The Root Of Emotions

You see, emotions are often mistaken for the thing itself, rather like mistaking the ripples on a pond for the movement of the whole sea. People chase emotions, analyze them, suppress them, or indulge in them—but rarely do they inquire into their source. Where does an emotion arise from? What gives it weight, significance, and the peculiar hold it has on you?

If you trace an emotion back—any emotion, whether joy, anger, sorrow, or fear—you will find that it flowers from a belief. It is not the world outside you that dictates your feelings, but rather your interpretation of it. And what is interpretation but a system of beliefs?

Imagine, for a moment, that you are feeling anxious about an upcoming conversation. The anxiety does not exist in the mere fact that words will be exchanged. The anxiety arises because you believe something must happen in a particular way—you believe you must be perceived a certain way, or that some consequence must be avoided. And it is that belief, not the conversation itself, that generates the feeling.

But here is where it gets interesting: Each belief tells you something about yourself. And yet, we rarely examine them. We tend instead to scrutinize the emotions, like looking at shadows on a cave wall, hoping they will explain themselves. But the real work, if one is to be free, is not in examining the feeling itself but in questioning the foundation upon which it stands.

What must I believe to feel this way?

That is the inquiry. Not “Why do I feel this?” but “What belief is giving rise to this feeling?” For you cannot have an emotion without first believing something to be true.

Take, for example, the emotion of unworthiness. A person who feels unworthy must first hold a belief that they are unworthy—that worth is something conditional, that they have not met the conditions. And so, if they wish to change the feeling, the task is not to combat the emotion, but to examine the belief: Who told me this? What evidence have I accepted? Is it true?

Most suffering arises not because emotions are painful, but because we take them as unquestionable truths rather than the shadows cast by deeper structures.

If you do not prefer the emotions you experience, if you find yourself caught in a web of unwanted feeling, then the way forward is not to fight them but to inquire:

What would I have to believe about myself for this feeling to be true?

And if that belief does not serve you, change it. Not by brute force, not by pretending—but by seeing that all beliefs are constructs. They are not inherent realities; they are agreements we have made with ourselves and the world. Some beliefs lift you; others bind you.

And so, the invitation is not to wrestle with emotion, nor to suppress it, but to follow it back—like a river to its source—and see what idea about yourself you are holding as true. If you wish to feel differently, begin not with emotion, but with belief.

For emotions, you see, are not obstacles. They are guides. They exist to show you what you are holding onto, where you are gripping too tightly, what you have yet to question. They are not here to be fought or obeyed, but to reveal to you the deeper layers of yourself.

And when you see this clearly, you will know: The mind is not a prison, unless you mistake its walls for the sky.