Someone who is captivated by questions must have been drawn to the field of philosophy. Apasmāra (I would love to call this: spiritual unconsciousness) and existential self-snare (Ātmaphaṅḍā) are one and the same, both logically and experientially.

This existential snare arises from this forgetfulness.

This 'something' arises from forgetfulness, which itself is the byproduct of these two realms. What exactly is this 'something'? This is the crucial question: if ignorance and self-snare are not merely two sides of the same coin, but the coin itself is a penetrating entanglement, what emerges from their interplay? It is a kind of experiential "dark matter" of the psyche—or, to put it more clearly, it is the inertia of forgetfulness: the sense that life loops without purpose, that desire and thought are caught in repetition, and that the self cannot fully reconcile freedom with attachment. In my previous essay I talked about Sappho's Poetic Beauty and the Indictment of Modernity's Discord with Aesthetics, where I had discussed this forgetfulness at length. This forgetfulness is no trivial lapse. It is not simply failing to remember a fact or misplacing a name. It is, rather, a fundamental estrangement: the occlusion of that which gives meaning to life itself.

Heidegger famously critiques Western metaphysics for its "forgetting of Being," highlighting how it has neglected the fundamental question of what it means to exist at all. This neglect mirrors my own concern: why do we focus so heavily on the being of particular entities—an ontology of things—rather than on the deeper question of what it means "to be" itself?

My intention here is to indicate that 'not to hold the idea of not to become snare' is not mere psychological forgetfulness but a deeper ontological slumber, where Being is concealed under layers of distraction, objectification, and "entities."

Take, for example, this existential "self-snare": it emerges when the individual identifies not with the act of being, but with particular determinations—such as roles, possessions, and ambitions. In Vedantic language, it is the ahaṅkāra spinning its web, entangling the Self in what it is not. This then becomes the war between the "forgetting of Being" and the effort "not to become snared," which ultimately reveals the existential trap: we live as though our truth is found in accumulation, roles, or systems, while forgetting the groundlessness—the abyss—of Being.

It takes time to be free from the clutches of spiritual-epilepsy (Apasmāra). Spiritual ambiguity disturbs the dancing youth. I am terrified with fear by the endless noise that comes out of Shiva's drum, like the evening chirping of birds in the entire universe from a vibration beyond this world, and I question my own heart. I feel an overpowering softness of color, and it is unknown when this began. These three colors—black, white, and red—stem from the aura of Shiva. Our fear is valid; sound in its infinite form overwhelms the finite listener, I know, but as a stubborn person myself, I declare this absence of Om is not a negation but the still-point, the bindu where all sound resolves. Just as the Upanishads declare: "Nāda is Brahman, and its cessation is liberation."

Is the power of liberation (the feminine form of God) like this? Is it not uncertain in the origin of Om, but does its absence (soundlessness) signal the stillness of the dancing cosmos?

If you look closely, Moksha-Shakti is inseparable from the dance of meaninglessness until we try to merge that big gap (the pulse without breath) to some arising foam like Anadyomene. The symbolic oscillation of that very Om is what painted the walls of Lascaux Cave. I have been mesmerized by those ancient walls, painted with bison and horses—not mere representations but ritual vibrations turned into pigment. Those were the first interruptions of the dances of the cosmos in the name of "humanity painting sound into vision." But we had missed the main idea there—that like Shiva's dance, art too crushes Apasmāra underfoot.

What pushes the world toward despair, both the mind and the universe, is the formlessness of something without attributes, let alone art. Formlessness is potential, but without attributes, it breeds anxiety—it is the apeiron of Anaximander, the undefined infinite. Opposition gave birth to creation. This was the belief of Empedocles too. The cycle of creation runs like this: a cycle of destruction and emergence. It is neither imagined like a "Lascaux Cave" nor can its concept be dismissed.

One of the main goals of thought (philosophy) is for humanity to understand the reality of illusion and truth, from which supreme happiness (the supreme substance, in Spinoza's terms) is obtained. The civil war of human consciousness (monads-monadism), which began with Thales, has not ended. Thought is not physical; it is as energetic as a photon. If thought is not physical, then continuity will remain.

Reflection served as a stepping stone and, by creating harmony between consciousness and non-consciousness, damaged the beauty of speech. Plato had already snatched the object of beauty from human consciousness, and Leibniz nurtured that. Leibniz's monads are self-contained mirrors of the universe. Each perceives, each reflects, but none directly interacts. Harmony is "pre-established" by God. So, here, we can sense in nurturing Plato's abstraction, Leibniz deepened the exile of raw artistic power.

I am not criticizing anyone (giants of philosophy) here, but human freedom is harmed because freedom is not only choice but creation and the power to attribute meaning, to adorn reality with beauty. Once knowledge becomes rigid, the world is stripped of its poetic dress, which was further helped by Locke's idea. By the time of Locke, knowledge was changing into "innate ideas," but such research harms human freedom—the loss of artistic attribution. So reflection: a ladder, yes—but one that sometimes crushes the flower of beauty under the weight of reason.

My concern and discussion are about beauty. What is beauty? With whose concept is it created? I am "you." You are "me." The universe is "me." I am the "universe." If all this is so, then what is a concept or an "idea"? Here, a universal "existence" does not remain. What I see or consider beautiful may be unblemished in the "idea" of the universe. I am not considering any "may be." This is the truth. The soul is the implacable enemy of the body. It carries the phenomenal world, which is why "beauty" has become personal.

Let Plato play here: he once claimed that beauty is the bridge between the sensible world and the eternal Forms. In the Symposium, he points toward the "ladder of love," where one moves from love of a single beautiful body to the beauty of all bodies, then to the beauty of the soul, and finally to the eternal Beauty itself—absolute, beyond decay. Right. But what we are creating here is just an aberration, not the eternal ladder that bridges the gap.

In this stance, beauty cannot be an objective universal outside of you; it becomes a phenomenological act, a way the world appears through you. Unless you first define yourself as an outset idea, you would not create the idea of universal creation—you would be a fool!

If we drag Plotinus here, he saw beauty not in surfaces but in harmony. But where does that harmony align with satyam, śivam, sundaram (Truth, Auspiciousness, Beauty)?

Now tackle this: when we say something is beautiful, we don't just say I like this; we say this is beautiful, expecting others to agree, even though no concept defines it. This must be remembered when we are speaking of beauty.

I have always positioned myself as "I am the universe"—the "idea" dissolves into direct being. Concepts fragment; beauty does not need justification. It simply radiates as truth itself. And here I sound like Nietzsche's affirmation of life: not a metaphysical beyond, but a yes to existence as it appears.

It serves not only the self, but the universal soul—including those cave-dwellers, those primal persons.

The "artistic" begins without a "cause" and ends with an "end," which I called the "implacable enemy," a part of the soul. I call someone. They hear. Or they call me. I hear. Is this "pre-creation," or what I prefer to call a "germinal idea"? It's an idea printed in every person that gives a natural explanation of "existence" but remains non-universal, which adds "sorrow." It is this sorrow I am trying to raise, which decentralizes "artistic" endeavors. It destroys beauty.

In his treatise, A Treatise of Human Nature (1739), in the Of the Understanding section, David Hume writes about "imagination": "When we remember any past event, the idea of it flows in upon the mind in a forcible manner; whereas in the imagination the perception is faint and languid." That is, he repudiates the futility of the world behind the imagination. Sensation, imagination, and mythology are distinct from one another.

At the end of the 18th century, Immanuel Kant tried to turn this "imagination" dispute into a permanent point. This "concept of grand imagination" brought Kant's argument to a different place. This division of imagination broadened the cognitive, moral, and aesthetic aspects of life. Kant spoke of imagination in terms of "productive" and "reproductive." Between animal and human strife stands imagination. "The creation of beauty from imagination"—is it human accomplishment?

A result-oriented imagination is beautiful; ultimately, artistic attribution is perceived. For example, Van Gogh's The Starry Night, Claude Monet's Poppies (1873), or Giorgione's Sleeping Venus (1510) make my inner self spiritual. The mysterious duality is covered by the beauty of imagination. The imagination of Leonardo da Vinci or H. G. Wells, or rather, the Wright Brothers or space scientists, has certainly left a fictional beauty for modern society.

Only the path of subjective intuition and spiritual truth will make the longevity of beauty inclusive. The imagination of beauty is also like a practice. "Art will fall to the level of entertainment and will be ruled by empty concepts." This is how Nietzsche described modern consciousness as unhealthy. Society is disappearing from the healing of mental, cultural, and artistic dissatisfaction. The proper devaluation of consciousness pushes people into incompleteness.

According to Helvétius, the purpose of humanity is to fully enjoy the feeling of happiness. "Full" becomes "absolute" when emotion reaches the highest point of imagination or sensory experience. This shows that mental-imagination is a beauty-oriented impulse. At the end of the 17th and almost all of the 18th centuries, art attracted human values. The collective "ardent" of humanistic culture in literature, painting, and philosophy took imagination to a unique pinnacle in human history. The determination of clarity is possible only through an innate disposition. If art and imagination are considered the determinants of value, then we are living in a contaminated time.