The Sattvic, Rajasic and Tamasic Spiritual Motivations of Teachers and Students
“According to Samkhya philosophy, the three gunas—tamas, rajas, and sattva—are the fundamental cosmic forces that shape all of nature, including the motivations behind our spiritual practice. These distinct qualities also form the basis of spiritual motivation, as revealed in Chapter 17, verses 2–4 of the Bhagavad Gita:
“Faith (śraddhā) in all human beings is of three kinds—sāttvika, rājasika, and tāmasika. It arises from one’s inherent nature.”
“O Arjuna, faith conforms to the temperament (prakṛti) of each individual. A person is what their faith is.”
“Those of sāttvika nature worship the gods. Those of rājasika nature worship yakṣas and rakṣasas. Those of tāmasika nature worship ghosts and spirits.”
These verses point to three underlying currents that shape how and why we walk the spiritual path.
When our spiritual motivation is tāmasic, it often arises from pain, fear, or confusion. The goal is not growth, but escape—to find refuge from what feels unbearable. While we may not be facing overt trauma, even persistent anxiety, lingering memories, or unresolved psychological discomfort can drive us toward spiritual practice as a kind of emotional first aid.
This form of faith treats the spiritual path like a disaster relief effort—something we turn to when life becomes too overwhelming to face alone. In this state, we seek security, safety, and a way to feel grounded amid inner turmoil. While not inherently “bad,” this motivation is limited. It can serve as a helpful starting point, but if we remain there, spiritual practice becomes primarily about coping rather than awakening.
Rājasic faith is driven by ambition, self-assertion, and the desire to be seen. Here, spiritual practice becomes a means to gain esteem, attention, or influence. A practitioner inspired by rajas might pursue impressive austerities or memorization of scripture not for their intrinsic value, but to stand out. They may crave acknowledgment from their teacher or the public, hoping to be elevated above others.
This form of motivation often appears as a strong desire to teach, speak publicly, or assume leadership roles—not from a genuine readiness to serve, but from a subtle need for validation and significance. In such cases, the ego quietly appropriates the spiritual path as a means of self-enhancement. Though effort and enthusiasm may be sincere, the deeper fruits of practice—such as humility, equanimity, and surrender—tend to remain elusive. A telltale sign of rājasic motivation is the feeling of frustration when your spiritual teacher or organization does not actively call upon you to lead, speak, or take on visible roles. You may find yourself uneasy or disappointed when you are not given the platform or recognition you feel you deserve.
The highest form of spiritual motivation is sattvic. When inspired by sattva, there is no underlying fear to escape or desire to be admired. Instead, there is a quiet love for truth, stillness, clarity, and peace. Practice arises from a deep, natural joy—a love for the process itself rather than any outcome.
This kind of motivation is marked by selflessness. Whether one is called to serve quietly in the background or to speak and teach publicly, there is no attachment. There is contentment in being unseen and readiness to step forward when asked. This is the kind of devotion the Bhagavad Gita refers to as worship of the gods—not gods as mythological figures, but as symbolic of higher consciousness, inner light, and divine wisdom.
A sattvic approach is similar to the experience of being so deeply engaged in an activity that all sense of ego dissolves. It doesn’t matter who is watching or how well we perform. The joy is in the doing itself—in being fully present, immersed, and attuned. This is the essence of sattvic śraddhā—a faith rooted in clarity, sustained by love, and free from grasping.
Understanding these three modes of spiritual motivation allows us to examine our own practice with greater honesty and compassion. All three types—sattvic, rajasic, and tamasic—can appear in different phases of our journey. The key is to recognize them and gradually refine our motivation toward sattva, where the practice becomes an expression of our deepest love for truth itself. Only then can the spiritual path reveal its full transformative power.
As representatives of a spiritual tradition, particularly one as inwardly focused and transformative as Kriya Yoga, it is essential that we develop an ongoing awareness of the motivations that guide our service. Not all impulses to teach or lead are rooted in spiritual clarity. The subtle influences of tamas (inertia, fear) and rajas (ambition, restlessness) can easily find their way into even the most sincere efforts. That is why a clear understanding of our inner drivers is critical to preserving the integrity of the path and our role within it.
The highest and most appropriate motivation for a Kriya Yoga teacher is sattvic—calm, clear, and free from craving. Sattvic motivation expresses itself not through egoic striving or emotional dependency, but through stillness, insight, and love for truth. A true teacher is not seeking emotional fulfillment through their role. They are not teaching to feel special or to satisfy an internal need for validation. Rather, their presence and actions reflect an alignment with peace, clarity, and light. They serve because they are inwardly moved to do so—not to be seen, but because it is the natural expression of their realization.
At the same time, those who teach with integrity are not pretending to be perfect. A sincere teacher remains deeply aware of their own humanness. They monitor the movements of the gunas within their consciousness and respond wisely. When they detect the rise of rajas or tamas—perhaps through feelings of pride, fatigue, insecurity, or the need for attention—they know to pause, reflect, and, when necessary, step away from the role of teacher until balance is restored.
This kind of self-awareness and restraint is not weakness; it is strength. It ensures that the teacher remains a transparent vessel for the teachings rather than a personality overshadowing them. In this way, the power of the tradition remains intact, and the teacher becomes a true representative—not of themselves, but of the timeless wisdom they have been entrusted to share.”
-An Excerpt from an upcoming workbook for those inspired to represent the Kriya Yoga Lineage.
No comments.