I recently listened to the "Ojai 1982- Discussion with Scientists" videos between JK and scientists David Bohm, Rupert Sheldrake, and John Hidley. As someone who has high regards for the scientific method, I feel these conversations broke a great fundamental assumption I didn't even realize I was holding... that merely knowing scientific facts translates to a better or freer life. I am beginning to see this alone as insufficient.

For example, in one of the videos Dr. Sheldrake describes conflict in nature, such as plants competing for light or predators hunting prey and they discuss whether this form of "disorder" also causes human psychological suffering. JK beautifully questions whether these natural phenomena are truly "disorder" that leads to psychological suffering or simply the way nature functions.

I'm starting to think that questioning something empirically observable in the outside world like JK does, if it's necessarily something one must be bound by, doesn't come by science alone. Maybe it is something that comes from a real thirst to end the conflict in our minds. Without that thirst why would we even try to go into the images we hold of ourselves?

In the present day world when we already know so much about the world through science, and are still suffering with so many social problems, animal exploitation, and most importantly climate change, I find this question very important. If we go into the reality of our experiences, would it lead us out of all this? Would one person's inquiry also somehow help others? In this video with Acharya Prashant, Dr. Sheldrake brings up his previous conversation with JK in which he says JK believed that if one human being became enlightened, it would lead to the enlightenment of humanity.

But it makes me wonder if "total" freedom from our illusions (seems like some sort of final destination) even possible? Or is it an ongoing, moment-to-moment thing? And if the ego fundamentally lives in illusions and chooses whether or not it wants to inquire, can individual transformation ever truly be predicted to affect the collective, or does it remain entirely an individual responsibility and their love for freedom?

The Pioneer article by Acharya Prashant serves as an eye-opener to the way the masses perceive Mahatma Gandhi. Every October, the public discourse splits Gandhi into two narratives, either a passive saint who preached ahimsa or a flawed villain blamed for the historical failures.

The article, however, sheds light on the fact that neither the garland nor the stone represents Gandhi, the real Gandhi. Gandhi wasn't a weak or passive figure trying to please everyone. He was a confrontational leader. Not just with the British, but with his own party, his household, and the crowds during riots. His showed an absolute refusal to cooperate with what he felt was wrong, no matter the personal cost.

This paragraph from the article sums up Gandhi’s insistence best:

>If he is to be remembered, he should be remembered neither for truth nor for ahimsa but for his insistence, his aagrah. Learn aagrah from Gandhi, not ahimsa. Once something seemed right to him, it seemed right; whether it truly was right is a separate question, but having found it right, he stood on it. His name is usually linked to truth and non-violence, but the resolve made him unforgettable, and everyone dreaded that stubbornness.

He didn't start out perfect, he openly admitted to his flaws and failings. But his strength lies in his relentless insistence on fighting the weakness within himself first, before taking on the world outside. The article doesn't condemn the criticism of him. He invited it all his life. The problem is the slander that happens without even considering how much of one's own life one would be willing to lay open.

Maybe the question to us is this.

When we look at past heroes are we actually willing to know and observe the highest, greatest qualities they had to offer? Or do we just get caught up in controversies just to feel superior and self-righteous?

I have always equated freedom with having options.
More careers, more people to date, more places to live, things to buy, lifestyles to explore.
Growing up, this sounded like THE DREAM!

I mean my parents didn't have many of these options, so surely I should feel more free, more privileged no?

But then reality hit. This should-ness doesn't really seem to land or translate into a feeling of freedom. Presence of too many options sometimes feels crippling instead. I have been trying to understand why.

This video made something that was already there within me surface.
Not that having options is bad. Ofc, having choices that the previous generations didn't have can be freeing. But there's this a gap I'm trying to make sense of: why doesn't the presence of more choices necessarily translate into the experience of greater freedom?

Why does almost every decision remain provisional because there might alwayss be something better? Another job, another relationship, city, lifestyle, another version of ourselves.
Am I ever completely here then with the choice I've made?
Or am I already comparing it with the possibility of something else?

If every option is an opportunity, but nothing ever feels sufficient, am I actually experiencing freedom?

Some anchor seems to be missing, a certain center / a north star within that knows. And hence is not pulled in so many directions, even in the presence of options. Thoughts?

Watch full video here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5bRKiifwwKY&t=198s

The article examines India's rising student suicides (14,488 in 2024, the highest ever recorded, according to NCRB) and the recent deaths at IITs and BITS Pilani.

We tend to quickly accept the reason usually given for the suicides: "too much pressure." Maybe because we've experienced it ourselves as students or witnessed it around us...and there's no denying that the pressure is real.

But is pressure alone what breaks students?

I felt a particular connection to this section from the article:

> A kid is a very dependent being, and so the kid is easily exploited. We tell the kid, "Your life is worthless if you do not attain such-and-such goals." And then we keep the goals so unrealistic and make the competition so severe, by telling the same thing to every kid, that practically only 1 per cent can attain them. What will happen to the remaining 99 per cent?

>So now the student comes to campus, having been given impossible targets and told that if he doesn't achieve them, life is meaningless. Some students, very sadly, buckle. If one pulls too hard on the ends of a chain, some link will break.

>The fault does not belong to the link; one must question those who are pulling.

I think I've seen a version of the same blindness that hands out manufactured goals to students, play out in my own experience when I was preparing for JEE at a coaching center.

The "teaching" was almost entirely directed towards solving exam problems. We drilled question types and shortcuts, but the "learning" was limited to whatever helped solve the questions. The concepts behind them were superficially covered, why they mattered was barely touched on and we seldom asked why we were learning any of it.

When everyone is chasing the same target because everyone else is, speed and rank become the things to be optimised and unfortunately, understanding becomes optional.

What do you think? Where do these impossible targets placed on students come from, and why do students attempt to fulfill them?

Think about your own day.

At home -> you are someone’s son or daughter.

At work -> you are an employee.

With your friends -> you are a friend.

On social media -> perhaps you present yet another version of yourself.

The same person.

Yet different roles in different situations.

Almost four hundred years ago, Shakespeare captured something similar through a metaphor.

In As You Like It, Jaques says:

“All the world’s a stage,

And all the men and women merely players.”

The whole world is a stage, and all men and women are merely actors.

But this metaphor is not simply about the different social roles we play. Jaques uses it to look at human life itself as a sequence of different stages and roles.

On a stage, an actor takes on a role.

He might be a king, a beggar, a soldier, or a fool.

The audience sees him through that role.

But the actor knows that the role is not the entirety of who he is.

Shakespeare takes this idea further and uses the stage as a metaphor for the whole of human life.

Jaques describes life as passing through seven stages:

1. Infancy ->

The helpless child, crying and dependent on a nurse.

2. The schoolboy ->

Carrying his schoolbag reluctantly and dragging himself towards school in the morning.

3. The lover ->

Lost in love, writing poems and expressing his feelings for his beloved.

4. The soldier ->

Young, ambitious, full of courage and eager for reputation. He is willing to take risks for his honour.

5. The justice ->

By now, the person has gained experience and social standing. He has his own house, his own opinions, and a recognised place in society.

6. Old age ->

The body gradually weakens. The person loses some of the strength and activity he once had. Jaques describes him as a “pantaloon” — an old man marked by the decline that comes with age.

7. A return to dependence ->

In the last stage, the person loses many of the abilities he once had and returns to a state of dependence, almost like the beginning of life.

So life appears not as one fixed identity, but as a constantly changing sequence of roles and stages.

The child doesn't remain a child.

The student doesn't remain a student.

The lover changes.

The ambitions of youth change.

Positions and reputations change.

The body changes.

And eventually, even the person we have spent years calling “I” changes.

That, to me, is the power of Shakespeare’s stage metaphor.

He presents life as a stage where there is both an entrance and an exit.

One role appears -> it stays for a while -> then another role takes its place.

We often mistake the scene we are currently living for the whole play, while Shakespeare reminds us that it is only one act.

The role you are playing today is not the whole story of your life.

And perhaps this gives us a chance to step back and look at ourselves a little differently.

Have I mistaken my role for who I actually am?

The stage keeps changing. The roles keep changing.

The question is whether we can see the difference between the role and the reality behind it.

Source: William Shakespeare, As You Like It, Act 2, Scene 7.

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/56966/speech-all-the-worlds-a-stage

In psychology, this idea is explained through self-schema, a mental framework that organizes how you think about yourself. Examples include:

• I am weak in mathematics.
• I am very responsible.
• I get nervous easily.
• I’m not creative.

Once such beliefs become part of your self-image, they act like a filter that affects how you notice, interpret, remember, and respond to new experiences.

Example

Imagine someone believes, “I am weak in mathematics”.

• They get one question wrong → that mistake sticks in their mind more than the ones they got right.
• A difficult question appears → they assume in advance they won’t solve it.
• They try less → practice less → results may stay weak.
• Conclusion: “See, I was right. I am weak in math”.

Here, the self-schema doesn’t just describe “what I am like.” It shapes:

• What I notice
• How I interpret it
• What I remember
• How I behave

And that behavior can create experiences that reinforce the original belief.

What Is Self-Schema?

The concept of self-schema was developed by psychologist Hazel Markus. In her influential 1977 study, “Self-Schemata and Processing Information About the Self,” she showed that our mental ideas about ourselves influence what we recognize, remember, and how we understand self-related information.

Markus built on earlier schema theory, which describes schemas as mental structures that organize information. She applied this to the self, showing that beliefs like “I am this kind of person” guide how we sort and interpret experiences about ourselves.

A Deeper Question

If beliefs like “I’m bad at math,” “I’m responsible,” or “I’m not creative” repeatedly shape how we see, remember, and act, then the question “Who am I?” deserves closer attention.

The ego(the sense of self or I-am-ness) often attaches itself to something and declares:

• I am this body.
• I am this name.
• I am this achievement.
• I am this injury.
• I am that kind of person.

So the self-schema, “I am like this”, becomes more than a psychological idea. It becomes part of our identity, shaping how we experience life.

Self-Reflection Prompts

1. Have you ever looked at the “I” behind all these labels?

• Behind “I am weak,” “I am successful,” “I am good,” and “I am a failure,” there is the same “I” constantly building its identity. Who is this “I” that claims each label as its own?

2. If you had to complete this sentence in one line, what would you say? “I am __ .”

How does this perception affect the way you see yourself and behave in daily life?

Reference

• Personality and Social Psychology by Hazel Markus

Seasonal flavors at Coconut Glen's Vegan Icecream in Azabujuban, Tokyo...both of them tasted great!!

It would have been even better if the base flavour of coconut was a little subtler. But it tasted great nonetheless!

Full article link: https://www.timesnownews.com/opinion/india/nepal-tragedy-the-one-word-no-one-wants-to-say-article-156017940

It is alarming that news coverage since the Nepal tragedy seems to avoid one word, despite it being at the center of the tragedy...CLIMATE.

The why behind this silence is explored in the article I’ve linked above. I’d genuinely encourage you to spare some time to read it.

>"This was a climate catastrophe, and not the first; the very same valley was struck in almost this way a year ago, and the whole Himalayan arc now does this two and three times a season. The word, then, is available, and it is accurate, and still it is the one word we will not say plainly. That refusal deserves more attention than the flood itself, because the refusal is the disease, and the flood only its symptom."

Maybe the first step towards addressing this disease, is being willing to look at it and ask why we are so reluctant to call these events what they are.

Read the article, and let's reflect on it in the comments.