Your Moods Have a Pattern Too, Here’s What Ayurveda Says

Ever had one of those days where you feel completely calm and clear-headed, like nothing can shake you?   And then there are days where you feel restless, edgy, almost itching to argue with someone over nothing?   And then, of course, there are the days where you don’t want to do anything at all. Not work, not talk, not even get off the couch.   If you’ve felt all three of these at different points in your life, you already understand the Trigunas, even if you’ve never heard the word before.   We talk a lot about Doshas when it comes to Ayurveda, Vata, Pitta, Kapha. But those three govern the body. What most people don’t know is that Ayurveda had a separate set of three for the mind. These are called the Trigunas: Sattva, Rajas and Tamas.   And honestly, I think this is one of the more underrated ideas in the whole system.   Let’s break it down simply.   Sattva is that calm, clear state of mind. Sharp focus, a settled heart, the kind of headspace where good decisions just come naturally.   Rajas is the restless one, driven, ambitious, a little impatient, always chasing the next thing.   Tamas is the heavy one, sluggish, foggy, the mental version of hitting snooze five times in a row.   Here’s the part I find genuinely interesting. Ayurveda didn’t treat these as personality types you’re stuck with. Unlike your Dosha, which is largely fixed from birth, your Guna shifts, sometimes within the same day.   You could wake up Sattvic, turn Rajasic by 3pm after back-to-back meetings, and end the night fully Tamasic on the couch, scrolling your phone with zero motivation to move. Same person, three different mental states, all in twelve hours.   That alone tells you something important. Ayurveda wasn’t describing who you are, it was describing where your mind happens to be, right now.   And that’s a much more useful way to think about your own moods, isn’t it?   We tend to label ourselves. “I’m just a lazy person.” “I’m always anxious.” “I’m just wired this way.”   Ayurveda would gently push back on that. It would say, you’re not permanently anything.   This is honestly a bit of a relief when you sit with it.   Ayurveda also didn’t leave you to just observe your Guna. It gave you actual levers to pull.   Food, for one.   Ever notice how a heavy, greasy meal makes you want to do absolutely nothing afterward? That’s Tamas showing up through your plate.   Ayurveda classified food the same way it classified minds: Sattvic, Rajasic and Tamasic, and it genuinely believed what you eat nudges your mental state, not just your waistline.   Sleep, company, the media you consume, even the pace of your day. Ayurveda considered all of it capable of tilting you toward one Guna or another.   This is where it gets a little uncomfortable, in a good way.   Because it means your 2am doom-scrolling isn’t just a habit. It’s actively feeding a Tamasic state.   And that overpacked schedule you’re proud of might be keeping you stuck in Rajas far more than you realise, wired, busy, but never actually at peace.   Ayurveda wasn’t saying Rajas or Tamas are bad, by the way.   You need Rajas to get out of bed and get things done. You need a bit of Tamas to actually rest. The goal was never to eliminate them. It was to notice which one you’re leaning on too heavily, and gently steer yourself back toward Sattva, the state Ayurveda considered closest to genuine wellbeing.   So why doesn’t this concept come up as often as Doshas do?   I think it’s because Doshas feel more “medical.” They explain digestion, body type, physical symptoms, things that are easy to point to.   Gunas are quieter. They live in your mood, your focus, your patience, things we’re used to blaming on stress or personality instead of actually examining.   But if you ask me, understanding your Guna day to day might be more useful than knowing your Dosha.   Because most of us aren’t struggling with our body type. We’re struggling with why we feel foggy, restless or completely unmotivated, and not knowing there was ever a name for it, or a way back to balance.   If ideas like this interest you, our guided courses on Charaka Samhita and Ashtanga Hridayam explore concepts like the Trigunas straight from the original texts.

Ayurveda Named the Reason We Keep Doing Things We Know Are Bad For Us

Have you ever eaten an extra serving despite being full?   Have you ever stayed up scrolling through your phone and lost track of time?   Have you ever decided to be a little lazy and skip your workout?   Admit it, we’ve all at least done any one of these once in our lives.   And here’s the thing, none of us do this because we don’t know better. We know exactly what we’re doing. We just do it anyway.   Ayurveda had a word for this, thousands of years before behavioural science made a whole field out of it. It’s called Pragyaparadha.   And according to Ayurveda, this one idea sits behind almost every disease we end up bringing on ourselves.   The word comes from two Sanskrit roots. Pragya, meaning wisdom or intellect. Aparadha, meaning offence or crime. Put the two together and Pragyaparadha literally means an offence against wisdom.   Not a lack of wisdom but an offence against it.   That difference matters a lot. Ayurveda wasn’t talking about ignorance here, it was talking about something far more familiar and honestly, a little harder to admit to. Knowing exactly what’s good for you, and choosing the opposite anyway.   Ayurvedic texts describe Pragyaparadha as actions of the body, mind or speech, done despite knowing better. Eating something you already know doesn’t suit you. Brushing off clear signs that you’re exhausted. Saying something in anger that you know you’ll regret the second it leaves your mouth. None of this needs ignorance. It just needs one moment where awareness loses to impulse.   Ayurveda believed that this pattern, repeated enough times, becomes one of the root causes of disease itself.   This is a very different starting point from how most of us think about getting sick.   When something goes wrong with our health, we usually look outward first. We look for the virus, the deficiency, the bad gene, the environmental trigger, the food we ate, or sometimes, simply, bad luck. And of course, these things matter.   Ayurveda never claimed that everything that happens to the body is a consequence of personal choices. But it also asked us to look somewhere else, somewhere most of us are much less comfortable looking: at the small, repeated choices we make against our own better judgement.   Because sometimes, we already know.   We know we are tired, but we stay up anyway. We know we are full, but we take another serving because it tastes good. We know that certain foods leave us feeling terrible, yet somehow, they keep finding their way back onto our plates. We know we need to move, rest, slow down, or stop stressing about something, and still find ourselves doing the exact opposite.   We think subconsciously that stayiny up one late night is not going to affect our health, one indulgent meal is not going to make us sick. But we forget that we keep repeating these things quietly, so much so that you’ll realise it stopped becoming a choice and started becoming a pattern.   The doshas getting disturbed again and again by the same habits. The body constantly having to compensate for the same disruptions. Small imbalances being ignored because they are still small enough to live with. Until, eventually, the body cannot keep correcting itself quite as easily as it once did, and disease gets the room it needs to take hold.   And honestly, this sounds a lot like something we are already talking about today.   There is an entire area of behavioural science concerned with the distance between what we know and what we actually do. It is often described as the knowledge-behaviour gap, and you do not need a psychology degree to recognise it in your own life.   We are not exactly short on information.   And yet, somehow, knowing all of this does not guarantee that we will act on it.   We can have all the information in the world and still find ourselves repeating the same habits we promised ourselves we were going to change.   And this is where I think the concept gets particularly interesting, because Pragyaparadha is not really about not knowing better. It is about knowing better and then, for whatever reason, choosing otherwise.   There is something almost painfully human about that.   And here is what I particularly like about the Ayurvedic approach to this. It does not seem interested in turning that observation into another reason for us to feel terrible about ourselves.   There is already enough guilt attached to health. Every day, we are given another reason to feel like we are failing at taking care of ourselves.   Pragyaparadha gives us a slightly different way of looking at the problem. Instead of asking, What is wrong with me that I keep doing this?, perhaps the more useful question is, Why did I act against what I already knew?   That question takes us somewhere much more interesting.   Ayurveda places importance on cultivating Sattva, a state associated with clarity, steadiness and a balanced mind. The answer, therefore, was not simply to keep collecting more knowledge. It was to develop the mental clarity required to actually live according to the knowledge you already have.   Because there is a huge difference between knowing something and being able to act on it.   And this is also why practices like Dinacharya, the Ayurvedic approach to daily routine, make more sense when viewed through this lens. They were not simply a collection of rituals designed to give you another checklist to complete every morning. At their best, routines create regularity, and regularity gives you the opportunity to notice yourself.   You start noticing when you are actually hungry instead of eating because the clock says it is lunchtime. You notice when your sleep is beginning to deteriorate. You notice when your digestion feels different, when your energy is lower than usual, when… Continue reading Ayurveda Named the Reason We Keep Doing Things We Know Are Bad For Us