Toward An Animal Ethics Grounded in Buddhist Intersubjectivity

In spite of Japanese Uniqueness Theory painting all of Buddhism with the broad brush of compassion for animals, a thorough historical survey of the tradition reveals a much more nuanced reality.

Buddhist cosmology initially defined animals as fallen beasts necessarily fated to endure lives of endless suffering, a characterization that does not evoke feelings of empathy or compassion. This hierarchy of the cosmic realms entails an anthropocentric metaphysics, and thus a speciesist animal ethics.

The early Buddhist tradition held mere membership in the human species to be a moral achievement. Further, this achievement was viewed as elevating members of the species to a status that entitled them to benefit from instrumental, obviously harmful uses of other animals.

—Reiko Ohnuma, quoting Paul Waldau, in Unfortunate Destiny: Animals in the Indian Buddhist Imagination (2017)

But this cosmology was established centuries before Chan and Zen schools, and the Buddhist understanding of sentient being interconnectedness has evolved over time. Stewart informs us that although “Buddhist moral principles have gone relatively unchanged throughout the course and development of various Buddhist traditions, […] Buddhist metaphysics underwent radical transformations in its travels from India to China, Japan and elsewhere” (Stewart 649).

It is the case that early Buddhist conceptions of animals were unflattering at best and openly disdainful at their worst. However, the unfortunate destiny of nonhuman animals in the cosmos was primarily the result of humans defining their own lived experience contra the Other, and rarely was it a justification for violence toward animals.

When the human subject ponders her own attempt to eradicate suffering and reach the ultimate goal, there is a need to distinguish herself from the beastly realm and invest herself in those capacities she possess that are believed to be uniquely human.

–Reiko Ohnuma, Unfortunate Destiny: Animals in the Indian Buddhist Imagination (2017)

When viewed in the context of the Buddhist principle of intersubjectivity and the evolved ontology of the nonhuman animal found in Zen, “there is a need to see the world from the other’s perspective be alive to the reality of their suffering, and shine the harsh light of truth upon one’s own moral shortcomings” (Ohnuma 180).

The emphasis on compassion for all sentient beings within Zen, the inclusion of animals within the class of sentient beings, and the key principle of intersubjectivity point toward the possibility of an evolved Buddhist animal ethics.

In general, human/human intersubjectivity is essential in that it allows for empathetic understanding between beings in the world. In particular, there is nothing precluding animals from inclusion under the Buddhist model of intersubjectivity, which is based in comprehending the relationship of another being’s skandhas and dharma as being interconnected to all other sentient beings, including oneself.

The animals are here with us, not for us.

Sources for this post

  • Ohnuma, Reiko. Unfortunate Destiny: Animals in the Indian Buddhist Imagination. Oxford University Press, 2017.

Posts in this series

  1. Buddhist Intersubjectivity and Animal Ethics
  2. Animals as Symbolic Representations in Buddhism
  3. Literal Representation of Nonhuman Animals in Buddhism
  4. From Beast to Sentient Being: An Evolution in Buddhist Metaphysics
  5. Toward An Animal Ethics Grounded in Buddhist Intersubjectivity

From Beast to Sentient Being: An Evolution in Buddhist Metaphysics

With the emergence of Chinese Chan and Japanese Zen around the 6th century, Buddhism underwent an evolution in metaphysics, and an accompanying change in the ontology of the nonhuman animal.

A prime example of the conceptual transition of the nonhuman animal from beast to sentient being is seen in The Platform Sutra: an autobiographical account of the Sixth Patriarch of Zen, Hui-neng (638-713 CE).

Considered a barbarian by the monks from whom he sought kinship, Hui-neng was not initially welcomed with open arms into the sangha. Upon his arrival to pay homage to the Fifth Patriarch, he was put to task splitting firewood and pounding rice in the back of the monastery.

The [Fifth] Patriarch said, “You are a barbarian from the south; how could you expect to become a Buddha?”

I replied, “there are people in the south and people in the north, but their Buddha-nature is the same. As a barbarian I may be different from you physically, but what difference could there be in our Buddha-nature?”

—Stephen Addiss, et al. Zen Sourcebook: Traditional Documents from China, Korea, and Japan (2008)

After eight months of pounding rice, Hui-neng’s understanding of the Dharma (and specifically of the essence of mind) was recognized as distinct by the Fifth Patriarch. Upon transmitting his robe and bowl to Hui-neng as the mark of succession, the Fifth Patriarch assigned Hui-neng a new task:

“You are now the Sixth Patriarch. Take care of yourself, save as many sentient beings as you can, and spread the teachings so they will not be lost in the future.” He then gave me this stanza:

Sentient beings sow their seeds
And cause the earth to bear fruit and return to birth;
Nonsentient beings have no seeds,
And their empty self-nature has no rebirth.

—Stephen Addiss, et al. Zen Sourcebook: Traditional Documents from China, Korea, and Japan (2008)

As seen previously, the Buddhist cosmology views nonhuman animals as karmic beings that experience rebirth, so from the stanza above we can infer from the Fifth Patriarch’s words that animals are to be included in the class sentient beings rather than nonsentient beings.

Although my research has not returned any explicit evidence of such a theory, my interpretation of Hui-neng’s initial reception by the sangha as an outsider is that his experience afforded him unique insight into the nature of Otherness.

Combined with the Fifth Patriarch’s parting stanza, this unique insight may have contributed to the development of Hui-neng’s compassion for animals as sentient beings. As beastly and different from humans as early Buddhist texts represent them, Hui-neng nonetheless came to view nonhuman animals as worthy of moral consideration.

Later in life, when forced into hiding due to being “pursued by evil men,” Hui-neng recounts the way he modeled and enacted this compassion, and how he fulfilled the mission tasked to him by his predecessor.

To avoid trouble, I took refuge in Szu-hui, where I stayed with a group of hunters for 15 years. I occasionally taught the Dharma to them, in accordance with their capabilities. They often asked me to watch their nets, but when I found a living creature, I set it free. At mealtimes, I added vegetables to their pots where they cooked their meat, and when they questioned me, I told them I would only eat vegetables.

—Stephen Addiss, et al. Zen Sourcebook: Traditional Documents from China, Korea, and Japan (2008)

Buddhist Metaphysics: The Self and Intersubjectivity

In Buddhist metaphysics, the individual is seen as a collection as skandhas, or constituents of existence. In definite terms, the skandhas are known as form, sensation, perception, volition, and consciousness (Addiss 268). When taken as an aggregate and situated within natural phenomena (dharma), one’s lived experience emerges. Understanding the interplay between one’s skandhas and the dharma of one’s life is key to setting one on the path to cessation of suffering.

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As explained by Gerald Dōkō Virtbauer:

Seeing clearly into the characteristics of one’s own existence and the connection that creates this existence, and in which it is embedded, is the goal of Buddhism, which should lead to an ending of suffering. Suffering is the result of the opposite; the less clearly the characteristics of being are recognized, the more a human being suffers in life.

–Gerald Dōkō Virtbauer, “Dimensions of Intersubjectivity in Mahayana-Buddhism and Relational Psychoanalysis” (2010)

Because the dharma of one’s own life and existence is determined by the cause-and-effect principles of the cosmic Dharma, it is necessarily interconnected with the dharma of all other sentient beings within the karmic cycle of birth/rebirth.

A keen awareness of this metaphysical state of affairs, namely that one’s place and experience within the cosmos is connected to and dependent upon the place and experience of others, is key to the Buddhist principle of intersubjectivity.

In basic terms, intersubjectivity can be understood as “seeing from the Other’s point of view.” However, intersubjectivity is distinct from the modern concept of empathy, which is a much simpler notion used to describe the ability to understand or accurately detect the emotional and mental states of others.

More technically, one might define intersubjectivity as the ability of an embodied subjective agent to comprehend the experiences, intentions, desires, and interests of another embodied subjective agent, and to contextualize that understanding within the broader scope of one’s own life experience (dharma).

To put the term in the context of Buddhist metaphysics, intersubjectivity is the ability of one sentient being to understand the interplay between another sentient being’s skandhas and dharma in relation to one’s own life experience, and the interconnectedness of it all more broadly within the cosmic Dharma.

One particularly powerful and well-known illustration within Buddhism is Indra’s Net. Indra is revered in Hinduism, Jainsim, and Buddhism, and each tradition mythologizes the Vedic god in its own way. In Buddhist cosmology, Indra rules over the realm of the devas, and along with Brahma, he is seen as guardian of the Buddha Siddhartha.

Indra’s Net shows the interplay between Buddhist principles of emptiness, interconnectedness, and intersubjectivity. As described by Virtbauer,

Indra’s net is depicted as an endless fishing net with jewels on its knots. The jewels hang in such a way that in each jewel all other jewels are reflected. When looking at one jewel, one sees all other jewels within this particular jewel. Because of the infinity of the net, each jewel, in fact, reflects infinitely many other jewels. The characteristic appearance of each single jewel is only guaranteed due to the connection and mutual dependence to all other jewels.

–Gerald Dōkō Virtbauer, “Dimensions of Intersubjectivity in Mahayana-Buddhism and Relational Psychoanalysis” (2010)
Indra’s Net. Image source:

When enacted, intersubjectivity is characterized by one’s respect for the bodily autonomy, self-determination and non-interference in the life of another sentient being, especially through methods of harm reduction and the avoidance of inflicting suffering (known in sanskrit as ahimsa).

Where the Buddhist value of compassion is concerned, intersubjectivity necessarily originates with an empathetic stance toward the material conditions of the Other’s existence, and an understanding of the Other’s place in the cosmos more broadly, especially in relation to oneself.

Such a conception of intersubjectivity is taught by the Buddhists of today, as Virtbauer quotes the Vietnamese monk and vegan Thich Nhat Hanh:

When you understand, you cannot help but love. You cannot get angry. To develop understanding, you have to practice looking at all living beings with the eyes of compassion. When you understand, you love. And when you love, you naturally act in a way that can relieve the suffering of people.

–Gerald Dōkō Virtbauer, quoting Thich Nhat Hanh, “Dimensions of Intersubjectivity in Mahayana-Buddhism and Relational Psychoanalysis” (2010)

Sources for this post

  • Addiss, Stephen, et al. Zen Sourcebook: Traditional Documents from China, Korea, and Japan. Hackett Publishing Company, 2008.
  • Virtbauer, Gerald Dōkō. “Dimensions of Intersubjectivity in Mahayana-Buddhism and Relational Psychoanalysis.” Contemporary Buddhism, vol. 11, no. 1, 2010, pp. 85–102.

Posts in this series

  1. Buddhist Intersubjectivity and Animal Ethics
  2. Animals as Symbolic Representations in Buddhism
  3. Literal Representation of Nonhuman Animals in Buddhism
  4. From Beast to Sentient Being: An Evolution in Buddhist Metaphysics
  5. Toward An Animal Ethics Grounded in Buddhist Intersubjectivity (coming 1/24/20)

Literal Representation of Nonhuman Animals in Buddhism

The ontological status of animals is well established in early Buddhist cosmology, which is divided into six realms: heavenly beings, devas and demigods, humans, ghosts, beasts, and the damned.

Relegated to a cosmic realm only one degree removed from the eternally forsaken, nonhuman animals inhabit the beastly realm. Here they are defined as creatures of “unfortunate destiny” due to their fallen status and lack of praiseworthy features in comparison to humans. In this way, animals occupy a caste against which humans can define themselves as beings of distinct cosmic identity worthy of moral consideration.

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As Ohnuma describes the beastly realm, there is “not a single notion of pleasure—no kinship, no communication, nothing but disgust and revulsion. The distinction between human beings and animals must be total and categorical” (Ohnuma 13). Humans are separated from animals on the basis of diet, physicality, and virtuous capacity. The animals are born in filth, move without dignity, live in waste, feed on corpses, engage in cannibalism and commit incest.

Even the Buddha spoke to the fallen pitiful status of the beasts, telling the monks in the Balapandita Sutta, “in that realm, there is no righteous conduct, no tranquil conduct, no wholesome action, no meritorious action. In that realm, Monks, there is only mutual devouring and devouring of the weak” (Ohnuma 12).

Unlike western philosophy, which primarily marks the capacity for reason as the basis for differentiating humans from animals, some Buddhists have based human/animal individuation on the basis of the capacity for gratitude.

For example, Nagarjuna (ca. 150-250 CE), the Indian philosopher and founder of Madhyamaka school of Mahayana Buddhism, spoke of the karmic implication of a beings capacity for gratitude in The Treatise on Perfection of Great Wisdom:

Knowing gratitude is the root of great compassion and the first gate to establishing good deeds. […] Upon death you will attain rebirth Heaven and in the end you will attain the way of the Buddha. Those who do not know gratitude are beasts.

—Barbara Ambros, quoting ancient Indian philosopher Nagarjuna, “Animals in Japanese Buddhism: The Third Path of Existence” (2014)

Despite their incapacity to cultivate the virtue of gratitude because of their beastly nature, there are instances in Buddhism of animals gaining enlightenment, or at the very least karmic advancement, through the prasāda mechanism.

Described by Ohnuma as a loophole of sorts in the cosmic Dharma, it is through this mechanism that “animals are capable of catapulting themselves up the karmic hierarchy to become deities in heaven, and may even make progress toward the final goal of release” from samsara (Ohnuma 40).

Often translated as faith, prasāda is seen to arise within the heart of animals in close proximity to the Buddha Siddartha as depicted in the Divyāvadāna and Avadānaśataka texts.

The animals in these tales appear as animals and not as mere symbolic representations of moral precepts. That is, they are depicted as conscious beings trapped in samsara and in desire of liberation. Although they are clearly seen as members of a subcaste of creatures by humans in the tales, the animals are present as demonstrably bound by karma, just as humans are.

Through these tales, we witness a bull saved from slaughter and foretold to be reborn as a king named Asokarvarna after ninety-nine eons, a talking parrot granted “stream-entry,” and a flock of geese reincarnated as faithful Buddhist practitioners who offer alms to the Buddha upon their return.

We also see the Buddha tame a charging buffalo that is then predicted to be reborn as a heavenly deity, and a venomous snake compelled to bring about its own annihilation through starvation in order to be “reborn among the the superior Trayastrima gods” (Ohnuma 38).

In each of these cases, the animal is able to make cosmic progress after entering the presence of the Buddha and merely laying eyes on him. Acting as prasādika, or attractive agent of faith, the Buddha’s charisma, poise, and grace are sufficient to spark prasāda within even these cosmically-determined fallen creatures.

Characterized as a “wonderful refuge for the powerless,” “the mental inferiority of the animal here becomes irrelevant, since the mechanism of prasāda appears to bypass the mind altogether” (Ohnuma 27).

Again, the key is not the capacity for reason, nor some other form of higher-level consciousness or cognitive function. Through prasāda–faith in the Buddha and proximity to him–the dissolution of karmic chains that encumber the animal is catalyzed, and liberation (moksha) is achieved.

Interestingly, in cases where animal representation appears in the literal sense, we begin to see a striking similarity between humans and nonhuman animals. Though believed to occupy a different cosmic realm depending on the context of incarnation, the being is capable of karmic advancement or release, regardless of whether the being is human or animal.

Sources for this post

  • Ambros, Barbara. “Animals in Japanese Buddhism: The Third Path of Existence.” Religion Compass, vol. 8, no. 8, 2014, pp. 251–263.
  • Ohnuma, Reiko. Unfortunate Destiny: Animals in the Indian Buddhist Imagination. Oxford University Press, 2017.

Posts in this series

  1. Buddhist Intersubjectivity and Animal Ethics
  2. Animals as Symbolic Representations in Buddhism
  3. Literal Representation of Nonhuman Animals in Buddhism
  4. From Beast to Sentient Being: An Evolution in Buddhist Metaphysics
  5. Toward An Animal Ethics Grounded in Buddhist Intersubjectivity (coming 1/24/20)

Animals as Symbolic Representations in Buddhism

In early Indian Buddhism, animals appeared as symbolic representations primarily for didactic purposes. In other words, they were used to teach moral principles. Animals weren’t present as sentient beings or as beings worthy of moral consideration, but were instead used as metaphor and in allegory.

Even in cases where animals are depicted as capable of superhuman or mythical abilities, it is in service of teaching a greater truth meant to be grasped by human practitioners, not for the purposes of understanding animals in a literal sense. As further evidenced by Ambros,

Even scholarship that deals with animal-related topics usually places emphasis on human concerns. Relatively few studies have explored how Buddhism has affected the lives of actual animals; instead, scholarship has focused on the metaphorical uses of animals in Buddhist literature and has been preoccupied with mythical and hybrid creatures.

—Barbara Ambros, “Animals in Japanese Buddhism: The Third Path of Existence” (2014)

The pre-modern Jataka tales are an example of animals appearing as metaphorical representations in Buddhist texts. There are literally hundreds of individual stories comprising the Jataka tales, many of which depict the former lives of the Buddha as incarnated in animal form.

These tales often show the Buddha performing meritorious acts, or interceding on behalf of other animals, who are depicted as unintelligent and incapable of feats reflecting an enlightened nature. In his analysis of the Jataka tales Paul Waldau, states that

[They are] good examples of the Buddhist belief that one should give generously to ‘others,’ and that one should not violate moral principles even if it is extremely disadvantageous to do so. But the stories reveal that it is humans, rather than other animals, who are beneficiaries of this kind of thinking.

—Paul Waldau, The Specter of Speciesism: Buddhist and Christian Views of Animals (2002)

In other tales, such as the Kurunga Jataka, the Buddha interacts with humans by taking animal form as a way of again conveying a didactic message. Here the Buddha has been incarnated as the bodhisattva deer who avoids being trapped and killed by a hunter:

The hunter, enraged, says, ‘Be gone! I’ve missed you this time,’ and in response the bodhisattva deer replies, presumably in response to his slaying of other animals: ‘You may have missed me, my good man, but depend on it, you have not missed the reward of your conduct, namely the eight large and sixteen lesser hells and all the five forms of bonds of torture.

—James Stewart, “Violence and Nonviolence in Buddhist Animals Ethics” (2014)

Finally, with the emergence of Zen in 6th c. CE, we see the presence of animals in Buddhist texts turn toward positive representation. The Ox Herding Poems, composed around 1050 by Ch’ing-chi, describe the process of seeking, losing, then gaining enlightenment (Addiss 85).

Here the oxen are not present as oxen in the literal sense, but they are metaphorical representations of enlightenment pursued by human Buddhist practitioners. After searching for the ox, seeing it, and catching it, the practitioner turns to taming the ox:

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Don’t lose the whip, hold onto the rope
Or he’ll buck away into the dirt.
Herded well, in perfect harmony
He’ll follow along without any constraint.


Whip, rope, self, ox—no traces left.
Thoughts cannot penetrate the vast blue sky,
Snowflakes cannot survive a red-hot stove.
Arriving here, meet the ancient teachers.

—Stephen Addiss, et al. Zen Sourcebook: Traditional Documents from China, Korea, and Japan (2008)

Sources for this post

  • Addiss, Stephen, et al. Zen Sourcebook: Traditional Documents from China, Korea, and Japan. Hackett Publishing Company, 2008.
  • Ambros, Barbara. “Animals in Japanese Buddhism: The Third Path of Existence.” Religion Compass, vol. 8, no. 8, 2014, pp 251-263
  • Stewart, James. “Violence and Nonviolence in Buddhist Animal Ethics.” Journal of Buddhist Ethics, vol 21, 2014, pp. 623-655.
  • Waldau, Paul. The Specter of Specieism: Buddhist and Christian Views of Animals. Oxford University Press, 2002.

Posts in this series

  1. Buddhist Intersubjectivity and Animal Ethics
  2. Animals as Symbolic Representations in Buddhism
  3. Literal Representation of Nonhuman Animals in Buddhism
  4. From Beast to Sentient Being: An Evolution in Buddhist Metaphysics
  5. Toward An Animal Ethics Grounded in Buddhist Intersubjectivity (coming 1/24/20)

Buddhist Intersubjectivity and Animals Ethics

To what extent are animals present in Buddhist teachings and what is their place in the Buddhist cosmology? What can we learn from Buddhist metaphysics about the ontological nature of the nonhuman animal, and to what extent has this ontology evolved over time?

This week, I will publish a five-part series in which I will explore (1) the appearance and representation of animals in Buddhism, (2) the application of the Buddhist principle of intersubjectivity between sentient beings, including animals.

After first exploring how animals appear as symbolic representations in early Buddhist texts, I’ll examine the literal representation of animals in the Buddhist cosmology and tradition. Finally, I’ll discuss the shift in Buddhist metaphysics that occurred around the 6th century CE, with the emergence of Zen.

I will argue that this shift, which placed an increased emphasis on the interconnectedness of all sentient beings, might reasonably be taken as a basis for the extension of moral consideration to animals through the application of the intersubjectivity principle illustrated by the mythical example of Indra’s Net.

Illustration by Lasha Mutual. Purchase a print of this illustration here.

The Myth of Japanese Uniqueness Theory

It may surprise those of us in the West, who are likely to subscribe to a conception of Buddhism shaped by Japanese Uniqueness Theory, to learn that in sum and over time, Buddhism has proven itself far from universally nonviolent when it comes to its treatment and conception of animals.

Japanese Uniqueness Theory, as articulated by Ambros (2014) is the propagation of “oversimplified notions to construct premodern Japan as morally superior to and less dominion is tic than its Western and Asian counterparts” (Ambros 259). Although vegetarianism is common (though not universal) among Buddhist practitioners, a detailed historical survey of Buddhism reveals a morally problematic view of animals that is far from constant or continuous over time.

In fact, within Buddhism, we find “a high degree of ambivalence toward animals by presuming a fundamental kinship between humans and other animals while also taking for granted that nonhuman animals occupied a subhuman status” (Ambros 259).

As I will show in the posts to follow, animals appear in Buddhism in two distinct ways. First, they appear as mere representations of other concepts. Second, animals appear as animal in the literal sense vis-a-vis their presence as fallen beastly creatures in the Buddhist cosmology, and later as sentient beings in Zen.

Sources for this post

  • Ambros, Barbara. “Animals in Japanese Buddhism: The Third Path of Existence.” Religion Compass, vol. 8, no. 8, 2014, pp. 251–263.

Other posts in this series

  1. Buddhist Intersubjectivity and Animal Ethics
  2. Animals as Symbolic Representations in Buddhism
  3. Literal Representation of Nonhuman Animals in Buddhism
  4. From Beast to Sentient Being: An Evolution in Buddhist Metaphysics
  5. Toward An Animal Ethics Grounded in Buddhist Intersubjectivity (coming 1/24/20)

The Evolution of My Yoga Practice

NamasteTo Practice is to Evolve

When I started on this path four years ago, I thought of Yoga much like going to the gym or casually playing a sport. It was a great workout that helped me burn calories and improve my overall health while also increasing my confidence as I became more comfortable in my own skin. But as I’ve learned more about Yoga and come to know that the physical postures are only one part of a more comprehensive way of living, I developed a practice with the goal of fully integrating what are known as the 8 Limbs of Yoga.

I’m still not an expert, and I learn more each day. As my understanding and engagement with Yoga progresses, it’s easier to open up and share my practice with the world without fear of judgment or correction. I believe the deep truths of Yoga are free to all honest seekers and practitioners, whether they be recognized teachers, or life-long students. No one has a monopoly on these truths. My knowledge of Yoga isn’t complete (it never will be), and I invite those who have come to a different understanding to share their experiences with me in a spirit consistent with the first two yogic limbs of Yama and Niyama.

Beginning with Bikram

I practiced the 26 postures (Asana) and 2 breathing exercises (Pranayama) of Bikram Yoga for three years before I started to see this iconic system as a true gateway into the integration of the other yogic principles. As I incorporated self-study into my Sadhana, or personal spiritual practice, I realized that for years I was merely going through the motions of the 26×2, oblivious to the transformation that was taking place internally.

After delving into the teachings of other yogis, both Indian and American, I began a home practice outside of the studio that included elements of Ashtanga and Vinyasa Flow. As my world was opened to dozens more postures and sequences, I developed an appreciation for the contrasting elements of serene stillness found in the Bikram series and the flowing grace that’s emblematic of the Mysore styles.

Duality, not Dichotomy

I’ve found that stillness opens the door for concentration and meditation through focused observation of the body. The focus starts from within, is projected forward, and is magnified by the cosmic mirror as it’s reflected back and absorbed once more by the body. The focused eye-gaze is known in Yoga by the Sanskrit word drishti.

During periods of flow, when the eyes are continually redirected and the head is repositioned, it can be difficult to focus in the same manner. Instead, these periods of movement can be used to hone mental acuity and awareness. The focus again starts within, but rather than being projected outward, it should be channeled inward, by directing it further through the recess of one’s mind.

Even as a self-identified atheist and secular person, I’ve found the inevitable result of combining stillness with flow to be the complete alignment of the body, mind, and spirit. When it’s experienced, there’s no contradiction: only a clarity of understanding that gives rise to a quiet peace and radiant joy. To me, that’s the beauty of Yoga.

Beginning Your Yoga Practice: Where to Start

first-bikram-classMy journey with Yoga began in 2014, with a Bikram Yoga class in Tempe, Arizona. That one class was so eye-opening that I’ve maintained a regular practice since that day. What I would eventually come to recognize as a Sadhana, or personal spiritual practice, started with a focus only on my physical body, and eventually expanded to include observation and understanding of the mind and my spiritual self as well.

Today, my Sadhana also includes another component: self-study. Although my asana practice still most strongly resembles the classic 26×2 series popularized by Bikram Choudhury, I’ve come to appreciate the writings and teachings of many other acclaimed yogis, especially B.K.S. Iyengar. His 1966 work Light on Yoga has had an enormous impact on my perspective of Yoga, and what it means to live a yogic life.

But there’s much more to Light on Yoga than yogic philosophy. In fact, the majority of the book is written in the form of a practical guide to the practice of yoga asana (physical postures) and pranayama (breathing exercises). If you’re considering taking up a yoga practice of your own, I recommend it as one of the most comprehensive, credible, and accessible works to begin with, along with the guidance of a good teacher. thereu2019s-no-substitute-for-self-study

“Like a streak of lightning the yogi sees light that shines beyond the earth and the heavens. He sees the light that shines in his own heart. He becomes a light unto himself and others.” -B.K.S. Iyengar

As you begin taking the steps necessary to establish a regular practice of yoga asana, remember to act with kindness and humility, speak only truth, and free yourself from the petty judgments and short-sighted schemes of those around you.

Over time, the world will cease to feel threatened by your calm, confident, exceptionalism. As you fully embrace the light inside yourself, so too will the world.


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