Re Sanskrit Quotes

It's just incredible. It just does not explain. Or perhaps that's it: they don't explain and we are not supposed to know. We have a few old mouth-to-mouth tales, we exhume from old trunks and boxes and drawers letters without salutation or signature, in which men and women who once lived and breathed are now merely initials or nicknames out of some now incomprehensible affection which sound to us like Sanskrit or Chocktaw; we see dimly people, the people in whose living blood and seed we ourselves lay dormant and waiting, in this shadowy attenuation of time possessing now heroic proportions, performing their acts of simple passion and simple violence, impervious to time and inexplicable - Yes, Judith, Bon, Henry, Sutpen: all of them. They are there, yet something is missing; they are like a chemical formula exhumed along with the letters from that forgotten chest, carefully, the paper old and faded and falling to pieces, the writing faded, almost indecipherable, yet meaningful, familiar in shape and sense, the name and presence of volatile and sentient forces; you bring them together in the proportions called for, but nothing happens; you re-read, tedious and intent, poring, making sure that you have forgotten nothing, made no miscalculation; you bring them together again and again nothing happens: just the words, the symbols, the shapes themselves, shadowy inscrutable and serene, against that turgid background of a horrible and bloody mischancing of human affairs.

Ma’s pet peeve was how the Western world misunderstood the theory of karma. “I mean it’s the Bhagavad Gita they’re bastardizing. What is all this ‘karma’s a bitch’ nonsense!” Ma loved to say. The entire “what goes around comes around” thing was a backward view of karma. Karma was simply Sanskrit for action, and the theory was that your actions are the only thing under your control, as opposed to the fruits of your actions, which are not. And since actions always bear fruit, you were better off focusing your energy on your own actions, rather than worrying about the results you wanted them to produce.

Normally when I tell people I'm a gender studies major, they look at me like I'm studying Sanskrit or Latin. But now, NOW I had something to show my family, to possibly convince them that one day I would be employable. Look! People still like feminism! Or maybe they just really like Ryan Gosling's face. But they're getting that face with a dose of feminism! Like it or not.

In Buddhist theory, two Sanskrit terms, vitarka and vicara, are used to describe the subtle attachments of mind. Vitarka characterizes the state of “seeking,” when our attention is attached to what we’re trying to make happen. Vicara characterizes the state of “watching,” when, even though we’re not trying to force something to happen, we’re still attached to an outcome we are waiting for. With either, our mental attachment makes us blind or resistant to other aspects of what is happening right now.

The name Medusa means ‘sovereign female wisdom,’ ‘guardian/ protectress,’ ‘the one who knows’ or ‘the one who rules.’ It derives from the same Indo-European root as the Sanskrit Medha and the Greek Metis, meaning ‘wisdom’ and ‘intelligence.’ Metis, ‘the clever one,’ is Athena’s mother. Corretti identifies Athena, Metis, and Medusa as aspects of an ancient triple Goddess corresponding respectively to the new, full, and dark phases of the moon. All three are Goddesses of wisdom, protection, and healing.

We’re sleepwalkers. All religious teachers have recognized that we human beings do not naturally see; we have to be taught how to see. That’s what religion is for. That’s why the Buddha and Jesus say with one voice, “Be awake.” Jesus talks about “staying watchful” (Matt. 25:13; Luke 12:37; Mark 13:33–37), and “Buddha” means “I am awake” in Sanskrit. Jesus says further, “If your eye is healthy, your whole body is full of light” (Luke 11:34). Thus,

Max had a book with her and began leafing through it, looking for something. "There's a passage our conversation reminds me of ..." "What?" "In the Upanishads -- a series of Sanskrit works which are part of the Veda. Here it is Pol, listen: In this body, in this town of Spirit, there is a little house shaped like a lotus, and in that house there is a little space. There is as much in that little space within the heart as there is in the whole world outside. Maybe that little space is the realty of your you and my me?" "Could I copy that?" I asked. "Of course. I've been watching that little space within your heart enlarging all year as more and more ideas are absorbed into it. Some people close their doors and lock them so that nothing can come in, and the space cannot hold anything as long as the heart clutches in self-protection or lust or greed. But if we're not afraid, that little space can be so large that one could put a whole universe in it and still have room for more.

Because I don’t have time for this bullshit,” she said. “We are building a ship to literally save our species. And we have very little time to get it done. It will have three astronauts—just three—to do experiments we can’t even conceive of now. We need them to be prepared for any possible line of study they deem necessary. So we are giving them everything. The collected knowledge of humankind, along with all software. Some of it is stupid. They probably won’t need Minesweeper for Windows 3.1, and they probably don’t need an unabridged Sanskrit-to-English dictionary, but they’re going to have them.

here’s where it gets confusing. In spiritual life, the same word is used to describe both the archetype of the divine Guide and a human teacher—who may or may not be enlightened. In India, your music teacher, your Sanskrit teacher, or even your biology teacher might be addressed as guruji, because all teachers are considered worthy of respect. In the same way, in spiritual life, you may first meet the guru-principle through a teacher or mentor who happens to be a fairly ordinary human being with some spiritual knowledge. In Sanskrit, one name for this kind of teacher is acharya, meaning “the one who instructs.” The therapist who introduces you to deep breathing, the yoga teacher who takes you into your first meditative shavasana, and the author of your favorite meditation book are all important for your practice at different stages. (And any of them, in traditional India, might be addressed as “guruji” or “respected teacher.”) Different acharyas can provide particular kinds of instruction. If you’re a serious student, you’ll learn to recognize who can help you at each stage, when to stay with a teacher despite doubts or resistances, and when it might be time to move on.

Over the span of the decade since I first turned my attention to precognitive dreaming, it has gone from being a perplexity I didn’t quite believe in to a fascinating intellectual exploration to (now) something a little bit like a personal religion. The original meaning of religion is re-linking—that is, linking back to some spiritual source from which we feel ourselves sundered. In Sanskrit, yoga has the same root: to yoke, as one yokes a cart to the cow pulling it. What precognitive dreamwork yokes me to, repeatedly and with always unexpected force, is my own biography, my life as a single, more-unified-than-I-ever-knew landscape. It has led me to believe that biography, not psychology, should be the operative term in the humanistic science—or scientifically informed humanism—of the twenty-first century. To characterize our inner self as a psyche is to slightly miss what is really happening, the nature of this thing, this source in us. This source “in” us is really the completeness of us, our wholeness . . . which means our whole story, from birth to death, as it is refracted through that moment-to-moment cursor consciousness. Bringing to light the hidden ways our biography—including our future biography—shapes the landscape of our lives now, and the way our lives now shaped our past, even perhaps our childhoods, is a truly sublime and awesome project of conscious, and conscientious, self-care. It is indeed a path of gnosis. And like any other gnosis, there’s an ecstatic component to it. Every precognitive dream hit is a bit like a hit from a kind of psychedelic drug, an exhilarating, vertiginous, spiritual and life affirmation. It’s like zooming in on a fractal, where the fractal is your life. Every day can bring new discoveries about the precognitive significance of a perplexing symbol in an old dream, if not the full-on closure of a time loop that began a day, a year, or even decades in your past. It’s always something unexpected, but it will be something that adds to the wonder and strangeness of your existence. The trick—and what precognitive dreamwork teaches—is focusing on and learning to be amazed by the haphazard, trivial details of your life that most people overlook,

The ancient Varna system was re-engineered under colonial rule to result in the modern caste system. Blaming caste abuse today back onto ancient history is a mischaracterization of Hindu dharma as the cause of social oppression. Such claims do not explain how Valmiki (author of the Ramayana), or Vyasa (author of the Mahabharata) rose from the humblest strata to be revered by all. Nor does it explain how the great sage Vasishta achieved his brilliance despite being born in the most challenged community. Even Kalidasa, who is respected as the greatest Sanskrit poet, had humble origins.

Ashtavakra would listen when his father, Kahoda, a renowned Vedic scholar, used to recite the Vedas loudly. One day, the unborn child found some errors in the Vedic pronunciations of his father and he softly pointed out the errors to his father. Kahoda was an egotistic man. He was not delighted that an embryo was trying to be one up on him. His anger knew no bounds. He cursed his unborn son, “You think you’re too smart, don’t you? Be born with eight-fold deformities and let’s see how you live with that.” The curse took effect. Very soon, Ashtavakra was born with eight-fold deformities. Ashtavakra, in Sanskrit, means eight-fold, and thus he was christened with that name. King

Like metals, myths too get recycled. Reworked and so richly embellished as to be almost unrecognisable, stories which may once have reflected genuine historical events are liable to be re-used by later generations in a totally different context and for purposes quite other than that for which they were originally intended. This is not the case with the corpus of Vedic literature; the form and content of its sacrificial formulae were, as has been noted, too ritually crucial to be tampered with. Less sacred compositions, like the two great Sanskrit epics, were a different matter.

We still say the Urdu word —ab-o-hawa, water and wind—for weather. We’d never deny a beautiful phrase. We say pani, as Bangladeshi Muslims, the word for water used throughout North India and Pakistan. West Bengali Indians use jol or pani, interchanging the words depending on whom they’re speaking to. Bangladeshi Hindus will say jol, distinguishing themselves from the Muslim majority. Both words can be traced back to Sanskrit, paniyam the word for drinkable; jala the word for water. Language, down to a single word or phrase, might reveal whether we were Muslim or Hindu, starting with all our separate words for water, bathing, hello, goodbye.

In Taoism, a woman who can seduce a man. She's doing nothing, she's just ‘is.’ And the man is attracted to her. But on the other hand, if the woman doesn't do anything, if she doesn't unfold her yin energy, then nothing happens! The man is not going to be drawn. The same applies to the power inside your energy body to produce waves. You can't do it, but you still need to let it happen. I would recommend that you focus on and explore this idea in your activities because it contributes to profound realizations. One of the terms for power in Sanskrit is Sakti. It is defined as a highly feminine principle. If you're doing your experiments like dissecting a rat in a laboratory, if you're too serious and too cold, the Force or Sakti will find you dull and won't show up to you. Use the same energy as would use to approach a lover. Be hot and playful, and the Force will dance with you. Be very active during the exercise, as she gets bored with lame lovers. She offers herself only to those who give themselves to Her.

Buddho A mantra, associated with the Mahayana or Vajrayana Buddhism and a significant part of the history of Theravada. Repeating the name of Buddha or other Pali phrases is known to help the individual cultivate loving kindness. ‘Buddho’ comes to mean His title, not His rank. You call upon the holy teacher to offer you peace, harmony between yourself and the universe, harmony between the sensual and the spiritual world, by repeating the mantra. Until you continue, sit comfortably on the ground and take a few deep breaths. Then breathe in, say a long' bud-,' breathe out, hold'-dho.' At the conclusion of your practice, the mantra will give you clarity and brightness. • Lumen de Lumine Lumen De Lumine is luminous song. It helps you to feel open towards the world. The person will be engulfed in light. When darkness overpowers your life, Lumen De Lumine removes your aura and fills you with glow and light. You'll be more relaxed and uplifted. This is the ideal balance of power and harmony. The mantra will give you the faith that you're free from negative energies. Just like the light, you'll feel strong, untouchable, and invincible. Anyone can touch Lumen De Lumine. You don't have to close yourself with this chant in mind. Think of your loved one bringing positive energy and feelings to them. • Sat, Chit, Ananda Often known as Satchitananda, a Sanskrit composite word composed of the three verbs' sat,'' cit' and' ananda.' Sat means ' life, being present, being alive, living, being real, being good, being right, being normal, intelligent, being truthful.' Chit means' see, feel, perceive, understand, accept, think about something, shape a thought, be conscious, remember, consider' Ananda means ‘joy, love, satisfaction, enjoyment, happiness, pure elation’.

mind and breath (or life energy) are closely connected. Influencing the one means influencing the other. When we are upset, we breathe faster. When we are calm, our breathing slows down. Yogins understood this early on and invented a battery of techniques for controlling the breath in order to control the mind. These techniques are called prānāyāma, which is widely translated as “breath control.” The literal meaning of this Sanskrit term is “lengthening of the life energy.” This is accomplished through breathing rhythmically and slowly and through the special yogic practice of prolonged retention of the breath, either before or after inhalation. In Patanjali’s eightfold path, breath control constitutes the fourth limb. He did not describe or prescribe any specific technique, and elaboration was left to the adepts of Hatha-Yoga many centuries later. They, like most other Tantric adepts, were eager to explore the prāna-maya-kosha, or the “etheric body,” and its subtle energetic environment. By contrast, most contemporary schools of Hatha-Yoga ignore prāna and prānāyāma, just as they ignore the mental disciplines and spiritual goals, and instead promote a plethora of physical postures (āsana). This emphasis is problematical, as it has led to an unfortunate reductionism and distortion of the traditional yogic heritage. The gradual re-inclusion of prānāyāma into contemporary Hatha-Yoga, however, is very promising, because this practice sooner or later leads to an experiential encounter with prāna, which is distinct from mere oxygen. According to Yoga, we are meant to live a full 120 years. Since we take 21,600 breaths every day, the total number of breath in our lifetime will be 946,080,000 breaths. This may seem like a lot, but we also know that life goes by very quickly. Therefore it makes sense to want our every breath count, and Yoga makes this possible. 53 Cultivating Wisdom WISDOM ARISES IN US whenever the quality of sattva grows stronger in the mind. Sattva, which literally means “being-ness,” is one of three primary qualities (guna) of creation. The other two qualities are rajas (the dynamic principle) and tamas (the principle of inertia). These primary qualities underlie absolutely everything that is other than the superconscious Spirit, which is pure Awareness. According to Yoga and Sāmkhya, they are the behavioral modes of prakriti, often translated as “Nature” but standing for the universe in all its dimensions. Together, in various mixtures, they shape all forms at whatever level of existence, material and mental. Only at the transcendental level of prakriti—which is called prakriti-pradhāna or “creatrix foundation”—do the three qualities exist in perfect balance. As soon as this primordial balance is disturbed, the process of creation sets in, beginning with the most subtle (mental) manifestations and terminating with the material realm. Sattva represents the principle of lucidity or transparency, as it manifests in and through wisdom. Just as the moon, which has no atmosphere, oceans, or vegetation, reflects the light of the sun, so sattva reflects the super-conscious Spirit

The Bible's blind, the Torah's deaf, the Qu'ran is mute If you burned them all together you'd get close to the truth Still, they're pouring over sanskrit under ivy league moons While shadows lengthen in the sun Cast on a school of meditation built to soften the times And hold us at the center while the spiral unwinds It's knocking over fences, crossing property lines Four winds, cry until it comes And it's the Sum of Man Slouching towards Bethlehem A heart just can't contain All of that empty space It breaks, it breaks, it breaks