Bitter gourd - deep fry
Irish Soda Bread
S.V.Temple, Karkala
A classic village scene
Keeping clean
A kid in anticipation
भारत स्वच करो ~ Keep India clean
A classic road side view
Spare part repository
Spare part repository
riCH(əw)əl
Watching a movie
Abbi falls
Bangalore traffic
Friends
House
Gurpur Bridge
Forum Mall
Morning light
Trunk
Keeping things clean
Time for cricket
An Old House
Making things clean
Cashew macron
Austin
Austin
Bejai KSRTC STOP
Avery Weighing machine
ನಮ್ಮ ಮಂಗಳೂರು ಸ್ವಚ ಮಂಗಳೂರು
Bus stop
Quarters?
A Lecture upon a shadow
Winter Walk
Winter walk
Winter walk ~ A random shot
ಸುವರ್ಣ ಕರ್ನಾಟಕ ಸಾರಿಗೆ Karnataka's golden tranport
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Our modern understanding of the brain's perpetual power bears him out. Nothing enters consciousness whole. There is no direct, objective experience of reality. All the things the mind perceives -- all thoughts, feelings, hunches, memoirs, insights, desires, and revelations -- have been assembled piece b piece by the processing powers of the brain from the swirl of neural blips, sensory perceptions, and scattered cognitions dwelling in its structures any neural pathways.
The idea of our experience of rality -- all our experiences, for that matter -- are only "secondhand" depictions of what may or may not be objectively real, raises some profound questions about the most basic truths of human existence and the neurological nature of spiritual experience. For example, our experiment with Tibetan medicators and Franciscan nuns showed that the events they considered spiritual were, in fact, associated with observable neurological activity. In a reductionist sense, this could support the argument that religious experience is only imagined neurologically, that God is physically "all in your mind." But a full understanding of the way in which the brain and mind assemble and experience reality suggests a very different view.
Imagine, for insance, that ou are the subject of a brain imaging study. As part of this study, you have been asked to eat a generous slice of homemade apple pie. As you enjoy the pie, the brain scan capture images of the neurological activity in the various processing areas of the brain where input from your senses is being turned into the specific neural perceptions that add up to the experience of eating the pie. ...... The SPECT brain scan would show all this activity in the same way that the revealed the brain activity of the Buddhists and the nuns, as blotches of bright colors on the scanner's computer screen. In a literal sense, the experience of eating the pie is all in your mind, but that doesn't mean the pie is not real, or that it is not delicious.
Correspondingly, God cannot exist as a concept or as reality any place else but in your mind. In this sense, both spiritual experiences of a more ordinary material nature are made real to the mind in the very same way -- though the processing powers of the brain and the cognitive functions of the mind. Whatever the ultimate nature of spiritual experience might be -- whether it is in fact a perception of actual spiritual reality, or merely a interpretation of sheer neurological function -- all that is meaningful in human spirituality happens in the mind. In other words, the mind is mystical by default. We can't definitely say why such capabilities have evolved, but we can find traces of their neurological roots in some basic structures and functions, primarily the autonomic nervous system, the limbic system, and in the brain's complex analytical functions.
You would call, "Baby, where are you?" and I should laugh to myself and keep quite quiet.
I should slyly open my petals and watch you at your work.
When after your bath, with wet hair spread on your shoulders, you walked through the shadow of the champa tree to the little court where you say your prayers, you would notice the scent of the flower, but not know that it came from me.
When after the midday meal you sat at the window reading Ramayana, and the tree's shadow fell over your hair and your lap, I should fling my wee little shadow on to the page of your book, just where you were reading.
But would you guess that it was the tiny shadow of your little child?
When in the evening you went to the cow-shed with the lighted lamp in your hand, I should suddenly drop on to the earth again and be your own baby once more, and beg you to tell me a story.
"Where have you been, you naughty child?"
"I won't tell you, mother." That's what you and I would say then.
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