Yesterday, a yogi friend sent me a post that asked:
Which of the eight limbs of yoga are you practicing?
It led to a lovely conversation. In the comments, someone had written: Ahimsa.
It stayed with me, because Ahimsa is such a simple word, but not always a simple teaching to understand or embody.
There can also be some confusion around the word Ashtanga. Many people know Ashtanga as a strong vinyasa-style yoga practice, but the word itself means eight limbs. In the classical yoga tradition, Ashtanga refers to the eight-limbed path described in the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali.
These eight limbs are:
Yama – ethical restraints
Niyama – personal observances
Asana – posture
Pranayama – breath regulation
Pratyahara – withdrawal of the senses
Dharana – concentration
Dhyana – meditation
Samadhi – absorption
Ahiṃsā is the first of the Yamas, the ethical foundations of yoga. Together with the Niyamas, these teachings offer a way of living, a set of values by which a yogi conducts his or her life both on and off the mat.
Simply translated, the five Yamas are:
Ahimsa – non-harming
Satya – truthfulness
Asteya – non-stealing
Brahmacharya – wise use of energy
Aparigraha – non-grasping
Ahimsa is often translated as non-violence, but I don’t think that translation is enough.
When we hear “non-violence,” we may immediately think of obvious acts of harm: physical violence, killing animals, squashing a bug, speaking harshly, criticising someone, gossiping, or contributing to harm in the world.
Yes, all of this matters.
But Ahimsa is much closer, much more subtle, and much more intimate than that.
A better way to understand it might be:
First, do no harm.
And this begins with you.
Ahimsa begins in the way we relate to ourselves. It is practiced through thought, word, and deed. It is in the way we speak to ourselves, the way we think about ourselves, the way we treat the body, and the way we move through practice.
In yoga asana, Ahimsa becomes very practical.
It asks us to listen. To tune into the wisdom of the body. To honour our limitations. To know when effort is appropriate, and when we are forcing. To notice the difference between steady discipline and pushing through.
To respect the body, rather than conquer it.
This is often where I begin when I teach Ahimsa. Not as an abstract moral idea, but as something we can experience directly in practice.
Can I meet myself honestly today?
Can I practice without aggression?
Can I place my effort in the right way?
Can I honour where I am, without collapsing and without forcing?
To me, this is where yoga begins.
And in many ways, one who truly understands this first Yama has already touched the heart of the whole path. Because if we are really practicing Ahimsa, we are also practicing awareness, restraint, humility, compassion, truthfulness, and self-knowledge.
This is the kind of yoga I am most interested in sharing. Not just the physical practice, but the way yoga becomes a path of living, relating, reflecting and remembering who we are.
As it is often said, yoga is the journey of the self, through the self, to the Self.