Return

 The triumphant return of Thirumangai Alwar marks the first step towards solving a theft that took place nearly 70 years ago. The larger challenge is to ensure that the remaining stolen idols, which have been traced to museums in the United States, are also swiftly repatriated and justice is delivered to the people,” said S. Vijay Kumar, cultural enthusiast and co-founder of India Pride.

Thanks to all those who helped

The Tirumangai alwar returns home after 69 years to Sundaraperumal koil ... received by the custodians in court today and the entire village is waiting for the grand celebration tonight..

He will be reunited with his lord tonight

https://www.facebook.com/share/r/1EV3kBVmxE/

Life series infinite

 The Gift Entrusted to Us

How do we remain humble when life places a gift in our hands?

Perhaps by remembering that the gift is entrusted to us, not owned by us.

Whatever we possess—intelligence, health, talent, wealth, creativity, strength or opportunity—is only a temporary instrument through which the being within us expresses itself. We may nurture it, discipline it and use it well, but we cannot command its permanence.

No one knows when, or in what measure, that gift will continue to function in our favour. The mind may not always think with the same clarity, the body may not always respond with the same strength, and circumstances may change without warning.

That awareness need not make us fearful. It should make us humble and grateful.

To stay humble is therefore not to deny our abilities, but to remember their source and their uncertainty. We are caretakers of what has been given to us. Our responsibility is to make the fullest and noblest use of it while it is in our hands.

The gift is temporary. The way we use it becomes our offering.

School series 80

Homeostasis

The Mind — The Art of Knowing When

Our body receives an enormous amount of information every moment.

The eyes see.
The ears hear.
The nose smells.
The skin feels.
The tongue tastes.

But sensing something is only the beginning.

The real wonder is deciding what to do with it.

Sometimes the eyes lead. Sometimes the ears. Sometimes a smell awakens a memory. Sometimes an old experience influences how we respond to something happening right now.

There is no fixed order.

The mind is constantly deciding:

Should I act?
Should I wait?
Should I speak?
Should I remain silent?
Should I pay attention?
Should I ignore it?

But behind all this activity is something even more fundamental:

Balance.

The human body is constantly trying to maintain the right balance within itself.

Temperature must remain within a narrow range. Water and salts must be balanced. Blood sugar must be regulated. The heart must adjust its rhythm. Breathing must change with activity. Muscles need effort as well as rest.

Too much or too little can disturb the system.

An organ constantly pushed beyond its capacity can suffer strain. One that is hardly used may lose efficiency. The body therefore keeps adjusting—speeding up, slowing down, storing, releasing, repairing and recovering.

This remarkable ability to maintain internal balance is called homeostasis.

We rarely notice it.

We simply live, breathe, walk, think, eat and sleep while millions of tiny adjustments happen within us.

Perhaps that is the deeper meaning of “knowing when.”

When to act.
When to pause.
When to eat.
When to rest.
When to use energy.
When to conserve it.
When to respond.
When to remain silent.

The human body is not designed for extremes.

Its genius lies in balance.

And perhaps the same lesson applies to the mind and to life itself:

Too much can disturb.
Too little can weaken.
Balance keeps the whole orchestra playing.

School series 79

 “The Mind — The Art of Knowing When 

Our body receives an enormous amount of information every moment.

The eyes see.

The ears hear.

The nose smells.

The skin feels.

The tongue tastes.

But sensing something is only the beginning.

The real wonder is deciding what to do with it.

A loud sound may make us turn around.

But if we recognise it as something harmless, we may simply continue what we were doing.

A sudden smell may make us investigate.

A familiar face may make us smile.

A painful touch makes us withdraw our hand.

And sometimes the wisest response is no response at all.

The mind is constantly making these tiny decisions.

Should I act?

Should I wait?

Should I speak?

Should I remain silent?

Should I move closer?

Should I move away?

Is this important—or can I ignore it?

There is no fixed sequence.

Sometimes the eyes lead. Sometimes the ears. Sometimes a smell brings everything to attention. Sometimes memory takes the lead.

A particular song can suddenly transport us years into the past. A familiar fragrance can bring back a person or place we have not thought about for decades.

The present is constantly being interpreted through the past.

And then comes another extraordinary ability—the ability to choose our response.

Two people can experience exactly the same event and react completely differently. One may become excited, another cautious. One may speak immediately, another may pause and think.

The difference is not always in what they saw or heard.

It is in how their minds interpreted it.

Perhaps this is one of the greatest abilities of being human:

Not merely to receive information, but to decide what it means and what to do about it.

The mind does not simply react to the world.

It chooses.

And sometimes its greatest wisdom is knowing when not to act.

Knowing what to do is intelligence.

Knowing when to do it is wisdom.

 Mind — The Art of Knowing When.”

School series 78

 The Human Body — An Orchestra Without a Conductor improvising 

We have already looked at some of the remarkable systems of the human body—the eyes that see, the ears that hear, the nose that smells and the mouth that tastes.

But perhaps the greatest wonder is not any one organ.

It is the way they work together—and the fact that they do not always work in the same order.

Imagine walking into a kitchen.

You may first see a familiar dish.

Immediately, your memory recognises it.

Or perhaps the smell reaches you before you see anything. Suddenly, an old memory comes alive.

Sometimes a sound catches your attention first.

A familiar voice can make you turn your head even before you see the person.

And sometimes one sense triggers another.

A particular smell may remind you of your childhood. A piece of music may take you back decades. A photograph may bring back not just a face, but the sounds, places and feelings associated with that moment.

The senses are therefore not working in isolation.

They are constantly sending information to the brain, where it is combined with memory and experience to help us understand what is happening.

And there is no fixed conductor saying:

“Eyes first. Nose next. Ears after that.”

The order changes according to the situation.

If something suddenly falls behind us, our ears may alert us first.

If we see smoke, our eyes take the lead.

If the smell of something burning reaches us, the nose may warn us before our eyes find the source.

And memory quietly joins the orchestra.

The brain compares what we are sensing now with what we have experienced before. That is why a familiar smell, sound or sight can instantly tell us something without conscious reasoning.

Even while we walk, talk, eat or drive, thousands of signals are being received, compared and coordinated.

We rarely notice any of it.

We simply respond.

That is perhaps the real miracle of the human body.

Not that each instrument can play—but that the orchestra can change its music from moment to moment, with no visible conductor.

The eyes may lead today.

The ears tomorrow.

The nose in another moment.

And behind them all is the remarkable brain, quietly bringing together sensation, memory, experience and action.

An orchestra without a conductor—yet perfectly capable of improvising.

School series 77

 The Human Body — An Orchestra Without a Conductor 

We have already looked at some of the remarkable systems of the human body—the eyes that see, the ears that hear, the nose that smells and the mouth that tastes.

But perhaps the greatest wonder is not any one organ.

It is the way they all work together.

Imagine taking a bite of food.

Your eyes see it.

Your nose detects its aroma.

Your brain recognises what it is.

Your mouth prepares saliva.

Your teeth and tongue begin their work.

Your hands adjust their movement without you consciously thinking about it.

When you swallow, another remarkable sequence begins. Muscles in the throat coordinate precisely so that food goes into the food pipe rather than the airway.

All this happens in seconds.

And we don't give a single instruction.

The same coordination is happening every moment of our lives.

When we walk, the brain, eyes, muscles, bones, joints and balance system work together.

When we speak, the brain coordinates breathing, the vocal cords, tongue, lips and mouth.

When we run, the heart beats faster, breathing increases, muscles demand more oxygen and the blood carries it where it is needed.

Even when we sleep, the body continues its work—heart beating, lungs breathing, brain processing and countless cells carrying out their duties.

There is no little conductor sitting inside us giving instructions to every organ.

Yet somehow, the orchestra plays.

The human body contains trillions of cells, countless chemical reactions and an extraordinary network of nerves and blood vessels. They constantly communicate, adjust and respond to one another.

Most of it happens without our awareness.

We simply live.

Perhaps that is the greatest miracle of all:

The human body is an orchestra without a conductor—yet somehow, every instrument knows when to play.

School series 76

 Why Do Humans Walk on Two Legs?

Look at a dog, a cat or a horse. They move on four legs.

Look at us—we walk on two.

Why did humans end up with two legs instead of four?

The answer lies in evolution.

Our distant human ancestors gradually developed the ability to walk upright. This way of moving, called bipedalism, offered several advantages.

Standing and walking upright freed our hands.

With our hands available, our ancestors could carry food, hold objects, use tools and eventually make increasingly complicated things.

Walking on two legs also allowed us to see over grass and spot things farther away.

But walking upright required major changes to the body. The human spine developed its characteristic curves, the pelvis became shaped for upright walking, the legs became longer and stronger, and our feet developed arches that help support the body and absorb the impact of walking.

Animals evolved differently because they faced different needs.

A horse needs four powerful legs for running. A monkey needs limbs suited to climbing. A kangaroo has developed a completely different way of moving.

So evolution did not decide that two legs were “better” than four.

Each animal's body evolved to suit the way it lives.

And perhaps the greatest advantage humans gained from walking on two legs was not simply faster movement.

It was this:

Our hands were freed—and our hands helped us build our civilisation.