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Part 1: The Profound Foundation of Ahiṃsā Good evening, everyone. Let us be silent for a moment. Welcome. The situation leading to this seminar was a bit unusual. Just a week ago, it was said there would be no seminar. Then a few registrations came in, and now I hear it is even being webcast today. It is a good situation for the ego, the Ahaṃkāra, to go from zero to a hundred. However, I am actually happy it is on the webcast because I believe this is a truly fundamental topic in yoga. I became somewhat specialized in this topic some years ago in Vancouver. I received an invitation for a radio interview. There is a weekly one-hour yoga talk show, and the host, Sarita, invited me not for a general interview about the yamas and niyamas, but for ten sessions—each at least half an hour—dedicated to a single yama. This was a challenge, but I accepted. While preparing and delving deeper, I realized how profound this topic is; it is not superficial at all. As I studied, I understood it is not just beginner's yoga. Everyone knows about the yamas and niyamas as the first two steps or parts of Aṣṭāṅga Yoga or Rāja Yoga. No one likes to be a beginner, so the result is that hardly anyone ever examines them seriously. People think, "It's just for beginners, let me start with the āsanas," often misunderstanding āsana. In the context of the Yoga Sūtras, āsana actually means the seated posture for meditation, not physical exercises. When I went deeper into the yamas and niyamas, I found they provide comprehensive guidance for the entire spiritual path. If one practices them very seriously, they could even be a shortcut. Initially, they are merely enumerated without explanation, but later, a very helpful—and sometimes confusing—sūtra explains the result of practicing them perfectly. The yamas are like level one of Rāja Yoga, and the niyamas are level two. However, we must clarify one point regarding the numbering: Yama 1, Niyama 2, then Āsana, Prāṇāyāma, Pratyāhāra, Dhāraṇā, Dhyāna, and Samādhi. This sounds like a sequence: first master step one, then move to step two, and so on. But this is a wrong notion. It is called Aṣṭāṅga: aṣṭ means eight, and aṅga means limb. For example, our body has four limbs: two arms and two legs. Which is number one and which is number two? We need them all together at every moment. Similarly, these eight aṅgas of yoga must be practiced together. When we properly understand the first two aṅgas—the yamas and niyamas—we see they guide us through the entire yoga path. As an introduction, let us have a short overview of the yamas and niyamas. Yama consists of five principles: 1. Ahiṃsā – non-violence. 2. Satya – truthfulness. 3. Asteya – non-stealing. 4. Brahmacarya – the chaste and pure way of life. 5. Aparigraha – non-possessiveness. The niyamas also have five principles: 1. Śauca – purity. 2. Santoṣa – contentment. 3. Tapas (or Tapasyā) – self-discipline. 4. Svādhyāya – self-study. 5. Īśvara Praṇidhāna – devotion to God. Looking at these two groups, what is the difference? For example, Ahiṃsā, Asteya, Aparigraha begin with "a," meaning "not." These are moral, ethical rules telling us what we should not do: we should not hurt or kill, we should not steal, and so on. They provide guidelines for our behavior in society and protect us from creating bad karma. There is a parallel here with other spiritual paths or religions. For instance, the Bible's Ten Commandments state: you shall not kill, you shall not steal, you shall not commit adultery, you shall not covet your neighbor's house. Essentially, every spiritual path tries to protect us from the greatest negative karmas, or sins. The niyamas go a step further. They tell us what we should do, providing guidelines for our daily sādhanā. We could say they indicate which qualities should slowly awaken within us on the yoga path. For example, someone living completely remote from society in a Himalayan cave and practicing yoga would find the yamas less immediately relevant, as there is little interaction. Whom would they hurt or steal from? But even such a person must practice the niyamas daily. Thus, the niyamas offer spiritual guidance on the direction we should take. There is a certain coherence and logic within these ten principles. For instance, it is surely no coincidence that Ahiṃsā and Satya are right at the beginning; they are basic principles of the spiritual path. Let us now come to Ahiṃsā. As said, "a" means "not," and hiṃsā means something like cruelty, a very rude form of selfish ego that does not respect the interests of others. Ahiṃsā says: do not do that. It means do not kill, do not hurt. There is a word, "harmless," which is sometimes used dismissively, as in "just a harmless child." But there is something great in it: a being that does no harm to anyone. So, Ahiṃsā means first of all to tolerate every being. Since Ahiṃsā is stated negatively, we must try to understand its positive meaning—what we should do. If there is someone you do not like, at least you should tolerate them. The next step is to recognize some value in that being and say, "I respect this person." In the end, when you go further and realize how deeply God's creation resides in everyone, love emerges. To translate Ahiṃsā into a positive word, I would simply say love. Ahiṃsā is given a very high status. It is said, "Ahiṃsā paramo dharma." Ahiṃsā is the highest dharma. This is the essence of the whole spirituality. If we translate it merely as non-violence, it does not make much sense as to why it is such a high principle. But when we understand it as love, it makes perfect sense. So, the first step on the yoga path is to open the heart: to tolerate, to respect, to love each and every living being. Why is this so important? We should never forget that the Yoga Sūtras aim straight for Samādhi, for God-realization. Our yoga path leads to Samādhi, which means oneness. Swāmījī always puts it in simple formulas. What does he say about love? Love unites, and hate divides. If we want to move forward in the direction of oneness, we have to start right here. Ahiṃsā instructs us to open our heart and try to be in harmony with every living being. It is not just a certain attitude or behavior in specific situations, but a whole attitude of life. We must understand what it means practically. We must act in a way that we do not hurt someone through physical acts. But what happens very quickly through a word? Or through a thought? For example, you control yourself from acting, but the harmful thought is already there. You can even hurt someone by using your position in a company or your money in a way that causes trouble for others. It is not just the action. Often, Ahiṃsā has been understood simply as, "Whoever doesn't kill anyone is a good yogī." Then we would have many good yogīs. But unfortunately, it is not that cheap; we cannot attain it so easily. It is truly an inner attitude we must cultivate every moment. When we achieve this inner attitude of loving and respecting everyone, it will come quite naturally. Before going deeper, I would like us to sing a bhajan, as we have a beautiful one from Swāmījī Mahāprabhujī, Gurujī, on this very point. It says essentially the same as "Ahiṃsā paramo dharma"—that there is no higher dharma than Ahiṃsā. The merciful Mahāprabhujī is the one who explained this to us, but not only he; all religions, all holy scriptures, and all saints explain that this is the essence of the holy teaching. It is a rule that is beginningless and can be found in every spiritual path. I will not give a full translation now. Let us sing the bhajan. Siddhipā dayālu patāyā, ahiṁsā dharm se koī unsā dharm? Siddhipā dayālu patāyā. Śāpa hī dharm grantha santoṅne, śāpa hī dharm grantha santoṅne. Vedānta sāra samajhāyā, ahiṁsā dharm se koī unsā dharm nahīṁ. Siddhipā dayālo batāyā, ahiṁsā dharm he ādi anādi. Śāpa dharmo meṁ pāyā. Hiṁsā-dharme ādi-anādi Sāpa-dharme payā Insā-unsā koī jñāna-dhyāna hī Insā-unsā koī jñāna-dhyāna hī Bhakti-yajña hī payā Ahiṁsā-dharme koī unsā-dharme Siddhipā dayālopattayā Ahiṁsā dharmase koī unsā dhāraṇahī Siddhipā dayālopattayā Sāpa hī dharam granta santoṅgne Ahimsa dharam se koi uncha dharam nahi, Siddhipa dayalu bataya. Sapsi Unchi Karunayah Ahimsa Dharma Pannayah. Ahimsa palasi deva kehya, Ahimsa palasi deva kehya. Himsak rakshas kehalaya. Ahimsa dharamsi koi unsa dharanai. Siddhipā dayālu baddhaya, Ahiṁsā dharamasī koī unsā dharanaī. Siddhi Pādayālo Bhadaya Sapa hī dharma granthi santonī, Sapa hī dharma granthi santonī Vedāntasāra samajayā. Ahiṁsā dharama se koī unsā dharama nahīṁ. Siddhi Pādayālo Bhadaya, Ahiṁsā dharamase koī unsā dharanye. Siddhipā dayālo bhaṭṭaya. Ahimsa śiṣukh mili saplakamme Mahāpunyaka māyā. Ahimsa śiṣukh mili saplakamme Mahāpunyaka māyā. Hiṁsak prāṇito nāruka me jābe, hiṁsak prāṇito nāruka me jābe, janam janam dukkha pāyā. Ahimsa dhāranse koi unca dhāranai, siddhip dayālo bhattaya. Ahimsa dharamse kai unsa dharam nahi. Siddhī dayālo bhattāyā, āpne saṁsāra kī ātmā jāne, sāp me prabhu samāyā, āpne saṁsāra kī ātmā jāne, sāp me prabhu samāyā. Śrī Dīpa Dayāla Ahimsā Kepāla, Śrī Dīpa Dayāla Ahimsā Kepāla, Śrī Madhavānanda Sattagāyā. Ahimsā dharama se koī unsā dharama nahī, Śrī Dīpa Dayāla Patāyā. Ahiṃsā dharma, ahiṃsā dharma se koī unsā dharana hī siddhipa dayālu baddhaya. Sapa hī dharma grantha santoṅgne, sapa hī dharma grantha santoṅgne. Vedānta sāra samajāya. Ahiṃsā dharma se koī unsā dharana hī siddhipa dayālu baddhaya. In the bhajan, there is one interesting line at the end. Gurujī says, "Āpane saṁsāra kī ātmā jāne, sāp me prabhu samāyā." "Jāne" means you should understand that there is an ātmā, the light of God, in every living being, exactly as there is an ātmā in yourself. Sabāme Prabhusamaya: God is in everyone. This is a completely different understanding than many people have of Ahiṃsā. For many yoga practitioners, Ahiṃsā is reduced to one simple principle: be vegetarian. So now we would not say, "Whoever doesn't murder someone is a good yogī," but rather, "Who is vegetarian? Okay, that's good." It is definitely good, but it is still a very limited understanding. Let us consider the point of vegetarianism for a moment. Here we are on very clear ground: you should not kill. Do not harm, do not hurt, do not kill any living being. There are many good reasons to be vegetarian. One is, of course, health. Studies repeatedly confirm that many diseases can be avoided by stopping the consumption of meat and fish. Another very serious point is karma. There is karma we can undo quite easily, but other karma is heavy and serious. If you steal money, you can return it and apologize, and most likely be forgiven. Such rules are found everywhere, including the Ten Commandments. Furthermore, it goes against our human feelings. When we love someone, how can we hurt or kill them? Often, parents are unaware of how confusing their education is to children. For example, parents give a child a pet, like a bird in a cage. The child loves it, feeds it, and cares for it. Then, at lunch, chicken is served on the table. The child thinks, "But that's also a bird." Should I love, or should I eat? We are often unaware of the contradictions in our daily life. I am not saying this to judge anyone, as for many years I was a meat-eater myself, and I cannot bring back to life any of the animals killed for me. Swāmījī gives a very simple rule: whoever cannot bring back to life has no right to take life. There are many more reasons, but as this is a side aspect, I will not go too deep. However, it is very clearly included in the Ahiṃsā rule, which is the first yoga rule. If you want to start yoga seriously, please, first of all, become a vegetarian. For example, Swāmījī makes it a condition for receiving a mantra. Why? Is he concerned about his disciples' health? No. I think it is because if we cannot even take this small step to feel the suffering of another being killed just for our enjoyment of taste, then we are somehow not ready for the spiritual path. If we are insensitive to the suffering of an animal killed only for our consumption, such a person is not prepared. Ahiṃsā gives us a clear position on how to live our spiritual life. Part 2: The Supreme Duty of Ahiṃsā: Love in Thought and Action For example, if you love someone, how can you steal from that person? Naturally, some of the other yamas and niyamas are already an outcome of ahiṃsā. It is truly the root. Regarding the deeper motivations for being a vegetarian, Swāmījī wrote something. I am quoting from Swāmījī directly: Why are yogīs vegetarians? The main reason is that all living beings, including animals, are just children of God. Animals feel fear and pain exactly like we do. They long for happiness and are afraid to die, exactly like we are. Whoever contemplates this will be able to open his heart. He will understand the feelings of other living beings. The highest law for humanity can be summed up in just one sentence: Ahiṃsā paramodharma. That means ahiṃsā is the supreme duty. There is no greater sin than killing. If we are not able to feel the pain of an animal which is slaughtered, then no wonder that there are wars, that the earth is being destroyed, and that we have to suffer from so many diseases. You see how this connects with what Holy Gurujī said in the bhajan: the divine is living in every soul. There are two steps on the path to self-realization. The first is to realize the divine in every living being—that we are all one. The second is then to realize the divine in our self, which is self-realization. Now you can understand our hymns are aimed directly at this first step. If we open our heart, then in the end we can truly realize the oneness with all living beings. Now, let us look at the sūtra which describes the outcome when this yama is truly practiced. When someone becomes steadfast in ahiṃsā, then no living creature will feel hostility in his presence. This means we are not speaking about a certain behavior in a certain situation, but about something very general in our life: a certain attitude, a certain lifestyle, which actually builds our personality. This personality, through the fine bodies, radiates to others. On the subtle level, we are actually communicating with each other all the time, and this is more spontaneous, not so intellectual. You sometimes stand in a shop in a queue, waiting your turn. Someone comes quite close to you from one side, and you don’t mind. Someone else comes close from the other side, and you take a step back. That’s a spontaneous reaction; you don’t consciously know something. We naturally react to the radiance of persons, and with some we keep a certain safety distance. Animals do the same towards us; they also keep their safety distance, and they have good reason for that. The sūtra says that when you truly realize ahiṃsā, others feel attracted rather than needing a safety distance from you. This can be like a magnet. What attracts us to the Guru? It is this love, this wisdom, this personality, which we feel gives us something when we are close. We know historical examples where even animals felt attracted. Even animals who are naturally enemies hunting each other become peaceful and friendly in the presence of certain saints. Where do we have such an example? Yes, Śrī Devapurījī—we know it from Līlā Amṛt. Another very famous example is Francis of Assisi. We have a very beautiful story about this in our Līlā Amṛt, titled "The Devotion of a Tiger." For me, it is one of the most touching. A short summary: Mahāprabhujī was with a group of disciples in the area of Mount Abu, walking in the jungle. After some time, Mahāprabhujī said, "Let us sit down here and rest. I will rest under this tree, and you sit there and relax. Should some wild animal come, remain totally calm and don’t be afraid." The disciples heard it, but it was not easy to put into practice. Shortly after, a tiger came. Of course, all the disciples ran away and climbed trees. Only Mahāprabhujī remained calm, meditating and looking at the tiger. The tiger came closer and closer, then bowed its head before him and disappeared into the jungle. The disciples were amazed and only later dared to come close again. Mahāprabhujī explained the point: "I wanted to show you the inadequacy and weakness of fear, as opposed to the power of love." Ahiṃsā is love. That is exactly the point. When this radiance comes, let love and positive feelings flow freely in you, and fear and negative thoughts will disappear. Even wild animals will not harm you when they sense your love. This is a demonstration of the Ahiṃsā principle and how it radiates. There is a small story from the Bible which also demonstrates this principle. Two mothers were fighting over a baby, each claiming to be the mother. It could not be determined who was the true mother. The king gave a verdict: "Because it is not possible to find out who is the true mother, the only right verdict is that every mother gets half of the child." He ordered a sharp knife. Just think about this situation. What will be the feeling of a mother who loves the child? Can she see the child die? Of course, the real mother broke into tears and said, "Please, I don’t want that. Let the child live and give it to the other woman." Thus it became clear who was the real mother, and King Solomon gave the child to her. This shows what our inner attitude is; we cannot pretend. So ahiṃsā is not something we can simply practice by controlling ourselves when someone harms us—by not showing anger. Here we come to a complicated point. I have read several commentaries on the sūtras, and only one touches this point. When we say ahiṃsā means not to harm any living being, most people understand not to harm any other living being. But what about ourselves? If someone harms me, says something hard to digest, and I get angry, then I practice ahiṃsā by suppressing my anger. Is this ahiṃsā? It is not. We have a delicate point here concerning everyday life situations. Someone says, "Your lecture is stupid," and I get angry. What to do? There are basically two ways we mostly see and practice. One is: I get angry, I show my anger, and it goes "boof" back. That is obviously not ahiṃsā and is the reason for many conflicts in partnerships, society, and the world. The other way is: I know it’s not good, I control myself, I suppress it, and it’s stuck inside me. But now I am harming myself. This negative energy goes into me, and if made a principle, can even cause diseases. What is the third way? The anger is there. Someone harms me, I am angry, so what do I do? Prabhupāda says, "Don’t dive for the pearls when the waves are high." The emotional waves are there. First, I must simply observe it. I realize there’s anger in me. I don’t live it out, I don’t suppress it; I observe it. "Oh, there is anger." From where does anger come? Who actually is angry? How did it happen that this one got angry? This goes in the direction of trying to understand the anger. Let’s say I am giving a lecture and someone says it is stupid or boring, and I get angry. Who gets angry? What causes anger? My identification: "I am a good lecturer." If I were used to working in the garden and never gave lectures, such a comment would just pass by; it wouldn’t hurt me at all. If you are driving a car and someone says, "You are such a bad driver," it attacks your identification with being a good driver. If someone says, "You don’t care for your child; you are not a good mother," and you are the mother who thinks you are good, it hurts. If you were not the mother, just taking care for a moment, it wouldn’t hurt. You see the point slowly. Anger comes when we identify ourselves with something. A real example: some months ago, someone said to me, "You’re a bad singer." We identify ourselves with something so small and limited—some role in society: I’m a doctor, a lecturer, a singer, or whatever. From a spiritual point of view, these are wrong identifications. This is exactly what we have to overcome, because yoga means to find our true nature. Who are you, really? The more we can disidentify from all these small roles, the more we naturally have ahiṃsā. I more and more identify with what I really am. This depends on our spiritual path, especially in meditation. Through meditation, we can practice ahiṃsā. The more we progress in getting in touch with our own true, real Self, we slowly disconnect from all the roles we play in society. We identify with our real Self and distance ourselves from identification with our societal roles. One more story for the end shows accepting and not being hurt. When we are not identifying with our roles, we live our life very smoothly. It is a story about Kabīr Dās. He was a weaver, married with a wife and a daughter, and poor. One of the highest duties for a householder is atithi devo bhava—welcome every guest like God. It is especially a duty and joy for a spiritual householder to welcome sādhus. One day Kabīr Dās met a group of sādhus who had come to the city. He was happy and asked if they had breakfast. They said no. He invited them to his house to serve them. His wife was also happy, but there was a problem: they had no food. He whispered to his wife to go to the shops and try to get something. She said it would be difficult because she already had debt at every shop. She went from one shop to the next, but they all said no—first pay, then get more. Finally, one shopkeeper, seeing she was an attractive young woman, said, "Okay, I can give you something. Do you have time in the evening to visit me?" She was a chaste woman; no thought was farther from her than to cheat her husband. But what to do? She didn’t know any other way, so she said yes, she would come. She got a lot of food and took it home. Kabīr Dās was happy; they served the food, and the sādhus were happy and left. After they left, she had to confess to her husband how she got the food. Imagine your spouse tells you, "Actually, I have to go in the evening to some man, because otherwise I wouldn’t get the food." He understood it was truly out of the situation, so he accepted it. In the evening, it was raining heavily and the streets were muddy. Out of respect for his wife, he said, "I will bring you up." He carried her on his shoulders through the mud to the house. He said, "Okay, I will go around the corner and wait until you come back, and then I will carry you back." That is ahiṃsā in action. She rang the doorbell, and the man came, astonished. First, he had not really hoped she would come. Then he was astonished that she had such clean feet despite the mud. She told the truth: "My husband carried me here." He couldn’t believe a husband would not be jealous but even carry his wife to a stranger. She said, "Just look around the corner; there he is." He looked and saw Kabīr Dās. Can you imagine what happened in this man? How ashamed he was when he saw their qualities and his own. There was no desire left in him; he felt completely ashamed. He had heard of Kabīr Dās as a saint but now realized his greatness in practice. He fell to the ground, apologized to both, and asked, "Kabīr Dās, please accept me as your disciple." You see, when we don’t have this ego identification with certain roles, we live this ahiṃsā, and the result is there. I think this should be enough on this first point, ahiṃsā, because we have ten all together. I don’t know if we will manage all ten this weekend. Let’s look realistically at the time. It is now 9 o’clock.