“When I let go of what I am, I become what I might be.” - Loa Tzu
Yoga philosophy tells us that our mental and physical health is dependent on how we interact with the world and that how we treat others accounts for much of our suffering. In the first limb of the Eight Limbed Path of Patanjali’s Yoga Sutras, the yamas are presented as codes of social behavior that guide us into honest and truthful relationships with the people around us. It is important to note that the first step to gaining better health is not through the physical practice of yoga, but in refining our relationships. Contrary to our western fascination with challenging flows and bendy poses, yoga starts before we come to our mat with an intention to examine our behavior and make right with the world.
It is important to note that yamas are a practice, not a set of rules to follow. Rules are static and externally imposed, whereas a practice is organic, dynamic, and guided by our intention. The ethical codes of the yamas can be learned only through action, and our understanding of them deepens each time we apply them to our lives. Unlike rules, the yamas don’t tell us how to act. As a practice, they draw us into a dynamic relationship, asking us to try on different behaviors, find new ways of being, and remain open to the results.
We can use the fourth yama of asteya, or nonstealing, to illustrate how we learn these codes. Like all the yamas, at first glance, asteya is straightforward—to abstain from taking something that does not belong to us or is not freely given. Generally, most of us live our lives without stealing other people’s property. Many adults are responsible citizens who are not in the habit of breaking into houses, snatching purses, or robbing banks. But asteya encourages us to go beyond this surface level definition to reflect more deeply about what constitutes “stealing”. Perhaps you are loading your groceries into the back of your car when you notice the large bag of dog food on the bottom rack of your cart. You realize the cashier did not scan it. You know you should return to the store and pay for it, but that will make you late for your next appointment. Failing to do so will result in taking something that does not rightfully belong to you. Asteya doesn’t tell you what to do in this situation but encourages us to consider the ramifications of our behavior.
Each yama has depth and nuance that is unearthed through continuous practice. Most of us learned at a young age that we should not steal, so respecting other people’s property is a behavior we practice intuitively into adulthood. This is what causes our moral compass to spin when we find an unpaid item in a grocery cart. Through continuous practice the yamas take us beyond our basic understanding of “right and wrong”, encouraging us to examine the more subtle aspects of how our actions resonate in the world. With practice, we start to question the more subtle aspects of our behavior. Perhaps you start to notice that you are chronically late for dinner engagements, movies, even coffee with your group of friends. By being late, you are taking other people’s time when you make them wait. Is this a form of stealing? Or you remember how a coworker shared his excitement about an upcoming trip when you interrupted to say that you had been there before. You turned attention on to your experience as you recounted all your exciting adventures. Did you steal his excitement? Going even deeper, you find yourself constantly glancing at your phone while your sister shares painful details about her stressful work environment. Are you stealing attention away from her when you are distracted, even though you say, “I’m listening!”?
Continuous practice also creates synergy between the yamas. This is evident in the relationship between asteya and the yama of aparigraha, nonpossessiveness. Aparigraha asks us to resist becoming attached to external things, to travel lightly through life by practicing simplicity. It is not a call to give up all our material possessions; we can own things but only that which lifts us up and brings us joy. This yama reminds us to let go of what we grasp onto, as what we possess will eventually start to possess us. We wrongly believe that material possessions make us more secure, but aparigraha tells us that this security is false--what we cling to becomes our prison. We find freedom when we let go of unnecessary things, packing only what we need for our journey through life.
When practiced together, nonstealing and nonpossessiveness illuminate and strengthen one another. When we take something that is not rightfully ours, whether it is a physical object, time, or attention, that object has a density that weighs us down and binds us to it. As we cling to these objects, they no longer provide enjoyment and eventually become toxic. What we longed to possess, when taken unethically, has now taken hold of us.
The desire to steal germinates when we judge ourselves and determine that we are lacking. We develop an outward focus that leads to an endless cycle of comparing ourselves to others. Our self-confidence rests on shaky ground, stuck in an endless ebb and flow of social comparisons. We develop feelings of discontent that make us more likely to manipulate others to get something—a possession, attention, recognition—that will offer some sense of permanence. Our grasp tightens on that which we know in our hearts does not belong to us, but we believe will somehow put us on solid ground. However, in life there is no permanence and things are always changing, so what we take without permission becomes a heavy burden. By grasping we do not find release but, rather, build our own prison.
Asteya and aparigraha ask us to shift our focus away from the external trappings of the world to live with integrity and reciprocity. Freedom comes when we know what is ours to have, respecting our boundaries, and wanting less while desiring to give more. The more we live to uplift others, the less we cling to our heavy burdens and the easier we will move through the world. The sages sum up the relationship between asteya and aparigraha with this simple reminder: “A bird cannot fly unless it lets go of its perch.”
As you move through your practice, I invite you to consider the yamas of asteya and aparigraha. What do you take from yourself when you judge your body’s ability to get into a pose? Do those thoughts create a sense of discontent? If so, what are you holding onto that creates that burden? Our tendency in a yoga practice is to ask what we can do more of. Let’s see what we can let go of. Perhaps you’ll find more strength and stability in your hips. Or you may find more movement and release. Either way, seek to find more freedom as you let go of unnecessary possessions and start to carry a lighter load. I invite you to simply come to your mat, let go of your perch, and fly!
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