The Yogi’s Moon

In the quiet sanctuary of an ancient ashram nestled in the Himalayas, where the air hummed with the subtle vibrations of mantras and the scent of incense lingered like a veil between worlds, I prepared for the impossible. My name is Arjun, a seeker of truths both earthly and beyond. My life has been a study of horizons: the physical horizon of the jagged peaks that pierced the sky around me, and the unseen horizon of human consciousness.
I sought to understand where the outer world of matter and the inner world of the mind converged. This search would lead me from the stillness of a meditation mat to the absolute silence of another world. Under the watchful eye of my guru, Swami Vishwanath, a master of yogic arts whose lineage traced back to the sages of old, I lay on a simple mat. My physical body, connected to rudimentary life support-a steady drip of nutrients and monitored vital signs-would remain in stasis for one Earth day.
But my subtle body, that ethereal vessel of prana and consciousness, was about to soar toward the most captivating and myth-laden object in our sky.