24/06/2026
Before we dissolve asmita, we must honestly meet it. Sit with whom you think you are. This is not a criticism; the ego is not the enemy. It is a case of mistaken identity.
The word Smita was used to describe smiling, but in the Shishupala Vadha and Pancharatra text, the word refers to expanding and blossoming. This translation of Smita is a wonderful, simplistic way to understand what asmita (the exact opposite) means.
The second klesha, Asmita, loosely translated as egoism, is all about allowing the sense of ‘I – Me – My’ to become the most important thing in life. When it does, suffering arises, and rather than expanding and blossoming (smita), we shrink ourselves, moving further and further away from our growth potential.
But Ego is not necessarily what you may think it is.
For you to better understand asmita (egoism), it’s really important to note that it differs from our traditional conception of egoism in a few important ways. When we think of ego, we generally think of conceit or holding a high opinion of oneself, but this is only a very small part in the Yogic view.
Patanjali defines egoism as mistaking the transient aspects of ourselves: the physical, emotional, and mental, for the true self. The Yogis define the true self as the unchanging, ever-peaceful observer behind those transient characteristics.
One obvious form arises when we fixate on those qualities in ourselves that we most admire; this is what we would typically describe as egoism. But the Yogis realised that thinking poorly of oneself, whether that be about appearance, education, or talents, involves the same mistake. When we are either proud or ashamed, we start to identify with the conditional and ever-changing parts of our lives as who we are, and begin generating the friction and pain inherent in an ego-based worldview.
A second major difference between the Western and Yogic views concerns our evaluation of the ego as a whole. Here in the West, we tend to either applaud it or vilify it, either seeing pride as good or as an evil to be avoided. From a yogic perspective, both of these views arise from avidya (misperception), for to exalt the ego or to denounce it is equally to misapprehend it, giving rise to inner friction and unrest.
To put it in more concrete form, if we think of ourselves in terms of a few aspects, for example, our occupation or our possessions, we begin to look at the world in dualistic terms.
If I identify with my job, then I naturally start to divide the people around me into those who appreciate and support my work (whom I think of as supporting “me”) and those who don’t (whom I see as prospective enemies, or at least “problems” with which to deal). If I identify with my possessions, I see bad weather that damages my house/ studio or rust that threatens my car as potential affronts and, at worst, attacks on me on behalf of the universe. In other words, both other people and life itself start to be seen as either “for” or “against” us.
Obviously, at best, this creates a view of life filled with stress and struggle. Even if we are lucky enough at the moment to feel the factors “for” us outweigh those against, it still leads us to live in a constant effort to maintain this and a constant fear of losing it. Furthermore, it guides us to approach all people and situations with wariness, an approach that breeds alienation rather than building connection.
Ultimately, even those thoughts and acts intended to bring security are still driven by our doubts, fears, and worries about how uncertain life is.
Despite all the negative consequences of ego in its unchecked form, it is again important to understand that the Yogis by no means denounce or denigrate ego itself. In fact, quite the opposite: the Yogis realised ego, just like our bodies, is a natural part of who we are and can be a powerful tool for both growth and service. The key, again, like the body, is to understand it in the proper light and work with it accordingly.
By contrast, if we can see both the limitations and the function of the ego, we can work with it, both in ourselves and others, and in turn bring both peace and productivity to our lives.
Patanjali points out the subsequent kleshas, including egoism, as arising from avidya, bringing the same consequences, namely, friction and suffering. Essentially, when we start to think of ourselves in terms of the incomplete view provided by limited aspects of our being, we begin a process of alienation from both ourselves and the world. This alienation becomes more striking when we realise those partial elements are also transient.
In essence, the path beyond asmita isn't to destroy the ego or to inflate it, but to stop mistaking it for who we truly are. When we loosen our grip on the transient roles, possessions, and opinions that we've mistaken for our identity, the rigid boundary between "self" and "other" begins to soften, and with it, the constant vigilance and fear that come from living a divided life. What remains is space, room for the self to do what its name always implied: to expand, to blossom, to become smita once again.
