At first read, the yama seem like five simple, clear-cut moral commands. However, since we commit to practice them, we may gradually discover more and more subtle ways in which they can be actualized. Soon, we come to realize that, in truth, they are highest principles, toward which we ever converge. Moreover, curiously enough, Patañjali refrains from giving clear definitions for each one of the yama. What he gives, though, is the fruit of their practice; and these almost para-normal effects are like milestones, paving the practitioner’s way toward enlightenment.

The path begins with ahiṁsā, non-harming, or non-violence, the most fundamental of all moral values. An ancient sanskrit epigram (mentioned also in the Mahābhārata) says: “Ahiṁsā paramo dharma”–‘Non-harming is the ultimate virtue’. Primarily, ahiṁsā can be understood as the intention to relinquish hostility toward the others. Gradually, it expresses itself as the conscious attitude of not causing harm also to ourselves, as well as to the world at large. By aiming to be established in ahiṁsā, one learns to make space within consciousness for peace, instead of conflict; and in that space, anger, separation, and aggression are given the opportunity to resolve themselves; acceptance is allowed to blossom. In this way, others are allowed to be who they are, and we are apt to discover our deep interconnection with each other, and with the world. Through ahiṁsā, one learns to move toward niḥśreyas – the ultimate good, the welfare of the world. It is then no surprise that, as Patañjali says in Yoga Sūtra 2.35, “when the yogi is grounded in ahiṁsā, enmity ceases in his presence”: Truly, it might be said that one who is firmly established in the intention to purely benefit others, creates around him a cloud of positive energy, in which hostility becomes powerless.

As already stated, the yama are no trivial moral commands, exposed in a linear way; instead, they present a highly complicated model of hierarchically placed universal principles, setting the context for the aspirant’s progression from conventional morality toward genuine spirituality. An aspect of this model’s complexity, is that the practice of each one of the yama, presupposes applying the former ones.

This gets clear, for instance, as we proceed from ahiṁsā to satya –truthfulness, or honesty. Satya invites us to express truthfully in action, speech, and thought, always bearing in mind that this expression has to be non-harmful. However, satya does not mean that one ought just to articulate what he believes is true; the word itself, stemming from Sat –the Existent– implies that one has to align with All that Is. Satya constantly calls us to step beyond our beliefs and prejudices, to delve deeper into the true essence of things. Once more, what we discover, is that subtle web of Existence, infinitely intricate and wise, of which we all make part. Again, it is no surprise that, once firmly established in satya, one is so deeply aligned with the truth, that whatever he says comes true, as Patañjali states in Yoga Sūtra 2.36.

Asteya, non-stealing, comes next –and non-stealing could not ever be practiced, if not preceded by non-harming and truthfulness. It is obvious that we should refrain from taking what belongs to someone else; however, asteya has ever subtler ways in which it can be implemented. The more we become oriented toward this principle, the more we discover those ways. As already said, the yama are not only to be practiced in our actions, but first and foremost, in the mind. Therefore, this yama points toward not only non-stealing, but also non-coveting others’ belongings –whether material or subtle. Asteya aligns us with the virtues of simplicity, moderation and generosity; and when one is generous, life is also generous unto him, as a result of the law of karma. Thus, Patañjali affirms that “when one is grounded in asteya, all [kinds of] treasures appear before him” (Yoga Sūtra 2.37).

Asteya paves the way for the next two yama: Brahmacarya, moderation in one’s use of vital energy, and aparigraha, moderation in one’s acquirement of possessions.

Brahmacarya, chastity, is perhaps the most talked-about yama; maybe because, in its more strict interpretation as celibacy, it deals with one of the most sensitive fields of the human mind and experience –sexuality. However, the literal meaning of brahmacarya is “brahmic conduct”. As stated by Georg Feuerstein, “…it refers to a student of the sacred Vedic lore. The chaste practitioner, or brahmacarin, is guided by the ideal of abstinence from sensuality, especially but not only, of the sexual variety.”[13] It might therefore be said that brahmacarya applies differently to different people: For the ascetic, it means to commit to celibacy and sensual abstinence, while for the householder, it can be interpreted as the voluntary limitation  and regulation of  the sexual activity within a committed relationship. In this way, our behavior is no more ruled by the senses, which means that life energy –prāṇa– is not squandered, but can be harnessed toward spiritual transformation. It is understood that “when  [the yogi] is grounded in brahmacarya, great vitality is acquired” (Yoga Sūtra 2.38).

The last one of the five yama, aparigraha, is the road to freedom. Aparigraha is traditionally translated as non-greed, and Patañjali clearly states (Yoga Sūtra 2.34) that greed (lobha), along with anger (krodha) and illusion (moha) are the root causes to ignorance (avidyā) and suffering (duḥkha). But the literal meaning of aparigraha –nongrasping– “reminds us that nothing actually belongs to us in the first place”.[14]  By starting to get conscious about our true needs, by learning how to let go of the surplus, we learn how to let go of clinging to possessions (again, whether material or subtle). And, as psychotherapist and writer Michael Stone says: “… through letting go of habitual forms of clinging to thoughts and money and addictions, we find ourselves deeper in the world, due to the renunciation of clinging”.[15]  Once more, we come to recognize the inherently infinite abundance of the World, and our “conscious participation in the nexus of Life,”[16] as well as the responsibility that arises from that. Also, besides helping us cultivate the precious virtue of contentment, aparigraha guides us to loosening the hold on the notion of a fixed personality, or “I”. Thus Patañjali states that “when steadied in aparigraha, [the yogi gains the] knowledge of the wherefore of his births” (Yoga Sūtra 2.39).

 However, “yogic moral principles” do not end with the yama. The next limb of Patañjali’s eightfold path –niyama–  referring to internal restraints intended to harmonize the yogin’s relationship with the transcendental Reality, in many ways complement the yama toward the cultivation of a higher sense of morality. Thus śauca introduces the aspirant to external and internal purity, while santoṣa calls for the supreme virtue of contentment.  The last three, which also constitute Patañjali’s krīya-yoga, are tapas –austerity and internal discipline– svādhyāya –study, (resonating also the ancient Greek dictum “know thyself ”)– and īśvara-praṇidhāna –devotion to the Lord. Īśvara-praṇidhāna is an ideal also much praised in the Bhagavad Gītā; one who is grounded in it, acts totally selflessly, offering the fruit of all actions to the highest Reality.

In the observance of the yama and niyama, the aspirant inevitably starts dealing with them as conventional moral principles, trying first not to harm, not to lie, not to steal, to be continent and non-covetous. However, gradually, these principles are getting weaved into the mind, and as practice deepens, one sees that in truth, there’s no reason to be violent, untruthful, envious, and so on. As Georg Feuerstein observes:

“The yogin […] devotes his entire life to become virtuous, which is to say, his ethical conduct is a function of his very state of being. He does not merely follow moral rules but embodies the virtues that conventional morality endeavors to mimic.”[17]Then the yama are followed spontaneously, and, together with the niyama, they function as a spiral: as we reach īśvara-praṇidhāna, we discover that this is the ultimate form of ahiṁsā; namely, the abstention from violence, not only against the others, but ultimately, against the very flow of life. Scholar Ian Whicher says:

“Moral disciplines are engaged as a natural outgrowth of intelligent self-understanding and commitment to self-transcendence which takes consciousness out of (ec-stasis) its identification with the rigid structure of the monadic ego, thereby reversing the inveterate tendency of this ego to innate itself at the expense of its responsibility in relation to others.”[18]