When I first learned about samsara, the endless cycle of birth and death, I was not quite sure what to do with it. I did not need to believe in literal rebirth or stretch my imagination to notice that everything in life follows cycles. The seasons in Minnesota go around and around. Same with relationships, jobs, and our moods. Something begins, grows, changes, and ends. Then something else takes its place.
The teaching of samsara suggests something even more personal. What if the stranger standing in front of me had once been my parent, child, or spouse? When I gave that idea some time to sink in, it kinda blew my mind and shifted the way I walked down the grocery store aisle. I felt more accepting, curious, and connected to random people. Weirdly, deeply connected.
Practicing kindness without fanfare
I often cultivate kindness without anyone else knowing. Sometimes it takes the form of maitri meditation, where I bring to mind friends, strangers, even those with whom I disagree, and offer them silent wishes of well-being. Small shifts like this can be intentional acts to help balance out the unskillful roots of greed (lobha), hatred (krodha), and delusion (moha).
Other times I do this by repeating a Sanskrit mantra at the end of class such as lokah samastah sukhino bhavantu, which means, “may all beings everywhere be happy and free, and may our thoughts, words, and actions contribute to that freedom.”
Regularly bringing to mind the yamas and niyamas, such as non-harming (ahimsa), truthfulness (satya), and contentment (santosha), is yet another way I remind myself that my yoga ethics reach far beyond the mat.
A shirt leads to hugs
A few days ago, I wore a shirt to the Minnesota State Fair that read, “Free Dad Hugs,” printed under a rainbow. And wearing that shirt resulted in a lot of joyful interactions. Some folks walked toward me, pointing at my shirt with a look of uncertainty, until I opened my arms. Others rushed in before I could say a word. In each case, they said something like, “I needed that.”
I felt surprised by how much joy it gave me to give random strangers a hug. For me, it felt natural and comfortable to embrace a complete stranger. Perhaps I needed a hug just as much as anyone else.
Of course, not everyone wanted a hug. Most passed by. One person wore a shirt that read “Free Shrugs,” so we exchanged shrugs and smiles. That connection felt equally positive.
I come from a hugging family, especially on my dad’s side. At my day job, when we meet in person, there are a lot of hugs. In the Drupal community, hugs flow freely. Offering them at the fair felt natural.
Yet, wearing that shirt also carried an ethical dimension. Non-grasping (aparigraha) means I never force a hug and never demand one in return. My shirt offered an invitation, not an obligation.
Trauma sensitivity and choice
In teaching yoga, I carry this same awareness. Trauma-sensitive practice shapes how I guide classes. I use invitational language. I avoid walking behind people or touching them without permission. I understand that not everyone wants to be touched, let alone hugged. Hopefully anyone who has taken my yoga classes will recognize themes of choice, safety, and consent.
This way of teaching aligns with the three supports of yoga: seva (selfless service), sadhana (practice), and sangha (community). A hug can be seva. A meditation can be a sadhana. A class can be a sangha.
Living yoga off the mat
Scrolling social media can leave us feeling unsettled. Algorithms thrive on outrage, envy, and comparison. Practicing the yoga ethics of non-harming, contentment, and self-study offers another way to live. These practices remind us that connection matters far more than likes or shares.
Offering a hug, repeating a mantra, or pausing for one breath might not solve all the world’s pain. Yet each gesture can help close the gap between idea and action. These practices create space for honesty, compassion, and community.
Samsara reminds us that life unfolds in cycles. Kindness does as well. Every breath, every smile, every hug contributes to that cycle, and each choice to meet the world with compassion ripples outward.
If you are ever in my class or see me in person and need a hug, the offer stands. Or you might prefer space. Either way, may we keep turning the wheel with kindness.
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