This One Life Principle Outweighs All the Rest

This discipline forms the foundation of all meaningful living.

With so many “new” mindset books, philosophies, and courses available to “hack” your way through life, it can be overwhelming to follow them all. If you have to keep a long list of these principles, perhaps they’re too complex for living.

One principle of living that’s endured over time and weaves its way through so many religions, laws, and guidelines is so expansive that there is very little need for any other. That’s because this principle extends into so many other practices. It can serve as a foundation for every life.

“Do no harm.” Physicians take the Hippocratic oath to practice medicine with integrity, prioritizing the health of the patient rather than the doctor’s bank account. The doctor might cause harm to the patient by serving the needs of the patient’s ego or delusions rather than the patient’s overall health and well-being.

“Thou shalt not kill.” Exodus 20:13 doesn’t elaborate much on that Commandment, yet every Christian and Jew knows this one. Even the Qur’an version mentions it: “That is why We ordained for the Children of Israel that whoever takes a life—unless as a punishment for murder or mischief in the land—it will be as if they killed all of humanity.”

The Buddhists recognize the pervasiveness of suffering in the world, but they’re always mindful of how their thoughts, words, and actions might add to the suffering of the world—and the suffering of themselves.

Hinduism recognizes that the suffering you bring to the world only brings you more suffering in the next life. Their belief in karma outlines their manner of living right now—that you continually work in this life to undo the suffering you might have created in the past. And the work you do right now also carves a higher path (if you choose) to bring you closer to liberation.

That’s why the yoga tradition lists ahimsa, or non-harm, as its first yama (or moral restraint) in its Eight-limbed Path. If ahimsa isn’t practiced, all the others fall apart.

Now, I can get all wimpy and watery about ahimsa, saying it means practicing compassion and love. I mean, it does, but when you consider ahimsa as the broad stroke that paints itself across medicine, the Abrahamic traditions, and even the laws of most nations, you understand that it’s not as puffy as people like to describe it.

The yoga tradition calls it a “restraint,” or a discipline. That’s not very puffy. Politicians and businessmen don’t like to hear the word “discipline,” especially when it’s considered to be a “regulation.” At least, not when it applies to them. We don’t even like laws when we’re breaking them, yet we demand others to abide by them.

When you consider how much division and utter hatred bleeds across the world, many people ask, “Where does all this come from? How does this happen?”

It just takes one person who isn’t practicing ahimsa.

One act of harming raises the thoughts of harm in another. It ignites a fire that needs to be snuffed out. We can allow our thoughts, words, and actions to be kindling for that fire, or we can continually work to fireproof ourselves. That’s ahimsa.

It often comes as simple gestures, such as biting your lip or hitting the delete button when someone ignites your fire. I’ve found myself fueling the harmful fires on social media with my own words, only for that little voice of conscience to ask, “Hmm, are you practicing ahimsa?”

Photo by Paul Hanaoka on Unsplash

Sometimes we turn that harm on ourselves. Whether it’s trauma from our youth or someone irritating us at work or in traffic, we sometimes create unnecessary demands in the idea of ahimsa—not harming others—but we hurt ourselves in the process.

What might this look like? It could be as simple as pushing our bodies well beyond our boundaries so we can prove to others that we’re better. We easily see this in yoga practices, where someone harms herself by attempting a yoga pose so she can post it on Instagram. I’ve done that. I’ve also brought harm to my body many times by running well beyond my red zone to prove to others that I’m still a strong athlete.

We also bring harm to ourselves when other people don’t deal with their inner harm. Sure, we can lash out at that person, or we can continually beat ourselves down trying to appease the other. There must be a fine line between compassion for others and compassion for yourself.

If you pay attention, notice how harm can be visceral. I feel it in the center of my chest. There’s an energy that stirs there, and I would imagine physiologically a bunch of hormones get released. You want to do something about it, and your impulsive nature considers a harmful response—either to yourself or to another.

Then your logical brain kicks in and says, “Hmm, are you practicing ahimsa?” Then you consider an alternate course of action, such as moving yourself out of harm’s way.

Sometimes that might not be possible, and that stress can build up. That’s why it’s good to have some physical practices to release all that physiological stress. But even then, you remember ahimsa and know when to stop.

Eventually, you don’t have to think about ahimsa. It comes automatically. Your life’s path becomes no longer obstructed with vines and thorns to trip you because you’re no longer planting those seeds.

When people blame others for the violence in the world, you recognize your part in that violence. Each moment you restrain from uttering that harmful word or posting that unwholesome tweet, you’re making the world just a little better.

“Our prime purpose in this life is to help others. And if you can't help them, at least don't hurt them.” His Holiness the Dalai Lama