Aparigraha Off the Mat: Letting Go of What You Don't Need to Carry
Part of the Denver Yoga Summit Yamas and Niyamas Series
Somewhere in your house, there's a drawer you don't open anymore. It's full of things you're keeping "just in case."
That drawer is a good place to start, but it's not the point. The real drawer is in your chest. It holds the version of yourself who was supposed to have this figured out by now. The friendship that ended badly, still playing on a loop. The plan for how your life was going to go, filed away, never quite thrown out.
Aparigraha, the yoga practice of non-grasping, asks you to open that drawer and look honestly at what's still in there.
Where the Grip Shows Up
Grasping at outcomes. You plan the event, the trip, the conversation, down to the smallest detail, and then panic when the day doesn't match the plan. Aparigraha asks you to hold the plan a little looser, so the actual day, or trip, has space to be good in its own way.
Grasping at old identities. Maybe you were "the strong one," "the fun one," "the one who never asks for help." Those labels earned you something once. Aparigraha asks whether you still need them, or whether you're gripping a version of yourself that's costing more than it's giving back.
Grasping at being right. Winning the argument. Proving the point. Keeping score in a disagreement long after it matters. This is one of the quieter forms of parigraha, and one of the most exhausting.
Grasping at worry. Worry can feel like love, like proof you care enough to hold the fear for everyone. Often it's just fear with nowhere else to go. Non-grasping doesn't mean stop caring. It means stop mistaking the grip for the care.
A Practice: Move Fast, Don't Rush
There's a phrase making its way through Denver yoga circles this year: move fast, but don't rush. It sounds like a contradiction, and it isn't. Rushing comes from the nervous system's fight, flight, or freeze response, the part of you that grips because it's scared. Moving fast with intention is different. You can move quickly and still breathe. You can carry a full day and still keep your hands open.
Try this the next time you notice yourself gripping a plan, a person, or an old story: name what you're holding, out loud if you can. Then ask, does holding this tighter change the outcome? Most of the time, the honest answer is no. That's the moment to practice setting it down, even for thirty seconds.
Journal Prompts for Aparigraha
Set a timer for ten minutes and write without editing yourself.
What am I holding onto right now that isn't mine to hold?
Where in my life have I mistaken control for care?
What would I do differently this week if I trusted there was enough: enough time, enough love, enough support?
What identity have I outgrown that I'm still introducing myself with?
What's one small thing I can set down today, just to feel my hands open?
There are no right answers here. The point of the prompt isn't the sentence you write. It's the noticing.
The Practice Is Never Finished
Non-grasping isn't a box you check once. You'll grip again tomorrow, and the day after that. The practice is in the noticing, and in setting it down a little sooner each time.
That's also, honestly, what a space full of strangers practicing together can do for you that a solo practice can't. Watching other people loosen their grip, out loud, in public, makes it easier to trust that you can too.
We're gathering for this kind of practice at the Denver Yoga Summit, September 11-13 at Chatfield Farms. Payment plans are available so cost isn't the thing holding you back. Community rate ends August 1. Find your spot here.
Read the first Aparigraha post here.
Next in this series: Aparigraha for yoga teachers, and how to bring it into your teaching.
Common Questions About Practicing Aparigraha
How do I practice aparigraha in daily life? Notice where you are gripping an outcome, an old identity, being right, or worry. Name what you are holding. Ask if holding it tighter changes anything. Then practice setting it down, even for thirty seconds.
What is a good journal prompt for aparigraha? Set a timer for ten minutes and write without editing yourself: what am I holding onto right now that isn't actually mine to hold?
Does aparigraha mean I should stop caring about things? No. Aparigraha asks you to release the grip, not the care. You can plan carefully and still hold the plan loosely enough to let the day unfold in its own way.