Inverse Process

Some time ago, I attended a spiritual workshop where the swamiji shared a simple yet profound approach to handling everyday life. He suggested that we view events as scenes in a drama — an office scene, a home scene, perhaps even a visit to a police station. The idea was to participate fully, yet remain a quiet observer within: to notice people and events without becoming emotionally entangled. It felt elegant and liberating, a perspective that promised clarity amidst chaos.

But when I tried to apply it, I found myself moving in the opposite direction. Instead of seeing real-life situations as passing scenes, I began creating elaborate dramas within my own mind. I imagine conversations, rehearse scenarios, and build entire narratives — so vividly that they begin to feel real. I get deeply involved, sometimes even wishing these imagined moments would unfold in reality. The mind, instead of detaching, becomes the stage itself.

So how does one switch? Perhaps the shift does not begin by stopping these inner dramas, but by noticing them. Just as the swamiji suggested observing the outer world, the same awareness can be turned inward. The imagined conversations, the rehearsed scenes — they too can be watched, without judgment. In that gentle observation, a space opens up. And in that space, the grip of both inner and outer drama begins to loosen, allowing us to participate in life with greater ease and less entanglement.

The Companion

Loneliness is not merely about being alone. It is the quiet ache of wanting companionship and not being able to find it. One can be surrounded by people and still feel its weight. At its core, loneliness is a longing — a deep pull toward connection that remains unmet.

Most living beings yearn for such companionship. When it is absent, a kind of vacuum forms within. This emptiness creates a subtle but constant pull, an inner restlessness that keeps searching. Over time, it can begin to interfere with daily life, making even simple tasks feel heavy or incomplete. The mind drifts, the heart seeks, and something essential feels missing.

Consider a simple journey on foot. Walking a long distance alone can be tiring and monotonous. But with a companion, the same journey feels lighter. There is shared energy, mutual encouragement, and moments of exchange — conversation, silence, laughter. Each person supports the other, and the path becomes not just easier, but more meaningful. The terrain doesn’t change, yet the experience transforms.

In the same way, finding the right companion in life can bring depth and direction. It is not just about reducing loneliness, but about walking together — sharing burdens, celebrating moments, and growing side by side. With the right presence, life’s journey becomes not only bearable, but deeply fulfilling.

Obsession

 

When people become obsessed with money, it begins to show in subtle and not-so-subtle ways.

Imagine two parties caught in a dispute. A third person steps in, appearing to mediate. Outwardly, they claim to arbitrate and bring peace. In reality, they fuel the conflict. They speak differently to each side, intensify misunderstandings, and ensure the tension escalates. Their hidden intention is simple — to profit from the chaos.

What is even more troubling is this: the mediator’s own mother is suffering because of the situation. Yet that suffering does not seem to matter. The focus remains fixed on financial gain.

Human nature expresses itself in many shades.

9 forms of Anima

I have recently begun studying astrology and find myself deeply fascinated by the grahas and the psychological qualities they represent. As I explored their characteristics, I started wondering whether there might be a meaningful parallel between the nine grahas and the Jungian concept of anima. At first, I associated anima primarily with Śukra (Venus), given its connection to attraction, passion, and the search for partnership. However, the more I reflected, the clearer it became that anima cannot be confined to a single graha. Each of the nine grahas seems to describe a distinct dimension of the self, and together they appear to form a more complete picture of anima.

From this perspective, anima emerges as a composite of multiple inner qualities rather than a singular force. Sūrya reflects introspection, self-awareness, and the capacity for self-analysis. Chandra represents emotional depth, emotional intelligence, and inner richness of the mind. Chevvai (Maṅgala) embodies boldness, courage, and raw energy, while Budhan points to intelligence, articulation, and artistic expression. Guru signifies comprehension, wisdom, and benevolence, offering moral and philosophical grounding.

Continuing this synthesis, Śukra expresses lovability, harmony, and relational sensitivity. Śani contributes endurance, discipline, and longevity, shaping the anima through patience and restraint. Rāhu reflects desire, enjoyment, and the urge to experience life intensely, whereas Ketu represents detachment, transcendence, and liberation. In my view, this ninefold framework suggests that anima is not merely about attraction or emotion, but a rich inner constellation shaped by awareness, emotion, desire, discipline, wisdom, and ultimately, freedom.

Talk to Your Anima

 

Last year, I wrote a blog titled Unfinished Conversations, reflecting on how we carry unspoken thoughts for years, replaying them silently within ourselves. Just before that came The Promiscuous Man: A Jungian Perspective, where I explored how the anima subtly shapes a person’s mind, choices, and inner life. Those writings were attempts to understand inner dialogues, though at the time I didn’t fully grasp how personal that dialogue truly was.

Coming to the present, I’ve realized that there are untold stories and unfinished conversations not just with people, but with the anima itself. We often restrain ourselves in the outer world, but even within, there is much left unsaid. Speaking with the anima can be a revealing experience — you may find yourself trying to impress her, playing the hero, or rescuing a damsel in distress. These inner scenes are not random fantasies; they mirror the conflicts you face in life.

Whatever situation unfolds in that inner dialogue often reflects a real-life challenge, and the solution you offer her becomes the answer you are seeking for yourself. In my view, engaging with the anima is one of the most honest ways to understand who you are beneath roles and defenses. Talk to her often — she knows more about you than you think.

Time spent at a river

 In order to be with nature, I decided to go to my favorite route. Towards Anaikatti.

Just 10km in that direction leaves behind the buzzling city traffic. Once we start ascend the mountains, we get a beautiful view of green valley. The huge trees along the road mesmerizes. While enjoying the ride, occasionally my mind went to the two favorite topics, that usually churns in my mind. May be it is the problem solving part that secrete dopamine. May be that is why I keep thinking those problems in a cycle and keep on bringing to my mind.

I crossed Anaikatti and went into Kerala. There is a small temple of Ganesha. He sits in a river side. This place is calm and soothing. There were few people in the river, some bathing, others enjoying being in the knee height water.

There is a small pedestrian path along the upstream of the river. I took that narrow path. Walking in this mud and stone path reminded the happy treks I had taken in youth. 

I was enjoying the flow of the river. There was a rock in the middle of the river.

That is a beautiful place to hang out. I thought of sitting idle here. I made a promise, let me be on that rock basking sunlight, until those two thoughts come into me. I sat on the rock, put my feet inside the water. It was a nice feeling. The river was giving out melodious voice in a rhythm. It was not too hot, but a pleasant winter afternoon. Looking at the water flow is divine experience. Just keep going without any hesitation.

Couple of dragon flies were flying near the water. One of them sat on my feet. It had black body and red patch near the stomach. It looked cute.

Not that my mind was like a saint. The chattering were going on and I had to pull it back. The two topics didnot come to my mind as I had restrained to them. Petty thoughts like these came by:

• This is a lovely place, I will bring Venkatesh (a friend) here some day 
• How should I write this in a blog? What words to use?
• What will Prasad reply to this experience?

Basically, I was drifting from current experience towards analyzing the experience. I had to pull back to the present and be here. I am happy to do this exercise as I was on the rock for more than 10 minutes, without major distractions.

The Push

No matter how good, important, or beneficial an idea is, getting people to act on it is never easy. This realization hit me while trying to mobilize people into a WhatsApp group for a shared purpose. Logic alone doesn’t move people; clarity of intention doesn’t automatically translate into action. There seems to be an invisible spark required—a certain energy that nudges people from understanding to actually doing. I sensed that this was missing in my approach, perhaps in how I prepared people emotionally and framed the message beyond mere explanation.

Trust plays an equally decisive role. People unconsciously assess the messenger as much as the message: how credible is this person, how consistent is their intent, and how reliable is the initiative itself? When that trust is strong, people step in willingly. When it’s weak or unclear, doubt creeps in, and hesitation quietly pushes them away.

My takeaway is simple but demanding: cultivate the habit of preparing the ground—building trust, timing the message well, and delivering it with the right energy. When these align, action becomes natural rather than forced.