MAGA: A Story of Power, Fractals, and Imbalance

Spot the American !

We often hear that the American story is one of greatness. But what if we’ve been misreading the script? What if this isn’t a story about a nation’s inherent superiority, but a much older, more universal tale about the nature of power itself?

It’s a story that begins not in 1776, but in the primal forests of our past. We look at the ape versus the homo sapien and declare ourselves greater. Within homo sapiens, we see our own subspecies, homo sapien sapiens, as the pinnacle—the reason we survived. We then zoom in: certain cultures, like Europe, were deemed the most "advanced," and that’s why they thrived. And then a few migrants from Europe, set out seeking for new lands, found one, settled there and thus emerged the 'current' hotspot of Mans "greatness" - America.

But what are we really talking about here? Is it about genuine greatness, or is it about a fundamental trait of humanity? When a man gains power and leverage from his environment, he starts to believe the entire world revolves around him. This isn't an American story; it's the story of man's nature.

So, what is America, truly? Is it a land defined by its indigenous locals? Historically, no. America is a melting pot, a grand fractal where countless individuals from across the globe converged, drawn by a shared spirit of energy and determination. They came to struggle, to work, to build a good life. And in that collective striving, the nation rose. It’s a beautiful, chaotic tapestry: you see a Chinese neighborhood, an Indian community, a Pakistani family, an African influence, and people from every corner of Europe.

The deeper you go into America, you make a startling discovery: there is no "America." There is only the world. It is a microcosm of the entire human family.

Then what made it different? What was the initial spark? It was a gravitational pull for high-energy humans. People with immense drive, ambition, and that very human spark of Pitta—the fire of transformation—flocked to its shores. And because they had such high energy, they believed this was the place. This was the greatest.

Look at our myths, our Hollywood narratives. America is always the savior, the liberator, the one who handles the terrorists. The villain is perpetually external—first the Russian, then the Indian, the Chinese, someone, anyone else. America faces a threat and heroically conquers it.

This narrative isn't about geography; it's about identity. It’s about the human who believes he is an American. And to be that American, in this context, is to be the human who has power. It is the story of the individual who, empowered, believes he is entitled and begins to see the world through a lens of his own superiority.

This is where the ancient wisdom of the doshas—Vata, Pitta, and Kapha—illuminates the modern condition. This is a profound imbalance.

What made the American experiment work initially was a dynamic balance of these three universal forces. There was Vata: the communication, the signaling, the free flow of ideas and people. There was Pitta: the relentless processing, the drive, the metabolic engine of industry and innovation. And there was Kapha: the building, the storage, the foundational structures of community and family.

But over time, this balance shifted. The culture drifted toward entitlement, toward accumulation—more money, more property, more wealth. This is a gravitation toward Kapha. It’s not just a metaphorical tendency; you can see it in the very physiques and lifestyles that became the norm.

Our education system reflects this. Why do we pursue knowledge? Is it for life—for connection, for contribution, for being a part of nature and society? No. Today, education is for "living," and "living" has become synonymous with storing. We learn to build our laurels, to fill our bank accounts, to amass stocks and real estate. This is a pure Kapha tendency.

And as Kapha concentrates, it follows its nature: it creates solidity and strong bonds, but when aggravated, it creates tumors. We can see this in the social body. We moved from the joint family—a "we" that was spread out and interconnected—to the nuclear family. Then to "me and my wife." And now, it has condensed to the ultimate singularity: "me." Children are a liability; spouses come with prenuptial agreements. The bonds that hold society together are weakening, replaced by the concentrated tumor of the self.

This aggravation doesn't exist in a vacuum. An imbalanced Kapha distorts the other doshas. The Vata component becomes a distorted thinking of "I am, I deserve, I am entitled." The Pitta component manifests as aggressive processing in policies:

"We won't let migrants come into this great country. We will build walls , Block Visas. We will protect America!

The entire system becomes rigid, defensive, and self-centric, trying to protect an identity that's very identity is diversity and all inclusiveness. Ironical isnt it?

So, the American story is not one of static greatness. It is a living case study of how Vata, Pitta, and Kapha, in balance, can create something vibrant and powerful. But it is also a warning of what happens when that balance is lost to the aggravation of one force—when the drive to store and hold overwhelms the need to connect and transform.

This story is not unique. It is a wave. You see it in the ocean, in the stock market, in the rise and fall of empires. Power concentrates, becomes rigid, and then the energy must shift to where balance can be found.

The lesson is not to condemn America, but to understand the universal principle at play. The wave provides the energy, but we must learn to surf it. And the only way to surf the wave is to understand Vata, Pitta, and Kapha holistically—to see them in our own lives, our communities, and our nations—and to consciously seek that dynamic, fluid balance.

For in the end, it is not about being the greatest. It is about being in balance. And from that balance, true, sustainable greatness can emerge.