Unworthiness as a Modern Hindrance

In “The Modern Hindrance of Unworthiness,” Emily West Horn explores unworthiness as a contemporary inner hindrance, examining how mindfulness, compassion, and heartfulness allow this pattern to be recognized, included, and ultimately loosened without bypassing lived experience.

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This teaching was given in a Heartful Jhāna group, in The Jhāna Community. Join Emily for a new 10-week cohort beginning on January 7th, 2026.

💬 Transcript:

Emily: So just sensing into when we incline to heartfulness and we set the intention to cultivate heart states, and cultivate them in a way where they can grow and grow and grow. In some sense, we become so absorbed in them that they are the totality of our experience in that moment. And that can last for varying degrees of, let’s say, time.

All right. What we’ve been exploring is how to increase that sense of absorption in these heart states, and from the perspective that they’re universal. And so, in some ways, I’ve honored before—and I want to honor again—that this group is lightly touching on the personal, and then kind of bouncing off of it. We’re bypassing a little bit— a lot, in some ways—with the intention that the more we touch into the universal quality of these heart states, the more our nervous systems are able to really integrate them, and so we become more and more aware of what arises.

That, in some ways, pops the state—the bubble, I mean. It’s always going to pop, so let’s keep that in mind. Any state arises and passes, all right? But there are different things that can start to arise within the landscape of the heart that make it feel or seem, or that we think make it, less and less accessible. All right? So especially, I want to zoom into a particular pattern of unworthiness.

All right. I would like to call it a modern hindrance, so to speak. In the Buddhist tradition, there are hindrances—just a quick refresher: desire, ill will, sloth and torpor, restlessness and worry, doubt. All right. So in some ways, if I were to slot unworthiness in, I would put it a little bit in the ill-will category.

All right. It could touch into the ill-will category, and that might feel a little like, “What? No.” And at the same time, ill will—if we zoom into some of the underlying mind states that come up as anger, hatred—these are states that, for most of us, we want to avoid. But to really incline to the heart, we can start to touch the heart chords: joy, compassion, equanimity, loving-kindness.

All right. And hatred and anger can start to be included and not derail us. Not seen as separate. And the more they’re included, and the more space we have with the heart, they don’t really stick.

All right. And we can hold—if we incline to the layers of complexity that we humans actually have the capacity for—the possibility of holding multiple states at one time. Multiple feelings at one time. Have you ever been happy and sad at the same time?

All right. So it’s possible that our experience can be layered in a way where, as we develop the capacity to trust our own experience of this universal quality of heart, our personal states that arise from our personal woundings—like anger and hatred—can start to have more space and not take hold as much.

All right. Now, because again we’re layering, and in a lot of ways our practice is learning how to navigate these layers of experience, mindfulness helps us deconstruct them. As we incline to the heart, I feel like I’m almost unable to do that without mindfulness coming online—those two wings of heart and mind.

Mindfulness can be a really nice way to support and scaffold more and more spaciousness of heart and more and more stability of heart. With mindfulness, we can say, “All right, those sensations are here.” Maybe we recognize anger. Maybe we recognize hatred. Maybe we’re not even there yet. Maybe it’s more subtle—unworthiness—that’s keeping things at bay, so to speak.

Unworthiness, for me, I recognize in my thoughts. My thoughts clue me in. “Not good enough” is a thought-form of unworthiness. “I don’t deserve this,” or “They deserve that.” Anything with those keywords—I’ve learned to kind of tag it, sticky-note it. “Oh, okay.”

Then I take a slight shift back and down and ask, “What’s here now?” And usually it’s contraction. And unworthiness is icky. It’s icky. In some ways, it’s a program—and that’s the universal quality of it. A lot of people describe it differently, but it’s generally similar.

If we keep going deeper, we hit the personal layer. And this is where psychotherapy and things like that can come in. We can analyze it differently. We can get into our personal histories, our ancestry, and learn information that helps us recognize that line of programming—of unworthiness.

It’s important to learn to recognize more and more of these lines, because it can get really subtle. Honestly, it can lead into something that touches a quality of dehumanization. I was sensing into that this morning, and it allowed my heart to break open in a healthy way—to include more—so I don’t perpetuate anything from that place.

That’s very tender work. And I want to honor that there’s a lot here. For the purpose of this context, we’re touching on it, intending to befriend it, breathe compassion into it, allow compassion to arise, include it with equanimity—and then we’re going to bounce off it, inclining more and more to the heart space.

So the more we can recognize these lines of unworthiness—whether we like it or not, this is what’s here—and incline to heartfulness, sometimes it’s loving-kindness. Sometimes I just need to befriend it because I don’t want it here. “Okay. Whew. Can I, whether I like it or not, befriend it?”

Then compassion—whether for me or for someone else sensing it. Because as we grow in heart space, the boundaries between me and you start to get a little wonky. People talk about that in psychedelics, but I’ve seen it in meditation groups and social meditation practice as well, as we incline to more heartfulness.

When we see the untruth of unworthiness and bring heartfulness to it, we’re not run by that pattern as much. We see it, and it doesn’t take us down. Over time, we grow in this universal quality of heart.

And when something arises that pops it—in your bones, in your heart—that too must eventually be included if the heart is to grow. It starts to make logical sense. It doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. But the cognitive dissonance about not being able to include this or that, or this person or that person, starts to soften.

Even the most difficult people: may they be free from hatred.

So I’d like to invite us into inclining to heartfulness, but also heartful inquiry. Because with beliefs—unworthiness being our example—beliefs often arise as thoughts, and we don’t always recognize them as beliefs.

If you don’t sense thoughts directly, ask: how do you know what you know? Is it kinesthetic? As thoughts arise, we grow in discernment. Heart space is wonderful, but without discernment, we’re not integrated humans.

I really appreciate what Byron Katie offers with inquiry, especially the question: “Is it true?” That question is powerful here. When we incline to heartfulness and ask, “Is it true?” what’s not true becomes apparent. And when loving-kindness or compassion arises, these thoughts pass much more quickly.