Journey to Meru

Point of Insignificance.

An invisible dot.

A clueless floating mass.

​Often-seen graphics on the internet that point to the insignificance of our presence in this vast cosmic existence are those that point to Earth as a pointless dot. This visual perspective can be recasted into numerical language—such as comparing the size of Earth to a bigger planet like Jupiter. It reveals our dwarfed presence, ready to be engulfed by the vastness of the unknown.

​This is how a macro perspective of existence is used to ground ourselves. Such comparisons are aimed at pointing out our insignificance, thus leading to nihilism. Then we end up asking: What is the point? All of our concerns, all our pursuits—do they have any purpose?

​Such a vast existence: a muted automaton moving on its predetermined orbits. Endless expansion creating more dark space. Stars running down, governed by the laws of physics. This enormous existence sans presence is pointless.

​Then we inherit this inevitable sense of nihilism. As we run through our life phases, conjuring purpose and motive, we still carry this notion of pointlessness. In an unwarranted moment, this dreadful feeling grips us. It can paralyze our life’s rhythm. This notion of purpose and motive, meaning and fulfillment, seems like a fleeting anomaly conjured by a chemical accident.

​The outer, pointless accident that is existence seems to prevail in our inner realms, too.

What’s the Point?

An adhyātmik view calls this point Bindu—a mystical point that enshrines in its quivering presence brahmānda (the macrocosm) and pindānda (the microcosm). The cosmic presence and the pulsating, spanda point of consciousness that we are are not two separate entities; rather, the latter is a fractal presence of the former. They can be seen as a continuum of existence.

Deep and highly sophisticated tantric paths place a lot of emphasis on meditating upon this Bindu. From this Bindu, a mystical axis emerges called Meru, which forms the center of every speck of existence. Be it our inner cosmos—that of thought, emotion, instinct, and intuition—or the outer existence that appears to be mute matter repeating its endless act of expansion, everything has this mystical center.

With this center, a creative throb manifests—a throb that endlessly expands and contracts. Like the breath that sustains our lives, all life pulsates with this primordial throb.

​This is not an anthropocentric projection; it is the cosmic law. There is a rhythm to this existence. It expands and contracts with the mystical center as its axis. The imprint of this primordial rhythm is self-evident in all of existence, from the smallest speck to the biggest galactic unit.

​In the tantric milieu, this point (Bindu), this axis (Meru), and this mystical throb (Spanda) become the sporting ground of Shiva and Shakti. This is known as krīda—Divine Sport.

​We never ask the question: Why sport?

​We never ask this question to a child who is gleefully playing and rejoicing: Why do you play?

​To be playful is the very nature of an existence founded on a mystical underlying joy that forms the basis of all that is manifest. This underlying joy is regarded as Ānanda. It is not like the joy we experience due to a specific cause; it is a causeless joy, which is, in fact, the primordial cause itself. Therefore, the joy we experience is merely a derivative of it.

​We embody countless emotions, impulses, and instincts. If we observe them closely, each one seems to bear the imprint of expansion or contraction. Anger causes a contraction of our consciousness. Similarly, jealousy, lust, greed, and similar emotions are evidently contracting. Conversely, notions of love, gratitude, and humility cause an expansion of consciousness. This is one of the most intimate ways humans can experience this primal principle of spanda, the mystical throb.

​Now, it can clearly be seen that we experience and are heavily bogged down by contracting emotions. It appears that not only within us, but all around us, the world is shrinking. It feels suffocating, inside and outside. We seem to have almost lost the habit of expansion—a complete atrophy. As children, we embodied both expansion and contraction effortlessly; but as grown-ups, we seem to have forgotten how to expand—an atrophy of expansive capacity.

​A spiritual diagnosis of this situation points out that this occurs when we increasingly lose sight of the center, our Meru. Since ancient times, cultures intuitively enshrined their connection to this axis through rituals. In ancient India, this alignment with the center deepened through highly sophisticated Yogic methods. This alignment with the center is known as Yoga.

​With the world increasingly becoming bereft of rituals, larger collectives are losing their connection to this mystical center. More of us are regressing into believing that this existence is pointless. This is a vulnerable state that results in a disproportionate flooding of contracting emotions into our psyche. The whole world is grappling to hold onto something, some meaning. But none of the new props have the tenacity of ancient psychological structures that once helped us anchor.

Our vision for current times is to re-establish this connection to the center—finding our Meru, finding our connection to this playground where Shiva and Shakti engage in sport, where the basis is Ānanda. Only when the basis is Ānanda can we even think of manifesting beauty in and around us. To manifest beauty even in the darkest corners, to light up the grey alleys of consciousness with expansive emotions, is a profound act of healing, restoration, and rejuvenation.

​But first, we need to restore our connection to the center, our Meru. How do we do that?

​We have done it for aeons. By becoming pilgrims, we walk the path around Meru. We do not withdraw from any challenges that appear on the path. Sometimes, the pilgrim’s path is strewn with unforeseen obstacles. Given that we are trying to find our connection to the mystical axis, Meru, we need to invoke a mystical power within us: the power of faith. Faith alone gives us the possibility to cross over these challenges.

​It is faith that can become the portal for expansive emotions to re-enter our psyche, helping us restore balance. Lasting peace and harmony are predicated on balance. We cannot perpetually be imbalanced and expect life to be peaceful. Any notion of joy or partaking in pleasure that is not founded on Shānti (peace) is but an illusion of joy. It is never an enduring or healthy impulse.

​By being pilgrims, we actively denounce such fleeting pleasures. We embody a certain notion of austerity that demands life yield a more lasting Ānanda. Life is bound to respond if our faith and austerity run deep. Faith and austerity together form the foundations of penance.

For the chasm we are experiencing now in the world—the mayhem waiting to unfold—the only force that can hold our world together is penance. It is through this higher-order commitment to life and a deep yogic poise with our Meru that we can hold everything together through turbulent tides.

​It feels intuitively right that the world now needs those who are centered. The world needs pilgrims who are capable of penance. The world needs seekers of Ānanda, of lasting joy. The world needs to hold onto its connection to Meru.

​Kailasha, where Shiva and Shakti are in eternal sport (krīda) and forever joyously dancing to the creative throb (spanda), is considered that Meru.