The symphony of creation

Our shastras have described this entire creation as a play and display of one consciousness, one energy that manifests itself in infinite forms while being essentially formless. This utter abstraction which appears self-contradictory has baffled scientist and seeker alike for centuries.

The ancient rishis seemed to have no trouble in reposing in this dual nature of the world, much as modern physicists are happy to attribute both wave and particle natures to light.

Imagine the entire universe as one giant being, whose each cell, limb or organ constitutes a different planet or person or object or constellation. And imagine this being observing the occurrence of different phenomena as though it were watching its own fingers moving. Each particle of its body is distinct, but it never loses the sense of totality, of it being its own indivisible body. Call this being God or consciousness or energy or nature, it matters not in the least to the being (or shall we say Being?)

Nature has no issues with you attributing a million different names to its varied manifestations, it remains whole nonetheless. Man has cast God in his own image, adding deities, philosophies, rituals according to his own convenience or to better understand phenomenal reality from a self-create objective frame of reference. But each of these postulate man trying to subvert or internalise nature to his limited experience or understanding rather than sublimating himself in the obviously vast and infinite ocean of energy that we all inhabit.

Today I heard several voices, some strident, some confrontational, some complementary, some in unison and some indifferent, among them my own. Suddenly it seemed as though each voice had the same source as mine, it was one song playing through several different instruments. I was no longer singing God’s song, He was singing through me as He was through every single person and object around me. The voices began to outline a harmony, a key, a theme, some ornate motifs, some freely evolving time signatures. They rose and fell like waves, as I, but a tiny component of this gigantic symphony, thrilled and swelled and yet lost myself in its entirety. As this ecstatic symphony reached an almost unbearably beautiful crescendo, all at once there was nothing. Silence. No thought, word, intention or desire. No regret, anger or even a semblance of any other emotion. It was beyond emotion, it was totality, it was sheer vastness that almost imperceptibly pulsed. to. expand. into. nothing

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