How-To & Practice
How to Control the Mind, According to the Bhagavad Gītā
Even Arjuna said it was like trying to hold the wind. Krishna's answer was not force but two quiet disciplines — practice and dispassion — that gradually bring a restless mind home.
If you have ever tried to sit quietly and found your mind sprinting off in ten directions, you are in old and good company. When Krishna urges Arjuna to steady his mind, Arjuna pushes back with one of the most relatable lines in the whole Gītā: the mind, he says, is restless, turbulent, and strong — trying to hold it is like trying to hold the wind. What makes the Gītā so useful on how to control the mind is that it does not deny this. It agrees the mind is hard to tame, and then tells you, plainly, what actually works.
The Gītā's honest starting point
Most advice about calming the mind fails because it begins by pretending the mind is easy to calm. The Gītā begins from the opposite place. Arjuna's complaint is taken seriously; Krishna does not wave it away or promise a quick fix. This honesty matters, because it means the method that follows is built for a mind that genuinely resists — not for some idealised, already-peaceful one. If your attempts at meditation have left you feeling like you are failing, the Gītā's first gift is to tell you that the difficulty is normal, expected, and no barrier at all.
Krishna's two-word answer
Krishna's reply to Arjuna is remarkably compact. He concedes the difficulty and then names, in a single verse, the two forces that together bring the mind under control.
असंशयं महाबाहो मनो दुर्निग्रहं चलम्।
अभ्यासेन तु कौन्तेय वैराग्येण च गृह्यते॥asaṃśayaṃ mahā-bāho mano durnigrahaṃ calam · abhyāsena tu kaunteya vairāgyeṇa ca gṛhyate
Undoubtedly the mind is restless and hard to restrain; but by practice (abhyāsa) and dispassion (vairāgya), O son of Kuntī, it is held.
Notice the structure. Krishna does not say the mind is easy, and he does not say it is impossible. He says it is hard and it can be done — by two things, working together. Neither one alone is enough. This is the heart of the Gītā's answer, and everything else is commentary on these two words.
Abhyāsa: the discipline of return
Abhyāsa means sustained, patient practice. Not a heroic effort of will, but the small, unglamorous act of returning the mind to its resting point, again and again, without drama. When you sit to meditate and the mind wanders to lunch, to a grievance, to tomorrow, abhyāsa is simply the gesture of bringing it back — for the hundredth time, as gently as the first. The wandering is not the failure. The returning is the practice. Each return lays down a little more of a groove, and over time the groove becomes the mind's natural home. This is the same principle we explore in our piece on how to meditate with the Bhagavad Gītā — meditation is not a state you force but a return you repeat.
Vairāgya: loosening the grip
Practice alone, though, is like bailing water from a boat that still has a hole in it. This is why Krishna pairs abhyāsa with vairāgya — dispassion, or non-attachment. If abhyāsa steadies the mind, vairāgya gives it less to be agitated about in the first place. A mind churning with craving for one outcome and dread of another cannot be sat quiet by effort; the churning has to be reduced at its source. Vairāgya is the steady, unforced loosening of that grip — caring about what you do while releasing your clutch on how it must turn out. It is not coldness or indifference; it is the freedom of a mind no longer held hostage by its wants. Our fuller guide to what vairāgya means traces how this dispassion is a warmth, not a withdrawal.
The mind as friend or enemy
Earlier in the same chapter, Krishna makes clear where the responsibility for all this lies — and it is a bracing, empowering claim.
उद्धरेदात्मनात्मानं नात्मानमवसादयेत्।
आत्मैव ह्यात्मनो बन्धुरात्मैव रिपुरात्मनः॥uddhared ātmanātmānaṃ nātmānam avasādayet · ātmaiva hy ātmano bandhur ātmaiva ripur ātmanaḥ
Lift yourself by yourself; do not let yourself sink. For the self alone is the self's friend, and the self alone its enemy.
The same mind that undermines you at three in the morning with worry can, trained, become the steadiest ally you have. Nobody else can do this cultivation for you, and that is precisely the good news: the instrument is already in your hands. The Gītā refuses to let us outsource our inner state to circumstances or other people. Lift yourself, it says — and it means you can.
The steady lamp
What does a controlled mind actually feel like? The Gītā offers one of its loveliest images.
यथा दीपो निवातस्थो नेङ्गते सोपमा स्मृता।
योगिनो यतचित्तस्य युञ्जतो योगमात्मनः॥yathā dīpo nivāta-stho neṅgate sopamā smṛtā · yogino yata-cittasya yuñjato yogam ātmanaḥ
As a lamp sheltered from the wind does not flicker — that is the likeness of the disciplined mind of the yogi absorbed in the self.
This is the whole promise, and notice what it is not. The flame is not extinguished, not forced, not blank. It is simply sheltered — no longer buffeted by the gusts of craving and aversion. Controlling the mind, in the Gītā's sense, is not about stopping thought. It is about building the shelter in which the mind can rest steady and bright of its own accord.
Practical steps to begin
The teaching becomes real only in practice. Here is a way to put abhyāsa and vairāgya to work.
- Sit daily, briefly. Five minutes, same time each day. Rest attention on the breath. When it wanders — and it will, endlessly — return it without judgement. That return is abhyāsa.
- Name your gusts. Notice the two or three cravings or fears that most reliably agitate you. Simply naming them begins the loosening that is vairāgya.
- Practise letting one land. Take one thing you are clutching an outcome on, and deliberately do your best, then release the result. This trains dispassion in real life, not just on the cushion.
- Measure recovery, not silence. Do not judge a session by how quiet it was. Judge it by how quickly you noticed the wandering and came back. That speed is the real progress.
The person who lives this steadiness is what the Gītā calls the sthitaprajña — one of settled wisdom, unshaken in sorrow and joy alike.
When the mind is more than restless
It is worth saying clearly: there is a difference between a restless mind and a mind in real distress. If your thoughts are not merely busy but frightening or relentless, the Gītā's practices can sit alongside proper care, but they are not a replacement for it. Our companion piece on the Bhagavad Gītā for anxiety approaches this with the same gentleness.
If your mind feels heavier than a practice can hold — if you are struggling with depression, severe anxiety or thoughts of self-harm — please reach out to a qualified mental-health professional or a trusted person in your life. These teachings are companions for the journey, not a substitute for care.
And when the mind will not settle and you would rather not sit with it alone, you do not have to. Open Vaani, say plainly what is turning over inside you, and let one of these old verses meet you where you are.
Questions people ask
What does the Bhagavad Gītā say about controlling the mind?
In verse 6.35 Krishna agrees that the mind is restless and hard to restrain, but says it can be held by two things working together: abhyāsa, steady practice, and vairāgya, dispassion. Control here is not force. It is patient training paired with loosening the grip of craving, so the mind gradually settles of its own accord.
What do abhyāsa and vairāgya mean?
Abhyāsa means sustained, repeated practice — returning the mind gently to its resting point again and again. Vairāgya means dispassion or non-attachment — reducing the pull of the cravings and aversions that agitate the mind in the first place. Practice steadies the mind; dispassion gives it less to be agitated about. The Gītā says the two together are what tame it.
Why does the Gītā call the mind both a friend and an enemy?
In verse 6.5 Krishna says the self alone is the self's friend, and the self alone its enemy. An untrained mind, ruled by craving and fear, undermines you from within. A trained one becomes your steadiest ally. The same instrument works for you or against you depending on how it has been cultivated — which is why the responsibility, and the possibility, rest with you.
How do I actually start controlling a restless mind?
Start small and repeatable. Sit for a few minutes daily and return the attention to the breath each time it wanders — that is abhyāsa in its simplest form. Alongside it, notice which cravings and fears agitate you most, and practise loosening them a little. Do not expect a quiet mind quickly; expect a mind that recovers a little faster each time.
Is controlling the mind the same as suppressing thoughts?
No. Suppression fights thoughts and usually strengthens them. The Gītā's method is closer to steadying than to suppressing — you do not wrestle the mind quiet, you train it to return to stillness, like sheltering a lamp from the wind so its flame stops flickering. The aim is a settled mind, not a blank one.
How long does it take to control the mind?
The Gītā is honest that this is slow work — Arjuna himself says controlling the mind is as hard as holding the wind. There is no fixed timeline. What changes first is not the frequency of distraction but your relationship to it: you notice sooner, react less, and return more easily. That shift can begin within weeks of steady practice.