When studying the yamas, it is important to keep in mind that Patanjali offered them not as strict rules but as guideposts that help us travel through life with ease. The yamas aren’t intended to tell us what to do, but instead help us focus our attention and direct our energy in ways that help us live in harmony with the world. They frequently generate more questions than answers, which keeps them as relevant today as they were over 2000 years ago. This week we look at the final two yamas, both of which describe the ways in which our senses lead us astray toward feelings of craving, grasping, and attachment. Both yamas help us to travel lightly through life, offering guidance on how to resist the pull of our desires while learning to relax into what we are offered in the moment.
The fourth yama of Brahmacharya, translated as “nonexcess”, is one of the key practices for learning how to moderate our senses. It is sometimes narrowly interpreted as celibacy or abstinence, but this yama applies to a wide range of behaviors. Brahmacharya addresses how we deal with our desires, encouraging us to live a balanced and moderate life while expending our energy wisely. Through Brahmacharya we learn to tame our desires so that we may experience the pleasure of sensory experiences without fluctuating between the extremes of excess and denial.
The importance of balance is illuminated in Robin Wall Kimmerer’s best seller, Braiding Sweetgrass. She notes that many indigenous tribes follow a simple rule for maintaining ecological balance and sustainability: take only what you need and leave the rest. Kimmerer explains that nature is not something we own or control but is an entity of which we are a part of and in a relationship with. Historically, our western approach to nature has been one sided—we treat the earth as something to be conquered in order to meet our needs. Through climate change we are now seeing the consequences of our rapacious energy. Thousands of years before European settlers arrived in the Americas, many indigenous tribes followed practices that reflected the wisdom that all things in life flourish when they live in reciprocity. Indigenous people understood the principle of enjoying what is offered but taking only what is needed to maintain balance. This is also the lesson of Brahamacharya, which encourages us to meet our needs while staying respectful of the needs of others and the world around us.
Brahmacharya reminds us that our senses are designed to give us pleasure, to help us find joy in life. Joy does not come by constraining the senses, nor is it found by indulging them, but springs from a place of “just enough” --that moment at which we reach the perfect limit of what we are engaged in. The work of this yama comes in identifying our mid-point. The pull of the senses is strong; it is easy to be swept away and pushed beyond the limits of what is enough. Brahmacharya requires mindful awareness of our sensory experiences, especially when they are awake and active, while at the same time demands our diligent resolve to set limits when needed.
Brahmacharya does not counsel us to resist or deny our desires. We are encouraged to watch how the mind grabs on to our sensory experiences and then gets us spun up. Our senses provide neutral information about the world; it is the mind which gives them power. It latches on to certain sensory experiences, infusing them with emotions that trigger memories and expectations that quickly get us into trouble. Without awareness and effort, our mind can morph sensory input into a craving, creating a momentum that is hard to stop. Practicing Brahmacharya starts by recognizing our desires while creating a pause by asking, “What is enough?”. This question gives us time to step away and redirect the mind’s energy so that we can respond in a measured way. Brahmacharya requires a good deal of discipline and steady effort, especially when the senses are fired up in the middle of a dinner party or during a shopping spree, but it is surprisingly effective.
Aparigraha, the fifth and final yama, translates as non possessiveness, which applies not only to what we own but also to thoughts, activities, relationships, as well as our sense of identity, attitudes, and beliefs. This yama advises us to let go of anything that no longer serves us or prevents us from moving forward in life. It reminds us to travel through life lightly, to live in a centered way that keeps us rooted in reality. In Sanskrit, pari means “things” and “graha” to grasp; Aparigraha reminds us that the things we grasp will have a grasp on us. What we possess, possess us.
The act of letting go might seem appealing. At one time or another, we long to let loose and get rid of our burdens. The struggle of Aparigraha arises when we must decide what to let go of and what to keep. What we hold on to—both physically and mentally—is infused with emotions, memories, and expectations. Our attachments, even those that cause pain and weigh us down, give us a false sense of stability, a misplaced sense of permanence. But what we grasp becomes life’s luggage that we must carry with us wherever we go; our attachments can become our anchors in life. How many suitcases full of expectations, judgments, outdated beliefs and constricting attitudes do you lug around every day?
Change is uncomfortable and makes us feel vulnerable; our fear of change causes us to grasp onto that which makes us feel safe. But the very nature of Aparigraha is to accept impermanence, to move from attachment to release by accepting that life is a constant succession of getting what we want and then losing it. To practice Aparigraha, we must become, in a sense, trapeze artists. Swinging on a trapeze requires attention to the moment, exquisite timing, and knowing when it is time to let go. To advance to the next bar, you must wait for the bar swinging toward you to get close enough and then be prepared to let go, allowing yourself to be suspended for a moment in mid-air. Release your grip on the current bar too soon and you’ll fall; fail to release your grip and you’ll lose momentum, come to a stop, and simply dangle from the bar with nowhere to go but down.
Both Brahmacharya and Aparigraha address desire, a state of mind that can lead to grasping, clinging, greed, and attachment. They tell us that having desires is natural, but they are dangerous when used as a means of finding happiness. Pursuing desires in an effort to be happy changes our relationship with others; we can lose our sense of connection and compassion. We resent people that seem to have what we want or who we believe obstruct our ability to fulfill our desires. The grasping and clinging that accompanies desire breeds competition, which can lead to destructive emotions such as envy, jealousy, and prejudice. It is hard to practice the yamas of nonharming, truthfulness, and nonstealing when we view others as a potential threat to the attainment of our desires.
Rather than happiness, Brahmacharya and Aparigraha encourage us to explore a more enduring sense of satisfaction by asking, “What do I need in order to live in a balanced, open way?”. Our desires come and go, as do the feelings of satisfaction they provide. It’s easy to become dependent on acquiring the objects of our desires and then expecting them to remain exactly the same. Lasting happiness cannot be found in a thing, person, title, attitude, or experience. Desires cannot deliver lasting happiness simply because everything changes. Living a balanced life without attachment to our desires allows us to open up to life in a spontaneous way. Through the practice of Brahmacharya and Aparigraha, we can be naturally at peace while staying deeply connected in a caring relationship with others and to the world around us. Can we learn to take what we need and leave the rest? What might you let go of to find peace and an enduring sense of satisfaction in your life?
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