Yogic Tradition

The Digital Anesthetic and the Stagnation of Self Modern technology, from social media to high-definition pornography and video games, serves as a powerful suppressive force on our emotional circuitry. According to Dr. K, also known as Alok Kanojia, these platforms act as an anesthetic. When we feel the sharp sting of loneliness, the dull ache of boredom, or the heat of embarrassment, we instinctively reach for our phones. This isn't just a habit; it is a physiological bypass. By engaging with high-stimulus digital content, we effectively shut off the negative emotional signals that are supposed to guide our behavior. This avoidance creates a profound state of life stagnation. Human beings evolved to experience negative emotions for a reason. Anatomically, the limbic system sits adjacent to the hippocampus, the brain's center for learning and memory. This proximity suggests that emotions are intended to be data points that drive learning. If you feel shame after failing a test, that shame is a biological motivator to study harder. When we use technology to numb that shame, we lose the drive to fix the underlying problem. We remain stuck because we have removed the discomfort that was meant to propel us forward. Eastern Samskaras and the Subconscious Ball of Emotion The yogic tradition introduces the concept of a "samskara," which Dr. K describes as a ball of undigested negative emotion. In Western psychological terms, this is remarkably similar to the Freudian or Jungian subconscious. When we experience a traumatic event—whether it’s a childhood biting by a dog or a modern-day digital rejection—and fail to process it, that emotion doesn't disappear. It goes dormant, living in the mind until a similar trigger brings it rushing back to the surface. Processing these experiences requires taking the emotion and looking at it from multiple perspectives. A five-year-old lacks the cognitive architecture to rationalize a scary event, leading to a permanent association of fear. An adult, however, can use self-inquiry to ask why an emotion is present. Without this inquiry, these undigested emotions form the basis of our "ahankar" or ego. We move from "I feel ashamed" to "I am a loser." These conclusions, born in highly emotional states, are often logically flawed yet become the permanent lenses through which we view reality. Survival Features of the Traumatized Mind One of the most terrifying aspects of human psychology is that our minds do not prioritize truth; they prioritize survival. This manifests in a neuroscientific asymmetry where negative experiences carry far more weight than positive ones. Dr. K explains that one instance of food poisoning at a favorite restaurant can permanently bias our perception of that establishment, regardless of five previous positive visits. This is an evolutionary feature designed to keep us away from watering holes where crocodiles might hide. This bias extends to our ability to feel future states. Emerging research in neuroeconomics reveals that we can feel the pain of a hypothetical future loss today, but we cannot feel the pleasure of a hypothetical future win. Our negative emotional circuitry—the amygdala and limbic system—can be activated by mere thoughts of what might go wrong. Conversely, our dopaminergic reward centers require actual achievement or closer proximity to a goal to fire. This creates a baseline state of anxiety for many, as we are biologically wired to ruminate on potential disasters while remaining numb to potential successes. The Attentional Root of Anxiety and Depression While the modern world treats anxiety and depression as separate clinical pathologies, Dr. K argues they are both fundamentally rooted in a lack of attentional control. From an Eastern perspective, the mind can exist in the past, the present, or the future. Depression is the mind stuck in the past, ruminating on regret and shame. Anxiety is the mind stuck in the future, paralyzed by uncertainty. Technology exacerbates this by providing a "crutch" for the present moment. We play video games because they force our attention into the now, providing temporary relief from past regrets or future fears. However, relying on external stimulation to anchor us in the present causes our frontal lobes to weaken. We lose the internal muscle of focus. The moment the screen turns off, the mind, now deconditioned and weak, immediately snaps back to its default state of anxiety or depression. The solution is not more distraction, but the cultivation of internal attentional control. Trataka and the Art of Fixed Point Gazing To reclaim the mind, Dr. K suggests specific practices like "Trataka," or fixed-point gazing. This involves staring at a single object, such as a candle flame, for a set period without blinking. While it may sound like a simple exercise, it serves as a rigorous training ground for the attention. As you gaze, your body will send signals of discomfort, urging you to blink or look away. By choosing to maintain focus, you are training your internal commander to override impulsive biological signals. Another practice, "Ghatashuddhi," involves sitting in perfect stillness. In a world of constant micro-movements and digital fidgeting, sitting still becomes an inflammatory experience for the modern nervous system. As the body cries out for movement, the practitioner finds solace only in the breath. This reveals a profound truth: much of our happiness is not dependent on external accomplishments but on how we receive our internal state. When the breath itself becomes a source of intoxication and relief, the frantic need for external validation begins to dissolve. Why Modern Therapy Often Fails Men There is a growing crisis in male mental health, evidenced by the fact that nearly 66% of men who commit suicide have no prior history of mental illness. Dr. K suggests that the current therapeutic landscape is often ill-equipped for the male experience. Most therapy is built on "emotionally supportive" models—talking about feelings—which research suggests is more naturally aligned with female biology and socialization, potentially due to the role of estrogen in emotional awareness. Men often prefer "instrumental support," which focuses on problem-solving and action. Many men feel "outgunned" in traditional therapy or couples counseling because they lack the vocabulary for their internal states, a condition known as normative male alexithymia. When a therapist asks a man how he feels and he can only respond with "frustrated" or "pissed," the therapy stalls. Dr. K advocates for a more action-oriented approach that helps men build lives worth living, focusing on material outcomes like career progression and relationship skills alongside emotional processing. The Great Resignation of Content Creators The recent wave of high-profile YouTubers quitting their platforms highlights the toxic psychological toll of the attention economy. Creators live in a state of "persecutory reality." While a person with psychosis might imagine voices criticizing them, a content creator actually faces thousands of real voices in the comments section. The human brain is not evolved to handle 10,000 positive comments and one death threat; it will instinctively ignore the praise and fixate on the threat. Furthermore, the industry demands perpetual growth. A creator who reaches one million subscribers finds that the next million requires twice the work for half the emotional reward. This "moving goalpost" phenomenon, combined with the extreme isolation of the job, leads to inevitable burnout. Creators are often unable to take vacations because the algorithm punishes inactivity. They are trapped in a cycle where they must remain inspired to produce good content, but the grind of production destroys the very inspiration they need to survive. Dissolving the Ego to End Comparison At the heart of modern suffering is the ego, the "ahankar." This is the part of the mind that creates a "me" to compare against a "you." Dr. K points out that our self-worth is often tied to external abstractions—winner, loser, doctor, failure. These are not biological realities; they are mental labels. When we tie our worth to these labels, we become fragile. If you are "number one," you live in constant fear of becoming "number two." True liberation comes from the dissolution of these identities. In meditation, the goal is often to reach a state of "shunya," or zero. When you realize that you are not your accomplishments or your failures, but merely the bundle of sensory experiences living through this body, the pressure to perform evaporates. The joy of a billionaire taking a much-needed breath is identical to the joy of a homeless person doing the same. By focusing on the action itself rather than the outcome of the action, we regain our autonomy and our peace.