Why should I be good to others?
The Five Yamas: Ahimsa (Non-Violence)
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Om Sri Gurubhyo Namah. Salutations to all the teachers.
“All struggles for the preservation of this illusory individuality are really vices. All struggles to lose this individuality are virtues. Everything in the Universe is trying to break down this individuality, either consciously or unconsciously. All morality is based upon the destruction of separateness of false individuality…”
- Swami Vivekananda, retreat given at the Thousand Island Park, New York, July 19th 1895
Look around you. All the “objects” you see are mental groupings of individual, momentary perceptions. These words on this screen are not words at all - they are just clusters of sight-perceptions that you have grouped together with thought, because you have learned how to do that. What’s more, you are separating these “words” from the background in your mind - there is no real separation. Similarly, your body is not separate from the environment around it. You are breathing in air, some of it is getting absorbed into the bloodstream, and some of it is leaving the bloodstream, into your lungs, for you to breathe out. There is no boundary between “you” and “not you” in nature - that boundary is a mental projection - a mere verbal convention - and you are taking it seriously.
This false boundary between “you” and “not you” is avidya - the fundamental cause of suffering.
We may understand this theoretically, but most often, it does not quite sit in the mind. We may see how all this makes sense, but the moment we stop reading this, or the moment we get back to our daily lives, anger, jealousy, frustration, sadness, and other mental habits veil the Truth, and we feel like we are a little body in a vast, uncaring Universe. We get the teaching, but we don’t grok it.
The eight-limbed Yoga is a systematic method to clear the covering of rajas and tamas that manifest as the boundary we have created between what we call “self” and “other.” In dissolving this boundary which is the cause of suffering, suffering is also dissolved.1
Often, people will say “I find it very difficult to sit still, let alone meditate.” The reason for this is that people often jump to meditation without first addressing the earlier limbs of Yoga. This is like jumping into the deep end of a pool without first learning how to swim.
In technical terms, the cause of this difficulty is chitta-mala, or mental dirt. Essentially, this means that the kleshas are highly active in the mind. This phenomenon can be likened to trying to climb into a small boat that has just capsized in fast-moving water. First of all, there is no place to put your feet down, so you struggle to stay afloat. Second, the boat will keep toppling due to your weight on one side every time you try to climb in. Finally, the water is moving rapidly, so both you and the boat are being tossed back and forth. As a result, climbing into the boat is a very difficult task.
Practising the limbs of Yoga sequentially is a manner of calming the water, and providing a stable foundation for the feet and the boat to rest. After all, it is much easier to get into a boat when both you and the boat are on solid ground.
The eight limbs work starting from the outside, moving inwards. This can be likened to a toy light-sabre from Disneyland which retracts into itself, or a telescope that can be extended outward and pulled back inward.
As each layer is solidified, stabilised, or simplified using abhyaas, and let go of using vairaagya, the Yogi can then move further inwards with ease.
As a reminder, the eight limbs of Yoga are:
Yama: External observances
Niyama: Internal observances
Aasana: Posture (this is the usual Yoga in most Yoga studios)
Praanaayaam: Lengthening of the “Praana” (including breathing)
Pratyahaar: Sense withdrawal/disengagement
Dharanaa: Concentration/Flow (this is how “meditation” is usually taught)
Dhyaan: Meditation
Samaadhi: Meditative Absorption
The most outward aspect of our being is our interaction with the external world, and so this is where the first limb of Yoga begins. Often, our dealings with the world around us can be a source of tremendous stress and suffering. This stress is a distraction from the path of Yoga, because it pulls us out towards the objects of the world rather than allowing us to sit still and explore further within. For example, if you are worried about what others think of you, or if you are stressed about a difficult relationship with another person, your mind is highly likely to wander while you are trying to sit down and meditate. On the other hand, if you are able to simplify your life in such a way that your dealings with the external world are not a cause of stress or suffering, thoughts about your external dealings will not interfere as much.
This simplification of our external interactions is the goal of the first limb of Yoga. It is called “Yama” (pronounced yum-uh), and is often translated as “restraints”, “abstinences” or “reins.”
These are not moral injunctions from some fictitious heavenly figure, or from any other authority (a la “thou shalt not kill”), and nor do they have any quality judgement associated with them (a la “forgive me, Father, for I have sinned”), but rather, they are a method to systematically calm the mind, increase vivek, and remove avidya.
Any time the word “should” is used, the sentence must also include a “so that”, otherwise it is just an expression of authority that renders the listener no better than sheep. Given this, the Yamas should be practised so that the false boundary between Self and other is weakened, and so that the Yogi can see their true nature for themselves, rather than just reading about it in words, thus freeing themselves from the cycle of dukkha.
The Yamas are to be practised not only in deed, but in word and thought as well. Additionally, they extend beyond just doing the action oneself, but also to getting another person to do it for you, or allowing it to be done when you could reasonably have stopped it from happening.
The five Yamas are:
Ahimsa: Non-violence
Satya: Truthfulness
Asteya: Non-stealing
Brahmacharya: Non-indulgence/Remembrance of Self
Aparigraha: Non-possession
Today, we will go over the first of these Yamas - ahimsa, or non-violence. In the next few weeks, we will cover the others in detail, before moving on to the next of the eight limbs of Yoga, the Niyamas.
Ahimsa: Non-violence
अहिंसा परमॊ धर्मस् तथाहिंसा परॊ दमः। अहिंसा परमं दानम् अहिंसा परमं तपः। अहिंसा परमॊ यज्ञस् तथाहिंसा परं बलम्। अहिंसा परमं मित्रम् अहिंसा परमं सुखम्।अहिंसा परमं सत्यम् अहिंसा परमं शरुतम्॥Ahimsa is the highest virtue, Ahimsa is the highest self-control,
Ahimsa is the highest charity, Ahimsa is the highest austerity,
Ahimsa is the highest sacrifice, Ahimsa is the highest strength,
Ahimsa is the greatest friend, Ahimsa is the highest happiness,
Ahimsa is the highest truth, Ahimsa is the highest teaching.
-Mahabharata, Mahaprasthanika Parva 43
Ahimsa (pronounced uh-him-saah) means non-violence, and is defined by Vyasa2 as not harming any living creature at any time. This extends to thought, word, and deed, and to acts committed, enabled, or allowed.
While killing or harming other human beings is, of course, in violation of this Yama, this also extends to all animals, birds, insects, microscopic creatures, and even plants.
Embodied existence, by its very nature, means that violence is unavoidable - one must at least commit violence against plants to survive, not to speak of the vast numbers of hapless beings that are killed in the process of building our homes, cities, and material stuff. However, the more one avoids violence, the more the boundary between “self” and “other” is weakened, and the more clear, calm, and joyful the mind feels. It is not all or nothing, rather, it works by degrees.
The highest expression of ahimsa comes in the Jain tradition where, recognising the truth of violence in embodied existence, the highest form of bravery or heroism is to fast unto death, sacrificing one’s own life to save the lives of other beings. Such rare exemplars are given the title of Mahaveer, or “great hero”. Even when it doesn’t go to this extreme, there are, even today, communities of Jain practitioners who sweep the ground before them to avoid harming small creatures that may be accidentally stepped on, wear a cloth covering on their mouth to avoid inhaling microscopic creatures, and strain their water to avoid ingesting small insects accidentally.
While Yoga does not (necessarily) go to this extreme, this line of thinking is certainly in line with the Yamas.
The principle is not moralistic or altruistic, strictly speaking. Rather, it is that in harming other creatures, the tamasic potential in the chitta (ie. “mind”, sort of) increases. Another way to frame this is that by harming others, the boundary between “self” and “other” (aka avidya) is strengthened. In this way, violence is counterproductive to the goals of Yoga.
This can be clearly seen in the armed forces where training often involves the “othering” of the enemy. In order to kill, the mind must see the object of violence as different from oneself, and thus violence is a strengthening of this boundary - the very boundary that keeps us trapped in the cycle of dukkha.
Another example of this is when someone is eating meat and is reminded of the slaughterhouse, or of the lovable nature of the animal whose carcass they are eating. The immediate reaction is “don’t ruin my meal”, sometimes accompanied by a physical reaction like a lifting of the hands, or a mental reaction like disgust, anger, or annoyance.
Violence requires a strengthening of this wall of intentional blindness. In this way, violence strengthens avidya, and non-violence creates tendencies that reduce or weaken avidya. In terms of the gunas, this boundary is tamas, and weakening the boundary reveals the underlying sattva in the mind. The sattva is already there - it is not something special that needs to be cultivated. The natural tendency is to be non-violent. On the other hand, it is the tendency towards violence that is cultivated over time through socialisation.
In practice, this looks like avoiding committing violence wherever possible. If you see a spider, rather than killing it, try removing it from your house with a cup and a piece of paper. If you see a mosquito, rather than killing it, try to lure it outside. Rather than eating meat, go for the more non-violent option, and so on. As you read this, try to notice the feeling in your mind - do you feel outraged, upset, or irritated? Do you feel like you are somehow being attacked? If so, this is a sign of tamas in the mind. Any time you notice a wall like this, it is tamas in action, and is a sign that avidya is active in this part of your life.
Again, this is not a moral injunction, nor a matter for guilt or shame - non-violence is simply a method to reduce avidya. Removing avidya is a personal choice, and not to be forced upon others - not because one should not, but because one cannot force it upon others.
P: What if I see someone harming another person? What should I do? Should I just stay quiet and non-violent?
Jogi: Not at all. Non-violence extends not only to actions done by you, but also those actions that you get someone else to do, and those actions that you allow. If you can reasonably stop the other person from harming people, even if that requires some violence, that is the action in line with the Yamas. However, first exhaust all non-violent means. Ahimsa, like the other Yamas, is in degrees, it is not binary.
P: What about self-defense? If someone is coming to hurt me, what should I do?
Jogi: It’s up to you. The consequence of defending yourself may be a strengthening of avidya, if it comes from a place of giving special importance to this body-mind. On the other hand, if violence inflicted on oneself can be treated the same as violence towards another, then preventing violence (when you can) is in line with the method of the Yamas. Ultimately, are you protecting yourself out of fear and a special importance to “me” and “mine”, or out of a desire to prevent violence, whether to you or to others?
Sometimes, we feel as though we are justified in the retaliation of violence. At the physical level, this may look like physical retaliation, and at the mental level, this can look like a righteous anger, indignation, or a desire to harm those who have harmed you or yours. As mentioned, Yoga does not get into morality based on any higher authority, but rather views so-called “moral” action as a method to remove avidya. In this vein, while the idea of “an eye for an eye” may be deeply rooted in us, following this tendency for retribution only strengthens the apparent boundary between “self” and “other”, and is thus counterproductive to the goals of Yoga. Here is a story from the Zen tradition3 that illustrates the point:
Once upon a time, two monks were sitting at the bank of a river washing their bowls, when they noticed a scorpion drowning in the water near them. Immediately, one of the monks dropped his bowl and scooped up the scorpion in his hands. As he was about to leave the scorpion on the bank, it stung him and fell back into the water. Once again, the monk cupped his hands and gently lifted the scorpion out of the water. Watching this, the other monk asked, “why do you continue to save the scorpion even though you know that its nature is to sting?”
He replied, “To sting is its nature, to save it is mine.”
Non-violence also extends to words. Using words that are harsh or hurtful to others, or words that create fear in others is also encompassed in violence. Just like in the case of actions, hurtful words also strengthen the sense of separation between “self” and “other” in the mind (aka tamasic potential), and are thus counterproductive to the removal of avidya. Like with non-violence in action, the Jain tradition has a tremendous amount of literature on what is gaining popularity today as non-violent communication. Traditionally, this idea stems from the philosophy known as anekaantavaada, or “the doctrine of non-one-sided-ness - a method of intellectual non-violence. The basic idea is that no single method or ideology can express the Absolute Truth (this is also true in Vedanta), and so all statements that claim knowledge must be qualified in many ways. In addition to other methods, this looks like a movement away from the two-valued logic that we often use in speech, where a statement can either be affirmed or denied (true or false), to a seven-valued logic called syaadavaada, where a statement can hold any of the following values:
SyaadAsti: It can be argued that it is so
SyaanNaasti: It can be argued that it is not so
SyaadAstiNaasti: It can be argued that it is so, and it can be argued that it is not so
SyaatAstiAvaktavyah: It can be argued that it is so, and it can be argued that it is unassertable
SyaanNaastiAvaktavyah: It can be argued that it is not so, and it can be argued that it is unassertable
SyaadAstiNaastiAvaktavya: It can be argued that it is so, it can be argued that it is not so, and it can be argued that it is unassertable
SyaadAvaktavyah: It can be argued that it unassertable
This idea is summarised in a famous story that is referred to variously by Adi Shankaracharya and Gautama Buddha:
Once upon a time, an elephant was brought to a village where a group of six blind people lived with their caretaker, who could see. Having never heard of an elephant before, and curious to know it for themselves, they decided to go and touch the elephant so that they could know its form. Once they reached the place where the elephant was being shown to the villagers, the group of men went up to the elephant and started to touch different parts of it. The first person, who was touching the trunk of the elephant said, “it is similar to a snake, but a lot thicker.” The second, who was touching the leg said, “No, it is like a tree-trunk, but warmer and softer.” The third, who was touching an ear said, “You are both wrong, it is like a fan.” The fourth, who was touching the tail said, “It is not like any of these, it is like a rope.” The fifth, who was touching the elephant’s side said, “How can you be so ignorant? It is like a wall, but slightly rounded!”. The sixth, who was touching the tusk said angrily, “You are all fools, it is sharp, hard, and smooth, it is like a spear made of solid stone.” Finally, the seventh person, the caretaker, who could clearly see all the different points of view explained that they were all correct, bringing together all their experiences, thus diffusing their anger.
We often hold on tightly to our version of the truth, and this can cause tremendous interpersonal conflict. This conflict ranges from small spats with friends, family, and coworkers, all the way up to religious and political fanaticism and divisiveness. On an even more subtle level, we often consider ourselves to be right, and others to be wrong. We can notice this in your day to day lives when we think poorly of others’ decisions, actions, or beliefs, judging them poorly for acting in a way that is different to what you think you may have done in the same situation. Broadening our viewpoint to include more truth-values is a method to remain non-violent in thought and word, and helps to weaken the apparent boundary between “self” and “other.”
Finally, on a more subtle level, non-violence extends to thought and intention. For example, in order to reduce avidya, the Yogi must let go of the spirit of malice, ill-will, and hatred, since these thoughts produce tendencies in the mind which, over time, increase its tamasic potential.
Ahimsa is the first on the list of Yamas, and is the most important of all the Yamas and the Niyamas (the next limb). In the traditional commentaries, ahimsa is compared to the footprint of an elephant (no relation to the story above), which covers the footprints of all the other creatures. The goal of ahimsa is to strengthen the other Yamas, and the goal of the other Yamas is to strengthen ahimsa.
Practically speaking, this means that in the case of a conflict between the Yamas in your day to day life, non-violence always comes first.
Here is a story to illustrate the point:
Once upon a time, there was a Yogi who was known across the land for his strict observance of truthfulness (the second Yama, satya). Every day, he would wake up, take a bath in the river, and sit in meditation underneath a tree.
One day, as he had just sat down under the tree, he saw a frightened man run by with a bag in his hands, jingling with the sound of jewels and gold. The man was clearly scared of something, and ran into a nearby cave to hide, as though someone was pursuing him.
Sure enough, a few minutes later, a group of robbers arrived with their swords drawn, clearly in search of the man who had just gone by. Knowing that this Yogi would not lie, the robbers approached him and asked him if he had seen a man with a bundle, and if he knew where the man was hiding.
Immediately, the Yogi, true to his vow of truthfulness, pointed in the direction of the cave.
Seeing this, the robbers rushed into the cave, dragged out the scared man, slit his throat, and left with the bundle of jewels and gold.
The Yogi did not achieve freedom in that life, despite his austerities.
The Result
Each of the Yamas has a result that comes from when it is firmly established in the mind of the Yogi. For Ahimsa, the following Sutra describes the result:
अहिंसा प्रतिष्ठायां तत्सन्निधौ वैरत्यागः|Ahimsa pratishtthaayaam tadSannidhau tatVairaTyaagahWhen ahimsa (non-violence) is established [in the mind of the Yogi], hostility/violent tendencies are given up in their proximity.
- Yoga Sutras, 2.35
There are countless examples of this in the hagiographies of saints across the world. Rabi’a, the famous Moroccan Sufi saint was known to have lived on a hill surrounded by wild animals, who would not harm her. In the Christian tradition, Saint Francis was known to have tamed a ferocious wild wolf. There is even a story of Gautam Buddha and the wild, “un-tameable” elephant Nalaagiri who is said to have become quiet in his presence.
While this may sound well and good for characters that one may consider mythological at best, and fictional at worst, you can actually try this for yourself. The claim is that the more you are established - truly and deeply - in the principle of ahimsa, the more others will feel peaceful and calm in your presence, as though giving up feelings of hostility towards you and each other.
Among the Yamas, ahimsa always comes first. The underlying principle to remember is that the purpose of ahimsa is not moral, altruistic, or even for the attainment of heaven or good karma. It is a method to increase vivek and remove avidya by way of increasing sattva and reducing tamas. If your actions, words, or thoughts, are increasing the separation between “self” and “other”, they are violent, if this boundary is weakened, they are in line with ahimsa.
Next week, we will continue with the Yamas, moving onto the second on the list - Satya, or truthfulness. As always, in case of comments, questions, or even objections, don’t hesitate to reach out directly by replying to this email or leaving a comment down below.
Until next time:
Notice where you are building or strengthening the walls of avidya (“ignore-ance”) in your own life. These are the areas to focus your attention so as to weaken the apparent boundary between “self” and “other.” This will come in handy with the other Yamas as well.
Notice where there is opportunity to practice ahimsa in your day to day life. This may be in thought, word, or action. Make an effort to practice ahimsa, and notice how this affects your mind - do you feel calmer, happier, and more focused?
Take notes! Keep track of which days you were able to practice ahimsa more or less than other days, and how it affected your state of mind. If you have a regular meditation practice, notice correlations between your practice of ahimsa and the depth of your meditation. You can post your progress or any questions anonymously on r/EmptyYourCup.
Next time: The Five Yamas: Satya - Truthfulness
To be clear, it is not the only method. There are, broadly speaking, four methods to achieve the same goal (called the four Yogas), and several paths within each, but we are currently dealing with the method of Raja Yoga, in Patanjali’s system of Yoga, of which the eight-limbed practice is a core part of the methodology.
Vyasa is traditionally the most widely accepted commentator on Patanjali’s Yoga Sutras. It is highly uncommon for sub-commentators to agree on anything, but they all agree with Vyasa. It is commonly believed the Vyasa is Patanjali himself, writing under a pseudonym to further clarify his own, somewhat pithy writing.
This story also appears in various forms in Aesop’s fables, Persian folk-tales, and in a number of Russian novels.