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armonia, in Greek Mythology, is the goddess of Harmony and Concord. She is the daughter of Ares, the God of War; and Aphrodite, the Goddess of Love. At first glance, this could seem strange: a force of war, and a force of love coming together to create harmony.
When I left home for college, there was a certain clarity with which I had my life planned out — my career, lifestyle, personal ambitions.
But by the time I graduated, I had far more questions than I had answers. Prompted by an insistent inner voice, I couldn’t help but wonder — is this really what life is all about? I started to question what I truly valued, what success meant to me, and how I could live a more meaningful life.
It was then that I chanced upon a flyer of a school of practical philosophy called New Acropolis.
All the greatest spiritual teachers have spoken about the need for man to awaken, to pursue a shift of consciousness. Krishna, Buddha, Jesus, Plato all offered a clear, discernible path of spiritual growth towards a more meaningful life, which begins by recognizing and operating from a higher aspect within us, separate from our personality which is controlled by prejudices, fears, subjective emotions and egoistic thoughts. Beyond the religious customs that subsequently developed, these ancient traditions speak of Discipleship; an ardent and persevering path of constant self-development which illuminates man’s potential. Likewise, emerging from the ancient tradition of the Indian sub-continent, Yoga, if understood in entirety, also offers a discipular path leading to self-knowledge, transmutation and truth.
Many ancient traditions tell a story of an immense flood that destroyed a civilization that existed thousands of years ago; one that was perhaps far more technologically and spiritually advanced than we are today. Amongst them, Plato speaks of a vast continent called Atlantis that sank into the ocean. Although modern historians have found meagre evidence to corroborate this, too many traditions around the world explicitly, or obliquely, refer to this cataclysm to ignore it completely.
There is a relative uncertainty as to when our earliest human ancestors evolved on earth. But it is certain that by that time, a myriad variety of plants and trees had already been thriving on the planet. The very structure of a tree, with its trunk segmenting into branches, twigs and leaves, is a physical manifestation of the philosophical concept characterizing the relationship between the universe and the One; multiplicity from Unity. The tree’s concealed roots further extend the metaphor, of unity springing from a hidden origin or source. Even those of us who do not share this perception cannot help but experience a sense of awe, perhaps even an intuitive reverence, in the presence of a forest of these majestic giants clothed in their silent, steadfast, resilient beauty. Older than man himself, trees have been integral to myths and folklore in almost all cultures as symbols of solace, strength, abundance, and immortality.
I am referring with this title to the life and work of a Chinese philosopher called Mengzi, or Mencius, as the Latinized version of his name is written. Born in Zou province around 371 BC, he lived in a period known as ‘The Warring States’, which lasted from 481 to 221 BC. It was probably as a result of seeing much cruelty and much suffering among the people of the time that Mencius promoted his philosophy of benevolence.
Mencius was a devoted follower of Confucius, and while the concept of benevolence (ren or jen) is a key part of Confucius’s teachings, it takes on particular importance in the philosophy of Mencius
The question of free will is one of the oldest and most enduring questions facing humanity. The ancient Greeks considered it in their tragedies, such as Oedipus Rex, where it seemed as though the hero’s fate was predetermined in spite of any actions he might take to prevent or alter it. The Greeks and their cultural successors, the Romans, had an image of three Fates, who wove and spun the destinies of men, and cut the thread of their lives at a pre-ordained moment.
Like all mythology, that of illustrious King Arthur has endured the test of time, transmitting essential eternal values that serve to inspire human civilizations of all ages. From its tale, it is not always easy to demarcate between elements of documented history and magical folklore,
In the wee hours of the morning, Emperor Akbar awoke to the sweet melodious singing of Haridas, guru of the celebrated singer of his court, Tansen. Haridas had been singing a dawn raga. Overwhelmed, Akbar inquired why Tansen was not able to sing like his guru Haridas. Tansen replied that there was one big difference between him and his teacher; while he sang for his lord Akbar, The Great, Haridas sang for the Lord of the universe – God.
What is the meaning of spiritual exercises? The term probably originates in the exercitia spiritualia of St Ignatius of Loyola, founder of the Jesuit religious order in the 16th Century. But Ignatius himself developed these exercises on the basis of early Christian philosophy, which in turn derived from the exercises already existing in the philosophical schools of antiquity, where they were referred to under the general term askesis, from which we have the word “asceticism”.
If you have visited Stonehenge on the Salisbury plains of England, perhaps you sensed a powerful feeling of mystery, of something hard to define. To the eye they are a series of immense standing stones set in circles. But rather, “Stonehenge is a symbol of Albion, the ancient wisdom of Britain and of different cultural values from a vanished time” writes Archaeoastronomer Robin Heath.
I confess: I love seeking knowledge. I read a lot, and also hoard many more books than I can actually read…I am a bibliomaniac. Thomas Frognall Dobson spoke of this fictional “neurosis” that prompts an obsessive desire to collect books. (1) But there is a more fascinating Japanese word for it: Tsundoku, which essentially is to do with the hoarding of books, many of which shall never be read. We simply allow these books to pile up on our book shelves.
Few amongst us can deny a ubiquitous yearning for change – socially, politically, ecologically, spiritually and a myriad other dimensions. Unfortunately, this longing seldom manifests beyond vehemently voicing the already well-recognised need for change or deluging the social media space with our postulates of it. Real change, nevertheless, continues to elude us. Intimidated by the apparently enormous effort essential to effect change, we succumb to our instinctive resistance to change resigning to an endless array of excuses – resorting to blaming destiny, external circumstances, or political situations, among others.
The Japanese poetic form of haiku, is a very succinct poem that exemplifies simplicity. It is one of the most recognizable and popular forms of poetry today and has travelled far beyond Japan’s shores, with writers composing haiku in Spanish, English and even Bengali as seen in the works of Nobel laureate Rabindranath Tagore. It originally developed out of a highly formal, collaborative verse called renga, popular at middle class gatherings in the 7th century. (1) The starting verse of renga,
The times that we have experienced together in the last few months have been unique. There is no doubt that it has been challenging for many, but my attempt in this article is to highlight the special opportunities that I discovered even in such moments.
Due to the lockdown across the world, many were physically isolated from one another for extended periods of time. While this necessary action forced many of us to retreat physically from the masses, it was also a rare opportunity to do the same with our thoughts,