Learn about the first limb of yoga, the yamas, which are like codes for personal conduct
I’ve written about the 8 limbs of yoga before, and in this next blog series, I’m going to do a deep dive into each of the limbs and explain how I think they can be applied to modern life.
The first limb of yoga is one that not many practitioners are familiar with: the yamas. The yamas function as a sort of moral code that governs our conduct towards ourselves and others. They’re the first limb because they set the foundation upon which the rest of practice is built. In a spiritual sense, if you have a strong asana practice but are violating the yamas, you’re not truly doing yoga!
There are 5 yamas: ahimsa (non-violence), asteya (non-stealing), satya (truthfulness), aparigraha (non-possession), and brahmacharya (right use of energy, or, historically, celibacy).
Some of these might seem pretty obvious on the surface, but their intention goes a bit deeper than you may initially think. Let’s take a look at each one
The very first yama is something we all probably learned in kindergarten: don’t hit people! And, obviously, don’t take violent actions that go beyond that, too. It’s a pretty obvious rule and the foundation for a healthy, functional society, but the deeper intention of ahimsa is that it also means non-violence mentally and spiritually as well as physically.
For example, those nasty, negative thoughts you have about yourself sometimes? Those violate ahimsa—they’re also violent, just not in a way that seems obvious. Trying to jam yourself into an advanced asana your body isn’t ready for? Also breaks ahimsa. Saying mean things about others and judging them? You guessed it: also an ahimsa violation.
This yama asks us to look at the full and total scope of violence we bring to ourselves and others and to abstain from it as much as possible. As with all the yamas, this isn;t about being perfect and never taking a violent action ever. But it is about holding ourselves accountable when we do fall into violent patterns and consciously deciding to follow the yama next time.
Again, I hope I don’t have to tell you why not stealing things from people is fairly obvious. This is another thing that stands out as a pretty solid DUH when it’s taken at a surface level. But it deepens quite a bit when you consider all of the possible things you can ‘steal’ from in modern society.
A slightly less obvious example of this is plagiarism: don’t steal the abstract, creative, or theoretical ideas your friends or colleagues have. An even more obscure example of this is cultural appropriation. Taking cultural symbols that don’t ‘belong’ to you and perverting them into something they’re not is also a form of stealing, right? And finally, we’re all guilty of stealing from Mother Earth here and there and not giving anything back in return. When we take from the Earth and litter or don’t recycle, one might view that as a kind of resource stealing.
Again, I think we can agree that in most cases, lying is bad. But as you may have guessed right now, this one has some mind-trippy depths to it as well.
For example, many of us are very good about lying to ourselves. We lie about our performance, our needs, our authentic desires, our perspectives, and our own happiness. It’s all too easy to quash down those whispers of our soul that tell us that something in our life needs to change or isn’t right, or to choose what’s most convenient instead of what the situation at hand actually needs. All of these are violations of satya.
A major part of this yama is also truthfulness about the nature of reality. We tend to think that we are impartial observers and participants of absolute reality, but we spend quite a bit of time using the judgments our mind generates to not see reality as what it is, but as we are. An example of this is taking a stroll in a park while in a bad mood and seeing everything around you as dreary, annoying, or colorless. Of course reality isn’t actually these things, but your negative perspective makes you see it in a way that’s slanted—or, untruthful.
That doesn’t mean we have to constantly question every perspective we have, but it does mean that when we find ourselves in extremely negative polarities, we might want to ask ourselves if we’re being entirely truthful about what’s really in front of us.
The yogis of ancient times made a conscious effort to own very little, and there’s certainly still an element of non-materialism behind aparigraha. But you don’t have to sell your house or your favorite care in order to fully practice this yama. Spiritually, it’s much more interested in our attachments and expectations rather than our literal possessions.
For example, you can own a house and be “non-attached” to it. This would look like being very grateful for your home, but not making it a core need or part of your identity. If in some awful tragedy, the bank repossess your house, you’d obviously feel pretty shitty, but the non-attached person would eventually be able to say “oh well, I guess life goes on” whereas someone who is deeply attached might feel as if a core piece of their identity or soul were ripped away. Aparigraha teaches us that our attachments are like gilded prisons. They seem like beautiful things we need, but functionally, they actually just keep us constrained and trapped.
Aparigraha also applies to the expectations we place on ourselves and others. In many ways, “expectation” is essentially a synonym for “attachment.” If I strongly expect I’m going to get a great performance review and act like this is true, maybe talking about it to my partner or boasting to colleagues, one could say that I’m ‘attached’ to that future outcome. If It doesn’t actually come to pass and I get an average review, I won’t just feel upset—I’ll be devastated because my attachment was just violently ripped away from me!
It’s true that the ancient interpretation of this yama was celibacy. The yogis of the beforetimes saw sex as something that hindered and obscured their spiritual progress, not as something that has enhanced it.
While celibacy might be a powerful and very spiritual path for some of us, for those of us who don’t choose to practice it (myself included), there is another interpretation of this yama that is more like “right use of energy.” Frankly, if there’s a yama I’m personally prone to violating, it’s this one!
Bramacharaya asks us to rest if we feel tired, to go the extra mile when we feel up to it, and to make our asana practice balanced to our current skill set and desired effort. It’s about not pushing ourselves into the burnout zone, taking breaks, and not striving beyond what we can realistically do right here and now. In many ways, brahmacharya is the antithesis to the workaholic, always-be-grinding culture that many of us were raised in, which is why it’s so hard for many of us to practice.
Which of the yamas do you find the hardest to maintain? Which is the easiest? Let me know in the comments!
Photo by Jared Rice for Unsplash.com