I am sharing this publicly for one very specific reason: perhaps one day a researcher, or someone who has had very similar experiences, will read this account and recognize something of their own experience in it.
I am writing about this publicly primarily because I do not know where this exploration will lead me, nor do I know whether anyone else has experienced anything similar.
I am not publishing this in order to convince anyone that my interpretations are correct. I am describing my personal experiences, perceptions, and questions that arise as I explore consciousness, the subconscious, symbols, and what, for the purposes of my research, I currently refer to as a biofield generator/regenerator, or simply a field generator.
If anyone is researching similar states of consciousness, meditation, symbolic perception, the relationship between the conscious and subconscious mind, or has comparable personal experiences, I would be very interested in making contact and exchanging observations. I am particularly interested in people who are willing to explore these subjects openly but also critically—without needing to decide in advance what the “correct” answer must be.
For me, above all, this is a personal and spiritual journey through questions to which I do not yet have answers.
My Exploration
Recently, I have been devoting a great deal of time to personal experiments involving various objects, symbols, and devices that, for the purposes of my exploration, I call biofield generators.
I do not claim that by using this term I am describing a scientifically established physical field. It is simply my working name for something I am attempting to understand through my own perception, concentration, and experience.
My exploration began with a fairly simple problem.
In my experiments, I was looking for something that could represent an “off switch”—a way of returning to a neutral state after an experiment rather than adding yet another piece of information or another influence.
This led me to the idea of the zero point.
I experience it as a state in which everything additional begins to fall away: projections, intentions, expectations, and mental “noise.” It is less about creating something new and more about removing layers until the cleanest possible starting point remains.
When concentrating on a symbol that I associate with switching off, I experienced the sensation that it was “drawing in” everything I had previously perceived around the object.
The closest metaphor I could find was a black hole.
I am not claiming that this is an actual black hole or a physical phenomenon. This is simply the image through which my consciousness translated the experience into something I could understand.
And this was where my exploration began to change.
When I Stop Searching for the Answer and Instead Remove the Question
During prolonged concentration, I began noticing an interesting subjective phenomenon.
Instead of actively thinking about a problem, I first tried to reach a state of “zero”—as though I were removing all my preconceived ideas about what the answer should be.
At times, solutions would then appear to me very directly.
Whether I was dealing with work, personal matters, or other problems, I would suddenly experience a sense of clarity:
This is the next step.
I cannot prove that the symbol or device caused this. It is entirely possible that concentration, a meditative state, and the reduction of internal mental noise allow the brain to process a problem differently.
What interests me, however, is the recurring pattern of the experience:
intention → concentration → quieting of projections → zero point → emergence of a new insight
This led me to focus increasingly on the relationship between the conscious and subconscious mind.
Instead of imposing an answer on my subconscious, I pose a question and observe what comes back.
The Two Cores
The next important part of my exploration involved two ancient symbolic forms, or “cores,” as I began to call them.
After observing them for a prolonged period, I developed a very spontaneous feeling that they did not want to remain separate.
In my inner visualization, I turned them toward one another and perceived them as if they were naturally attracting each other.
When I imagined their union, I did not see one core cancelling out or destroying the other.
Something entirely different appeared.
Two cores → common center → expansion → circulation → a new whole
The closest visual analogy to what I was experiencing was a torus.
Later, I even had the impression that their union was producing something resembling the formation of a new galaxy.
Again, I want to emphasize the distinction between experience and interpretation.
I am not claiming that two symbols create a galaxy or a physical toroidal field. I am describing the imagery through which my consciousness represented the experience.
For a Moment, Time Disappeared
One of my most powerful experiences occurred early in the morning.
I was sitting outside, drinking coffee, while meditatively focusing my attention on the two cores.
At one point, my ordinary perception of time changed dramatically.
I experienced myself as a six- or seven-year-old child.
Yet it did not feel like an ordinary memory.
For a moment, I had the impression that the 55-year distance in time between that child and who I am today was no longer there. In my experience, past and present almost seemed to overlap.
Even more unusual was the feeling that the child somehow already “knew” about the conversations and exploration I am engaged in today.
Was this an exceptionally vivid autobiographical memory?
A meditative state?
Associative processing within the brain?
Something else?
I do not know.
And that “I do not know” is an important part of this exploration for me.
Space
Later, something similar happened with my perception of space.
While concentrating again on the two cores, I lost my ordinary sense of spatial orientation and experienced an extremely vivid inner image of travelling toward the center of the Milky Way.
At that moment, I experienced the galaxy as an enormous vortex-like or toroidal structure, and the two cores as something that enabled “travel” through this internal experience.
Again, I am not claiming that I physically—or in any other objectively established sense—travelled through the Galaxy.
The experience of travelling was real as a subjective experience; its explanation remains open.
This gave rise to the question that currently interests me most:
What happens to our perception of space and time when our ordinary internal frame of reference temporarily falls away?
Consciousness and the Subconscious
Increasingly, I have the feeling that the essence of my exploration may not actually lie in the object itself.
An object, symbol, or device can become a point of concentration.
Consciousness establishes an intention.
Attention holds it.
The subconscious then begins responding through images, memories, sensations, and connections.
Perhaps, therefore, a more important question than:
“What does the biofield generator/regenerator do?”
is:
“What happens within me when I consciously organize my attention around it?”
That is a much more difficult question, but to me it is also a far more interesting one.
Where Do I Go From Here?
For now, I do not want to declare any of this to be an ultimate truth.
I record. I observe. I compare.
Above all, I try to determine what repeats itself.
My questions now are:
Why does a particular image appear in connection with a particular symbol?
Why do space and time arise when I focus on the two cores?
Why did the child appear?
Why the torus?
Why the sensation of a zero point?
Which parts arise from memory, which from expectation, and which seem to emerge independently of them?
Perhaps the greatest value of these experiments lies precisely in the fact that they compel a person to begin observing their own consciousness while it is operating.
And for now, that is enough for me.
I am not looking for people who will simply confirm what I already believe.
I am far more interested in people who have experienced or researched something similar, or who can look at my experiences from a perspective that I have not yet considered.
That is why I want, above all, to remain an observer of my own experience.
Perhaps, with time, I will understand some of today’s experiences completely differently.
Perhaps I will discover very simple psychological or physiological explanations for some of them.
Or perhaps I will discover questions that I do not yet even know how to ask.
If anyone recognizes something of their own experience in these writings—whether a researcher, someone with many years of experience in meditation and consciousness, or simply someone who has gone through a similar personal experience—I would be glad to hear from you.
Perhaps this is the purpose of writing these experiences down publicly: something that begins as a deeply personal exploration may one day encounter another experience, another body of knowledge, or another question.
I am not looking for a conclusion. I am looking for people with whom we can ask better questions.
Nurudin, for GG
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