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Crafted Conceptual Contours, Carved by Cerebral Constructs: Contemplations

Crafted Conceptual Contours, Carved by Cerebral Constructs: Contemplations

Image( Configuration): The mandala, as an embodiment of cosmic harmony, represents the universe's ideal shape and the journey from suffering to joy. This geometric formation is valued across spiritual traditions as a meditation guide, focussing the mind and establishing sacred places, assisting practitioners in their quest for self-realization and spiritual transcendence.



Title: Crafted Conceptual Contours, Carved by Cerebral Constructs: Contemplations

                      Tracing the Inexplicable Patterns of Thought and Perception


Crafted conceptual contours, carved by cerebral constructs, unfurl the complicated crochet of contemplation, charting the complex web of cognitive concepts and the fleeting, circumstantial, and transitory hints, echoes, and clues of assurance. Come with me as I crep and crawl into the compelling, consequential, and coercive depths of the captivating chasm of cognition, exploring the curious curves of certainty beneath the canopy of the cosmic curiosity, covering and conveying the crafted contours created by cognitive creation, contemplating the curvatures of cursory corollories of certainties in cognition.


Introduction:


Truth! Its greatness stands as an unwavering force prevailing throughout epochs and realms in the never-ending pursuit of truth. This truth pervades the fabric of life and is anchored inside the words of ancient scriptures and mystical poetry. These reflections reverberate across the cosmos, constructing a tapestry of contemplation on the nature of cognition, the limits of perception, and our thirst for originality. They inspire us to venture into the unfathomable recesses of existence and consciousness, rooted in ageless philosophy and beautiful verse.


The unbreakable magnificence of truth continues beyond time and realms, embedded inside ancient manuscripts and mystical poems, threading through the fabric of reality itself. These musings echo down cosmic hallways, interconnecting ideas about the essence of cognition, the limits of discerment, and the drive of ingenuity. They urge us to explore the perplexing worlds of reality and consciousness, rooted in ageless wisdom and profound poetry.


A narrative emerges from the resounding declaration "Magna est veritas et praevalet—Great is truth, and it prevails" to Savitri's ethereal verses in the liminal moments preceding the gods' awakening: a colossal consciousness, Night herself, stretches across the threshold of divinity's unfolding path. Her profound and palpable quiet encircles the limitless abyss of the unembodied within her lighted sanctuary of eternity. A infinite nothingness, echoing from primordial voids, yearns for utter emptiness, while a latent primal force unintentionally creates suns and drives life's somnambulist currents. A formless shadow navigates a soulless abyss, dragging Earth in cyclical motions, oblivious to its essence, among space's apathetic slumber. Yet, behind this incomprehensible darkness, an unidentified stirring, an unheard Idea, sprouts the birth of creation within undiscovered voids.



Magna est veritas et prævalet— “Great is truth, and it prevails. (Bible)

Truth, like an everlasting beacon, cuts through the maze of reality.

Truth is a powerful force that has prevailed throughout the tumultuous epochs of time.

Truth remains firm against the currents of chaos in the fabric of eternity.



In Savitri's mystical poetry, a mysterious tableau—an enormous, frightening consciousness, Night herself, stretches over the threshold of the divine's unfolding path—lies in the liminal hour preceding the awakening of gods. A profound quiet clings within her illuminated sanctuary of eternity, almost tangible in its opacity, shrouding the limitless abyss of the unembodied. A infinite nothingness, a fathomless zero, engulfs existence, a force rekindled from the earliest voids, yearning for utter emptiness. A latent, primal force slumbers in this cosmic stage, unintentionally birthing suns and guiding the somnambulist currents of life. Amidst the apathetic stupor of space, a formless shadow gyrates through a nothingness, dragging the Earth in its cyclical motions, oblivious to its essence and destiny. Yet, within the void's unfathomable depths, a nameless stir, an unsaid Idea, seeds the inception of creation, igniting an unfathomable, fledgling movement.



Savitri – Canto 1

Book One: The Book of Beginnings

Canto One: The Symbol Dawn


It was the hour before the Gods awake.
Across the path of the divine Event
The huge foreboding mind of Night, alone
In her unlit temple of eternity,
Lay stretched immobile upon Silence’ marge.
Almost one felt, opaque, impenetrable,
In the sombre symbol of her eyeless muse
The abysm of the unbodied Infinite;
A fathomless zero occupied the world.
A power of fallen boundless self awake
Between the first and the last Nothingness,
Recalling the tenebrous womb from which it came,
Turned from the insoluble mystery of birth
And the tardy process of mortality
And longed to reach its end in vacant Nought.
As in a dark beginning of all things,
A mute featureless semblance of the Unknown
Repeating for ever the unconscious act,
Prolonging for ever the unseeing will,
Cradled the cosmic drowse of ignorant Force
Whose moved creative slumber kindles the suns
And carries our lives in its somnambulist whirl.
Athwart the vain enormous trance of Space,
Its formless stupor without mind or life,
A shadow spinning through a soulless Void,
Thrown back once more into unthinking dreams,
Earth wheeled abandoned in the hollow gulfs
Forgetful of her spirit and her fate.
The impassive skies were neutral, empty, still.
Then something in the inscrutable darkness stirred;
A nameless movement, an unthought Idea


Reflecting on the Symbol Dawn, Savitri's lines depict Night's great consciousness immobile on the threshold of Silence, signifying the unfathomable depths of the unembodied Infinite—a gigantic zero encompassing existence. A fallen yet massive ego remembers its unfathomable origins inside this immensity, wishing for total annihilation rather than face the mysteries of birth and death. While a phantom aimlessly navigates an emptiness, Earth spinning, forgotten amidst cavernous chasms, an inactive apparition repeats an unconscious loop, extending the blind will indefinitely. Within this unintelligible darkness, a nameless impulse stirs, an unheard notion sprouting from profound depths.


A massive specter loomed in the lit sanctuary of eternity, shrouded in the peaceful calm preceding the divine's awakening. Night, an enigmatic embodiment of unfathomable depths, remained immobile on the threshold of Silence. Within the solemnity of her sightless gaze lay the abyss of the unembodied Infinite—a boundless zero encircling the world.


A gigantic but fallen ego hovered among the cliff of primal Nothingness, recalling the incomprehensible nursery from which it arose. It preferred annihilation into empty Nothingness to the confusing riddle of birth and the never-ending cycle of death.


In this hazy beginning of all things, an inert, featureless phantasm of the Unseen continued an unconscious loop, growing the blind will indefinitely. It held thoughtless Force's cosmic drowsiness, whose slumbering ingenuity lit suns and sustained our life's somnambulist swirl.


A phantom whirled aimlessly over the soulless Void of Space, within formless oblivion devoid of mind or vitality. Earth spun in the vast chasms, oblivious to her true origin and mission. The indifferent heavens remained neutral, vacant, and motionless.


Despite the unfathomable darkness, a nameless instinct stirred—an unheard notion awakening from the profound depths.


The Eagle soars in the summit of Heaven,
The Hunter with his dogs pursues his circuit.
O perpetual revolution of configured stars,
O perpetual recurrence of determined seasons,
O world of spring and autumn, birth and dying!
The endless cycle of idea and action,
Endless invention, endless experiment,
Brings knowledge of motion, but not of stillness;
Knowledge of speech, but not of silence;
Knowledge of words, and ignorance of the Word.
All our knowledge brings us nearer to our ignorance,
All our ignorance brings us nearer to death,
But nearness to death no nearer to God .
Where is the Life we have lost in living?
Where is the wisdom we have lost in knowledge?
Where is the knowledge we have lost in information?
The cycles of Heaven in twenty centuries
Bring us farther from God and nearer to the Dust.
Choruses from " The Rock " T. S. Eliot


T.S. Eliot's Choruses from "The Rock" confront the duality between knowing and ignorance, motion and stillness, speech and silence as they investigate cyclical existence. They bemoan the centuries-long decline away from God, closer to the earthly realm—a never-ending cycle of birth and death, invention and experimentation, leading humanity toward its inevitable conclusion.


This musing dives into the essence of cognitive limitations, learning processes, and the enigma of originality, spanning notions and cognitive currents and swirling around key questions and conceptions. It investigates if our criteria for conceptual understanding are confident or credible, whether they are restricted inside cerebral boundaries or a cosmic expanse, and whether they are woven through perceptions, senses, intuition, and actual experiences. It asks if our intellectual activities are limited loops inside physical, cognitive, and cosmic boundaries or a genuine ascent beyond constraints toward knowing truth.


The thought progresses to the intriguing conundrum of originality, asking whether creations like the cell phone are simply clones or innovative iterations, spiraling endlessly or soaring above constraints to reach reality's sphere.



Wake from slumber


I'm always thinking about creating. My future starts when I wake up every morning... Every day I find something creative to do with my life.

--Miles Davis


In the cosmic dance of life, questions pierce the depths of existence like celestial darts. The carousel of time spins us through cosmic ballrooms, waltzing across galaxies in search of elusive stars. Ignorance frequently intertwines with knowledge as we weave our way through the unknown loom, chasing pearls of insight, casting shadows over the cosmic tapestry. The holy brilliance that once flooded our lands is obscured by death, which is disguised yet imminent. Each orbit carves a cosmic map, temporarily blooming truths that fade away. We twirl amid unfathomable secrets in the midst of this transitory cosmic waltz, striving for fleeting moments of grace and comprehension.



Questions like pointed arrows, piercing my heart

A cosmic ballroom spin on time's carousel

Seeking pearls of wisdom and weaving through the unknown,

However, ignorance is frequently woven into the shadow of knowing.

Death approaches, obscuring God's cosmic might.

Casting shadows across regions that were once bathed in glorious brightness.

Each orbit is a woven tapestry, a celestial chart.

Where truths bloom quickly and then vanish.

In the midst of this cosmic waltz, a dance of passing grace,

We pirouette  through mysteries , longing to be embraced.

We race through galaxies, chasing stars.


The central theme of these research is the nature of our cognitive standards and learning processes. Are our conceptual understanding criteria genuine or merely self-important? Is our knowledge derived from a comprehension of the cosmos or from an understanding of our own cognitive mechanisms, which are linked to our perceptions, senses, intuition, and life experiences? To foresee the future, we investigate historical, philosophical, and scientific teachings—is this effort progressive or conservative?


Furthermore, we consider the concept of originality, which is demonstrated by the mobile phone: is it an original innovation or a replication of the inventor's original ideas? Is our intellectual endeavor a never-ending loop that confines our cognition to physical, mental, emotional, perceptual, conceptual, and spiritual constraints? Is it a form of control or a genuine journey toward understanding reality and transcending our flaws? This encourages us to investigate whether our conceptual limits are formed by abstract concepts or by concrete elements. Do our perceptions, which are based on our senses, intuition, and experiences, result in true understanding of the universe, or do they simply represent knowledge about our own knowledge?


Creating a cascade of thought about our cerebral contours, cascading through thoughts and cognitive currents, coiling around key questions, hypotheses, and conceptions. Should we design our conceptual criteria to be arrogant and egotistical, or concrete and credible, capable of filtering through our consciousness? Could it be cosmic cognition or restricted cognition, cognition confined within our skulls, knitted by perceptions, triggered by primitive senses, intuition, and empirical experience? Cradled in the wrinkles of philosophical traditions, even scientific sagas spun, to inspire foreseeing futures. Consider whether our senses are being shaped by brilliant illumination or restrictive conservatism.


Consider the example of originality—consider this intriguing quandary! Is a mobile phone a calibrated clone of the creator's cerebral concept, or can it claim the crown of creation? Is our intellectual impulse a complicated replication, enigmatic and entangled, double-distanced from reality, or an imaginative iteration, an audacious incursion into unknown imaginations? Or does it spin indefinitely, like a carousel of cognition, limiting our abilities within physical, cognitive, and cosmic boundaries? Is it a type of mental choreography, covert control, or genuine ascension, casting off our restraints to take reality's domain?


Crafted contours, carved by cerebral constructs, mapped over imaginary archipelagos, or anchored in tangible confines, come together to define our conceptual boundaries. Can our perceptions, which are anchored in the caverns of our senses, the corridors of intuition, and the labyrinth of our life experiences, claim to comprehend the cosmos or only mirror our mental maneuvers? Do we go deep into the vaults of annals, weaving through philosophical routes, and deciphering the DNA of discoveries to divine fates in our pursuit for learning's elixir? Is this a conservative codex or an enlightened trip chiseling our understanding?


The concept of originality has distilled the heart of creativity! Is the mobile phone a source of new invention or merely a copy of the founder's fertile figment? Is it a mockery of mockery, stranded in the mundane, or a creative idyll, a burning imagination? Or does it keep spiraling, imprisoning our consciousness in cosmological, mental, and spiritual cages? Is it a staged hoax, a hidden conspiracy, or a daring ascent that pushes past bounds to gain control of reality?


Omar Khayyam's words echo a profound truth in the midst of these reflections: "The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ, Moves on." This powerful verse conveys both the inevitable passing of time and the irreversibility of its activities. A single stroke of fate's pen cannot be erased, and tears cannot erase the script of fate.


This world, our brief habitation, appears to bring nothing but sorrow and anguish, leaving our worries unsolved, according to Khayyam's beliefs on our fleeting life. We go with a great burden of regrets in our hearts as a result of the complexities of our voyage.


Despite this, Khayyam provides solace in nature's amazing beauty—the green foliage that gleams after rain, the promise of renewal even in the midst of exhaustion. He reminds us that in the midst of daylight exhaustion, when despair threatens to blanket the world in its final night, the birth of a newborn child represents hope and rejuvenation.


In his soul-searching quatrains, Khayyam delves into the intriguing realms beyond life, examining the secrets of the afterlife. The journey of his soul across the invisible barrier leads to an introspective realization: heaven and hell exist within us, a puzzling dichotomy woven into the fabric of our being.


Khayyam's words serve as a heartbreaking reminder of life's transient nature, pushing us to find solace in nature's beauty amidst the struggles and to accept the dualities that exist within ourselves—our own heavens and hells.


“The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ,
Moves on: nor all thy Piety nor Wit
Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line,
Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it.”
― Omar Khayyam



“This world
that was our home
for a brief spell
never brought us anything
but pain and grief;
its a shame that not one of our problems
was ever solved.
We depart
with a thousand regrets
in our hearts.”
― Omar Khayyam


“When you are so full of sorrow
that you can't walk, can't cry anymore,
think about the green foliage that sparkles after
the rain. When the daylight exhausts you, when
you hope a final night will cover the world,
think about the awakening of a young child.”
― Omar Khayyam



“I sent my Soul through the Invisible,
Some letter of that After-life to spell:
And by and by my Soul return'd to me,
And answer'd: 'I Myself am Heav'n and Hell”
― Omar Khayyam


The poetry of Omar Khayyam is an expressive study of the transitory essence of human existence. The vivid quatrains(Rubaiyat) of Khayyam encapsulate the human experience, lamenting the world's brevity as a home that appears to bring only sorrow and grief. The quatrain laments the unresolved nature of our fights, leaving us with a swarm of regrets. It conveys a deep sense of despair in the face of life's inexplicable complexities, highlighting the fleeting and ephemeral nature of our existence on this plane of existence.


Omar Khayyam's quatrains, following an aaba rhyme pattern, lament the brevity of life, leaving a trail of regrets and lingering issues. He finds peace in the captivating beauty of nature in the midst of embrace of sorrow, which brings refreshment in the midst of exhaustion and despair. The journey of his spirit across the invisible curtain reveals the existence of paradise and hell within him, creating an inner pattern of duality.


Finally, Khayyam's words and Savitri's mystical tapestry confront the fleeting essence of existence, where truth triumphs amid the ebb and flow of time. These observations encourage us to accept our inner duality and take solace in transient beauty in the midst of life's complexities, while also realizing the ephemeral nature of our journey through this plane of existence.


Conclusion:


Through Omar Khayyam's words and Savitri's mystic tapestry, we confront the fleeting essence of existence, where truth reigns among the temporary ebb and flow of time. Savitri's mystical words describe the cosmic dance before the gods arise, while Khayyam's melancholy verses resonate with the human experience, lamenting the brevity of our time here. These reflections motivate us to embrace our dualities and take solace in the fleeting beauty of the world amid this endless complexity of life in this perplexing maze of existence, where knowledge mingles with ignorance and reality blends with the abstract.

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