Sankalpa: The Resolution That Reorganizes Your Life
For the past few years, I've been exploring the concept of Sankalpa every December. Not because it's another trendy self-improvement framework, but because over time, my understanding of what Sankalpa actually is has deepened significantly. It's evolved from being just a "deep-rooted resolution" to something far more profound—a way to fundamentally reorganize your mind and, consequently, your life.
December is an interesting time, isn't it? There's this collective energy around new beginnings, new year resolutions, personal betterment. People everywhere are making promises to themselves—lose weight, read more, exercise daily. And you know what happens by February. Life catches up. The euphoria dies. We're back to square one, dealing with the same challenges, the same patterns.
So the question becomes: why do most resolutions fail? And more importantly, is there a different way to approach change—one that actually sticks because it comes from a deeper place?
What Sankalpa Actually Means
Let's start with the word itself. Sankalpa comes from two Sanskrit roots: sam and kalp. Together, they mean "to bring together, to form, or to arrange."
But it goes deeper than that. In the Bhagavad Gita, Sankalpa is described as "the mind arranging reality into a pattern through subtle volition." Read that again. It's not just about setting a goal or forming a habit. It's about becoming the fundamental organizing principle of your own consciousness.
Think about that for a moment. When you take a true Sankalpa, you're not just saying "I'll meditate for ten minutes daily" or "I'll lose ten pounds." You're saying, "I will reorganize how I think, how I perceive, how I respond to reality itself." That's a completely different order of magnitude.
Beyond Habit Formation
Now, I want to be very clear about something: there's nothing wrong with wanting to lose weight or read more books or develop better habits. These are all positive pursuits. But they're not Sankalpa. They're not profound enough to reorganize your consciousness or fundamentally alter who you are.
Let me give you an example from our discussion. One participant, Monalisa, suggested changing her perspective to find learning lessons in stressful situations as a potential Sankalpa. My response to her was: if this alters your behavior, your thinking, your total personality—if it requires such effort that you must reorganize your entire approach to life—then yes, it could qualify as Sankalpa.
But here's the thing: a Sankalpa must be grand. It must be given due thought. Because you're not just committing to a behavior change; you're committing to changing yourself at a fundamental level. You're saying, "I am willing to put in whatever effort is necessary for this transformation."
Another participant, Suchismita, brought up something crucial: the necessity of observing one's thoughts to cleanse consciousness. She said something I deeply resonated with: "We cannot control life. Life has its own flow. Any situation, any person—in some cases we can control them, but in most cases we cannot. So how to respond to these situations, to these people? That completely depends on me."
This is Sankalpa territory. When you commit to observing your own consciousness, to understanding your responses, to cleansing your mind of reactive patterns—that's reorganizing your life from the inside out.
The Highest Forms of Sankalpa
Before we go into the structure of Sankalpa, let me give you a benchmark—the gold standard, if you will.
Have you heard of the Bodhisattva's vow? It's this: a Bodhisattva takes a vow that they will not attain their own liberation until every sentient being has achieved Nirvana. Every single one. This is the highest order of Sankalpa—you're putting your own liberation on hold, waiting for all of existence to be free from suffering before you yourself step out of it.
Now, that's an extraordinary commitment. But different philosophical traditions emphasize different highest forms:
Yoga pursues tranquility as the highest Sankalpa—complete equanimity of mind
The Gita emphasizes Nishkam Karma—selfless service without attachment to results
Vedantic philosophy focuses on Tyaga—renunciation
Tantra speaks of complete devotion and discipline toward one's chosen deity, one's Ishta Devata
Here's what's important: our disposition determines what kind of Sankalpa we're drawn to. If you're devotional by nature—like Mira or Ramakrishna Paramhansa—then devotion itself becomes your transformative force. If you're intellectual, perhaps Viveka (discrimination) becomes your path. There's no hierarchy here. What matters is authenticity.
The Four Components of Sankalpa
Drawing from the Vedas, a true Sankalpa is structured around four elements. Understanding these will help you discern whether what you're pursuing is truly a Sankalpa or just a wish.
1. Samscaras (Stored Patterns/Predisposition)
These are your stored patterns—what you bring from the past. Not just from childhood, but from multiple lifetimes if you subscribe to that view. Even if you don't, think of Samscaras as deeply ingrained neurological patterns, habitual ways of being that have been reinforced over and over.
Your Samscaras determine your inclinations. They're why certain things attract you and others repel you. They're the reason you behave the way you do, often without conscious choice.
But here's the paradox: you need Samscaras. A person with zero Samscaras would have no motivation to evolve, no sense of what needs improvement. It's precisely because we carry these patterns that we feel the friction, the dissatisfaction that drives us toward growth.
2. Viveka (Discrimination/Questioning Power)
This is your buddhi, your intellect, your capacity for discrimination. Viveka helps you channelize your inclinations by questioning them deeply.
So Monalisa wants tranquility. Suchismita wants to cleanse her consciousness. But wanting isn't enough. Viveka asks: Why do you want tranquility? What does it actually mean? What will it require of you? What will change if you achieve it?
This questioning isn't doubt—it's clarity. It's understanding your own pursuit so thoroughly that when challenges come (and they will), you don't abandon ship. You know exactly why you're on this journey.
3. Itchashakti (Willpower/Capacity)
This is your ability to pursue, your willpower. But it's more than just determination—it's also about capacity. Do you have the tools? The knowledge? The circumstances?
Sometimes we want something desperately but lack the capacity to pursue it effectively. That's where learning, preparation, and building capability come in.
4. Shraddha (Deep Trust/Devotion)
This is perhaps the most subtle and most crucial element. Shraddha is a deep trust in your Sankalpa—a conviction so strong that even in moments of profound doubt, something in you remains committed.
It's not blind faith. It's more like... devotion. You know this path is right for you. You've questioned it (Viveka), you understand it, and now you trust it completely.
Here's the interplay: Sometimes your willpower (Itchashakti) weakens. In those moments, your Shraddha carries you. Sometimes your Shraddha wavers—maybe you're questioning everything. Then your will kicks in: "I committed to this. I'll keep going." And when both weaken? That's when you need patience. You pause, you observe, you wait, and eventually you return to your Sankalpa.
Understanding Samscaras Through Neuroplasticity
Let me take you deeper into Samscaras because this is where most people struggle. Someone in our discussion asked: "What happens if my Samscaras are stronger than my Viveka? I see people trying so hard to change but they just can't seem to make progress."
This is a profound question. Let me answer it through the lens of neuroplasticity.
When you pursue something—a behavior, a habit, a thought pattern—it literally cuts grooves in your brain. The stronger the pattern, the deeper the groove. Think of someone who's been smoking for twenty years. That's not just a habit; it's a deep neurological pathway. The smell of cigarette smoke, the act of lighting up, the nicotine hit—all of this has carved deep channels in the brain.
So how do you change such a strong pattern? You create alternate pathways. In smoking cessation programs, they don't just tell you to stop smoking. They give you different smells—floral teas, incense, aromatherapy. Why? Because you need to create new grooves, new associations. And you need to pursue these alternate pathways for long enough that they become as deep as the old ones.
This is where Shraddha becomes critical. Because changing a strong Samscara takes time. It requires trust that the process works even when you don't see immediate results.
Now, neuroplasticity deals with one lifetime. But Samscaras extend across multiple lifetimes—at least according to Vedic thought. These are patterns stored in your conscious and subconscious layers, so deep you don't even know they're there. They're operating you as much as you think you're operating yourself.
But—and this is crucial—everyone has an equal opportunity to overcome their Samscaras. Yes, some patterns might be stronger for you than for someone else. It might take you longer. But the tools work the same way for everyone: continuous effort, alternate pathways, and trust in the process.
And you know what's one of the most effective tools for creating neuroplasticity? Yoga. When you practice yoga, you're utilizing your body and mind in completely new ways. You're literally rewiring your brain. Similarly, meditation and pranayama rewire you because they allow you to observe yourself from new angles, to see patterns you couldn't see before.
The Role of Ego and the Desire for Uniqueness
Now we come to something subtle, something that can sabotage even the noblest Sankalpa: ego.
During our discussion, Suchismita pointed out something profound. She said we need to observe not just our thoughts, but our desires—particularly the desire to be important, respected, unique. These desires create tremendous unrest.
I want you to really sit with this: ego's deepest drive is the desire to be unique, to stand out, to be different.
And here's what's tricky—this desire can hijack even spiritual pursuits. You want to be more compassionate? Ask yourself: is it because compassion is inherently valuable, or because being compassionate will make you special? You want to practice yoga authentically? Is it because you genuinely want to understand yourself, or because you want to be seen as different from the "accidental practitioners" who only care about asanas?
I'm not saying the desire itself is wrong. I'm saying it's so subtle, so pervasive, that we don't even realize when it's operating. Sometimes people even dwell in self-pity as a way to be unique—"my suffering is the most profound suffering."
During our discussion, Monalisa asked something beautifully honest. She said, "When I see yoga being practiced carelessly, just as physical exercise, I want to not be like those people. I want to aspire to the true spirit of yoga. But isn't that desire also fueled by ego? Isn't that me thinking I'm somehow higher up as a practitioner?"
This is exactly the kind of self-inquiry that Viveka demands. And my answer to her was this: to be truly not motivated by ego, your pursuit should simply be to understand something to the best of your ability.
Not to embody all of Patanjali's values. Not to be the perfect yogi. But simply: "I want to improve my understanding of yoga and of myself through yoga every single day. I allow myself room to learn, to be wrong, to grow toward something higher."
Do you see the difference? One position closes you off—"I know what yoga should be, and I'm going to embody it." The other opens you up—"I want to understand. I'm exploring."
The Four Critical Questions
When you're contemplating a Sankalpa—whether it's pursuit of tranquility, cleansing consciousness, developing patience, or anything else—you must ask yourself four questions. These questions will reveal whether your Sankalpa is worthy, whether it's aligned with your deepest truth, and whether it's motivated by ego or by genuine aspiration.
Question 1: What form of being am I choosing to become?
This is the most important question. If you pursue this Sankalpa, what kind of person will you become? Not just what will you achieve, but who will you be?
If your Sankalpa is tranquility, you're choosing to become a person who remains calm in the face of provocation. That's not a small thing. That requires reorganizing your entire nervous system, your emotional responses, your mental habits.
If your Sankalpa is to cleanse your consciousness, you're choosing to become someone who is constantly self-aware, constantly observing, constantly willing to let go of old patterns.
Really sit with this question. Paint a vivid picture of the person you'll become. Do you want to be that person?
Question 2: What life will this create for others?
Your transformation doesn't happen in isolation. When you change, your relationships change. Your impact on the world changes.
If you become deeply tranquil, what does that mean for your family? Your colleagues? Will they find peace in your presence? Will they feel unseen because you're no longer reacting to them?
If you commit to selfless service, what does that mean for your personal ambitions? Your financial goals?
This is about understanding the karmic impact of your Sankalpa. Every choice creates ripples. You need to know what ripples you're creating.
Question 3: Is this decision motivated by ego?
We've already touched on this, but let me be very specific. Ego can disguise itself in the noblest pursuits.
People jump on diet fads—ketogenic, intermittent fasting, whatever is trendy—not because they've carefully considered whether it's right for their body, but because the difficulty of it attracts attention. When you're at a social gathering and everyone asks, "Why aren't you eating?" the ego gets stroked. You become unique.
Even something as simple as starting a morning meditation practice—is it because you genuinely want to observe your mind, or because you want to be seen as someone who meditates?
I'm not saying these pursuits are wrong. I'm saying you need to be brutally honest about your motivation. Because if ego is driving the bus, you won't find the peace you're seeking. You'll just find new ways to be anxious about whether you're unique enough.
Question 4: Is it aligned with Dharma?
This is the deepest question. Dharma is a vast concept, but at its core, it's about alignment—with your true nature, with universal principles, with what you're here to do.
A Sankalpa aligned with Dharma feels right not just for you, but in the larger scheme of things. It doesn't create conflict with your deepest values. It doesn't require you to betray yourself or others.
This is a question you'll keep returning to because as you evolve, your understanding of your Dharma evolves too.
Knowing vs. Understanding: The Humility Required
Let me close with what I think is the most profound insight that emerged from our discussion.
Monalisa raised this dilemma about wanting to practice yoga in its true spirit versus not wanting to be like careless practitioners. And in exploring that with her, we arrived at something crucial:
There's a vast difference between saying "I know yoga" and saying "I want to understand yoga."
The moment you say "I know myself," you close the door to growth. You block all suggestions—from friends, from teachers, from scriptures. Because if you already know yourself, what more is there to discover?
But if you say, "There's so much I don't know about my own behavior, about my reactions, about what motivates me"—suddenly you're open. When someone points out a blind spot, you don't react defensively. You listen. You consider. You explore.
This is true for yoga, for meditation, for any Sankalpa you pursue. The belief that you "know" is the most unhumble state you can be in. It's a position of closure.
But exploration? That's a position of openness. "I want to understand" is an invitation—to learning, to growth, to transformation.
A Final Reflection
Sankalpa is not a resolution. It's not a goal. It's a fundamental reorganization of how you relate to existence.
It requires you to understand your predispositions (Samscaras), to question them deeply (Viveka), to develop the capacity to pursue your truth (Itchashakti), and to trust the process completely (Shraddha).
It demands that you ask uncomfortable questions about what you're becoming, how your transformation affects others, whether your ego is in the driver's seat, and whether you're aligned with your Dharma.
And most of all, it requires profound humility—the recognition that you don't know yourself fully, that you're always in the process of understanding, always exploring.
This December, as you think about what you want for the new year, ask yourself: Am I making a resolution, or am I ready to take a Sankalpa?
The difference might just change everything.
What Sankalpa calls to you? What form of being are you choosing to become? I'd love to hear your reflections.