desperate belief that the next achievement will finally make us whole.


---


The real spiritual question


Perhaps spirituality becomes obvious only when we stop demanding that it entertain us.


We often expect spirituality to produce something dramatic.


A vision.


A mystical experience.


A profound revelation.


Something extraordinary.


But perhaps the most profound spiritual development is much quieter.


You become less reactive.


You become more balanced.


You stop needing to win every argument.


You become more forgiving.


You notice your thoughts without automatically believing them.


You become comfortable with silence.


You experience joy without needing a reason.


You begin to feel connected rather than separate.


And perhaps most importantly:


you become satisfied without having to constantly acquire something.


That is not a small change.


It changes the entire relationship between you and the world.


---


The garden was always there


Return to the garden.


The flowers were always there.


The birds were always singing.


The sunlight was always falling through the trees.


Your hunger simply prevented you from noticing.


Perhaps spirituality is similar.


The deeper dimension of ourselves may not need to be manufactured.


It may need to be experienced.


Sahaja Yoga meditation offers one pathway towards that experience: through Self-realisation, meditation, the awakening of the Kundalini and the development of thoughtless awareness.


And perhaps the greatest lesson is surprisingly simple:


We don't necessarily need more experiences.


We may need fewer distractions.


We don't necessarily need another achievement.


We may need deeper satisfaction.


We don't necessarily need to find spirituality somewhere else.


We may need to become quiet enough to recognise what is already within us.


Because sometimes the greatest obstacle to seeing the obvious...


is that we are still desperately looking for something else.


The garden was never empty.




Monday, 28 September 2026

Lalita-Lavaṅga-Latā: Krishna and the Gopis in the Spring Forest

Gīta Govinda · Aṣṭapadī 3

Lalita-Lavaṅga-Latā

Krishna and the Gopis in the spring forest

Listen while you read

Audio: Gita Govindam Ashtapadhi 3 — Lalita Lavanga Lata With English Translation, Internet Archive.


Lalita-Lavaṅga-Latā is the third Aṣṭapadī (eight-part lyric) in Jayadeva’s Gīta Govinda. In the setting verse, Rādhā, restless with longing, searches the spring woods for Kṛṣṇa. Her companion paints the sensuous abundance of Vṛndāvana in spring—and tells her that Hari is there, dancing with the young women. The recurring refrain holds the song’s central paradox: spring is delightful, yet hard to bear for anyone separated from the beloved.

Reading key. The lyrics below are in standard IAST transliteration. The English passages are concise, listening-oriented renderings of the sense rather than word-for-word glosses. Performance traditions sometimes append “Rādhe” or repeat phrases around the refrain.

Setting verse

vasante vasantī-kusuma-sukumārair avayavair / bhramantīṃ kāntāre bahu-vihita-kṛṣṇānusaraṇām / amandaṃ kandarpa-jvara-janita-cintākulatayā / valad-bādhāṃ rādhāṃ sarasam idam ūce sahacarī

In radiant spring, Rādhā—her limbs as tender as spring flowers—wanders through the forest, repeatedly seeking Kṛṣṇa. Overwhelmed by the fever of desire and the anxiety it brings, she is gently addressed by her close companion.

Refrain · Dhruvapada

viharati harir iha sarasa-vasante / nṛtyati yuvati-janena samaṃ sakhi virahi-janasya durante

Here Hari sports in the luxuriant spring; he dances with the young women, dear friend. For those parted from the beloved, this season is cruel.

Eight visions of spring

1. Spring’s bower

Krishna dances with adult Gopis in a moonlit flowering spring bower.
Illustration for Stanza 1 — a Raja Ravi Varma-inspired devotional scene.
lalita-lavaṅga-latā-pariśīlana-komala-malaya-samīre / madhukara-nikara-karambita-kokila-kūjita-kuñja-kuṭīre

The gentle Malaya breeze softly caresses the delicate clove creepers. In the forest bower, the calls of cuckoos mingle with the dense humming of bees.

2. Love’s lament

Adult Gopis express longing beneath flower-laden boughs while Krishna dances in the distance.
Illustration for Stanza 2 — yearning amid the abundance of spring.
unmada-madana-manoratha-pathika-vadhū-jana-janita-vilāpe / ali-kula-saṅkula-kusuma-samūha-nirākula-bakula-kalāpe

Women made restless by the delirious god of love pour out their laments. Clusters of bakula flowers, thick with swarming bees, fill every space.

3. Spring’s sharp colours

Krishna and adult Gopis walk through dark tamala trees beneath scarlet kinshuka blossoms.
Illustration for Stanza 3 — scarlet kiṃśuka blossoms in the tamāla grove.
mṛga-mada-saurabha-rabhasa-vaśaṃvada-nava-dala-māla-tamāle / yuva-jana-hṛdaya-vidāraṇa-manasija-nakha-ruci-kiṃśuka-jāle

Fresh-leaved tamāla trees yield to the rush of musk-like fragrance. A mesh of scarlet kiṃśuka flowers shines like Love’s fingernails, seeming to tear at young hearts.

4. Love’s weapons

Krishna plays the flute with adult Gopis among golden kesara and pink patala flowers.
Illustration for Stanza 4 — the garden becomes Love’s flower-quiver.
madana-mahīpati-kanaka-daṇḍa-ruci-kesara-kusuma-vikāse / milita-śilīmukha-pāṭala-paṭala-kṛta-smara-tūṇa-vilāse

As the kēsara blossoms open, they gleam like the golden staffs of King Love. The clustered pāṭala flowers, joined by bees, seem to display Love’s quiver.

5. Blossoms like spears

A pensive adult Gopi beneath sharp white ketaka flowers, with Krishna distant across the garden.
Illustration for Stanza 5 — ketaka blossoms and the ache of separation.
vigalita-lajjita-jagad-avalokana-taruṇa-karuṇa-kṛta-hāse / virahi-nikṛntana-kunta-mukhākṛti-ketaka-danturitāśe

At the sight of a world from which shame has slipped away, the young and tender smile. Sharp, tooth-like ketaka blossoms point in every direction like spearheads, cutting down those who endure separation.

6. The scent of spring

Krishna, adult Gopis, and a sage amid moonlit jasmine and madhavi creepers.
Illustration for Stanza 6 — fragrant mādhavī, mālatī and jātī jasmine.
mādhavika-parimala-lalite nava-mālatī-jāti-sugandhau / muni-manasām api mohana-kāriṇi taruṇākaraṇa-bandhau

The perfume of mādhavī vines, together with the fresh fragrance of mālatī and jātī jasmine, is enchanting. Such spring scents can captivate even sages’ minds; they are companions to youth.

7. Vṛndāvana and the Yamunā

Krishna and adult Gopis at the Yamuna beneath mango trees and flowering creepers.
Illustration for Stanza 7 — Vṛndāvana hallowed by the Yamunā.
sphurad-atimukta-latā-parirambhaṇa-mukulita-pulakita-cūte / vṛndāvana-vipine parīsara-parigata-yamunā-jala-pūte

In Vṛndāvana’s forest, mango trees are budded and thrilled by the embrace of lively atimukta creepers. The grove is hallowed by the waters of the Yamunā flowing nearby.

8. Jayadeva’s closing verse

The poet Jayadeva writes on palm leaf while Krishna and adult Gopis dance in a visionary spring garden.
Illustration for Stanza 8 — Jayadeva’s devotional remembrance of Hari.
śrī-jayadeva-bhaṇitam idam udayati hari-caraṇa-smṛti-sāram / sarasa-vasanta-samaya-vana-varṇanam anugata-madana-vikāram

May this utterance of Śrī Jayadeva shine forth—the essence of remembrance of Hari’s feet. It portrays the woodland in lush spring, filled with the transformations of desire.

Text and image note

The Sanskrit transliteration was checked against the Gīta Govinda—Ashtapadi 3 and Carnatic Circle Ashtapathi 3 lyric witnesses. The English renderings are concise, listening-oriented translations; spelling varies across editions and performance lineages.

The eight accompanying illustrations are original, AI-assisted devotional artworks created for this post, in a Raja Ravi Varma-inspired classical Indian oil-painting aesthetic.

Saturday, 26 September 2026

Rennaissance Alchemy

The European alchemical writers of the Renaissance combined the Hellenistic Egyptian texts preserved in the Arab world, the Jewish Kabbalistic writings, the Greek texts of Aristotelian physics and cosmology (also preserved in the Arab world), together with the newly translated Hermetic and Neoplatonic texts that became accessible in Europe from the mid-fifteenth century onwards.  It is debatable whether the equation of the alchemical stages with the inner spiritual ascent was added during its transmission through the Arabic knowledge corpus, or had been there from the beginning. It is however fully articulated in alchemical writings from the sixteenth century onward. These texts show a variety in the number of stages in the ascent, but seven is the favourite,  being portrayed in the engravings of many alchemical works. 


Lambsprinck, Die lapide philosophico libellus (edition of 1678)


The anonymous sixteenth century alchemical writer known as Lambsprinck was possibly associated with the Benedictine Abbey of Lammspring, near Hildesheim in Germany.   In his Die lapide philosophico  he portrays the ascent via a staircase of seven steps, leading to the figure of the King, symbolising the philosopher’s stone, seated on his throne.

Joannis Danielis Mylius (1583-1642) in his Anatomia auri (1628) uses the symbolism of a tree to represent the ascent. The seven planetary gods are on successive branches and Hermes Trismegistus, the semi-mythical teacher of the Corpus Hermeticum, seated at the top. In his Opus medico-chymicum (1618), Mylius uses a more complex image for the ascent: seven trees, each with the glyph of one of the planets, surround the figure of the alchemist, while the same planetary symbols appear in the heavens marking the celestial spheres. Above them is the angelic realm, represented by the Hebrew tetragrammaton, the one true name of God, at the top. 


Stephan Michelspacher, Cabala, Spiegel der Kunst und Natur in Alchymia (Augsburg, 1615) 


Little is known of the Tyrolean engraver and publisher, Stephan Michelspacher other than that he practiced medicine in the Paracelsian tradition in Tyrol (Alpine Austria) in the early part of the seventeenth century, leaving in c.1613 to start a publishing house in Augsburg which he ran until at least 1619. In the third of his engravings in Cabala, Spiegel der Kunst und Natur in Alchymia  (1615) (‘Cabala, mirror of art and nature in Alchemy), Michelspacher shows a stairway rising into heaven, each of its seven steps labelled with one of the alchemical stages and governed by the one of the planetary gods. This can be viewed as an implied reference to Jacob’s ladder connecting the terrestrial and celestial worlds.  


Extract from John Noyce, The Inner Ascent (lulu, 2018)


Tuesday, 22 September 2026

Ramon Llull and the Ladder of Knowledge

 

Ramon Llull, Ars Magna  (1305)





Ramon Llull, De nova logica  (Valencia, 1512)


The Catalan polymath, Ramond Llull (1232-1316) used the notion of the ladder of knowledge as one of the three visual models he produced for readers to understand his system of philosophy. This ladder of descent or ascent had nine stages, and was probably based on the Jewish Kabbalistic system of sefirot.

 The nine subjects appear in Ars inventiva Veritatis (1290), and then become part of the alphabet of the Art in the Tabula generalis (1293). In the  Liber de ascensu et descensu intellectus (1305) they are stages in the intellect’s ascent, to show the connectedness and continuity amongst all beings and between humans and the Divine. The ladder also appears in other books by Llull such as De nova logica.


From John Noyce,  The Inner Ascent (lulu, 2018)




Monday, 21 September 2026

Goodwyn Barmby and The Woman-power - John Noyce

Goodwyn Barmby and The Woman-power


Goodwyn Barmby (1820-1881) was an English social reformer who in his younger years was involved in several short-lived attempts at communal living, particularly after his marriage to Catherine. They founded and ran the Communist Church in London (1841-1849), but met with derision from their contemporaries.

Goodwyn Barmby wrote a poem,
The Woman-power (1842), containing a prophetic vision of the Divine Feminine:




Woman-Saviour now we muster

To await thy advent sure,

In the cluster of thy lustre,

Come and leave the earth no more?

Then before thy gentle look,

Swords shall quail and warriors fail,

And the spear, a shepherd’s crook,

Shall adorn the daisied dale.

Woman-power! Incarnate love!

Human Goddess come and be,

If the Bridegroom’s tears can move,

Bride unto Humanity.

Thou alone of all can save us

Let us be what thou would have us!12

The Barmbys realised that this was in the future. Thus Goodwyn Barmby wrote to a friend in the early 1840s: ‘But the Free Woman who shall give the womanly tone to the entire globe is not yet manifested.’

Catherine Barmby (1816-1853) in her pioneering feminist pamphlet, The demand for the emancipation of women (1843), insisted that; ‘We have the priest, we therefore demand the priestess, the Woman teacher of the word, the woman apostle of God’s law!’14

After their ‘communist’ experiment the Barmbys were involved in Chartism and other social movements. Goodwyn Barmby became a Christian minister leading Unitarian congregations in several cities, settling eventually in Wakefield.



References:

Barbara Taylor, Eve and the New Jerusalem: socialism and feminism in the nineteenth century (London: Virago Press, 1983)

W.H.G.Armytage, Heavens below: utopian experiments in England 1560-1960 (London: Routledge, 1961)

Dennis Hardy, Alternative communities in nineteenth century England (London: Longman, 1979)