Mine, mine, mine.

The 5 Yamas: Asteya (non-stealing), Brahmacharya (non-indulgence), Aparigraha (non-possession)

Om Sri Gurubhyo Namah. Salutations to all the teachers.

Over the past few weeks, we have been discussing the first of the eight limbs of Yoga - the five Yamas. This limb deals with the most outward aspect of our being - our interactions with the people around us - simplifying our life so that it is not a distraction, thus enabling us to move further inward.

While they might look a lot like a moral or ethical code, they are for the purposes of gradually weakening the boundary between “self” and “other”, aka avidya, which is the root cause of dukkha, or suffering. The Yamas can be seen, therefore, as a way to turn our normal day to day lives into a tool to reduce the kleshas in our minds, increase vivek, and make us feel happier, calmer, and more fulfilled.

As a reminder, the 5 Yamas are as follows:

1. Ahimsa: Non-violence

2. Satya: Truthfulness

3. Asteya: Non-stealing

4. Brahmacharya: Non-indulgence

5. Aparigraha: Non-possession

They are to be practiced in thought, word, and deed, and extend not only to actions done by you, but also when you get someone else to do it for you, or if you allow it to happen when you could reasonably have prevented it.

Ahimsa, or non-violence, is the first of the Yamas, and takes priority over all else in case of a conflict. In fact, the other Yamas are just different facets of non-violence, and are, in a sense, only mentioned as examples so as to clearly illustrate the subtle extents of violence.

Thus far, we have gone over ahimsa and satya. This week, we will go over the remaining Yamas on the list - asteya (non-stealing), brahmacharya (non-indulgence), and aparigraha (non-ownership).

The Eight Limbed Yoga: The Yamas, or external observances, are the first limb of Yoga. In this article, we are discussing the last three Yamas - non-stealing, non-indulgence, and non-possession.

Asteya: Non-stealing

Asteya (pronounced uh-stay-yuh) means non-stealing. In the context of the Yamas, it means not taking for oneself that which belongs to others, and not even harbouring the desire to do so. While for most of us, stealing physical objects like money, jewellery, or other valuables may not be a relatable experience, this Yama extends beyond just taking physical objects, to more subtle objects like words, ideas, or even such things as praise, credit, opportunities, or time.

Consider the example of stealing an idea. There are two possible scenarios here:

1. You did it intentionally

2. You did it unintentionally

In the first scenario, you took someone’s idea and passed it off as your own, knowing full well that the idea did not belong to you. Why might you have done this? Perhaps you wanted to look good to others. Perhaps you wanted to benefit in some other way - a promotion, a salary increase, or just praise. Either way, you prioritised your body-mind over others. In this way, the act of stealing deepens the self-other divide, aka avidya, in your mind.

In the second scenario, you took someone’s idea and passed it off as your own, without realising you were doing it. This is a sign of tamas in the mind. In the analogy of the mind as a lake, tamas can be likened to dirt that makes it difficult to see through to the bottom. The effect of tamas is that the mind feels dull, lethargic, with lots of rumination, but also violent towards others, prioritising the separate self above all else. Tamas makes it very difficult to think clearly, act as one desires, and ultimately is counterproductive to the goals of Yoga. The effect of acting in this way is the same as above, where the self-other divide is strengthened, except that since the mind is already clouded, it is far more difficult to break out of the cycle of suffering.

The workplace is a great example of this Yama, where men often pass off women’s ideas as their own, sometimes without realising it. Whether intentional or not, this is a violation of asteya, and leads to less mental clarity, more avidya, and ultimately more dukkha.

While this example was about stealing an idea from someone else, the logic can be extended to stealing any kind of object - physical, mental, or otherwise. Try to think of a time when you stole something that belonged to someone else. How did it make you feel? Did the mind feel calmer, more agitated, or more cloudy? Did you feel distracted later on? How did it affect your kleshas?

Asteya is not just about not stealing, it also includes not harbouring the desire to do so. This part is particularly important, because all action stems from thought (whether the thought is in our conscious experience or not), and so the more one harbours thoughts of desire in the mind, the stronger those desires become. Some commentators go so far as to say that even if a Yogi stumbles upon a treasure chest full of jewels, they will not take it, since it does not belong to them.

In terms of kleshas, indulging the desire to acquire what belongs to another person strengthens the klesha of raag, deepening the tendencies that pull the Yogi towards the objects of the world. Additionally, it strengthens the klesha of asmita, since you want the thing, whatever it is, to be “mine.” Finally, it strengthens avidya by solidifying the mental division between “self” and “other”, a la “this is yours, and I want it.”

To make this more clear, consider a time when you were jealous of something someone else had. Perhaps your friend got a new car, and you wished that you could have it for yourself. Or perhaps a coworker got a promotion at work, and you felt that you should have gotten it instead. In situations like this, even though you are not actually stealing the car or the promotion, you are still mentally strengthening the self-other divide. While actions certainly have a stronger effect, words and thoughts also deepen the same tendencies over time. The more you indulge thoughts, words and deeds like this, the more likely your mind is to follow the same thought patterns in the future. Further, the more klishta (coloured) the thoughts are, the deeper the tendencies will become.

Having said this, it is important to note that these thoughts are totally normal, and not to be suppressed. Rather, notice that you are having the thought, and gently remind yourself that thoughts like these will result in your own suffering by deepening the divide between “self” and “other.” In this particular situation, you can cultivate an attitude of mudita, or gladness towards the other person. Again, suppression is not helpful - it only leads to the thought reappearing in a grosser form. Acknowledge the thought as early as you can, and replace it with a thought that will help you to break down the self-other divide. We will discuss this method more in a future article on pratipakshabhaavana (cultivation of opposing thoughts).

The Result of Asteya

अस्तेयप्रतिष्ठायां सर्वरत्नोपस्थानम्।

AsteyaPratishtthaayaam sarvaRatnaUpasthaanam

When [the Yogi is] established in asteya, all jewels are placed before them.

- Yoga Sutras, 2.37

As with all the Yamas, there is a companion sutra that describes the result when the Yogi is completely established in asteya.

When the mind of the Yogi is so steeped in this Yama, there are no mental tendencies left, even in seed form, that would result in thoughts, words, or actions of stealing what belongs to others. As a result, others start to trust the Yogi with their possessions, including subtle objects like time, ideas, and opportunities. Try to think of a time when you felt that another person was trustworthy. Ultimately, it feels as though the person has no desire to take what you have, and so you feel safe to entrust them with objects that belong to you - physical or mental. In this way, cultivating asteya to the extreme leads to others feeling as though they can trust the Yogi with anything at all.

Brahmacharya: Non-indulgence

Brahmacharya (pronounced bruh-muh-chuhr-yuh) is often translated as celibacy or control of the sexual organs. However, while this is certainly an effect of the practice of this Yama, this interpretation confuses the effect for the cause.

The word brahmacharya literally means “on the path of Brahman”, “remembrance of Brahman” or “conduct in line with Brahman.” Now what is this Brahman? Briefly, Brahman is the Highest Reality, often translated as the Godhead, Existence-Consciousness-Bliss, or the Ultimate Truth. In Advaita Vedanta (non-dual Vedanta, the school of philosophy that this series is leading towards), Brahman is identical with Atman, or Self (with a capital S). There are some differences between the use of the word Purusha in Yoga and Atman in Vedanta, but for the purposes of this article we can consider them to be the same - the Pure Consciousness within you that illuminates all experience - internal and external.

If this sounds like too much, don’t worry, we’ll go over this in much more detail in future articles. In practice, brahmacharya is non-objectification with a view towards non-indulgence.

Sexual desire is an excellent example, and is a particular focus for many traditional commentators due to the extreme amounts of energy that we humans spend to gain sexual pleasure.

Consider a time when you were sexually attracted towards someone. What did it feel like? If you pay attention, you will notice that the heart beats faster, the breath quickens, and the mind races. In this state, the mind is not lucid, calm, or clear. In fact, the mind has become agitated and turbulent, and judgement has become clouded. In terms of gunas, the mind has become rajasic and tamasic. As with any mental tendency, indulging in the thought patterns that result in sexual attraction begets more of the same mental agitation. What’s more, every time the desire is satisfied, the intensity of the urge to satisfy it in the future increases. As you can see, it is not the act of sex itself that is the problem. Rather, it is the resulting agitation in the mind that arises alongside the desire to satisfy the sexual urge, that is counterproductive to the goals of Yoga.

Notice, this is not true only for sexual desire, but for any sense pleasure.

Consider alcohol, nicotine, gambling, social media, or any other pleasure (even things like art or music that we may consider to be “wholesome pleasures”). When the urge to satisfy the desire arises in the mind (prior to the actual act of pleasure), the same reactions occur as with the example of sex - increased heart-rate, altered breathing, racing mind. The reaction may not be as intense, but notice - the more intense the desire, the more intense the reaction, and the more the urge is satisfied, the stronger the urge in the future. Satisfying sense desire begets stronger desire, no matter what the specific object of desire may be.

As tendencies in the mind are strengthened through repetition and reward, the mind automatically follows those tendencies in the future. This repetition is what is meant by indulgence. The mind wants it, so I run around until I get it. The mind has an existing tendency, so I thoughtlessly deepen the tendency by following it blindly, whatever the particular tendency may be. In particular, brahmacharya refers to those things which are pleasurable to the five sense organs. Furthermore, if the Yogi is still seeking fulfilment on the level of the senses (including sexually), this strengthens the identification with the body, and is thus counterproductive to the goals of Yoga.

Now let us go a level deeper. How does this desire arise in the mind?

At the root is objectification. We created an “object” in our mind that is different from the object called “me”, and this sense of difference creates a fertile ground for desire to arise. It is through this objectification that indulgence in sense pleasure strengthens the self-other divide (aka avidya). At the deepest level, by remembering that we are doing this, the desire can be weakened. With the example of sex, when we feel a gross sexual desire towards someone, we can notice that we are seeing them as an object of pleasure rather than as a complex human being, or as a body in its totality. We are mentally ignoring certain aspects while enhancing others, so as to allow the sense of desire to grow. Similarly, with the example of other sense pleasures (e.g. alcohol, nicotine, television, music), we can notice that we are craving something that is ultimately shrouded in the threefold suffering, thus tilting the mind away from indulgence. But this can be quite difficult, and without a lot of practice, may not be practical.

As a result, brahmacharya is often taught as starting with non-indulgence in sense pleasure. For the student just starting on the path, sense pleasures can be a great distraction. The mind easily occupies itself with the acquisition of these sense pleasures, big and small, and so easily distracts itself from turning inwards. As discussed previously, the mind is already tilted towards the objects of the world.

We can notice this tendency by just sitting quietly for a few minutes and watching how the mind is constantly trying to distract itself.

Try this experiment: set a timer for three minutes, and sit with your eyes open, with no agenda. Watch your mind closely - perhaps you feel an urge to look at your cell phone, listen to music, watch a video, read a book, or just look around the room - something, anything, to not have to turn your attention inward. It is these very tendencies that make it difficult for us to meditate (the same tendencies also also make it difficult for us to completely relax).

The goal of Yoga is to reverse this deep habit - gradually tilting the mind inwards, so that it automatically flows back towards the Self rather than towards the world of objects. Indulging the urge to satisfy pleasures as they arise, the urges get stronger. Noticing them as they arise, and letting them pass away without indulging them, trains the mind to let them go, thus bringing more energy to the Yogi to use towards the practice of Yoga rather than dissipating this energy on the satisfaction of sense pleasures that only bring temporary happiness.

P: So are you saying I should suppress my desires?

Jogi: Far from it. Suppressing the desires will also strengthen them.

P: So satisfying them will strengthen them, but suppressing them will strengthen them too?

Jogi: Exactly.

P: So then what should I do?

Jogi: The trick is to watch the desire carefully as it arises, with curiosity. Try to learn as much as you can about it - what sensations arise in the body? How often does it come up? Are there other objects - mental or physical - that trigger it? Then, without satisfying it, notice as it gradually fades away.

P: Won’t it just come back again?

Jogi: It certainly will, but it will be weaker. Repeat the exercise again every time it arises, trying to catch it earlier and earlier. But be careful not to hide from it or try to push it away. Acknowledge it with honesty, investigate it with curiosity, and let it go of its own accord. Over time, it will weaken, and the mind will become calm, clear, and peaceful.

When a tendency is suppressed, it doesn’t just go away. It remains in the mind in seed form, and can be activated given the right circumstances. The following story from the Bhagavata Purana illustrates the point:

A long time ago, Saubhari was a famous sage who lived in Northern India, and was well known for his austerities and knowledge of Yoga. However, he had trouble following the Yama of brahmacharya, in particular when it came to his desire for sex. As a result, he decided that he would meditate underwater, where there was no possibility of any human coming close to him to arouse his desire.

Using his Yogic power of Kevala Kumbhaka (complete, infinitely elongated breath retention), he submerged himself in the Yamuna river, and sat down on the riverbed in meditation.

Several days passed, and he was completely immersed in his underwater meditation. Suddenly, however, he heard a peculiar sound. Distracted, he opened his eyes and saw a pair of fish mating just a few feet in front of him. Seeing this, his mind became aroused with desire, and thoughts of sex. The impressions that were latent in his mind were awakened, even though he had tried everything to suppress them. No longer able to sit still, he rose from the depths of the river and gave up his Yogic practices.

Brahmacharya is to be practiced in deed, of course, but in word and thought as well. Even speaking or joking about sense pleasures with a feeling of desire strengthens the feeling of desire in the mind, and makes it more difficult to follow the Yama. This is also true for thoughts. Engaging with thoughts about sense pleasure strengthens the tendencies towards them. The method, then, is to systematically weaken the tendency by acknowledging it, and then watching it arise and pass away without acting on it.

To be very clear, this does not mean that sense pleasure is bad, wrong, or sinful. There is nothing wrong with sense pleasure itself. The problem is in our relationship with sense pleasure, and how it can easily throw the mind into disarray.

The Result of Brahmacharya

ब्रह्मचर्यप्रतिष्ठायां वीर्यलाभः।

BrahmacharyaPratishtthaayaam veeryaLaabhah

When [the Yogi] is established in Brahmacharya, great strength/vigour is gained.

- Yoga Sutras, 2.38

Once the Yogi is completely established in Brahmacharya, there are no more mental movements - subtle or gross - that tilt the mind outwards towards sense pleasures. As a result, all of the energy that was being used on trying to figure out how to get that next pleasure is conserved, and the Yogi becomes less tired, more energetic, and is able to use this energy to intensely practice Yoga (or anything else that they wish to do). This can be likened to the rays of the sun when focused through a magnifying glass. Brahmacharya is, in this way, a practical method to increase will-power, and focus one’s energy rather than scattering it thoughtlessly.¹

Aparigraha: Non-possession

Aparigraha (pronounced uh-purry-gruh-huh) is the last of the 5 Yamas, and means non-acquisitiveness, non-possession, non-receiving, or non-ownership.

We run around our whole lives trying to possess everything. This goes beyond things like money, power, land, or physical objects to more subtle things like people, relationships, health, identity, ideas, and even time. We want to own it, have it be ours, such that no one can take it from us. This makes us feel secure in a Universe that seems to be constantly changing, and in this way makes us feel temporarily happy. It gives us a feeling of importance - “I own this”, “this is mine” - and this importance imparts a sense of identity. It is this identity that we really want - “I have this and you don’t.” What we don’t see, however, is that “me” is always and only in relation to “you.” There is no “me” unless there is also a “you”, just as there is no east without west or no up without down. This distinction is the very avidya that Yoga is trying to get rid of, and in this way, possession strengthens the mental self-other divide.

Aparigraha is the fifth Yama, and means non-possession, non-acquisition, and non-receiving. Golem from the Lord of the Rings is an excellent example of the result of possessiveness taken to the extreme.

Aparigraha, therefore, is the practice of non-possession - not owning more than one needs, and not feeling the need to acquire more. At first glance though, this may not seem practical. Not only are we trained from a very young age that it is good to earn money, gain possessions, and hoard wealth, but practically speaking we need to own things to survive - we need food, water, shelter, and money to acquire these things, at the very least. On the surface, it seems as though we cannot live unless we acquire. Even the most renunciate monks require donations to survive.

The trick is not in actually not acquiring, but in how we relate to our possessions. Just like with Brahmacharya, the focus is on the relationship, not the thing itself.

Consider your phone - your phone. When it is lost, even for a moment, do you feel a certain anxiety? Perhaps for some of you a phone may not be a good example, so consider any possession where the feeling of “mine” is strong. How do you feel when you are unsure of its whereabouts? Notice, the mind is thrown into disarray - rajas and tamas flood the mind with thoughts of “where could it be?”, “I need it now”, “how can I find it?”, and so on.

Another example, consider something valuable that you own - perhaps jewellery, something expensive, or anything that you would put in a safe. Notice, there is some part of the mind that is occupied with thoughts about this object. Now extending this, the more objects you own, the more of your mind is occupied with thoughts of these objects, and their protection. The mind now has a limit to how clear it can be - your cup can never really be entirely empty. What’s more, since it is “yours” and you are protecting it from “others”, ownership strengthens the self-other divide.²

Further, possessions beget more possessions, and this chain of increasing possessions leads to a stressed, anxious, and turbulent mind. Here is a story to illustrate the point:

A novice monk had been living for a few years at his master’s hermitage, but was exhausted by the constant study. After some thought, he approached his master and told him that we was going to leave the hermitage and meditate on his own. The master said, “Ok, but make sure to renounce all of your possessions.” Thinking that he had understood, the monk took nothing but two loin cloths and a begging bowl, and left for the forest, where found a tree under which to meditate. As he sat with his eyes closed, he felt a sense of pride that he had renounced all his possessions with nothing but the bare necessities.

Suddenly, he heard a peculiar sound. As he opened his eyes to investigate, he noticed a mouse chewing on his extra loincloth, and felt a sense of frustration bubbling up within him. After all, he needed to protect his few possessions. Meanwhile, a man from the nearby village walked by and saw this scene. Walking up to the monk he said, “What is the matter, O monk?”

The monk replied, “A mouse is chewing on my loincloth, and I have no more in my possession except what I am wearing.”

The man responded, “Why don’t you get a cat? It will make sure the mice stay away.”

“How wonderful!”, the monk replied, “where can I get a cat?”

“I will go back to the village and get you one”, said the man.

A few hours later, the man returned with a cat in tow, and the monk said, “Thank you. At last I can meditate in peace.”

As the days passed, the mice had all disappeared, but the monk needed to feed the cat. As a result, he would walk to the nearby village every few days to beg for milk. After a several weeks of this, the monk thought to himself, “This time spent walking to the village is taking away from my meditation. I should get a cow.” As he thought this, the same passerby who had given him the cat walked by and said, “O monk, you look worried. What is the matter?”

“The cat needs milk, and I need to keep going to the village to get it. I think it would be best if I could get a cow somehow.”

The man replied, “Don’t worry, I will bring you a cow.” A few hours later, the man returned with a cow, and the monk said, “Thank you sir. At last I can meditate in peace.”

Now the cow needed to eat. Luckily, the villagers were all kind enough to let the cow graze on their fields. However, after a year of this, there was a drought, and the villagers decided that they needed to feed their own animals first. They approached the monk and said, “O monk, we have tolerated your cow for over a year, but now we cannot feed it any longer.”

The monk replied, “I understand, but how am I going to feed my cow?”

One villager said, “Why don’t you get a piece of land?”

“How will I get land? I have no money.”

“Don’t worry, we will give you some land.” And so the villagers came together and gave the monk a plot of land on which he could feed his cow. The monk said to them, “Thank you. At last I can meditate in peace.”

At this point, the monk needed to maintain his land. In order to do this he would ask the village children to work on his land as he sat in meditation. After a year of this, the villagers approached the monk and said, “O monk, our children are spending all their time working on your land. We need them to help with our land.”

The monk replied, “I understand, but then how will I maintain my land?”

One villager said, “Why don’t you have your own children?”

“But how?”

The villager replied, “If she is willing, I will offer you my daughter’s hand in marriage.”

The monk said, “Thank you, at last I can meditate in peace.”

As he was on his way to the villager’s home to meet the woman who may become his wife, the monk came across a familiar face. It was his teacher from the hermitage. The teacher saw him, and said, “I thought you left the hermitage because it was too much work. Now I see you here with farmland, a cow, a cat, and I hear you are about to get married?”

The monk replied, “No master, I renounced everything just as you said. All this was all just for my loincloth.”

As he said those words, he realised his own folly. He had renounced the world only in name, but due to his attachment to his possessions, although few, he had increased the complexity of his life. Realising this, he bowed down to the master and asked, “May I return to the hermitage with you?”

Renunciation does not mean the physical renunciation of possessions. Rather, it is the renunciation of your relationship with your possessions. The problem arises not from the object itself, but when you consider the object to be “mine.”

The stress of possession extends beyond when we actually possess something to when we want to possess it, or miss the time when we once possessed it. Consider the example of jealousy. You see something someone else has, and you want it for yourself.

Aparigraha also extends to receiving objects (e.g. gifts) from others. When we receive something, it used to belong to an “other”, and now it belongs to “me.” This is the very basis of receiving, and so whether or not we actively consider it to be this way, it strengthens the self-other divide in the mind.

Further, receiving a gift ties the mind, so to speak, to the giver of the gift. Whenever we receive something, there is a deep-set sense of needing to reciprocate, whether or not we are conscious of it. A particularly interesting study on this topic experimented with the changes in prescribing behaviour of doctors who received meals from pharmaceutical companies. This idea is well known in the realm of sales, where salespeople will give small, often inexpensive gifts to potential clients, creating a subconscious desire to reciprocate the gift by purchasing their product or service. As it turns out, the actual size of the gift is not correlated with the value that is reciprocated.

In this way, receiving gifts creates impressions (aka samskaaras) in the mind to reciprocate to the giver.

P: What’s wrong with that?

Jogi: Nothing is wrong with it. It simply has a consequence.

P: What is the consequence?

Jogi: When we receive something, or want to give something to another person with an expectation of return, we are strengthening the self-other divide, or avidya. It was “mine” and now it is “yours”, or vice versa. Avidya is the cause of our suffering, and the root of all the other kleshas, and so the goal of Yoga is to dissolve the mental division between “self” and “other.”

There is more to aparigraha as well. The goal of the Yamas is to simplify our dealings with the external world. The more expectations we have from others, the more we wish to fulfil them. Receiving objects from others creates such expectations, whether the giver knows it or not. Here is a traditional story to illustrate the point:

There was once a king who was known throughout his kingdom for his wealth, but also for his generosity. He would often travel around the capital city and give away gifts to the people he came by. On one of these excursions, riding through the city in his chariot, he came across an old monk who was limping along the side of the road with great difficulty. The king asked his charioteer to stop and let him off. As the chariot slowed down, the king jumped off and walked towards the monk. He approached the monk with folded hands and said, “Revered monk, I see you walking with great difficulty along this road. Please accept this gift of my royal staff to use as a walking stick.”

The monk took a look at the staff. It was beautifully carved, encrusted with ivory and precious stones, and would serve him well as a walking stick. However, true to the Yama of aparigraha, he refused the gift.

With his heart full of compassion, the king once again offered the monk his staff, and once again, the monk refused.

A third time, the king offered the staff to the monk. This time, the monk responded, “Ok, I will accept your staff. But only if I owe you nothing in return.”

The king, full of love in his heart said, “Of course you don’t owe me anything in return!”

Looking the king in the eye, the monk said, “ok”, and accepted the staff from the king’s hands. Suddenly, the monk raised the staff above his head with both his hands, and lifted his knee as though to break the staff into two. Shocked by this the king stopped him and asked, exhasperated, “what are you doing?”

The monk gently returned the staff to the king and said, “It seems I owe you its protection.”

To summarise, aparigraha means non-possession, and, as an extension, non-receiving as well. For the beginner, this looks like actively not receiving gifts, not seeking out more possessions, and trying to minimise possessions in one’s day to day life. Over time, it evolves into not considering possessions to be “mine”, rather viewing all possessions in the same way one would view something that has been borrowed, letting go (vairaagya) of the mental grasp on the objects. If you are theistically inclined, you can consider that all this has been borrowed from God, and will be returned to God in due course, whenever it is asked for. If you are not theistically inclined, this is no problem - simply remind yourself of the threefold suffering that surrounds all possessions - there is suffering in their acquisition, suffering in their preservation, and suffering in their loss. Any pleasure that arises from possession is like honey mixed with poison. Either way, the principle remains the same, and the goal is to reach a mental space where you consider nothing to be “yours” - not even the body or the mind.

The Result of Aparigraha

अपरिग्रहस्थैर्ये जन्मकथंतासंबोधः।

AparigrahaSthairye janmaKathamtaaSambodhah

When [the Yogi] is stabilised in aparigraha, the whys and wherefores of birth(s) are known.

- Yoga Sutras, 2.39

The mind of a Yogi who is completely established in aparigraha no longer has any samskaaras relating to possession. While for the beginner Yogi, possessions extend to objects outside the boundary of the skin, for the Yogi established in aparigraha, the mind and the body are included in this Yama as well. Possession means that an object belongs to this body-mind, and so the ultimate weakening of possession means that nothing belongs to this body-mind, and further that this body-mind itself does not belong to You.

Consider the phrases “my body” and “my mind.” Using language in this way, we are acting as though You are the possessor of the “body” or “mind” which are possessions.

P: Wait, what do you mean the body and mind are not mine?

Jogi: Did you create them?

P: No.

Jogi: Do they do what you want? Are you able to control them?

P: Only parts of them, and only sometimes.

Jogi: Did you put in any effort into their acquisition?

P: No.

Jogi: Were they given to you by someone as a gift?

P: By God?

Jogi: Where is your evidence?

P: Ok, you’re right, I have no evidence. They were not given to me as a gift.

Jogi: Did you buy them?

P: No.

Jogi: Did you win them in a competition, or by defeating someone?

P: No.

Jogi: Then what claim do you have to them? How can you say that they are yours?

The logic of this may seem clear in theory as you read this article, but the purpose of Yoga is to take these teachings beyond the words and make them real to you. As the Yogi practices aparigraha, it becomes viscerally clear that nothing actually belongs to you, including this body and mind. This creates a very real sense of separation between “You” and the body-mind, eventually leading to a dis-entaglement from your identity as this limited individual. As a result, the mind opens up to possibilities beyond the current identification with this body-mind and its contents.

Now what?

The Yamas are the first and most important limb of Yoga. Without the practice of this limb, the following limbs are a lot more difficult to practice, let alone master. This limb of Yoga is especially powerful, since it allows you to practice wherever you are, whatever you are doing, and can turn our daily lives into an opportunity to shift our mental tendencies.

Another way to look at the Yamas is as a series of experiments. You can notice how practicing them (or not practicing them) affects your interactions with others, your state of mind, and your meditation practice.

Like the rest of Yoga, the Yamas are non-sectarian. It doesn’t matter what tradition or part of the world you come from, or whether or not you believe in anything (including the teachings of Yoga). They are not moral injunctions, and there is no compulsion to follow them. Rather, they are a method to systematically break down the walls of avidya that we have built up in our minds from before we can remember. Simply try them (using the four keys to practice) and see if they work for you.

Until next week:

1. Notice when your mind tries to push you towards the acquisition of an object.

2. Notice the state of your mind when thoughts about a sense pleasure arise.

3. Notice when you refer to an object as “mine”, and how your mental relationship with this object is different from things you don’t consider “mine.”

4. Rather than giving in to the tendencies, acknowledge them, watch them arise and pass away with curiosity. See how early you can catch the urge to violate these Yamas (asteya, brahmacharya, and aparigraha, respectively). Take notes, and feel free to share questions, comments, objections, or anything at all in the comments section below, by replying to this email, or at r/EmptyYourCup!

Next time: Mahaavrata: The Yamas as the Great Vows

1. There is a lot of discussion in traditional commentaries about a subtle substance called ojas which is released upon orgasm. When conserved, this substance is said to provide us with energy, vigour and willpower. The story of Bhishma in the Mahabharat is often used as an example of this, where, due to his austerities and his vow of celibacy, his ojas was conserved, and he became one of the most powerful warriors in the cosmos.

2. At scale, the violation of aparigraha causes war, social strife, and various other social evils born through the desire to protect possessions, land, power, or identity. In this way, all possession is ultimately violence - the difference is not in kind, only in degree.