We live in the age of the infinite scroll, where reality is delivered in a ceaseless, flowing torrent. The yogis of old sought stillness beside quiet lakes; we seek it while navigating a digital river of triumphs, curated images, and sudden sorrow. This constant witnessing is often a cause of churning, a turbulence of comparison, judgment, and envy that stands starkly opposed to the clarity we seek.
Patanjali, the great scribe of the Yoga Sutras, foresaw this chaotic stream. He knew that the path to inner peace was not always about removing the input, but refining the lens through which we view it. He hands us a precise algorithm for navigating the human experience in Sutra I.33: Maitrī karuṇā muditopekṣāṇāṁ-sukha-duḥkha-puṇya-apuṇya-viṣayāṇāṁ-bhāvanātaś-citta-prasādanam.
This sutra is a profound prescription for mental hygiene in the modern world. When the screen flashes the curated joy of another’s perfect moment, we must practice Maitrī—friendliness. Instead of the instinctive prick of envy, we choose shared delight. When we stumble upon genuine grief or tragedy, we engage Karuṇā, ensuring our compassion is deep and true, untainted by performative pity.
The deeper wisdom lies in how we filter the rest. We must apply Muditā (delight) only toward true virtue, saving our energy for genuine inspiration. Most crucially, we must reserve Upekṣā (neutrality or indifference) for the apuṇya—the constant stream of noise, judgment, and manufactured drama that consumes our mental bandwidth.
We are not asked to solve the world’s problems instantly, but to stop letting them contaminate our internal state. The practice becomes less about putting down the device and more about consciously choosing the filter through which we encounter all that is displayed, both virtual and immediate. The purification of the mind (Citta Prasādanam) occurs not in the absence of the world, but in the intelligent refinement of our gaze upon it.
The quiet revolution begins the moment we choose our attitude over our reaction.