Ahimsa, Wholeness, and the Yoga of Radical Inclusion
Ahimsa is a cornerstone of yoga, including Tantra. Often translated as nonviolence, it invites us to refrain from harming ourselves or others and to meet life with kindness, respect, and compassion. From the root hims, to strike, with the “a” in front of the word means its opposite, not to strike. It is a practice of non-forcing, non-resistance, and learning to soften our habitual urge to push, fix, or control.
But what if Ahimsa has an even deeper meaning? What if it is also a practice of wholeness?
I believe one of the most subtle forms of violence is the way we sometimes treat ourselves. We criticize ourselves for not being good enough, reject the parts of us we don't like, and try to hide our fears, insecurities, and vulnerabilities. We may be kind to others while holding ourselves to an impossible standard.
This is where Ahimsa meets what I call the yoga of radical inclusion: learning to welcome all of who we are, even the parts we'd rather not see.
The Courage to Turn Inward.
When we resort to meanness toward others, we're often acting out our own pain. We blame someone else rather than recognizing what's hurting inside us. I've done this myself, and I've been on the receiving end, too.
When I can catch myself in the moment, I have a choice. I can slow down, pause, and look within. What's hurting? What do I need that I'm not receiving? What am I afraid of? Often, beneath our anger or harshness is a part of us that needs understanding, reassurance, or love. Rather than directing that pain outward, we can turn toward it with compassion. This doesn't mean excusing hurtful behavior or abandoning our boundaries. It means becoming curious about what's driving us, so we can respond with greater awareness instead of simply reacting.
The same practice applies to how we treat ourselves. Instead of rejecting the parts of us that feel inadequate, afraid, or unworthy, we can begin to embrace them. We can acknowledge our pain without making it a reason to turn against ourselves. That, to me, is Ahimsa in action.
Learning to Be Kinder to Myself.
For many years early in my yoga journey, I struggled with a deep sense of unworthiness. No matter how great a class I taught, I couldn't fully receive the appreciation that came my way. I focused on what I could have done better, what I hadn't given, and how I might have fallen short. Although I'm a perfectionist in recovery, I was hard on myself back then.
Over time, after teaching hundreds of classes, something began to shift. I realized that my need for students' approval was partly an attempt to fill a gap in my own self-acceptance. I was looking outside myself for an appreciation I hadn't yet learned to offer myself—as a teacher, a yogi, and a human being.
Today, that old feeling of unworthiness might still show up occasionally, but it no longer has the same hold on me. When it does, I can welcome it rather than fight it. I remind myself that my worth isn't determined by my performance and that I don't have to be perfect to be whole.
When I teach from a place of connection to my heart, everything flows. And whatever the outcome, I can tell myself, I did the best I could, and that's good enough. I'm good enough. What a relief it is to be free of the constant preoccupation with self-judgment! This, too, is Ahimsa: the practice of no longer making an enemy of ourselves.
Two Perspectives on Wholeness
The practice of Ahimsa leads us toward wholeness. But in Tantra, we need to be careful about how we define it. Consider these two perspectives:
Wholeness as perfection: I am whole when I have overcome my wounds, transcended my fears, healed my broken places, and become the person I believe I should be. The danger? We can spend our lives trying to eliminate the parts of ourselves we consider unacceptable, always striving to become someone better before we allow ourselves to feel whole.
Wholeness as radical inclusion: I am whole not because I am free from wounds, fears, contradictions, and imperfections, but because none of these experiences places me outside the whole. The possibility? Nothing about being human disqualifies us from belonging to ourselves and to life.
In the circle of wholeness, or the Akhanda Mandala, the circle doesn't have to be free of brokenness to be unbroken. It is unbroken because brokenness itself is included within its embrace. That is a beautiful paradox.
This is the heart of radical inclusion. We don't have to wait until we're healed to belong to ourselves. We don't have to overcome our fear to be courageous. Courage is fear walking. We don't have to erase our grief to experience joy, or resolve every contradiction to embrace our humanity.
Radical inclusion doesn't mean giving up on healing or growth. It means we don't have to reject who we are in order to change. We can take responsibility for our actions without condemning our entire being. We can acknowledge our vulnerabilities without surrendering our strength. We can work through our pain without making our wounded places enemies of our wholeness.
Kindness Is a Courageous Choice.
Loving-kindness asks something courageous of us. It asks us to look beyond our immediate reactions and remember that other people are carrying their own struggles, often in ways we cannot see.
Kindness isn't weakness. It doesn't mean agreeing with everyone, tolerating mistreatment, or pretending everything is fine. It means responding without abandoning our humanity—or denying someone else's.
When we practice Ahimsa this way, we can hold ourselves accountable without shame, establish boundaries without hatred, and meet our own and others' imperfections with greater understanding. We stop spending so much energy rejecting what we don't like and begin using that energy to embrace the fullness of life. This is radical inclusion in action.
We don't have to earn our place in the circle of wholeness by getting everything right. We are already part of it. The practice is to remember this, especially when we feel least deserving of it. When self-criticism arises, can we meet it with compassion? When fear appears, can we make room for it without letting it dictate our choices? When we fall short, can we learn from the experience without turning against ourselves?
For me, this is the deeper invitation of Ahimsa: to stop making parts of ourselves unacceptable and begin welcoming the full spectrum of our humanity. Wholeness is not the absence of imperfection. It is the refusal to exclude ourselves because of it.
This month in the Ashaya Membership, we'll explore Ahimsa as a practice of wholeness, and wholeness as the practice of radical inclusion. I hope you'll join me in discovering the freedom that comes when we meet ourselves—and one another—with greater kindness.
May we welcome all of who we are and extend that same kindness to others.
Namaste,
Todd
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