Befriending the Inner Voice of Unhappiness

Striving Without Striving: Befriending the Inner Voice of Unhappiness

The inner voice of unhappiness is a complicated companion. Sometimes it whispers in the background, barely audible. Other times it shouts, criticizing and measuring every effort. This voice usually shows up when we grip too tightly to outcomes — when our happiness depends on life unfolding exactly as we imagined. If things go “well,” we celebrate. If they don’t, the inner voice reminds us that we’ve failed, fallen short, or don’t measure up.

The problem isn’t passion or curiosity. The problem is that our zeal gets bound to one narrow version of success, while all other outcomes feel unacceptable.

Yoga philosophy offers an counteragent through Aparigraha — non-attachment. But even here, the inner voice of unhappiness is clever. It can twist non-attachment into another standard we’re supposed to achieve, so we end up striving to “let go” and judging ourselves when we can’t.

Meeting the Voice on the Mat

For me, this voice often meets me in one particular pose: elbow balance. For years, I’ve practiced it freestanding in the middle of the room. I’ve asked myself, What will I have when I can finally hold this pose? The truth is, there’s nothing to have. The pose has been less about achievement and more about relationship — with myself, and with that voice.

Some days I practice with curiosity. Some days with kindness. Other days, impatience rises and I become a bully to myself. The inner voice of unhappiness always has something to say.

What has shifted is not that the voice has disappeared, but that I’ve learned to sit with it. To notice it. To extend kindness even to the impatient, self-critical part of me. Instead of exiling this voice, I let it belong, but I don’t let it steer the ship. I practice different ways of existing in my centre as I step into my responsiveness not reactiveness. 

The Core Supports

As I move deeper into my exploration of Spontaneous CORE, my pet project, I keep discovering how naturally the concepts connect to so many aspects of life. Here, I’ve applied them to the study of Aparigraha. Spontaneous Core concepts give structure:

• Crowns — Crowns are the supports that go beyond my old deeply grooved patterns. They are places of influence that steady me. The crown supports of yogic breathing, meditation, walking, and asana practice act like domes above, holding me in coherence. I cannot force my way into quieting the restless mind, but I can enter through the senses. Each breath, each step, each pause creates a doorway that softens the inner voice of unease.
• Overriding — Each time I step out of the deep rut of attachment and choose a new path, I begin to rewrite the future. And each time I meet myself with kindness—even when I fall back into old grooves—I change the way I move forward, in practice and in life. This gives it rhythm, and softens the self-kindness piece into something that feels like a pivot rather than a punishment.
• Rehearse — Practicing non-attachment is like practicing scales in music—its purpose is not perfection, but familiarity and ease. Each repetition builds recognition, so when life strikes a chord, my hands and heart know where to go more frequently. Rehearsal is less about mastery and more about creating fluency, so that it can emerge Spontaneously.
• Ease — Working this concept with ease means offering kindness not only to the polished, successful self, but also to the restless, impatient, and imperfect self. True practice is not a reward for getting it right, but a shelter that holds all of our attempts—the graceful and the stumbling alike. When kindness reaches every corner of who we are, ease becomes less something to achieve and more something we can rest into.

Being OK with Not Being OK

The deepest lesson is this: we don’t need to silence the inner voice of unhappiness. We can hear it without obeying it. We can be okay even when we’re not okay.

Striving without striving doesn’t mean abandoning effort, passion, or curiosity. It means showing up fully while loosening the grip on outcomes. It means rehearsing kindness, crowning ourselves with steady supports, overriding the grooves of grasping, and finding ease in the middle of it all.

That is where practice lives. Not in perfection, but in the willingness to keep returning — even with that old voice whispering in the background.