I used to think of ahimsa, the Sanskrit word for non-harming, as a big, moral ideal. Something practiced by saints, activists, or people with endless patience. But I have learned that life offers many smaller invitations to practice ahimsa. Not snapping at the person in the express checkout line. Not feeding the voice that says, “I should be further along.” These moments can be great teachers.
The practice of ahimsa invites us to ask a simple question: How can I meet this moment with care?
Sometimes the answer feels clear. Other times, not so much. I still get caught in my own irritation, still say things I wish I hadn’t. But practicing non-harming doesn’t mean never getting angry. It means staying awake inside anger, noticing the tightness, and choosing kindness and compassion where I can.
Why Non-Harming Feels So Hard
Our culture runs on urgency. We scroll fast, read headlines instead of stories, and measure worth in productivity. That pace leaves little room for tenderness. I’ve felt it during meetings, while cycling, even on my yoga mat. My mind starts to race and my heart closes a little. I get wrapped up in everything me and my and I.
Living ethically in a complicated world can feel like a significant challenge. There’s so much to care about. Injustice, climate collapse, politics, the news cycle. Many of us end up paralyzed, unsure how to live in full alignment with our values without burning out. Ahimsa gives us a starting point. Not perfection. A practice.
The Inner Roots of Harm
In the Buddhist tradition, harm grows from the three unskillful roots: lobha (greed), krodha (hatred), and moha (delusion). Patanjali described a similar pattern in the five kleshas: avidya (ignorance), asmitā (ego), rāga (attachment), dveṣa (aversion), and abhiniveśa (fear of death). (Patanjali also mentions the three unskillful roots, in Yoga Sutra 2.34, but that’s another blog post.)
Both systems point toward the same insight: suffering doesn’t start outside us. It starts inside, when craving or fear clouds awareness. The good news is that we can notice. Each breath gives a chance to see a little more clearly, to soften the pull of greed or fear before it spills into action.
Everyday Practice
Practicing non-harming doesn’t require a multi-day retreat or a perfectly calm mind. It lives in the middle of your day. Here are a few ways I return to it:
- Pause before speaking, especially when emotions run high.
- Offer gentle self-talk instead of blame. Talk in the 3rd person.
- Notice tension when judgment arises. Let go of thoughts and feel the physical sensations.
- Choose one small act of care for your community each week.
Some days, all I can manage is a single deep breath before responding. Just one breath. That counts. That breath changes the next moment.
On a recent bike ride, along one of my regular routes, I noticed a road called Peaceful Lane. The name made me smile. It felt too perfect. The path itself can remind us of the teachings: peace isn’t only the destination, but also the way we travel.
What Gets in the Way
Of course, even when we know the way, the road isn’t always smooth. Most of us know what kindness looks like. The challenge comes when the world speeds up or when our own pain grabs our attention. I’ve had days when meditation felt pointless, when I scrolled through my RSS feeds instead of sitting, when compassion felt out of reach. The mind says, “This shouldn’t be so hard.” But struggle is part of the path.
Swami Kripalu called yoga a practice of self-observation without judgment. Practicing ahimsa invites us to move in a direction. It’s not a rule to follow. You don’t need to get it right. You just need to remember the way home.
Ahimsa starts right here, right now: in the body, in the breath, in small daily choices. When I pause before reacting, when I listen with care, when I forgive myself for falling short, I help build the kind of world I want to live in.
So I keep asking: How can I meet life with compassion today?
Sometimes the answer comes as a breath. Sometimes a smile. Sometimes silence. And each time I remember, I arrive again.
May we move through the world with gentleness and courage, shaping communities where all may belong.
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