Is what I do, seek, or show truly mine… or did I take it from outside to fit in?🤔 I feel that one way to notice this in myself is simple: if something gives me peace, flows with my energy, and does not wear me out excessively, it is mine to the extent that I can simply claim it as part of my life and my lived experiences. This does not mean that I do not make new efforts or that I should not “sweat” for anything from now on: but if something I try to do or show about myself makes me uncomfortable, empties me, or forces me to maintain a facade, it does not feel honest. A lack of honesty almost always opens the door to Asteya (not stealing), because we do things against our grain, for convenience or in a utilitarian way, and we end up stealing time, energy, or authenticity from ourselves.
Asteya is usually translated as non-stealing, but in modern life theft is rarely material. We borrow ideas, imitate aesthetics, repeat phrases we barely digest. Inspiration is natural; the question is whether we integrate it or simply wear it like borrowed clothes.
In my case, as a yoga practitioner and teacher, I ask myself: when does what I have learned and imitate cease to be theft and become part of me, even material that I can call authentic? On social media, we see sequences of poses, copied and repeated in many colors and formats, sold as “good for everything” formulas: for stress, for anxiety, for digestion, for achieving world peace… And well, it’s not easy to draw the line. Inspiration is necessary—we’ve all repeated what others have done before— but careful! There is a huge difference between letting yourself be touched by an idea and appropriating it to seem more “authentic.” Asteya is not just about not stealing things, but it is also about not taking experiences, concepts, or traditions that have not passed through your own filter, that are not consistent with your own origins, that contradict your personal values.
It is not about copying or erasing differences, but about learning, adapting, and honoring the origin without disguising it. Because when something truly inspires you, you transform it from within. The rest… remains someone else’s version with a spirit of blind tradition.
Also, Asteya is not just about not taking what is not ours, but about seeing what we lose when we do. When we appropriate the ideas, time, or attention of others, we rob ourselves from the great opportunity of developing our own pursuits and ideas. In the end, accumulating what belongs to others will never fulfil us. The only thing that truly nourishes us is what comes from within, even if it is imperfect.
Perhaps then it is better to try, explore, question, adapt what we have learned, and share not “the absolute truth”, but our personal experience. Then, and only then, practicing Asteya will remind us that: what becomes authentic is not stolen, it is lived. Remember not to steal from yourself. Postponing what truly matters to fit expectations. Adopting a voice that is not ours to gain approval. Delaying presence because we scroll or distract ourselves.
Asteya asks: is this aligned? Is this lived? Or is it borrowed to belong?
This practice is not paranoia. It is discernment. Something passes from influence into integration only after experience, reflection, adaptation. Only then does it become authentically ours. Asteya is a safeguard for integrity. It protects originality not as ego, but as an opportunity to live in our own voice, even if that voice is imperfect, quiet, or unfashionable.