मनः प्रवाहः — Manaḥ Pravāhaḥ (The Flow of the Mind)

मनः प्रवाहः — Manaḥ Pravāhaḥ (The Flow of the Mind)

by Ramarasa

The mind is like a river, constantly in motion, never at rest. Its very nature is to move, to think, to generate ideas, images, projections, fears, and desires. Like waves rising uninvited on the ocean, thoughts appear without permission, forming a continuous stream that we often feel powerless to stop. These thoughts come fast—racing, tumbling, colliding—leaving us breathless, confused, and sometimes even tormented.

We often find ourselves at the mercy of this river, carried along by its current, unable to control where it takes us. This is the condition of the undirected mind—like leaves blown by the wind, tossed wherever chance dictates. In this chaos, our will is often bypassed, our clarity lost.

But there is a way to steer this restless flow. To catch the current and gently direct it toward the personal form of Krishna—that is meditation. It is not about stopping the river, but about learning to guide its course. When the form of the Lord becomes the destination, the river becomes a sacred offering. Each thought that once served restlessness now becomes a flower placed at His feet.

The tool for this redirection is buddhi, the higher intelligence—the quiet charioteer behind the horses of the senses. When buddhi is fortified by knowledge and clarity, it becomes the rudder that steers the boat across the ocean of mental distraction. It helps us shift our focus from the scattered to the sacred, from form to formless, from the outer to the inner.

Yet, this buddhi must be formed—not by worldly conditioning, but by the teachings of śāstra (scripture). When scripture shapes our buddhi, and sculpts the false ego (ahaṅkāra) into a true sense of identity, it becomes a sacred tool. The ego, once bloated with separateness, begins to shed its selfishness and shine with the humility of surrender.

To work on the mind, we must go beyond it. Just as a tangled thread cannot untangle itself, the mind cannot overcome itself by its own force. We must rise to a higher faculty—situating ourselves in buddhi, or if even higher, in the purified ego aligned with the Lord's will, or best of all, in the ātman, the soul untouched by thought.

The trend of thought production is not random—it follows a script. That script is programmed to serve one master: enjoyment. The mind calculates, predicts, plans, and imagines—all in service of increasing our personal gratification. Whatever track it takes—artistic, intellectual, emotional—it is usually a loop designed to fatten the ego and feed the senses.

Even when the mind appears noble, it often disguises its true goal. It compares, then complains. It promises satisfaction but delivers disappointment. And in that disappointment, it whispers a familiar trick: “Try harder—for yourself.”

This is where true insight must break in. The goal is not self-enjoyment, but Yajña—sacrifice. The end of all karma, all action, is offering. We are not meant to eat the fruits of our work, but to place them on the altar. This is the secret of "yajñārthāt karmaṇaḥ"—actions done for the sake of sacrifice purify both the doer and the deed.

So let every thought, every action, every step become a sacred flame. Do not move for the mind’s pleasure—move for yajña. Do not serve the self—serve the Self within all, the Lord who smiles quietly behind the eyes of Krishna.

And when that becomes your habit, your dharma, your offering—then you will know: the river of the mind has become a holy stream, flowing always toward the ocean of God.