Who Is Really Directing Your Life?

Many human beings believe they are free while often reacting under the influence of emotions, conditioning, or the fluctuations of the mind. Spiritual traditions across Asia, from Vedānta and Yoga to the Tao of Laozi, have long described different states of consciousness influenced by the guṇa: tamas, rajas, and sattva.

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Summary: Many human beings believe they are free while often reacting under the influence of emotions, conditioning, or the fluctuations of the mind. Spiritual traditions across Asia, from Vedānta and Yoga to the Tao of Laozi, have long described different states of consciousness influenced by the guṇa: tamas, rajas, and sattva.

This text explores the difference between emotion, reason, and deeper consciousness, as well as the role of the false ego, discernment, and Grace in inner transformation. It shows how spiritual practice does not consist in denying our human nature or the movements of the mind, but in discerning what comes from conditioning and what arises from a deeper consciousness.

Through notions such as Māyā, bhakti, samādhi, Sat-Chit-Ānanda, and the Holy Name, this text reflects on inner freedom and on the possibility of a more conscious, peaceful, and truthful way of living.

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States of Consciousness and the Human Mind

Human beings are often guided by three great inner forces: emotion, reason, and consciousness.

Yet these words can become misleading if we imagine consciousness as a single homogeneous reality. In several Indian spiritual traditions, especially Yoga and Vedānta, manifested consciousness is seen as passing through different states and conditionings, ranging from the most confused to the most harmonious.

Emotion already belongs to a particular state of consciousness linked to the mind, the body, psychological reactions, and human conditioning.

The mind receives impressions from the external world, interprets them, and reacts. Then the false ego appropriates them by saying: “my opinion,” “my fear,” “my desire.” Finally, the inner memory made of past experiences and mental habits constantly colors present perception.

The false ego does not create emotions, but continually appropriates them, strengthening identification with the fluctuations of the mind.

Thus, human beings do not always see things as they truly are, but rather as they themselves are inwardly.

Spiritual traditions sometimes speak of illusion to describe this gap between reality and the way we perceive it.

In India, some speak of Māyā. This word has often been misunderstood. It does not necessarily mean that the world does not exist, but rather that our perception of the world remains partial, distorted, or incomplete as long as it remains trapped within the fluctuations of the mind.

Something may be impermanent and still remain real for as long as it lasts. An emotion may therefore feel absolutely true in the moment while still leading to mistaken decisions.

Modern culture often treats emotion as an absolute truth. Many people believe it is enough to “follow your heart.” Yet a sincere emotion is not necessarily an accurate perception of reality.

Some emotions are immediate and almost instinctive. Others are more complex and depend on personal history, education, wounds, desires, or mental representations.

Yet all emotions share one thing in common: they react more to the interpretation of reality than to reality itself.

A life entirely governed by emotions almost always ends in confusion and suffering.

The Three Guṇa

In several Indian traditions, the states of the mind are also described through the three guṇa, the three great tendencies conditioning the psychic field and manifested consciousness.

Tamas corresponds to inertia, rest, obscuration, and density.
Rajas refers to movement, desire, vital impulse, and passionate energy.
Sattva represents balance, clarity, harmony, and discernment.

These three tendencies participate together in the manifestation of life. None exists completely separate from the others.

Laozi already taught that opposites exist in relation to one another: movement exists only in relation to rest, just as light exists in relation to darkness.

In the same way, the guṇa participate in the play of manifestation, in that Līlā spoken of in certain traditions.

Without tamas, no form could endure or stabilize.
Without rajas, there would be no movement, no desire to live, no engagement, no aspiration. Without sattva, no inner harmony or discernment could appear.

The problem, therefore, is not the existence of the guṇa themselves, but the mind’s identification with their fluctuations.

When rajas dominates without balance, human beings become impulsive, carried away by passions, immediate desires, or emotional reactions.

When tamas becomes excessive, confusion, inertia, blindness, and inner dullness appear.

When sattva becomes more present, discernment, inner distance, and harmony arise more easily.

Yet even sattva remains a condition of the manifested mind. The deeper consciousness spoken of by spiritual traditions does not depend upon conditioning by the guṇa, even the most harmonious ones. More than that, Patanjali states in the Yoga-Sūtra that Liberation itself also requires detachment from sattva, which is then seen as a golden chain for the Bhagavad-Gîtâ.

In several spiritual traditions, the incarnated soul, the jīvātman, is called to free itself progressively from the conditioning exercised by the guṇa upon the mind and behavior.

As long as human beings remain fully identified with the movements of the mind, the guṇa direct the way they think, react, desire, and act.

Spiritual practice therefore seeks to restore a form of inner mastery to deeper consciousness, to the purusha. Little by little, human beings cease to be entirely driven by impulses, conditioning, and psychological automatisms.

They become more capable of choosing their actions consciously and carrying them out with greater accuracy, without constantly being swept away by the fluctuations of the mind.

Inner freedom does not consist in destroying the guṇa, but in no longer being entirely subjected to their movements.

Passion and Inner Transformation

Rajas does not refer only to agitation or passion in a negative sense. It is also movement, momentum, vitality, and the capacity to act.

Without it, there would be no enthusiasm, creation, engagement, or even genuine spiritual seeking.

The problem appears when this energy becomes entirely directed toward the desires of the false ego and the fluctuations of the mind.

The agitated mind often mistakes its reactions for truth.

Spiritual practice does not consist in suppressing rajas, nor any of the guṇa, since they belong to the very play of manifestation.

It consists rather in discerning what in us comes from the conditioning of the guṇa and what comes from a deeper consciousness, so that we may gradually learn to follow that depth rather than the mere fluctuations of the mind.

Little by little, passionate energy can cease feeding only the desires of the false ego and instead become inner aspiration, fervor, service, or bhakti.

Spiritual traditions have often warned against a life guided solely by passions because intense emotion is not necessarily a reliable guide.

The Yoga-Sūtra speak of the fluctuations of the mind that prevent clear perception. Laozi speaks of remaining centered amid the movements of the world. The Bhagavad Gita also describes human beings dominated by desires and passions as gradually deprived of inner stability.

All these traditions ultimately point toward the same observation: emotion alone cannot serve as a lasting guide.

Reason and Discernment

Reason already represents a more stable form of balance.

Unlike emotion, it introduces distance. It allows us to compare, examine consequences, and take reality into account instead of reacting immediately.

Yet here again, Indian spiritual traditions introduce an important nuance. The mind is not a single block. Between emotional reactions and deeper spiritual consciousness lies a subtler faculty that some traditions call buddhi: discriminative intelligence, discernment.

This intelligence no longer functions merely through impulse or desire. It becomes capable of distinguishing the essential from the secondary, the lasting from the passing, appearance from deeper reality.

When sattva becomes dominant in the mind, this discriminative intelligence can express itself more fully. Reason then ceases to be merely calculating or strategic; it becomes true inner mastery.

The Yoga-Sūtra describe a progressive calming of the mind’s fluctuations in order to recover clearer perception.

Through this inner distance, human beings gradually cease to be entirely tossed about by impulses, fears, and passing enthusiasms.

Yet even this intelligence has limits.

It remains linked to concepts, accumulated knowledge, and the functioning of the mind. The mind can even use intelligence to reinforce identification, pride, or the need for control.

Some forms of understanding may be acquired through study, experience, or reasoning. Others seem to arise from a deeper level of consciousness and belong more to inner revelation than to the accumulation of knowledge.

Consciousness develops not only through reflection, but also through the way one lives, acts, and serves.

A person may be intelligent, educated, and reasonable while remaining inwardly restless and scattered. That is why many traditions have spoken of a deeper consciousness still.

Deeper Consciousness

Beyond the fluctuating mind and even discernment exists a more stable consciousness, sometimes called the witness, the soul, or pure consciousness.

This consciousness is no longer merely turned toward the objects of the world, psychological reactions, or reasoning. It remains present behind the movements of the mind without being carried away by them.

In India, some speak of Sat-Chit-Ānanda to designate a state of perfect consciousness of bliss.

The traditions of Yoga sometimes associate this state with the deepest forms of samādhi, when the fluctuations of the mind cease completely. In nirbīja samādhi, or seedless samādhi, there is no longer mental identification, discursive thought, nor even the ordinary perception of the body, time, or space.

This state should not be confused with the moments of peace, emotion, or contemplation that many human beings may experience during their lives.

A landscape, deep silence, a sunset, or certain moments of total presence may sometimes reveal a simple and natural form of bliss. These experiences remain precious because they offer a glimpse of a peace deeper than the ordinary agitation of the mind.

But the deepest states of samādhi belong to another dimension of consciousness. Spiritual traditions have used different words to evoke this state: the Kingdom in the teachings of Jesus, ānanda in India, the peace of the Tao in the teachings of Laozi. The words change, but the intuition remains close.

As the consciousness of this fundamental harmony becomes more stable, existence gradually ceases to be directed solely by emotional reactions or the calculations of the mind.

Another way of living begins to appear.

In certain traditions, this inner stabilization is sometimes associated with sahaja samādhi, a more continuous awareness of Grace at the very heart of ordinary existence.

On The Path, we sometimes speak of the Holy Name or Shabda-Brahman to designate this action of the living principle within human consciousness.

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