How Does a Seed Sound?
Journal Entry # 1: Introducing 'A Library of Seeds and Sonics' Journal: A Site of Experimentation
One bright, cold winter morning, I awoke from a vivid dream.
The sensation of dream recall ripples throughout my body as my vision adjusts to the pale sunlight streaming into my bedroom. In the remembering, I recognise the dreamscape: a reoccurring memory of communing with an inner guide inside an old wooden pagoda that floats atop a vast, silent lake. Here, in this abode situated somewhere between active imagination and my subconscious, the physical laws of architecture in our mattered world do not apply. The view from the exterior, I ‘see’ only a simple one room pagoda; but within, I experience a pagoda containing multiple rooms, even a garden.
The term ‘mind palace’ has been used to describe such a place where we keep memories, information, fantasies and dreams safe — my imagination designs a temple-like structure to enshroud the complexity within. This pagoda is a library. I am inside. Surrounding me on all sides are shelves filled with thick leather-bound books. They look ancient, yet well looked after. I approach a shelf, remove a book, carefully opening it. A lady dressed in ivory and a wide-brimmed hat with a sheer veil billowing down to the ground, obscuring her face, beckons me to continue. I expect to find words in a language I recognise, but instead, I discover only pages and pages of meticulously ordered grids of seeds, black and dense in appearance. Curiosity floods my being.
What are all these seeds for? What would happen if I were to pick one off the page and plant it somewhere? Would it take root and grow? And if one of these seed did germinate, what would it become? I stay there for a while contemplating this page of seeds, and as I flip through the book, I notice: more pages, more seeds. My vision scans the room, but I know it is not my eyes looking. I realise that all around me are thousands upon thousands of the same book. Inside this dreamscape, I bathe amongst an infinite sea of seeds. It is no coincidence this library also functions as my music room on other occasions, where I retreat for inner-dwelling during sonic contemplation. An imaginary yet sensorially and somatically experienced interiority, my pagoda is only visible when my eyes are closed, when the visual faculty is not the primary method of encountering or perceiving the world.
The origin of this journal you are reading now took root in this way. A ‘library’ of seeds and sonics where I will be tending to a number of kernel-ideas in the metaphorical garden of my mind pagoda with the hope that some might flourish. On this Substack, I will be sharing observations, reflections, and rabbit holes of research in long and short-form essay writing, non-fiction and fiction, music and sonics, visual methods, useful resources and whatever other mediums or formats might emerge from this initial season. Just as there are no physical laws governing my pagoda, there are no rules in this library. I hope you drink in whatever feels most resonant with you — that you share with me and others any thoughts and feelings that emerge from the writing. Just as well, because there are no concrete or fixed ideas on what might unfold.
There are a few guidelines I have set for myself which are primarily to do with resisting disciplinary or academic boundaries as a method of encouraging free and imaginal thinking. This will also be reflected in the topics that emerge here, which could range from philosophical or psycho-spiritual deep dives, unfiltered notes from my research and art practice, observations on social relations and their transformations to entirely speculative story-telling. Some may view this as inconstant, but I would counter simply by proposing that this is a site of experimentation. This experimentation is mined from the personal as much as it is from the communal: intimately tied to both my practice and lived experience as it is to the value I place on the dance we do as sentient human beings navigating an embodied, physical realm and numerous celestial realms. Consider: how might a literacy in methodological shape-shifting be useful when attempting to move between such (seemingly) great distances?
In its most fundamental seed form, all knowledge is undisciplined. My own knowledge base and art practice emerges from multiple fields where trans- or multi-disciplinary approaches provide productive ways for expansive, supportive co-creation and collaboration. ‘A Library of Seeds and Sonics’ is first and foremost an offering to think and to feel-through together. I hope the writing here does not fit neatly anywhere, that it might inspire or challenge, provoke further inquiry and lend space for some of the synchronicities and mysteries of this world and all the others. Most importantly, I aim to pose questions that might facilitate inroads towards the cultivation of alternative forms of being and becoming, a process that I am deeply invested in exploring.
So, with that in mind: how does a seed sound?
There is a root, there is a stem, there are branches, there are leaves, and there comes a flower; but in the heart of the flower there is something which tells the history of the whole plant. One might say that it is for the sake of the flower that the plant was created, but in point of fact it is the seed in the heart of the flower which continues the species of that plant. That seed is the secret of the plant, and it is its source and goal. It is that seed which was the beginning, it is from out of that seed that the root came; then the seedling emerged, and so it became a plant. After that the seed disappeared; but after the coming of the leaves and branches and the flowers it appeared again. It appeared again, not as one seed, but as many seeds, in multiplicity, and yet it was the same. And towards what goal, for what result did this happen? In order that the seed should come again as the result of the whole plant.
Hazrat Inayat Khan
The beginning, the end, both and neither — or as Sufi mystic, teacher and musician Hazrat Inayat Khan once wrote — a seed is ‘the source and the goal’ of a plant. A seed is humble, yet powerful. Their precious nature stems from their pure potentiality. Though this potential is not yet manifest, a seed possesses all the knowledges and experiences of its previous lives in a small, unassuming container; it is the vessel which holds all its ancestors. I woke from another dream last year with a curious phrase at the tip of my tongue: ‘act out the germinating of a seed.’ What those words mean is as mysterious now as it was then, though with the passing of time and the movement of daily life, its ebbs and flows, the seasons passing, I have assembled some notes on the matter.
This introductory journal entry is an off-shoot, a branch from these original seed dreams. For the last few months, I have returned consciously to this phrase, as it has appeared in my mind without prompt. The power of repetition perhaps, of practice, of returning to an activity or thought-pattern (that serves), which for one reason or another has captivated your attention. A seed is also a container of alchemical power. With the right conditions —depth, water and warmth — mixed with that which is already contained within, a seed sprouts and their once hidden potential blooms, germinating and eventually, blooming. During the process of budding and flowering, the seed disappears and yet it is always there, hidden, awaiting its next life.
There is something similar said about the practice of yoga, of which āsana (posture or ‘seat’) is but one aspect. In sanskrit, the term yoga comes from the root term meaning ‘to yoke or unify,’ thus yoga is both the process/method and the ultimate goal. Though I have been a student of yoga for nearly two decades, the philosophy and practice of Nāda yoga (union through sound) has entered my life relatively recently. It is from this study that a practice of bīja (seed) mantra recitation emerged for me. Through consistent engagement and with the guidance of teachers1 specialising in sanskrit, yogic philosophy, Ayurveda and Jungian psychological frameworks, I have come to understand the magic and efficacy of working with seed sounds in a more embodied way. Please allow me to preface, I am no expert. Right now, I am an experimenter and devotee. It has transformed the way I create and produce as it has impacted the way I seek to live — artfully and whole-heartedly.
The many practices within Nāda yoga have opened up new ways of encountering this world and the other dimensions we inhabit simultaneously. Not only encouraging listening as an active process, sensitivity to vibration (and vibes), it also can deepen one’s relationship to inner voices, to language and acts of languaging. Crucially, the ways I meet my own voice, audibly, but also, inaudibly, metaphysically, have shifted. Like a seed becoming a flower, even if a human being is meant to grow, to evolve, to change, something that is always true and innate in us, remains. This is true love in form and in spirit, our Cosmic Self. The following reflection is an open-ended exploration on what emerged when I allowed in this ancient wisdom and practice into my worldview and daily life. Moreover, though it might present at first as esoteric or inaccessible to some, it is in fact practical and simply requires one’s own body. There are many paths towards it (a teacher or guide is fruitful). What might be unearthed from the fertile soil of our being through attunement with sound? What depths, experiences and resources are excavated from within?
A bīja mantra is a seed sound. To be more specific, it is the ‘root vibration or atomised form of sound representing the essential nature of divinity.’2 I found this image useful: ‘just as a seed possesses the potential of the tree, in the same way a single sound can contain the sum-total of divinity in its vibration.’3 For a student of scripture, a bīja mantra is said to contain the power and knowledge of entire principles set forth in ancient manuscripts and treatises, like a cosmic abbreviation without the degradation or loss of potency over time.
For example, a sutra of dozens, hundreds, even thousands of verses can be contained in a single monosyllabic sound.4 This challenges a conventional understanding of how language functions generally. In English, letters form words that signify specific things or ideas, that are then strung together with connective terms to form a sentence to express meaning through multiple sounds. Abbreviations truncate a word, but the signification remains the same or in some cases maybe even reduced.5 With bīja sounds, one utterance with intention is said to call in a history, a tradition, a longue durée of knowledge passed down through generations, a multi-dimensionality of meaning carried in our being that is ever-changing too.
There is a close relation between bīja and bindu (point). In tantric and Vedic traditions, the bindu is one form of Supreme Consciousness, the psychic totality: ‘it is an acceptance of all: it neither posits nor negates, but incorporates all in into its endless form.’6 It is the enmeshing and conjoining of the source of creation, Śiva energy, and a ‘kinetic energy which gives rise to all vibration and movement,’7 the divine feminine, Śakti. Depictions of bindu [Fig. 3] are seed-like in nature, these delicate points or dots on yantras or mandalas are situated at the very centre and their circular or ovoid shape merely hints at their depth and profundity.
With the use of bījākshara (seed syllables) in mantra practice, we attempt to tap into the energy of this consciousness, and remember who we truly are: a unity, an awareness that is experiencing itself and becoming aware of itself in each moment. Sound is one vehicle we can do this because this energy is characterised by a fundamental principle: vibration. One of my teacher’s teacher, Śri Brahmananda Sarasvati once wrote: ‘This vibration is called nāda or nādam, cosmic music. Plato called it the music of the spheres, the music of nature… It is the voice of silence. Wherever you go, you will discover this music existing before you. It is present everywhere, at all times.’8
I deeply believe and feel this to be true. Recent scientific studies are revealing that matter is not as solid as once believed: atoms, the ‘building blocks’ of all matter are primarily made up of ‘empty space’ with electrons circling the nucleus of an atom in constant motion.9 This movement, which can be described as a wave or vibration, possesses its own frequency. In turn, this frequency sets the tone of energy level of an electron and therefore, the properties of an atom and the material it makes.10 One implication of vibration being the fundamental determining factor in all existence, this knowledge and technology, is entanglement. The myriad of things are interconnected and interdependent. This is easy to forget for many reasons: the fast-paced nature of modern life, individual pain and collective suffering, the all-consuming and conditioning structures of capitalism and patriarchy we live in — for now. I acknowledge there are many people in the world, most in fact, for whom this perspective of the world is not a possibility.
Beyond what quantum physics is convincingly positing, this belief I hold is at the most basic level, intellectual, in its most elevated form, felt, and with some grace, even embodied, albeit fleetingly. One of the central practices of Nāda yoga is to sit with oneself in contemplation in attempt to listen to anāhata nāda, the ‘unstruck sound’: the sound that dissolves all other sound, and therefore holds all things. Why listen? From my own experience, when I allow myself to experience something beyond identification with this specific body, my personality, or any other construction of self or identity, I feel more connected with everything and everyone.
On a less grand, but no less important level, there is a process of (self)tuning that occurs in these moments too. Whether your mind is unrelenting thoughts on a day or you are in a state of calm and ease, it does not really matter in the end, because a moment was provided in order to reconnect, travel within, beyond the chatter. For me, this is a powerful tool to meet our true nature as divine instruments, to speak with our authentic Voice, to connect and empathise with others. We, each seeds, amongst a wild forest or jungle, breathing into itself, learning to be aware of itself — and all spontaneously living and dying at the same time.
Welcome to Alcyoni’s Library of Seeds and Sonics: join me on a journey into the mysterious garden of the abyss within. If this enlivens or stretches your mind in a pleasurable way, please support my Substack and subscribe. I look forward to dropping into your inbox occasionally — for now, only once or twice a month. And please feel free to share with friends and family who you think might enjoy reading, following and spending time in this library.
Thank you!
Discover a 16-minute bīja mantra practice with me:
A mantra comprised solely of seed sounds:
Om = Sound of Universe
Aim = Energy of Sound, often considered ‘feminine’ counterpart to Om
Hrīṃ = Śakti Sound, associated with Heart chakra and Goddess Durga; energises and directs the power of prāṇa [life giving force]
Śrīṃ = Mantra of Devotion, associated with Goddess Lakshmi; the feeling of the Heart
Klīṃ = Magnetic Energy, associated with Kṛṣṇa and Sundarī; Love and Devotion, to manifest true wishes
Improvisation and recording by Alcyoni
Visit my Soundcloud to explore further.
MY TEACHERS, COLLABORATORS & ADDITIONAL USEFUL LINKS TO GO DEEPER
Hazrat Inayat Khan Text Archive
Sanskrit Studies, Luminous Soul Method
Bija Mantra Practice Recordings by Manorama
Love Supreme Projects (London Yoga Studio)
Souk Studio (New York Yoga Studio)
Awakened Cosmos: The Mind of Classical Chinese Poetry by David Hinton
Quantum Listening by Pauline Oliveros, Ignota
The Art of Memory by Frances Yates
Kundalini Tantra by Swami Satyananda Saraswati
Watkins Bookshop (London)
The Botanical Mind (Exhibition and Catalogue), Camden Art Centre, London
The Dream Boat Podcast
This Jungian Life Podcast