When the Cow Drank Next to the Tiger

Just when you realize you're being pulled into taking sides in troubled times, that's the reminder to practice as if you were a monk in the meditation forest.

In the Hindu tradition, Patanjali’s Yoga Sutras offer timeless wisdom for living a virtuous life. Swami Satchidananda, a modern translator of the Yoga Sutras, recounts the story of monks meditating deep in a forest.

The sages embody the principle of ahimsa—nonviolence—the first of the Yamas, which means the practice of reining in or self-control. For the forest sages, ahimsa was not just an abstract ideal but an active practice. Their peacefulness radiated outward, creating an environment in which even the forest animals coexisted in peace. It is said that the tiger and cow drank side by side from the same stream while in the monks’ presence.

How does ahimsa differ from an ethical rule of nonviolence?

As a transformative practice, ahimsa offers the foundation for our doctrine. Unlike the old liberalism of indifferent coexistence and abstract principles of non-harm, our doctrine calls for a rebirth of practiced virtue in thought, word, and deed.

Such is neither an abstract rule nor an ideal but instead a discipline to be cultivated daily, radiating nonviolence in ever-widening circles from the self to the world. As with other virtues, it requires our movement toward mastery. That means we must practice every day, just as we practice violin, painting, or jiu-jitsu.

Ahimsa as a Practice

To embody ahimsa is to practice it consciously. Such a practice does not preclude self-defense or standing firm against one’s enemies, but prioritizes nonviolence as the first virtue, first practice.

Such requires equipoise—a state of centeredness in which we align our internal drives, fractured selves, and reflex responses.

Drawing from Western psychology, we can see these drives through the lenses of Freud’s Eros (life, creation) and Thanatos (death, destruction), as well as Jung’s anima (feminine) and animus (masculine). These forces manifest in distinct yet interconnected ways:

• Eros Masculine. The urge to control and build, to force, or to “make it so” through planned order.

• Eros Feminine. The power to facilitate and let order emerge, to “let it flow” through collaboration.

• Thanatos Masculine. The drive to end or destroy, to “burn it down” or “end it now.”

• Thanatos Feminine. The release of letting go, preparing for change without forcing it.

Each of these forces has healthy and unhealthy expressions.

Destruction, for instance, can be necessary, like ending a toxic relationship, while creation can be dangerous if taken to excess. The key is balance: releasing the feminine without suppressing the masculine, maintaining the creative destruction of Eros and Thanatos. We learn to channel or suppress as circumstances dictate.

As the old mystic Gurdjieff suggested, combining the wisdom of the yogi, monk, and fakir creates a “sly one.” Balance, aligning the cognitive (head), emotional (heart), and intuitive (gut), returns control to its inner locus.

The paradox of centeredness in ahimsa is that you will be better prepared for war.

Radiative Sovereignty

This balance practice begins within and, with mastery, radiates outward, a phenomenon we call radiative sovereignty. By mastering our inner world, we project peacefulness and determination into our outer world.

Starting with the self, we extend this harmony to family, friends, and the wider world. As the saying goes, “Don’t try to save the world before yourself.“ This concentric-circle approach ensures that our actions are grounded in a sense of centeredness and competence before we face challenges outside the home.

Strange that we live in a system that attracts the venal and uncentered to positions of authority. Then again, one who has mastered ahimsa is by disposition and practice averse to the desire for political power, which we have suggested is a pathology of the soul.