Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thy Self.
JESUS THE CHRIST
Ahimsa is the highest precept of Yoga Science. It is the first of the yamas and niyamas—constructive observances and disciplines codified in Patanjali’s Yoga Sutras. Ahimsa means non-violence, non-injuring or non-harming, and it is the guiding yogic principle underlying every successful relationship—within and without, subtle and gross, with others and with yourself.
In practical terms, ahimsa is the same wisdom as the Golden Rule that instructs human beings to “Do unto others as you wish to have done unto you,” or as Jesus the Christ teaches: “Love thy neighbor as thy self.” Mahatma Gandhi always insisted that, “Ahimsa is an attribute of the soul—to be practiced by everybody in all affairs of life. If it cannot be practiced in all circumstances, it has no practical value.” The logic behind all these instructions is one and the same: on the highest level of consciousness, thy neighbor is thy Self.
The sages of Yoga Science teach that every thought, word and action must be in harmony with ahimsa. If you serve ahimsa in mind, action and speech, you automatically will be in harmony with the universal law of dharma—that which maintains individual and social order by guiding humanity toward its highest destiny. If you practice ahimsa, you will experience a loving, healthy, creative and productive life. If you do not practice ahimsa, the consequence will be some form of physical, mental, emotional or spiritual dis-ease or pain.
Although Yoga Science acknowledges the multiplicity of changing names and forms, it recognizes only One Absolute Reality. Therefore, if you think, speak or act in a harmful or injurious manner, that injury will ultimately come back upon you. The Bible teaches that, “As you sow, so shall you reap,” or, in modern parlance, “What goes around, comes around.”
Your senses, ego and unconscious mind took control of the city of life many years ago. Yoga Science helps you rectify that situation by placing them in service to a non-local intelligence greater than the mind and a truth that never changes. Even in the midst of a sea of change and turbulence, the wisdom of the eternal soul serves as a beacon leading you toward your highest and greatest good.
Our present world view has been formed by a culture that does not wholeheartedly embrace this philosophy, so it may take a little effort before you’re able to practice ahimsa in every thought, word and deed. Because of the power of habit, you will need to exhibit a great deal of patience and kindness toward yourself. In fact, the successful practice of ahimsa always includes yourself. Charity must begin at home; it must include every relationship that involves you.
“Oh, no,” you say, “if I indulge myself, others might think I’m selfish and that’s not good.” Well, Yoga Science explains that there’s nothing wrong with being selfish—if the real Self being served is the Lord of Life. If you disregard the Divine wisdom of buddhi and you’re not kind to yourSelf in mind, action and speech, you cannot truly benefit others—because there is no “other.” When you serve the buddhi and make the effort to be gentle and kind to yourSelf, everything and everyone benefits—including you. Even the most simple and inwardly loving actions you take toward yourSelf (including your thoughts) have effects more far-reaching than you can imagine. When you drop a stone into a pond, the ripples stretch to the farthest edges.
Ten boys eagerly embarked on their first unsupervised overnight campout. As they crossed a wide and unexpectedly flooded stream, the ten were separated by the swift current. Upon reaching the opposite shore, the boys reassembled and one camper counted the others to make sure that all ten had made it across safely. Methodically pointing his finger to each boy, he began counting aloud. “One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine.” To his horror, he was able to count only nine campers.
In panic, each camper then took his turn in counting the others, but each could count only nine. Alas, someone was missing. As they wept for their drowned friend, a stranger passing along the same trail inquired as to the cause of their trouble. Upon hearing that one of the ten campers had drowned, the stranger arranged all the boys in a straight line—shoulder to shoulder—and began to count aloud. “One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten!” The stranger explained that the boys had erred in their count because each camper had failed to count himself as the tenth man. In fact, all the campers were—and always had been—present and accounted for.
It is essential that you always count yourself as an integral part of every circumstance. Remember this as you practice ahimsa. If, when trying to please others, you injure yourself, that act of “kindness” is to be forsaken. You are always the tenth man.
A wandering sadhu (holy man) entered a remote village in ancient India and found the streets strangely deserted. As he stood bewildered in the market place, a few villagers peeked out from shuttered windows, then hurried toward him asking for his help. They told him the story of their once happy community that had lost its joy when a huge and aggressive cobra made its den in their midst. The poisonous snake (naga) had attacked several people. Now all the children had to stay indoors for their safety and farmers feared to go into their fields.
“Please help us,” they begged. The sadhu thought for a moment about what he could do, then answered, “Yes. I can help.”
He went straight to the cobra’s den and called until the powerful snake emerged. Then he spoke very sternly: “Now see here, Naga, it seems you have forgotten the first principle of Yoga: ahimsa. This biting must stop! It’s not kind.” The sadhu proceeded to give the cobra a convincing lecture on the importance of ahimsa.
The snake saw the error of his ways and sincerely vowed to become gentle. Upon hearing this, the sadhu returned to the marketplace and confidently announced the cobra’s reformation. Everyone cheered and thanked him, and he continued on his way.
Several months later, the holy man’s travels brought him again to that same village. To his surprise, he found the cobra—now extremely thin and weak—lying in the middle of the road, badly wounded, bloody and barely alive.
“What has happened to you?” the sadhu asked with great concern. “I did as you told me,” the snake gasped. “But the boys, knowing they had nothing to fear, threw stones at me and beat me with sticks. I remembered to practice ahimsa and did not harm them. Now, see what has become of me because of your advice.”
As the sadhu began to attend compassionately to the cobra’s wounds he quietly explained, “I told you not to bite, but I never told you not to hiss!”
Practicing ahimsa never makes you a doormat for someone else’s insensitivity. In fact, you must apply ahimsa to yourself first before it can become an effective force in relationships with “others.” By respecting yourself and others, you learn to reach deep into your inner creative resources to fashion the skillful response that is appropriate to the circumstance.
As children, Jenness and I often watched Ed Sullivan’s “Toast of the Town” television show on Sunday nights. Among the performers we saw over the years, one old-time vaudevillian’s act always held our attention, and we’ve thought about it often in relation to Yoga Science.
This performer had a rather simple act. Before him stood three long banquet tables. Secured to the tables were upright wooden dowels, each measuring about three feet in height. The performer proceeded to balance a spinning dinner plate atop one of the dowels on the table and kept it balanced by twirling the dowel. Then he balanced a second and a third plate. By the time he started to balance the fourth one, he had to run back to the first and re-twirl the dowel. And then he’d run to balance the fourth plate and a fifth plate and a sixth plate—until there were twenty or so! By the end of the act, to keep all his plates in the air simultaneously, he was dashing back and forth like a madman. Needless to say, it was a riveting sight.
That vaudevillian was a great teacher—a true guru. His act has taught us a lot about our own habits. When we were twenty, we said to ourselves, “We can do that,” and we balanced a few plates in the air. When we were thirty, we said to ourselves, “We can do that, too,” and up went a few more. When we were forty, “We can do that.” When we were fifty, “We can do that.”
But as we entered middle age, we began to realize that a lot of our time was being spent just rushing to keep all those plates in the air. We had taken on so many obligations, it sometimes felt as though we were enslaved to tiring and stressful expectations, disappointments and hassles. We had become so busy keeping all our plates in the air that we hardly had time or energy for nurturing ourselves and our loved ones.
To help us end our bondage, Yoga Science poses this question: “Who is it who is choosing to balance all these plates?” In other words, “Who am I?” That is always the key! “Who am I, who has all these plates in the air? Who am I, who desires to have these plates in the air? Am I practicing ahimsa by keeping so many plates in the air?” Remember, each and every thought is merely a suggestion of what to give your attention to; it is not an imperial command. You can always have control over your actions.
Swami Rama of the Himalayas always marveled at the intelligence of his Western students, but he also recognized our lack of patience. He likened our condition to that of a first-time gardener. The novice tills and fertilizes the soil, carefully plants the seeds, covers them gently, waters them, says a prayer and retires for the night. Waking the next morning filled with exuberance, he races to the garden to survey his new crop, only to be emotionally devastated because nothing has sprouted. Concerned that the seeds might have been defective or eaten by some pest, the gardener digs up the seeds, trying to discover the problem. Of course nothing is really wrong with the seeds. The problem is a lack of patience and understanding of the process. Anything worthwhile takes love and self-discipline.
Remember: be kind to yourself; put some conscious effort into learning to love yourself. Be patient, and try not to take on too much too soon. Throughout your entire sadhana, start with what’s easy and the choice will be exactly right for you. In order to be the right choice, it must be easy. If you wanted to become a body builder, you wouldn’t rush into the gym and, with no prior experience, begin to bench-press two hundred pounds. You’d start by lifting just the bar with no additional weight. Then, you’d gradually add five pounds, then ten pounds, then twenty—until you reached your ultimate goal.
Ahimsa must begin with you, and in order to apply the precept of ahimsa to every thought, word and action, you must exhibit patience and love. In the words of William Shakespeare, “How poor are they that have not patience! What wound did ever heal but by degree?”
Give your sadhana a little time, but continue to test, experiment, evaluate and trust the teaching. Slowly, slowly, you will begin to recognize that there is a perfectly compassionate and benevolent wisdom beyond the mind—always eager to lead you for your highest and greatest good.
Early in the 1920s, when Mahatma Gandhi was working to promote civil rights in South Africa, he was traveling on a train. He was a highly educated young attorney, well-dressed and seated in first-class accommodations. As he sat on the train, a British conductor approached him and announced that because of his dark skin he would have to move to the rear coach. Gandhi insisted that he had appropriate first-class passage, displayed his ticket and refused to submit to the racist indignity. Despite his protestations, however, young Gandhi was summarily thrown off the train.
That night in a cold, dark, abandoned railroad station, Gandhi was battered by a relentless storm of rage. He endured wave after wave of fury as he strode up and down the platform, fuming. Mighty, righteous anger roared in his awareness throughout the night, raising the level of his fury to volcanic proportions.
Gandhi could have reacted in a destructive manner. He could have chosen to serve the preya. He could have picked up a club or found a gun. He could have injured or even killed someone. Instead, recalling the truth of Yoga Science, Gandhi had a profound realization that night. Anger is power! He suddenly recognized the tremendous power that existed in the anger of the Indian people—enough power, if it were focused, to cast off the shackles of the world’s greatest military force. In one great flash of insight, Gandhi knew that his vision for Indian independence could be realized by transforming huge reserves of mental energy through the disciplined practice of ahimsa.
The speed at which our culture is operating makes moment-by-moment decisions extremely challenging. Rushed judgments are generally based on our reactionary habits of fear, anger and self-willed desire, rather than a conscious evaluation of alternatives and consequences.
Yoga Science, however, encourages us to consider possible choices that we otherwise might overlook. The prevailing tide of our culture suggests that to be happy or successful we should be driving at one hundred miles per hour in the passing lane of life. But Yoga Science teaches us that true happiness can be found by driving comfortably in the far right-hand lane at a slower and safer rate of speed. Each of us can do it, of course, if we are aware that we have a choice, and if we can rely on the wisdom of our discriminatory faculty rather than the suggestions of others. Certainly, there are circumstances that occasionally require us to drive in the fast lane, but we don’t have to make it a dangerous habit. The decision is ours, and must be made consciously moment by moment.
Learning to train the senses is an important step in attaining real freedom and happiness. In Yoga Science, this form of discipline is known as pratyahara.
Like school children, our senses are without the capacity to discriminate. Anyone who has ever worked in a business environment knows that if all the employees were seventh graders, running a successful operation would be impossible. And yet that’s very much the situation we find ourselves in when the untrained senses reign. “Let’s look at something pleasurable,” sight clamors. “Let’s smell something pleasant,” the nose butts in. “Let’s hear something delightful,” the ears insist. “Let’s taste something delicious,” the mouth suggests. “Let’s touch something lovely,” the hands propose. Very little of lasting value and no real fulfillment results from satisfying this crew’s constant demands. For instance, you may love chocolate ice cream, but if you followed the taste buds’ suggestion and ate only chocolate ice cream at every meal, you’d quickly grow quite sick of it and your health would suffer.
Based on our personal experience, we can assure you that the life of a Yoga scientist is never dull or drab. Remember that we’re not asked to give up sense pleasures, only our attachment to them. This life is to be enjoyed. However, to fully appreciate the world without regrets, you must establish balance—choosing your actions with mindful attention and discrimination.
Putting the welfare of others first (Karma Yoga) is a practical application of ahimsa. The sages tell us that only One reality exists—consciousness itself: Sat-Chit-Ananda (eternal existence, consciousness/wisdom and bliss). Yes, countless names and forms do exist. Duality exists, but only relatively. Absolute Reality is One.
Yoga Science helps us to annihilate the perceived separation between “me” and any “other” by teaching us how to focus our attention on the One Absolute Reality—in all creatures, objects and situations. In many Asian cultures, people traditionally greet one another with their palms together in the prayer gesture and with a slight bow. In India, the spoken greeting is Namaste: “I pray to the Divinity in you.” You and I are One.
Yes, each of us has a different name, form and capabilities, but the Absolute Reality (Sat-Chit-Ananda) is the very same within each of us. So, to offer the fruit of your action to an “other” means that somewhere in space and time, something will be added to you. To hold on to the fruit of one’s action—to be attached to the result of the action in a self-willed and judgmental manner—means that somewhere in space and time something will be detracted from you. Each of us reaps the fruits of his or her actions according to the universal law of karma, “As you sow, so shall you reap.”
Do you remember when your mother or father warned you against associating with certain acquaintances? “Don’t hang around with those kids,” they warned. “They’re not a good influence.” The sages give the same loving parental advice: the company you keep is stronger than your will. It’s a version of the law of physics that states a liquid assumes the shape of the container in which it is held.
On the subtle level, if you keep company with thoughts that your discriminative faculty recognizes as preya, this association gradually influences you to pay increasing attention to such thoughts. The more attention you give these subtle objects, the more likely you are to take actions based on the influence of preya, and the more you diminish your will power. Remember, all power flows from the subtle to the gross.
Children, as we know, are sometimes inclined to go against the advice of their parents. In childhood, a certain amount of experimentation is necessary. Sometimes a child may have to touch a stove to find out if the burners are hot, but as an adult you do not have to touch every burner on every stove. In determining what company to keep in our lives and in our minds, the mature human being utilizes the buddhi’s capacity to discriminate rather than personal experience alone. With practice, the Yoga scientist becomes increasingly decisive and fearless.
Ancient scriptures, as well as the writings and biographies of the great mystics of all traditions, also become positive companions in our lives. A suggested reading list can be found in the Resources section at the end of this book. This company is a great support and inspiration because these human beings have already dealt with the very same issues you are facing today. At the turn of the twenty-first century, our culture would have us believe that our modernity makes us different from our predecessors. After all, we’ve taken trips to the moon and have computers, cell phones, television, fancy automobiles and air conditioners. On a very basic level, however, no difference exists between us and the cave dwellers who lived twenty thousand years ago. When the caveman was sharpening his one-and-only stone knife and the point broke, the anger and fear he had to deal with were no different from the anger and fear you feel today. Names and forms have changed, but when your computer software program crashes, you face the same emotions as the caveman.
Throughout history, the highest goal of life for humankind has remained the same: in the face of fear, anger and selfish desire, to remember the wisdom of the Divinity within; to recognize that a choice exists; to learn to discriminate between the preya and the shreya; and to align each thought, word and action with the buddhi.
This scientific process can transform the consequences of powerful emotions and desires and empower you to live each moment in harmony with the first precept of Yoga: ahimsa. For this reason, the practice of satsang—enjoying frequent contact with like-minded spiritual seekers and teachers—will strengthen your will power and enhance every aspect of your sadhana.