Māyā in the Age of Screens: Seeing Through the Filters of Modern Life

There’s something I’ve been sitting with lately…..

In a world shaped by screens, curated identities, and constant perception, it’s easy to forget how much of what we experience is filtered. Not false, not imaginary, but shaped. Framed. Interpreted through layers we rarely pause to examine.

In yogic philosophy, this is known as Māyā, the veil that obscures ultimate reality and causes the world to appear as something other than it truly is. Traditionally, Maya points to the way we mistake the transient for the permanent, the external for the essential, and the constructed self for something fixed and absolute.

But Māyā doesn’t only belong to ancient texts. It feels especially relevant now.

Today, the illusion is not just philosophical, it’s ambient. It lives in the scroll, in the quiet comparison that arises without invitation, in the sense that everyone else is more certain, more complete, more resolved. It appears in the subtle performance of identity, where we present versions of ourselves that feel both true and somehow incomplete.

We move through carefully edited fragments, images, captions, metrics, and from these we build entire narratives about ourselves and others. The mind fills in the gaps, often convincingly. Over time, these narratives can begin to feel like truth.

This is how Māyā operates, not by deceiving us outright, but by presenting partial views as if they are whole.

This is also where therapy begins to intersect with the concept.

Therapy doesn’t position itself as a way to remove illusion entirely. Instead, it offers something quieter and more precise, a space to notice the lens through which we’re seeing. It allows us to gently question what feels unquestionable, and to become aware of the patterns, assumptions, and internal narratives that shape our experience of reality.

What often emerges in that process is not a dramatic revelation, but a softening.

Patterns that once felt fixed begin to show their origins. Reactions that felt inevitable reveal their context. Stories that felt like identity begin to loosen their grip. There is a shift from “this is just who I am” to “this is something I’ve learned to believe.”

That distinction matters.

Because when something is seen as shaped, it becomes workable. Not in the sense of needing to be fixed, but in the sense that there is space around it. Space to respond differently. Space to relate to yourself with more clarity, and often, more compassion.

In this way, therapy doesn’t remove Maya, it makes it more transparent.

And transparency changes things.

You might still notice the pull of comparison, but recognise it as a pattern rather than a truth. You might still feel the urge to perform or present, but see it as a strategy rather than an identity. The illusion doesn’t disappear, but it loses some of its authority.

What remains is often quieter, less urgent, and more grounded.

Not a new version of yourself, but something closer to what was already there, beneath the layers of perception and conditioning.

Perhaps the aim isn’t to escape the illusion entirely. That may not be possible, especially in a world so saturated with images, narratives, and expectations.

But it may be possible to see it clearly enough that it no longer runs the show.

And in that clarity, there is space.

A different way of relating to yourself, to others, and to the world you move through every day.