Once, while I was teaching samadhi from the Patanjali Yoga Sutras, Chapter One, a lovely student sitting right in front of me raised her hand and asked a question that instantly quieted the room.
She said that a practitioner is expected to perfect the eight limbs of yoga, beginning with moral discipline, then asana, pranayama, withdrawal of the senses, and deep meditation, often for years, sometimes for a lifetime. And after all of that, they die anyway. Which we all eventually will.
So what, she asked, is the point of putting in so much effort only to arrive at nothingness?
To give a little context, samadhi in Patanjali’s system is considered the goal of yoga, the eighth and final limb. It is said to exist in two forms, the lower and the higher. In the higher state of samadhi, the soul is liberated, having fulfilled its purpose. There is death without rebirth.
Naturally, what arises in the mind on hearing this is a very human question. Why go through such intense physical, mental, and emotional discipline if the end result, death, is something we reach anyway without doing anything at all?
And even if liberation is worth striving for, another question follows closely behind. Is it not selfish to renounce friends, family, and responsibilities to walk this path alone, only to leave the world behind? When there is so much pain and suffering around us, when people need care, support, and presence, how does it make sense to sit alone in meditation, withdrawing from life, while loved ones continue to struggle?
Why pursue liberation in isolation when the world is burning?
This question was not unfamiliar to me. I could not offer a neat or satisfying answer that day. Not because I had not studied enough, but because I had once asked myself the very same thing.
When I first read the Yoga Sutras, this thought passed through my mind repeatedly. What is the point? Why invest so much time sitting alone when I could be doing something tangible for someone else? Helping, serving, contributing in ways that feel immediately meaningful.
Over the years, I never found a clear-cut answer. But my perspective slowly began to shift.
I realised that there is much to understand before rejecting the idea of samadhi. Many layers to look through before labelling yoga as selfish. And many assumptions to question before concluding that renunciation is an escape rather than a responsibility.
Perhaps the problem is not the idea of samadhi itself, but how easily we misunderstand what it truly asks of us.
Leaving Samadhi Aside
Let us leave the topic of samadhi aside for now, because this is a state that cannot truly be understood with the level of perception we currently possess. To even begin to comprehend samadhi requires a different depth of awareness. So reducing it to death would be unfair.
Death is simply a word we use for the moment the physical body ceases to exist, and beyond that, humanity does not really know much. For a state we understand so little about, perhaps it is wiser not to spend too much time drawing conclusions.
Why Yoga Can Appear Selfish
Now we return to the part where yoga appears selfish. The journey that seems to demand renunciation of the world.
The first thing worth acknowledging is that it is because of these so-called selfish yogis and yoginis that we can even learn and speak about yoga today. Can we truly call them selfish for leaving their families and dedicating their lives to inner exploration? The practices they discovered and preserved have transformed countless lives physically, mentally, and emotionally. This knowledge is open to anyone willing to explore it. How can the origin of something so beneficial be purely selfish?
A powerful example is the Buddha. He left his family and his kingdom in search of answers. Was he selfish when he walked away? Perhaps from his family’s perspective, it may have felt that way at first. But even they had to witness the depth of transformation he brought to the lives of millions. Sometimes the salvation of many requires the courage of one person to appear selfish.
Maybe being selfish is not always wrong. Maybe, in some situations, it is quietly necessary.
The Nature of Human Questions
Another thing worth noticing is how naturally the human mind questions. From time to time, the familiar question appears, why me? And then come the deeper ones. What is the purpose of life? What happens after death? Is life only about waking up, working, eating, repeating, and eventually disappearing? Why is there so much suffering in the world?
Where there are questions, there is also an urge to find answers. And fulfilling that urge is not selfish.
Inner Work and Outer Contribution
What often goes unnoticed is that understanding oneself and contributing to the world are not opposing paths. They are deeply connected.
When we try to help the world without understanding our own mind, our help often carries our fears, expectations, and unresolved conflicts within it. We may try to fix others while quietly struggling within ourselves. We may try to give love while still learning what love truly means. We may try to bring peace while carrying unrest inside us.
And this is not wrong. It is simply human.
Yoga suggests something very simple yet very difficult. Before trying to change the world, learn to observe the one place from which all your actions arise, your own mind.
Because every action, every word, every decision we make is filtered through this mind. If the mind is restless, our actions carry restlessness. If the mind is fearful, our actions carry fear. If the mind is clear, our actions quietly carry clarity.
Perhaps this is why so many yogic traditions emphasize inner work before outer work. Not because the world is unimportant, but because the world is deeply influenced by the state of the people living in it.
A peaceful mind does not withdraw from the world. It participates differently.
A clear mind does not abandon responsibility. It responds more wisely.
A compassionate mind does not renounce love. It expands it.
Maybe the purpose of turning inward is not to escape the world, but to return to it with less confusion and more understanding.
And maybe that is not selfish at all. Maybe that is preparation.