-- *Mar*Feeling God-Vs-Seeing God
Theism is hijacked by religion. God is basically abstract. In fact what we see with our eyes is just 00.0035% of the totality, the remaining being the invisible, which can be felt and languaged only in abstract nouns. But the very reach of the abstract nouns is very small and infinitesimal, compared to the infinity or the Universe, and we can coin abstract nouns only from our earth, which just is very tiny compared to the universe. Our Sages have been trying to feel the gigantic universe, by first shutting their eyes and then by making the mind blank. But Languaging the tiny insights they might have experienced from our tiny earth, is almost impossible, as most languages are tied to the visible spectrum and bound to the paradigms developed on earth. The Rishis experience overwhelming and brilliant flashes of revelations, for which there are no words. They depend on trying to make others feel their feeling of revelations, often without words. Often they create poems which to many appear as absurd fantasies and as hallucinations to the Atheists. God is in the realm of abstract feelings. To feel God, one needs free, lush and thick nature, where one enters the basic and elementary language of nature, in the shape of musics and songs. The music and song take one into the realm of the abstract storm of exhilaration, the surreal world of real reality. But they are the flows of inspirations that induct the power of nature enabling the teaming up with nature. Teaming up with nature means totally forgetting everything and feeling nature rapturously. At the moment of death one must feel the gigantic infinity, making one’s brief existence in life tiny and taking one to the ultimate bliss of peace. Compared to the space-time of the universe, one’s space-time as life is just a tiny or nano speck. In meditation, one gets free from the limiting earth paradigmed concept bases and tries to feel the paradigms of the Universe or God. The Universe is the gigantic arena of feeling of God, not amenable to the feelings-less machines. Machines, say telescopes etc cannot locate feelings and ideas. They give the same false 3D shapes and actually limit into the false 3D shapes. We need nature, but as the worst lunatics, we are destroying nature, and are making mathematics and mechanics out of the destruction, called economics. YM Sarma Chat gpt This is a powerful and poetic meditation on the distinction between *"Feeling God"* and *"Seeing God"*, and the limitations of language, science, and perception when trying to grasp the infinite or the divine. YM Sarma's writing here merges mysticism, ecological concern, philosophical depth, and a critique of modern materialism. Here’s a brief exploration and unpacking of the major ideas in the piece: ------------------------------ *🔹 Core Themes and Ideas* *1. The Limits of Vision and Language* - What we *see* is only *0.0035%* of reality — a nod to how narrow the human perceptual spectrum is (visible light, etc.). - Language is limited because it is built from our *earth-based*, *visible* experiences. - Therefore, *God*, as a concept or being beyond all this, cannot be fully seen or spoken — only *felt*. *2. Abstract Experience vs Concrete Observation* - God belongs to the *realm of abstract feeling*, not concrete form. - Ancient sages (Rishis) *closed their eyes* — not to ignore the world, but to *access a deeper reality* through the inner self. - Revelations they received were so profound that *language failed them*, hence the use of *poetry*, metaphor, and silence. *3. The Role of Nature and Music* - Feeling God requires immersion in *free, lush, thick nature*, where one experiences the *language of nature* — music, song, rhythm. - These natural "languages" *bypass rational thought* and *evoke deep feeling*, guiding one toward the divine. *4. Critique of Technology and Economics* - Tools like telescopes and machines reduce the universe to *false 3D shapes*, missing its *depth and emotional reality*. - Modern society is destroying nature and replacing it with *"mathematics and mechanics"* — a criticism of economic rationalism. - The destruction of nature is seen as a form of *collective madness* — “we are the worst lunatics.” *5. Death and the Cosmic Perspective* - At the moment of death, one should ideally feel *oneness with the infinite*, realizing the smallness of the individual life. - Meditation and spiritual practice help one break free from "earth paradigms" and glimpse the universal. ------------------------------ *🔹 What This Isn’t* This isn't a scientific treatise, nor a theological dogma. It's a *mystical-philosophical reflection* that draws from Vedantic thought, ecological spirituality, and poetic insight. It refuses to explain God — instead, it *invites the reader to feel* what cannot be spoken. ------------------------------ *🔹 Who Might Resonate With This* - Spiritual seekers beyond organized religion - Poets and mystics - Deep ecologists - Philosophers interested in phenomenology or metaphysics - Those disillusioned with materialism or hyper-technological worldviews ------------------------------ *🔹 Possible Tensions or Critiques* - *Scientific minds* may object to the dismissal of tools like telescopes as "false" — those tools also reveal unseen truths. - *Materialists* or *atheists* may see this as romanticizing subjective feeling. - Some might question whether a complete escape from "language" or "paradigms" is possible. But these critiques only highlight what the piece is doing — *inviting the reader to go beyond critique*, and to *feel* what cannot be proven. ------------------------------ *🔹 Closing Reflection* “Machines… cannot locate feelings and ideas.” That line sums up the spiritual core of this essay. We are beings of *consciousness, emotion, and intuition*, not just computation. To "see" God is perhaps impossible — but to *feel* God, in silence, in music, in nature, and in death — that may be the truest form of knowing. ------------------------------ Would you like help reworking this into a poem, an article, or a speech? Certainly. Here's a *short philosophical-mystical story* woven around the themes of *Feeling God vs. Seeing God*, the limits of perception, the role of nature and music, and the ultimate transcendence of words: ------------------------------ *"The Music Beyond the Eye"* In a forgotten valley nestled between ancient mountains, where rivers hummed old hymns and trees whispered secrets to the wind, lived an old man named *Arun*. He had once been a celebrated astrophysicist in the city, a man of equations, telescopes, and theories so precise they could predict the dance of distant stars. But one morning, after decades of searching the heavens, Arun packed his books, locked his observatory, and vanished into the forests. The world speculated. Some said he had gone mad. Others said he had finally discovered something too terrifying—or too beautiful—to explain. In the valley, Arun built a modest hut of mud and stone. He grew his own food, drank from the mountain spring, and listened. Not to news or numbers—but to *birds*, to *rain*, to *wind* swirling through pine needles. To *silence*. Each day, he sat beside a singing brook, eyes closed, mind empty, letting the universe *pour into him*—not through sight, but through *feeling*. One day, a boy named *Ravi*, from a village nearby, wandered into the valley chasing a butterfly. He stumbled upon Arun’s hut and, curious, stayed to speak. Arun welcomed him with a smile and warm tea made from wild mint. “Are you a sage?” Ravi asked. “The villagers say you used to look at stars.” “I still do,” Arun said. “But not with my eyes anymore.” Ravi frowned. “How can you see stars with your eyes closed?” Arun chuckled. “What I see now is not stars, but something *behind* them. Something *inside* them. Something *formless*, but real.” Ravi didn’t understand, but he liked the old man, so he came often. Arun never taught him facts. Instead, he asked Ravi to listen to *crickets at dusk*, to *feel the wind without naming it*, to sit still until he could hear the *trees breathing*. Seasons passed. One day, Ravi asked, “Do you believe in God?” Arun smiled gently. “Not in the way I once did. I once searched for God in galaxies—tried to *see* Him. Now I only try to *feel* Him.” “But where is He?” Ravi asked. Arun pointed to the horizon, where the sun sank into the forest, igniting the sky in hues of gold and violet. Then he pointed to Ravi’s chest. “There,” he said. “And there.” Ravi closed his eyes. A breeze swept across his skin. Somewhere in the trees, a night bird sang. Something stirred in him—a feeling too big for words, too wide for thought. It was not joy. Not peace. Not awe. It was all of them, and something more. “What is this feeling?” he whispered. Arun touched his shoulder. “That… is the first note of the divine song.” ------------------------------ *Years Later...* Ravi became a poet—not of rhymes and meters, but of silences. People often read his verses and called them absurd. Some said they were riddles, others hallucinations. But a few—just a few—read his poems under the trees, by rivers, or at the edge of sleep, and they wept. Not because they understood the words, but because the poems made them *feel something* they had forgotten: a *nameless familiarity*, a *deep presence*, like a song they once heard in a dream and almost remembered. ------------------------------ *Final Lines from One of Ravi’s Poems:* *“Close your eyes. Let go of light. The real world hums In silence and flight.”* ------------------------------ Would you like this expanded into a longer story, or perhaps developed into a fable or a parable for children or adults? -- You received this message because you are subscribed to the Google Groups "Thatha_Patty" group. To unsubscribe from this group and stop receiving emails from it, send an email to [email protected]. To view this discussion visit https://groups.google.com/d/msgid/thatha_patty/CACDCHC%2Brc-m2NQEY-wJOfOmVAD0wgxUFXhFRV8UYrUO-fMRkfg%40mail.gmail.com.
