283. A mercy that starts inside...

Yoga Sūtra 2.35 – ahiṁsā pratiṣṭhāyām tat-sannidhau vaira-tyāgaḥ
When one is firmly established in non-violence, all hostility ceases in their presence.

Today, we return to ahiṁsā pratiṣṭhām—being established in non-violence—as taught in Yoga Sūtra 2.35. We’ve already explored how the yamas and niyamas are not just rules, but deeply personal practices—moral and ethical disciplines that offer a framework for living. Simple? Yes. But easy? Not always.

They are practices for managing our lives skillfully, for creating relationships rooted in integrity, peace, and love. They are the ground upon which we walk the yogic path.

We've talked about famous individuals—Gandhi, Mother Teresa, Thich Nhat Hanh, Mr. Rogers—who embodied this principle. But let’s bring it closer to home.

Maybe it’s your grandmother—who listens fully, without interrupting.
Maybe it’s a friend—who stays calm, even when you’re upset.
Maybe it’s a teacher—who creates a peaceful classroom without ever raising their voice.

These people don’t need a stage or a spotlight. They are quietly holding themselves steady. And in doing so, they embody what Patanjali describes in Yoga Sūtra 1.3:
tadā draṣṭuḥ svarūpe’vasthānam – Then the Seer abides in their Own true nature.

That’s the heart of it. This isn’t about having a good day. It’s not about performance or temporary calm. It’s a state of being—an embodiment. A settledness that radiates safety.

Because the truth is, all the hustle, all the striving, all the accomplishments… mean little if we don’t have peace and contentment inside.

Everyday ahiṁsā is simple and profound: being the person in whose presence others feel safe.

And yet, here’s something essential—you can’t give what you don’t have.
Non-violence must apply to yourself first. The way you speak to yourself, how you treat yourself, the space you give yourself to be imperfect and still whole.

So in closing the ahiṁsā circuit today, If you don't believe in Ahimsa as a worthy practice, believe in the karma that will be played out at a later time.  I leave you with some writing by Rudy Francisco:

“She asks me to kill the spider.
Instead, I get the most peaceful weapons I can find.
I take a cup and a napkin,
I catch the spider,
put it outside,
and allow it to walk away.

If I am ever caught in the wrong place
at the wrong time,
just being alive and not bothering anyone,
I hope I am greeted
with the same kind of mercy.”

And that’s the essence of ahiṁsā pratiṣṭhām—a mercy that starts inside and ripples outward.