Four States of Attention

In some yogic texts, man is symbolized by a chariot crossing the road of life. The body is the chariot, the senses are the horses, the mind is the reins, the intellect is the charioteer, and the inner Self is the passenger. Who is driving this journey? When the guidance of the intellect is absent, the mind surrenders, and the horses—the senses—run chaotically wherever the infinite stimuli around us lead them.

There are four states of attention:

• "Zero attention" — the mind wanders, daydreams. We may be reading and end up remembering nothing.
• "Distracted attention" — the mind is absorbed by the stimulus (a movie, a melody, etc.) without any effort. This is how we often function in life.
• "Directed attention" — the mind is actively and consciously focused, such as when we are working or studying. It is necessary for deeper understanding, but it requires willpower and effort.
• "Dual attention" — attention is divided in two: one "arrow" is directed outward, toward events, and one inward, monitoring thoughts and feelings.

We see this in the Bhagavad Gita, at the moment of the Mahabharata, just before the battle between two families for the kingdom. Krishna is Arjuna's charioteer and advisor. The battlefield (Kurukshetra) symbolizes our inner world — the conflict between the forces within us. Arjuna, seeking guidance, says:

O Krishna, draw my chariot between the two armies so that I may see... those with whom I must contend.

He stands in the middle, seeing both sides at once. This is dual attention—the ability to observe what is happening outside and inside us, without identification. Dual attention is the foundation of yogic discrimination (viveka) — the ability to see what is temporary and what is eternal, what belongs to the flow of phenomena and what belongs to the essence of Being.

True peace arises when the intellect guides the chariot and the mind is not distracted by whatever it encounters along the way. Calmness is not the absence of movement, but the ability to remain present and still within movement. Yoga invites us to live with our gaze fixed not only on the road, but also on the wise charioteer — our only access to the passenger.