Before there was sound, there was silence.
Before there was form, there was formlessness.
Before there was time, there was timelessness.
In that vast stillness – beyond creation, beyond destruction – there is Shiva.
Not a man. Not a figure carved in stone. Not a god bound by rituals.
But the eternal awareness from which all things rise, and into which all things return.
Shiva is not far away in the mountains.
He is the pause between two breaths.
He is the space between two thoughts.
He is the presence that remains when illusion falls away.
And it is to Him that I bow – not as an external deity, but as the eternal truth that holds me when I falter, that whispers when I forget, that dances when I awaken.
The First Glimpse: Why Shiva Draws Me
When I close my eyes and the noise of the world begins to soften, I feel Him.
It is not the Shiva of stories, not the Shiva of temples, not the Shiva painted on calendars.
It is the Shiva who arrives as silence itself. The Shiva who holds my hand when I am drowning in doubt. The Shiva whose presence feels like fire and water at once – fierce, yet soothing.
Why am I drawn to Him?
Because He does not demand worship. He does not threaten punishment. He does not ask for perfection.
He simply is – vast, patient, eternal.
And in His presence, I too am allowed to simply be.
Shiva as Paradox: The Union of Opposites
Shiva cannot be captured by the human mind, for He holds all contradictions. He holds what the mind splits apart. He is stillness and movement, fire and water, solitude and family, destruction and protection – not “either-or,” but the fullness of “and.”
He is the still yogi – eyes closed, unmoving – and at the same time, the cosmic dancer – every atom spinning to His rhythm.
He is the fierce destroyer – reducing worlds to ashes – and at the same time, the gentle Neelkanth – who held poison in His throat to protect all creation.
He is the lonely ascetic – smeared in ash, dwelling in cremation grounds – and at the same time, the loving householder – laughing with Parvati, playing with Ganesha and Kartikeya.
When I sit in silence long enough, I meet the Still Yogi: eyes closed, unmoving – the mountain within. In His quiet I learn to rest, to listen, to be. Stillness is not absence; it is presence in its purest form.
When life begins to whirl, I meet the Cosmic Dancer: every atom spinning to His rhythm. Creation and dissolution, heartbeat and breath – life is a dance. He teaches me to move with grace even when the world rushes by.
When illusions tighten around me, I meet the Destroyer who is also Neelkanth: He burns the false not to harm but to heal; He holds poison in His throat so others may live. Fierce form, boundless compassion.
And when I ache to reconcile my own opposites, I meet the Ascetic who is also the Householder: smeared in ash, yet laughing with Parvati, playing with Ganesha. He reconciles in Himself the very parts I fight within.
We live in a world that forces us to choose. Be this, or be that.
Shiva breaks that illusion.
He says: Be all. Be whole.
Do not fear your contradictions, for they too are divine.
This is why when I see Him, I see hope for myself. For my imperfections. For my battles. For my own inner opposites that I struggle to reconcile.
The Symbols: Codes for the Seeker
The ornaments of Shiva are not ornaments at all. They are riddles. They are living metaphors – lessons wrapped in symbols, waiting for the seeker to awaken and decode them.
When I reflect on them, they do not speak to me as mythology. They speak to me as truths, urgent and alive.
- The Ashes (Bhasma)
Imagine holding a pinch of ash in your hand. What was once ‘something’, with structure, form, and name, is now dust that slips through your fingers. This is what Shiva wears – a reminder that everything we clutch at with desperate hands will one day dissolve. Yet in that dissolution, there is release. For when nothing lasts, nothing can enslave. - The Third Eye
On Shiva’s forehead burns the eye that sees beyond illusion. I have felt flashes of this awakening – when, even briefly, I see beyond appearances into essence. It is as if a curtain lifts, and the world is no longer cluttered with noise but lit with clarity. This eye is not fantasy – it is the inner vision we all ache for. - The Snake (Vasuki)
A serpent, feared by all, rests peacefully around His throat. Fear itself becomes an ornament when mastered. Energy that once threatened can be harnessed as power. I often ask myself: What snakes must I befriend? What fears must I wear calmly around my own neck? - The Trishul (Trident)
Three sharp prongs, simple yet profound. Body, mind, spirit — the three realms of our being. Neglect one, and we wobble. Balance them, and we stand firm. The trishul is not just His weapon; it is a map for wholeness. - The Ganga
From His matted locks flows the holy river, unending, unstoppable, nourishing all. Wisdom too must flow. If we hoard it, it stagnates. If we release it, it nourishes. What use is knowledge if it doesn’t flow into the world like water into thirsty soil? - The Crescent Moon
Perched delicately on His head, the waxing and waning moon reminds me that life moves in cycles. Joy comes, sorrow comes, and both pass. Time is not my jailer — it is my teacher. The crescent glows gently, teaching calm amidst change. - The Damru (Drum)
In His hand, the tiny drum beats. From its vibration, the cosmos itself is said to have emerged. From vibration, form arises. Science speaks of frequency, resonance, vibration. Shiva has always known: the universe is sound before it is form. To me, the damru is a reminder that every word I speak is creation in motion.
These are not distant symbols. They live within me, within you. Every ash, every snake, every beat of the damru calls us inward — to see, to feel, to awaken.
Lessons for the Modern World
What good is mythology if it cannot guide us today? For me, Shiva is not a figure of the past. He is medicine for the present.
When I look at the state of our world – the rush, the anxiety, the loneliness, the division – I see how desperately we need Shiva’s presence.
- From Noise to Silence
Our lives are filled with buzzing phones, endless notifications, constant chatter. We fear silence. And yet, Shiva shows me silence is not empty. Silence is the roar beneath all sound, the fullness beneath all lack. In my meditation, when noise finally fades, I hear that roar – and in it, I meet myself. Silence is not empty; it is the fullness that was here before the first word, waiting for me to return. - From Division to Unity
The world is fractured – by borders, by politics, by labels. But Shiva swallows poison and calls it His ornament. He smears ashes of the high and low alike on His skin. He sits with demons and devas side by side. He whispers: All is one. To exclude is illusion. To include is truth. I practice widening the circle – one conversation, one boundary, one breath at a time. - From Fear to Freedom
How much of modern life is ruled by fear – fear of failure, fear of death, fear of not being enough. We all fear failure, loss, death. Shiva sits in cremation grounds, smiling among bones. He tells me: What you fear is already ash. Do not bow to fear. Bow to freedom. When I bow to fear I shrink; when I bow to truth I expand. Freedom begins the moment I tell the truth kindly and accept its consequences. - From Possession to Simplicity
Our culture teaches us that worth comes from accumulation. The world worships accumulation. Yet Shiva owns nothing – not even clothes, not even a palace. Still, He is the richest of all, for He is free. Each time I cling to possessions, I remember: Shiva walks unclothed, and yet wears the universe itself. I choose enough-ness on purpose – space on my shelves, space in my calendar, space in my mind – so love has room to sit down. - From Ego to Love
Relationships today are fragile, burdened by pride and expectation. But Shiva, united with Parvati as Ardhanarishvara, is half man, half woman – not dominance, not submission, but union. True love is not ownership; it is oneness. In love I learn to drop my banners and listen until the “I” and “you” soften into “we.” Love is belonging without chains.
These lessons are not ancient relics. They are answers we need now. In Shiva, I see the path to heal our modern sickness – not through new inventions, but through eternal truths.
My Bond with Shiva
When I meditate in the quiet of dawn, I don’t just think of Shiva. I feel Him.
Not as an image with blue skin or matted hair, but as the silence that wraps around me when the mind finally lets go.
Not as a distant god, but as the strength that rises in me when I face fear.
Not as a myth, but as the presence that walks beside me when I am lost.
Every Sankalp I write, every vow I share, is born from this bond. They are not verses for decoration. They are daily reminders: that Shiva is with me, that I must carry His silence, His compassion, His fearlessness into the day.
And perhaps, when others read these Sankalps, they too may feel His hand holding theirs.
Closing Sankalp
This post is not an explanation. It is an offering.
If you have read this far, I pray that Shiva is no longer a figure outside you, but a presence you now sense inside.
So I leave you with this Sankalp, not as mine, but as ours:
May we walk in Shiva’s silence,
Dance in His freedom,
Burn away illusion in His fire,
And rest in His compassion.
May we see in Him not just a god,
But the truth of who we are –
Eternal, unbound, infinite.
For in truth, Shiva is not to be found in temples or texts.
He is to be found in your breath,
In your stillness,
In the space where the world falls away,
And only love remains.
Sandeep is the creator of LifeFuseOM—building mindful digital tools: trading EAs for MT5, bite-size eBooks, and creative templates. He writes about practice, product, and freedom.
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Great thought!