The yamas, or ethical precepts of yoga, are all phrased negatively, in a “what not to do” manner. This is perhaps because each yama suggests an achievement impossible for most human beings. Take ahimsa, or “non-violence”, for example. Tt’s simply not viable for any of us to live in peace every moment of our lives. Much as we think we’d love to try to live like this, when we make permanent harmony the goal, we set ourselves up to fail. Once we accept that, we’ve given ourselves something actionable: working to avoid harming people, places, and things. As yoga practitioners working to connect intellect and body to spirit, we can think our way through our actions if we give ourselves time to do so. In this way, we can inch closer to allowing our sacred selves to direct our behavior. We might not always get there – in truth, we won’t always get there! – but we can work with situations as they appear, doing the next indicated action.
The discussion of ahimsa often circles around the ‘big picture’ questions: should we eat meat? Should we support the death penalty? While these are important, so too are the smaller ways in which we interact with each other. There will be times when we don’t feel at peace with the world, but feelings are not facts, and we can always choose to act with kindness and respect. When we don’t quite make it, we can choose to change our response: to make amends, to change our behavior, to learn and be better.
On the other hand, it’s important to not use this precept as a way to check out of life. “Spiritual materialism” and “toxic positivity” are both harmful because they assume that a large part of our experience is meant to be avoided. Think about this – why are some emotions ‘better’ then others? We have a range for a reason; we react because of our experiences. To thrive psychologically, we have to accept this, realizing and that even painful emotions are sometimes necessary. Grief is appropriate after loss; anger and fear are both suitable in threatening situations. There are times when assuming ‘peace’ is simply avoiding the truth, which in effect is harming ourselves.
Ahimsa suggests a radical idea: our feelings do not have to drive our actions. We can step back from our daily experience, thinking our way through and choosing to proceed differently. In other words, while we will always have a range of emotions, we can choose to act from our ideals instead of our feelings. If someone hurts us, we can – and should! – feel our feelings and understand why the situation is hurtful. However, that doesn’t mean that we have the right to respond in kind. Perhaps we need to leave the situation; perhaps we need to establish boundaries. It’s entirely possible that those boundaries need to surround our own inner life – we can’t control other people’s actions, and there’s no point in letting events steal our joy. Instead, we can accept that something happened, that we are hurt, and then ask ourselves: what’s the appropriate response?
One of the hardest goals I ever set for myself as a teacher was to be kind when informing a student that he or she had failed the class. As difficult as it was, however, I tried my best to consider the difference between someone’s behavior and their essential being. While I may find some actions may be less than adequate for the occasion, I never have right to judge someone else’s spirit. In this situation, the solution was always to show respect, while at the same time explaining the situation and suggesting the next possible steps. I didn’t always do this perfectly, and there were times I failed miserably. But the goal was always to separate the soul from the deed.
Practicing ahimsa means showing respect: reverence for someone’s innate dignity, understanding that none of us acts perfectly most of the time, and taking the time to respond to both facets of a person or a situation. How can we put this into daily practice? That’s the central question, one which we answer on and off the mat.
How do you practice ahimsa in your everyday life?