With the Wisdom of Paramahansa Yogananda, Ramana Maharshi, Jalaluddin Rumi, Lalleshwari, Sri Yukteswar Giri, Adi Shankara, and Babaji
There comes a time on the spiritual path when words become too coarse to carry the weight of what the soul is discovering. For me, this has happened again and again in the stillness of meditation—when the breath fades, and what remains is not thought, not effort, but the unmistakable Presence. In those moments, I remember what I truly am: a wave on the Infinite, rising and falling in cosmic rhythm.
I grew up driven by questions both scientific and mystical, oscillating between analysis and awe. But again and again, I return to the sacred science of the breath. And never has it been illuminated more clearly than in a recent video that seemed to whisper directly to my soul:
The Sacred Art of Breath and Silence.
In this video, which flows like a meditation itself, the teachings of Paramahansa Yogananda come alive—not as distant ideals but as intimate truths waiting to be remembered.
“True meditation does not teach you to become a better person. It teaches you that you are already Light. You just forget it.” —Yogananda
Before I encountered Kriya Yoga, I thought breath was just a biological rhythm. But over time I began to realize: breath is shakti, the pulse of divine energy animating all creation. Breath is the axis around which soul, body, and cosmos turn. As Sri Yukteswar wrote in The Holy Science:
“When the breath is wholly internalized, the ego loses its hold. The soul awakens to its eternal nature.”
Yukteswar’s synthesis of spirituality
and astronomy first drew me into a deeper reverence for cosmic order. He
taught that the breath reveals a divine mathematics within, the very
rhythm of God hidden in our lungs. In deep Kriya, when the breath suspends
without effort and consciousness expands, I’ve tried to feel exactly what he meant:
Time itself fades. The boundaries between body and cosmos vanish. Breath
becomes starlight.
Early in my practice, I would try to achieve meditation—struggling to silence my thoughts, chasing visions, craving results. But as Ramana Maharshi gently taught:
“Be still. The Self will reveal itself in the silence.”
And silence is not nothingness—it is
fullness without content. It is the radiant absence of noise, the womb of
all existence. I’ve come to understand meditation not as self-improvement,
but as self-remembrance.
As Lalleshwari, the
fierce Kashmiri mystic, once cried:
“The soul, like the moon, is new, and always new again. And I have seen the Ocean continuously creating.”
Her words remind me that this practice is not about fixing what is broken, but about watching in stillness as the tide of God renews everything—breath by breath.
In Kriya, we progress not by efforting, but by dissolving:
Presence – I sit. I breathe. I am.
Witnessing – I observe the mind without being the mind.
Dissolution – The observer dissolves. There is only presence.
Unity (Samadhi) – There is no I. There is only That.
Sri Adi Shankara, who awakened the Advaitic fire within me, declared:
“Brahman is real. The world is an appearance. The Self is Brahman.”
These are not cold metaphysical axioms. When experienced through Kriya and deep silence, they become living truths, pulsing through the very breath that no longer belongs to “me.”
The video also outlined four profound stages of breathing that matched my own attempts at a meditative journey:
Conscious Breath – I become aware: “I am breathing.”
Emotional Breath – I feel: “My breath moves my soul.”
Breath of Light – Breath becomes energy, radiating like prana through the spine.
Breath of Dissolution – No breath, no form, just infinite radiant stillness.
I have attempted to experience this final breath—not as death, but as boundless life. The breath stops, yet awareness expands into everything. As Mahavatar Babaji, the immortal yogi who reawakened Kriya Yoga, is said to have revealed:
“To live in the breathless state is to live in divine union. The body may still sit, but the soul soars free.”
And in those moments, I feel not that I have become something—but that I have finally ceased pretending to be anything less than divine.
The journey inward is simple, but not always easy. The video gently lists ten meditation pitfalls I’ve known well: meditating with expectation, trying to “think nothing,” comparing with others, sitting in painful postures, or obsessing over visions.
But Yogananda offers a balm:
“Five minutes of deep meditation is better than an hour of restless sitting. Meditation is not a duty; it is a sacred homecoming.”
And Jalaluddin Rumi, ever the poetic mystic, reminds me with one line:
“There is a voice that doesn’t use words. Listen.”
Dear friend, wherever you are—reading
this on your phone, in a quiet room, in a hospital bed, or beneath a
tree—please know: you are already breathing. You are already touching the
edge of the infinite.
Can you become aware of your next breath? Can you soften just a little
more?
This is not a path to achieve something new. It is a path to remember what has always been true.
As Yogananda said:
“You have meditated many times in many lives. Every time you turn inward, you return home.”
If this blog post touched something
sacred in you, please share it. Breathe it in. Return to your own Self
with reverence.
And most of all, I invite you to receive the gift of this beautiful video
that helped awaken these truths in me:
👉 The Sacred Art of Breath and Silence
Meditation is not about becoming holy.
It is about realizing you
already are.
Just breathe. Just return. Just Be.