Euphoria or illusion? understanding lust, love & longing from a soul level
By Tushar Mangl
Is your heart whispering or is it just your ego shouting in disguise? This raw, intimate feature unpacks the spiritual meaning of desire—from lust and longing to love and divine union. Through personal stories and soul reflections, meet Poojitha and discover how heartbreak can become alchemy, how lust can be redirected, and how love, real love, always leads us back to ourselves.
What is this feeling—lust, love, or something else entirely?
“The heart always knows. But first, it must be quiet enough to listen.”
It started, as these things often do, with a rush. That breathless, can’t-stop-smiling kind of moment when someone looks at you like they’ve been waiting all their life to meet you—and you feel it in your gut before your mind even catches up. But here’s the thing no one tells you: sometimes, it’s not love. Sometimes, it’s just longing dressed up in lust, and the soul hasn’t caught on yet.
I’ve felt it. Maybe you have too. That feeling we call euphoria—the intoxicating high of being desired, of love and dating, finally not feeling invisible. But what if I told you that euphoria is not always a sign of divine alignment? Sometimes it’s the soul crying for attention, masked in hormones and hope.
It’s easy to confuse the high of chemistry with the calm of real love. And it’s even easier to stay addicted to someone who activates your abandonment wounds, rather than your inner peace.
But let me take you somewhere deeper.
Let me take you to Bangalore, where a 24-year-old woman named Poojitha learned the hard way that emotional clarity doesn’t come from being desired—but from desiring differently.
When lust feels like God: The karmic illusion of spiritual attraction
Before we get to Poojitha’s story, let’s clarify what we’re talking about.
In spiritual terms, desire is not wrong. It is the engine of manifestation. Without desire, there would be no art, no poetry, no music, no love stories. But there is a line—and most of us don’t realise we’ve crossed it until we’re knee-deep in confusion, wondering why our soul feels exhausted.
Desire can show up in many forms:
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Lust: urgent, consuming, irrational
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Fantasy: mental imagery of who someone could be, not who they are
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Longing: deep yearning, often for a feeling rather than a person
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Love: calm, rooted, growth-oriented
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Devotion: when love becomes a spiritual path
These are not enemies of each other. They are layers. But it’s when we confuse them that suffering begins.
That moment of euphoria—the electric rush when someone sees you—can feel spiritual. It might even be. But spiritual lust, as explained beautifully in this article on misunderstood desire (“Lust Isn’t Evil—It’s Misunderstood”)—is not necessarily love. It's an invitation to learn, to awaken, or to let go.
“When you experience euphoria too soon, ask not ‘Is this love?’ but ‘What in me feels finally seen?’”
Poojitha’s story: How songwriting, lust and solitude woke her soul
Now let me tell you about Poojitha.
She’s got this luminous energy—sharp mind, soulful eyes, a laugh that makes you want to write songs about late-night train rides and mango-scented rain. Raised in Srinagar, an IIT Madras grad with a rebellious streak. She drinks wine on Fridays, writes love songs in cafés, and books spontaneous solo trips when life gets too beige.
And she fell hard for a man she thought was her mirror.
They met at a songwriting retreat in Goa. He was older, rugged, spoke in metaphors. Within hours, they were creating music and magic and mayhem. It felt like something ancient. He said, “I feel like I’ve known you for lifetimes.” She replied, “Maybe we never forgot.”
They kissed under stars. Wrote a duet that gave her goosebumps. Slept in hammocks. And by morning, she was convinced this was love.
But it wasn’t.
It was longing.
When longing hijacks the heart
He left the retreat without saying goodbye. Just vanished. No closure. No explanation.
She was devastated—not because she lost him, but because she felt erased.
For weeks, she couldn’t write. Her creativity—once so alive—felt muted. She kept replaying their conversations, as if decoding them would offer closure.
One night, wine in hand, she admitted to herself:
“I didn’t love him. I loved the me that came alive around him.”
And that’s when the healing began.
She stopped chasing his ghost and started listening to her own voice and to the secrets of love.
Can meditation tell you if it’s lust or love?
Here’s the simple practice Poojitha used—one that changed her life and might change yours.
Heart-centred desire meditation
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Sit in a quiet place. Place one hand on your heart.
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Bring their face to mind. Breathe. Don’t judge.
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Ask yourself: Would I still care if we never touched again?
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Feel the answer. Not think it—feel it.
She did this every night. And slowly, the ache became clarity.
Desire is not dirty—it’s directional
One of the biggest spiritual myths is that we must suppress desire. That lust is a sin. But lust is life force, pure and potent. It’s not meant to be repressed, but refined.
We live in a culture that tells women to feel ashamed of their yearning—and men to weaponise it. No wonder relationships feel like wars.
But what if we saw lust not as something shameful, but as a compass?
As long as we don’t let it drive, lust can show us where we are still asleep. It can reveal the parts of us that crave healing.
“Your cravings are not enemies. They are misunderstood messengers.”
And for teenagers especially, this is where the emotional confusion begins—the threshold between fantasy and soul maturity. Which is why I often direct young readers to foundational wisdom like this beautiful piece on teenage emotional awakening, helping them distinguish hormones from heart-speak.
Because we were never taught to read our own emotional language. And that is where the soul gets lost.
Redirection: From euphoria to emotional maturity
Poojitha began transmuting her desire into music. Not sad, broken songs—but bold, honest lyrics. She sang about craving without shame. About letting go without bitterness. About love as a teacher, not a trophy.
She no longer sought someone to complete her. She was her own song.
That’s emotional alchemy.
Is lust just unrefined love—or a deeper cry for healing?
I often say this to clients: “There’s no such thing as a bad desire—only misunderstood ones.”
Desire is never random. It’s coded with emotional history, unmet needs, soul memory. When someone awakens something in you, they’re not always meant to stay—they’re meant to reveal. Reveal what still aches. What still longs. What still believes it isn’t worthy of full, honest, steady love. You have to ask yourself if this is the time to walk away.
But most of us were never taught how to hold that kind of desire without either acting on it impulsively or shaming ourselves for having it.
That’s where the practice of transmutation comes in.
Because the same energy that fuels lust… can also create art, sacred relationships, purpose, and joy.
Can you redirect lust into something sacred?
We’re not monks. We live in cities. We get Instagram DMs from strangers, have flirtations with baristas, crushes on colleagues, sudden pangs of attraction during late-night bus rides.
Suppressing lust doesn’t work. It only makes it leak out sideways—through obsession, overthinking, or emotional over-investment in people we barely know.
But redirection? That’s a different story. That’s power.
Sexual energy is creative energy
In yogic tradition, sexual energy is seen as prana—life force. It’s sacred. It creates life. But it also creates music, poetry, movement, bold decisions, and emotional courage.
That’s the essence of brahmacharya—not celibacy in a strict or outdated sense, but conscious mastery over how you use your energy.
Here’s how to use modern brahmacharya without becoming a monk:
1. Breathe into desire
Instead of acting immediately, try this:
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Sit. Feel the craving.
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Place your hand on your lower belly.
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Breathe slowly.
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Visualise the energy rising—up through your spine, to your heart, to your third eye.
You’ll feel a shift. A lightness. That’s transmutation.
2. Move it
Dance. Walk. Stretch. Move your hips. Let the energy flow out through action, not fixation.
3. Create with it
Channel that desire into your craft. Your art. Your voice.
That’s what Poojitha did. Her once-lustful obsession became the song that got her 10,000 Spotify plays. She laughed when she told me: “I should thank him. I was writing romantic fluff. Now I write truth.”
Is it love or attachment?
Here’s the most confronting question of all:
Would you still want them if they couldn’t give you what you want?
Let’s break it down.
What spiritual love feels like
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Grounded, even in silence
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No need to prove your worth
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Freedom to grow separately and together
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Peace, not panic
What spiritual attachment feels like
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Anxiety when they don’t text back
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Fear of abandonment
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Trying to become what they want
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Confusing intensity for intimacy
So many of us learned to equate pain with passion because it’s all we saw growing up. But the truth is, peace is not boring. It’s just unfamiliar. Love that doesn’t require performance? That’s radical. That’s healing.
Can your environment influence who you attract?
We don’t often talk about it, but your space—your home, your digital presence, your energy field—affects who walks into your life.
If your energy is full of unresolved past desires, you’ll keep attracting lessons, not lovers.
This is why spiritual alignment isn’t just internal—it’s environmental.
As explored in depth in this must-read article on attracting the right people, your space is a reflection of your emotional readiness. Want real love? Clear your physical and emotional space. Burn the letters. Delete the old messages. Rearrange your room.
When the universe sends a mirror, not a soulmate
One of the hardest lessons I had to learn was this:
Not everyone who changes your life is meant to stay in it.
Poojitha felt that too. Months after her Goa love story fell apart, she met someone new. Steady. Kind. Not a poet, not a rockstar. Just present. But she couldn’t feel the same thrill.
That’s when she realised—she’d been addicted to emotional chaos.
She wasn’t in love with love. She was in love with longing.
“I was chasing people who activated my anxiety and calling it destiny,” she said.
“Now I choose those who activate my peace.”
That’s not settling. That’s evolution.
Checklist: Are you ready for divine union?
Here’s the truth: real love requires real inner work. If you’re not willing to feel, heal, and unlearn—your desire will keep recycling old stories in new bodies.
Before you call in a soulmate, ask:
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Am I willing to be seen, even in my shadow?
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Do I love myself when I’m alone?
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Can I let someone love me without controlling them?
Love that’s divine doesn’t complete you. It complements you.
It’s not always euphoric. But it is always true.
Is it karma or connection? Here’s how to tell the difference
You feel it instantly—like the universe opened a secret door. You know their eyes before they speak. Your body responds before your logic can intervene.
But here’s the truth most soul-seekers won’t say aloud:
Not every deep connection is meant to last. Some are karmic assignments disguised as cosmic romance.
Poojitha learned that the hard way.
The signs you are in a karmic relationship (Not a soulful one)
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It begins with urgency, not intention.
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The chemistry is off the charts—but the communication is broken.
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You keep repeating the same arguments.
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The relationship ends, restarts, and ends again.
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You feel addicted, not aligned.
Karmic love teaches through friction. It drags up the parts of you that need healing. And while painful, it’s often necessary. Because you can’t heal what you won’t admit exists.
And what about divine love?
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It feels… safe.
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There’s ease. You don’t have to perform.
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Growth is welcomed. Silence is respected.
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You become more of yourself, not less.
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The connection elevates both people, even in separation.
It’s not about how long they stay. It’s about how you both rise.
The heartbreak of what never was
One of the hardest forms of grief is mourning a relationship that never fully happened.
The one where you almost said the right thing. Where you almost loved each other the right way. Where the timing was off, the healing was incomplete, and everything beautiful died in potential.
“I grieved him like a ghost,” Poojitha told me, “because I never got the chance to say goodbye.”
But healing doesn’t always come from closure. Sometimes, it comes from honesty. From looking at that desire and asking:
“Was I in love, or was I just filling a void?”
So many of us fall into that trap—confusing presence for partnership. As explored in this post on emotional clarity, love isn’t about distraction. It’s about expansion. And when we mistake longing for destiny, we end up in relationships that numb, rather than nourish.
How to grieve spiritually—and let go with love
You don’t have to forget them. You just have to stop waiting for them.
Here’s a ritual I often recommend to clients:
“The letting go letter” practice
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Write them a letter you’ll never send.
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Say everything—without filters or shame.
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Thank them for what they taught you.
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Burn it under a full moon or bury it with a flower.
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Say aloud: “I release you, and I reclaim myself.”
Grief is love with nowhere to go. Give it somewhere sacred.
Frequently asked questions: Soul desire, lust and love
Q1: Can lust turn into real love?
Q2: Is it wrong to desire someone spiritually and sexually?
Q3: What if they felt like a soulmate but hurt me?
Q4: How do I know if I’m attracting the right partner?
A final checklist: Before you call it love
Sit with these.
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Can I sit in stillness without reaching for their name?
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Would I still want them if there were no physical intimacy?
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Am I choosing them out of love, or because I fear being alone?
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Do I feel expanded, not reduced, in their presence?
If your answers are rooted in peace, you’re ready.
If not—it’s not love yet. And that’s okay.
Your call to healing
There’s nothing wrong with you if you’ve mistaken lust for love. Or love for longing.
That’s how we learn.
But if you want to transmute desire into devotion, anxiety into alignment—this is your invitation.
👉 Book a 1:1 relationship healing session with me. We’ll work with your energy, space, and soul story to align your desires with the love you deserve.
Bio
Tushar Mangl is a healer, vastu expert, author of I Will Do It and Ardika. He writes on topics like food, books, personal finance, investments, mental health, vastu, and the art of living a balanced life.
“I help unseen souls design lives, spaces, and relationships that heal and elevate—through ancient wisdom, energetic alignment, and grounded action.”
For more inspiring insights, subscribe to the YouTube Channel at Tushar Mangl or follow on Instagram at @TusharMangl
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