The Cosmic Cadence

Measuring the Breath of God

The cyclical nature of the Indian cosmos has become something of an internet meme. It’s now common to see references to the “Kali Yuga” from those suggesting why we live in such tumultuous times — whether expressed sardonically, or sincerely. In the theological orbit, we also see the occasional reference to the cyclical paradigm. In these contexts, the cycles are often equated with deep fatalism — i.e., something that is opposed to Western religious (and secular) pillars of human agency. As I have navigated the fundamentals of Hindu cosmology, it’s clear that the memes don’t tell the whole story.

Stellar Formation

Like with any religious substrate that has developed over millennia, the Hindu tapestry does not contain a singular cosmological structure. A cyclical motif is indeed seen in the early hymns of the Rigveda (the oldest and most foundational text in Hinduism); but it is in a poetic structure that leaves ample room for interpretation. The “immateriality that predates discernible reality” is referenced; the non-being that somehow stirred into being; the intimation that this repeatedly unfolds with a cadence, as the sun follows the moon.

The earliest layers of Rigveda, known as the Samhitas (~1500-500 BCE), provide cryptic speculation on the emergence of being:

There was neither non-existence nor existence then;
Neither the realm of space, nor the sky which is beyond;
What stirred? Where? In whose protection?

…

Whether God's will created it, or whether He was mute;
Perhaps it formed itself, or perhaps it did not;
The Supreme Brahman of the world, all pervasive and all knowing
He indeed knows, if not, no one knows.

- Nasadiya Sukta (Rigveda 10.129)

The next layer of cosmic exposition is seen in the Brahmanas (~900-600 BCE), or ritualistic commentaries that constitute the subsequent layer of the Vedas. In these verses, there are more structured ideas about the nature of temporality, and the sacrificial rituals that would become a core element of the emerging tradition. These included large rituals that involved the building of elaborate altars; everyday domestic rituals that could be conducted by family priests or householders; and rituals that covered penance, the desire for progeny, and other narrower apertures. Many yajnas (sacrificial rituals) that are still practiced today involve grain, flowers, plant extracts, clarified butter, and other natural elements like turmeric and sandalwood. The elaborate rituals that specified animal sacrifice (e.g., a horse in the Ashvamedha royal ritual, used by kings to assert their sovereignty), or the use of the divine elixir Soma (the true composition of which is still unknown) have largely faded over time.

The didactic, ritualistic focus of the Brahmanas brings to mind the explorations of thinkers like James George Frazer, Émile Durkheim, and René Girard, who saw such inventions as attempts to bargain with the future. I.e, through these rituals, the psychological conceptualization of delayed gratification and the differential impact of chosen actions began to settle in the collective mind of pastoral society. This naturally led an extended model of causation, which included the cosmos and other celestial bodies observed.

“He who offers sacrifice plants a seed in this world. Just as one who plants a seed expects to reap fruit, so does the sacrificer expect to gain heavenly rewards.”

- Shatapatha Brahmana 11.1.8.6

The metaphysical core of the Vedas is found within the Upanishads — its final layers (~700-300 BCE), which provide wide-ranging poetic commentary on the existential nature of the human soul, reality, and the relationship between the gods and the ultimate Godhead. If the Brahmanas provided a ritualistic foundation for exploring the material nature of the cosmos, it is the Upanishads that provide an abstract foundation for deeper analysis. In the core collection of texts, we see an elaborated conception of the individual eternal soul (the atman), along with myriad articulations of the unifying Godhead (Brahman).

The dreamy, cryptic language of the Upanishads blurs the lines between what can be interpreted as metaphor, and what was meant to be an assertion about material reality. (It is reminiscent the timeless inscrutability of Jesus’s parables, which provide the Gospels an elegant shield against literalist critiques.) The breath of Brahman is described as being one-in-the-same with the grand arc of the universe, which cycles between creation (srishti) and dissolution (pralaya). The notion of liberation for the individual soul (moksha) is introduced within the context of samsara, the cycle of individual rebirth that proceeds in parallel to the universal turning.

Cycles within cycles — which would plant the seed for an explosion of philosophical thought across the Indian traditions that would eventually comprise Hinduism, Jainism, Buddhism, and many other formalized groupings. Are the cycles to be taken literally? Is the transmigration of the soul an extended metaphor of the law of cause an effect (karma), or did it reflect a perceived truth about the nature of life?

“All this universe is Brahman. It begins and ends in the Self. In Brahman, time is but a measure, the past and the future eternally contained.”

— Chandogya Upanishad 3.14.1

The true explosion of detail about the cosmic cycles, the measurements of nested time intervals, the role of associated deities, and the intricate stories that weave between naturalistic rendition and supernatural exposition — are all contained in the vast genre of texts known as the Puranas. The Puranic Period (~300-1500 CE) encompassed wide-ranging cultural development across cosmology, mythology, genealogy, geography, theology, ethics, and devotional art. What initially began as supplemental treatises to the Vedas evolved into a broader shift beyond purely philosophical and ritual topics, towards more communal traditions and practices. The Puranas, in essence, track the development of the bardic tradition throughout India.

In these texts, we see highly detailed and systematized cosmological frameworks which build on the concepts from earlier eras. The multi-layer structure of the universe, comprised of 14 lokas (realms) is discussed. (More on that here.) The major astronomical bodies, the phases of the sun and moon, and phenomena like solar and lunar eclipses are all discussed and intertwined with sprawling tales. Many of these technical expositions are contained within the “Major” Puranas, which each contain large collections of narrative and devotional information for key deities — such as Vishnu and Shiva — who rose to central prominence during this era.

Here, the cycles of the cosmos are brought into quantitative focus. Within a single Mahayuga (Great Age), there are four constituent yugas. The Satya Yuga, or golden age, which consists of 1,728,000 years. The Treta Yuga, or silver age, which consists of 1,296,000 years. The Dvapara Yuga, or bronze age, which consists of 864,000 years. And finally, the Kali Yuga, or iron age, which consists of 432,000 years. Thus, the total duration for a given mahayuga is 4.32 million earthly years.

It is then said that one day of Brahma (the principal god of creation within the Hindu trinity), known as a Kalpa, consists of 1000 mahayugas. This would equate a “Day of God” to 4.32 billion earthly years. One further distinction is made, with regard to earthly matters: it is said that each kalpa consists of 14 subdivisions, known as Mantvantaras. Each manvantara literally translates to “day of Manu” — Manu being the archetypal first man, who shares many attributes with Adam in the Biblical tradition. The twist of course being that there is said to be a different Manu for each manvantara; with the transition period between manvantaras involving partial dissolution of the material world.

All of this to say, it is nigh impossible to neatly aggregate and summarize the themes from the Puranas. The era was defined by a syncretism that brought the core Vedic religion into all parts of the Indian subcontinent, fusing it with local traditions, and generating new theological structures of dizzying variety. With regard to conventional Hindu cosmology, the salient question is — what is the significance the additional cosmological detail, when taken with what came before it?

Patterns of Being

As I looked across the cosmological commentary from the different epochs, I also began to wonder: how literally are these constructions meant to be taken? Or perhaps, tangentially: which parts of the cyclical motif are most useful to consider, in the context of modern human endeavor?

In trying to square the philosophical nebula of the Upanishads with the exacting detail of the Puranas, it struck me that neither was claiming that the specific nature of events is preordained. The notion of a cosmos that infinitely begins and ends with Brahman is described in The Upanishads; the progression of a given cosmic cycle is then described in steadily higher resolution, as the Puranic frameworks developed in the following centuries. There is, however, a conscious decoupling between the pattern of the cycles, and what actually takes place within them.

This is most clearly seen with the key gods, like Indra (the king of the gods, in the classic Vedic pantheon) and Yama (the god of death), which are described positions that rotate in occupancy. The Vishnu Purana indicates that each manvantara has a new Indra — who is granted the position based on the accrued karma from prior cycles. This flows from the broader claim that each fully-conscious soul has responsibilities within a given life time (svadharma), and the nature of their next life — whether as a mortal creature, a demon, or a godly incarnation — reflects some interplay of their own actions and a broader divine plan.

One can choose to interpret all of this literally. We are born with certain karma from our past lives, have an ordained dharma that we must fulfill in this lifetime, and our actions will determine what happens to our eternal Self (atman) in the next life — perhaps as an earthly creature, or perhaps in some celestial plane, as a completely different type of being — unimaginable to our human frame of reference. This personal cycle is nestled within a grander orchestration of creation and destruction, which has an incalculable set of clockwork dimensions. Interestingly though, even in this exacting rendition, there is the kernel of a broader truth that can fit many schemes.

Zooming out, what are some of the core ideas here?

1. First, there is the notion of an eternal universe; whether it is governed by a supreme entity, or it is one-in-the-same with such an entity.

2. Second, there is the notion of an eternal soul which survives past a given life. We are more than our mortal coil.

3. Third, there is the notion of karma — which simply means “causality” in its most neutral definition. Souls engage in action, and that action bears fruit.

4. Fourth, there are cycles to how the universe operates. Whether these are literal cycles, or in the continuum of metaphor, is open to interpretation.

5. Fifth, in most Hindu schools, the ultimate goal is for a soul to achieve spiritual liberation. This means the reunion, or literal union, of the atman with Brahman.

When I take these together, one synthesis I can draw is: there is a cosmos governed by Brahman; who has created eternal souls; which have free will, either categorically or at some point of maturity; at which point they accrue karma through their actions; which influences how their cosmic evolution progresses; within a universe that contains cycles, both due to its inherent nature and because of the consequences of free will.

In other words: we find ourselves in a cosmos of patterned grooves, because the aggregate impact of souls operating with free will tends to produce these archetypal cycles — which rhyme in structure, but are not fated to repeat. The the fact that the material world is said to degenerate over the course of each cycle of yugas (from the Satya yuga to Kali yuga) can be interpreted as a macro tendency — rather than a banal certainty. Even in the depths of the Kali yuga, the individual imperative is to act in accordance with virtue, and personal dharma, remains; and it could be argued that the more hostile conditions make it more meaningful to do so.

In such a conception, the universe’s motion can be conceived of as something more akin to a spiral, than a circle. We exist in the vast tapestry of interconnected actions and consequences, as we (and all souls) proceed with our mortal lives. The ultimate goal is to achieve enlightenment or divine union — but that requires immense spiritual work that likely cannot be completed in a single mortal lifetime. And if the soul is eternal, why would that constraint be meaningful anyway? In many Vaishnava traditions, God is seen as a patient parent watching and carefully guiding the meandering development of His children: in some lifetimes we get closer to the goal, and in other lifetimes we get further way; but ultimately, the Truth is there to be realized, and there is no artificial time limit placed on us.

We could naturally extend this example in countless ways; e.g., we could conceive of versions which allow for extraterrestrial and interdimensional entities, which are part of the broader cycle of rebirth and progression; or versions where God is actually incarnating at different points across the cycles, for specific purposes which transcend time. In equal measure, we could choose to change any of those five statements that I put forth at the beginning of this example — and assemble a different cosmic model instead.

Onward

The point to conclude with, perhaps, is that all of these ideas — the yugas, the kalpas, the nature of the soul, the nature of the Godhead, the presence of free will — are pieces of a spiritual system that resembles a grammar much more than it does a rigid structure. One of the beautiful aspects of the Indian substrate is that there is no monopoly on cosmic assertions. All of the interpretations — in their exasperating, often overwhelming sprawl — have been distilled, elaborated, and edified over the millennia. Each person is given the power to explore these motifs, in concert with their own inner journey, to determine what is True.

To me, that doesn’t feel very fatalistic.