“It never hurts to think too highly of a person; often they become ennobled and act better because of it.” - Nelson Mandela
Several years ago, I was instructing a breathing practice in a yoga class when a wasp landed on a participant. She let out a small shriek and jumped up from the floor. The woman next to her responded by swatting at the wasp. Several other participants shouted “Leave it alone! Remember ahimsa! Don’t kill it!”. Unfortunately, all this activity just agitated the wasp. As it buzzed around angrily, the “leave it alone” crowd scolded the woman who, in her attempt to keep her upset friend safe, continued to swat at the wasp. Luckily, the drama was short lived as I was able to encourage the wasp out the door into the hallway.
I remember this episode very clearly, not because of the drama, but as an illustration of how easy it is to minimize the essence of the Yamas and Niyamas, the ten guidelines set forth in Patanjali’s Yoga Sutras. These guidelines are meant to be tools that help us build a life with less strife and greater balance. On the surface, however, they are frequently mistakenly as a list of rules, much like the Ten Commandments, that we use to make ethical decisions. This characterization obscures the intention of the Yamas and Niyamas. They are not static rules, but part of a sophisticated practice based on yogic philosophy and Vedic texts, offered by Patanjali specifically as a way of living. The Yamas and Niyamas are reflection points that help us process and understand life’s experiences. Rather than tell us what to do, the Yamas and the Niyamas can act as our internal GPS, telling us where we are and what lies on the road ahead.
Perhaps it is not surprising that we confuse these ten guidelines with rules, as the first five are referred to as Yamas, a Sanskrit word which translates to “restraints”. Whereas the English language leans toward the concrete and precise, Sanskrit words are layered with subtleties. Frequently English does not adequately capture the deeper meaning of Sanskrit terms. It also has a tendency of taking a negative word and adding a “non” or “un” to it. The result is that English translations of the Yamas and Niyamas tend to be translated into terminology that tell us what not to do.
Rather than think of the Yamas as rules used to control our behavior, it is more in the spirit of the Sutras if we think of them as ways of focusing our attention. The first of Patanjali’s Yamas is ahimsa, which is frequently translated as “nonharming” or “nonviolence”. Ahimsa asks us to treat all living things, including ourselves, with reverence and compassion, in our thoughts, words, and deeds. It forms the foundation of all the Yamas and Niyamas, guiding us to develop a balanced relationship with others and with ourselves that is neither passive nor domineering. Ahimsa focuses our attention on how we live in the world, asking us to notice how our thoughts, words, and deeds resonate with others and with ourselves. It asks us to examine our footprint in the world—do we nurture growth and foster harmony or create chaos and inflict harm?
Patanjali, like Buddha 300 years before him, tells us that our true nature is one of compassion, but our essence gets distorted when we are wrapped up in our thoughts, rushing about in our noisy, busy, sensory rich world. It is easy to have every breathable moment of our lives consumed by appointments, information, activities, and responsibilities. Not only does the external world bombard us, but our human desire for novelty makes us more likely to seek out endless stimulation. It is in this atmosphere of overload that we fail to recognize our true nature, making us more likely to create harm. Ahimsa can only take root in an atmosphere of calm, one in which we have sufficient space in which to digest and assimilate our experiences. To tap into our true nature, we start our practice of Ahimsa by rolling to a stop, silencing the mind, and listening for the inherent wisdom that speaks to us from our deep, inner voice of compassion.
The first action we take with ahimsa is to notice how our actions inflict harm or disruption in the world. You may take umbrage at the suggestion that your actions cause harm, believing that you are not aggressive, domineering, or violent. But harm exists in many forms, and ahimsa reminds us that each of us can—and do--create suffering in the world. Patanjali tells us that ignorance of our impact on others as well as ourselves is a significant source of suffering in the world. Therefore, we start our practice of ahimsa by examining our own behavior.
The way in which we treat others reflects how we treat ourselves. If you strive for perfection in your life, others will feel the grip of your high expectations. If you are critical of yourself, people will feel judged by you. If you are relaxed with yourself, people will experience you as a friendly and open person. What you see in yourself you will find in others. To forge a compassionate relationship with the world, we need to start with our relationship with ourselves. Our inability to respect, forgive, and love ourselves creates tiny ripples of harm that can have a lasting impact on others. Compassion for one’s self lies at the core of ahimsa; no matter how much reverence we express for others, we will only show them the same level of love and respect that we feel for ourselves.
An unwillingness to look closely at how we create harm causes us to slip into habits that violate others in subtle ways, even when these actions are well intended. Offering people advice or “helping” them is one way we unknowingly cause harm. Ahimsa asks us to respect another’s ability to forge their path in life, recognizing that we all deserve the autonomy to find life’s answers without someone imposing what they think is right on us. This type of overbearing “help” comes in many forms. We think of parents who micromanage their children’s lives or the person who boasts about contributions to charity on Facebook. Even positivity can be toxic and harmful. Reminding someone about the great things in her life when she is depressed is a subtle way of invalidating her feelings. We can’t save people, nor can we fix them, but we can support them. Ahimsa reminds us to meet each other on a neutral playing ground, to approach others with a respect for their independence and competency as they navigate their way through life.
It is possible that the greatest harm we create is when we are not fully present for others. Inattention and distraction create deep, and frequently harmful, ripple effects on others. Hearing someone but not listening sends the message that you are not interested, and that he or she is not worth your time. We may protest such a strong sentiment, but our actions speak loudly. We forge our strongest connections with others and show the greatest respect by simply listening and paying attention. How often do you transition from one activity to the next but keep your thoughts entangled in what you were doing several hours ago? How does your distraction impact those around you? What do you miss in life when your body is in one place while your mind is in another?
A woman once told me that the Yamas and Niyamas were interesting, but she didn’t need them because she followed her own moral code. Fair enough, but these guidelines offer much more than a moral code—their practice enhances our well-being. On a basic physiological level, ahimsa reduces stress by strengthening our social bonds and changing our perspective. Social connections are an important component of an enhanced quality of life. They increase our feelings of safety, which reduces markers related to chronic stress. The lesson of ahimsa is an awareness of the interconnectivity of life, helping us develop compassion and dissolve our sense of separateness from one another. We are more likely to have higher quality social interactions when we practice ahimsa. Our stress levels are also impacted by the way in which ahimsa helps us reduce the frenetic pace of our lives and silence our minds. Carving out time to reduce our racing thoughts, rumination, and negative thinking helps to broaden our perspective, which has been shown to stimulate the parasympathetic nervous system, promotes relaxation, and reduces stress. With no disrespect to Patanjali, I think it is fair to say that ahimsa is a healthy habit.
How do you show up in the world? What impact do you have on yourself, your family, friends, and the people you interact with every day? We all leave a footprint; ahimsa asks us to pause to examine its depth. As our awareness expands, we reconnect with our deepest nature, our soft spot of compassion and begin to clearly see the ways in which we can make a difference and change the world—one ripple at a time.
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