When you hear the word stealing, what comes to mind?

Most of us picture something straightforward: taking an object, money, or food that doesn’t belong to us. But in yoga philosophy, Asteya—the third of the yamas from Patanjali’s Yoga Sutras—asks us to look beyond the obvious.

Asteya is often translated simply as “non-stealing,” but its meaning reaches into the subtler corners of how we live, breathe, and relate to one another. It’s not only about what we take, but also about what we withhold, how we receive, and the ways we diminish life—both our own and others’.

Deborah Adele, in The Yamas and Niyamas, writes:

“Asteya calls us to live with integrity and reciprocity. If we are living in fears and lies, our dissatisfaction with ourselves and our lives leads us to look outward with a tendency to steal what is not rightfully ours. We steal from others, we steal from the earth, we steal from the future, and we steal from ourselves.”

This passage stopped me when I first read it. Because while it’s easy to say, “I don’t steal,” I began to notice the thousand subtle ways in which we all do.

Learning Reciprocity in Colombia

Several years ago, I traveled to Colombia for a retreat, and what I witnessed there with a local indigenous tribe redefined the way I understood reciprocity. For them each meal began not with eating but with offering. Before eating, the group paused to thank the earth for her nourishment, and each person placed something small—a kernel of rice, a few drops of water, a piece of fruit—back to the earth in gratitude.

It was a simple gesture, but profoundly moving. It wasn’t tied to dogma or control. It wasn’t religion in the way I had often experienced it in the United States, with rules and hierarchy. It was something different—an embodied relationship with life itself. A recognition that nothing we consume or enjoy exists without sacrifice and that every act of taking is also an opportunity for giving.

What struck me most was that this practice wasn’t limited to meals. Reciprocity wove through daily life—whether they were gathering water, celebrating together, or honoring nature. It was the lived understanding that all of life is relationship.

When I returned to the U.S., I was struck by the contrast. Food here arrives wrapped in plastic and sealed away from its origins. We rarely pause to consider the farmworker’s hands, the soil’s generosity, or the animal or plant’s sacrifice. It’s not that gratitude doesn’t exist here—it does—but culturally, we have grown “cut off” from the deep, reciprocal relationship with life that makes Asteya more than a concept. In Colombia, I saw it embodied.

Subtle Ways We Steal from Others

When we think of stealing, it’s tempting to stop at the obvious. But Asteya asks us to look at the smaller thefts—the ones we justify or barely notice.

• We steal when we interrupt someone’s story, pulling attention back to ourselves.

• We steal when we compare ourselves to others and, in our envy, diminish their uniqueness.

• We steal when we manipulate or control, trying to shape others into what makes us feel safer.

• We steal when we don’t give our full presence—checking our phone while someone we love is speaking.

These are small moments, but they matter. Each one chips away at connection, at reciprocity, at the sacred flow of giving and receiving.

The Greater Theft: How We Steal from Ourselves

Of all the places Asteya points, perhaps the most piercing is inward.

Deborah Adele again offers words that ring like a bell:

“In all the ways that we impose an outside image of ourselves onto ourselves, we are stealing from the unfolding of our own uniqueness. All demands and expectations we place on ourselves steal from our own enthusiasm. All self-sabotage, lack of belief in ourselves, low self-esteem, judgments, criticisms, and demands for perfection are forms of self-abuse in which we destroy the very essence of our vitality.”

I remember the first time I read this. It stopped me in my tracks. For so long, I had managed my life through the harsh critic in my head. I thought it made me strong, disciplined, capable. But through the lens of Asteya, I saw something devastatingly true: I was stealing from myself.

Every time I told myself I wasn’t enough.

Every time I chased perfection instead of presence.

Every time I let productivity dictate my worth.

I was robbing myself of joy, vitality, and the quiet unfolding of my own uniqueness.

And I realized how high the cost was. Over-efforting, endless doing, constantly pushing for more—it wasn’t just exhausting. It was theft. Theft from my body. Theft from my spirit. Theft from the life I was meant to live.

Giving, Receiving, and the Flow of Life

Asteya isn’t just about not taking—it’s also about how we receive. Nicolai Bachman, in The Path of the Yoga Sutras, reminds us that receiving can itself be a form of giving. To accept a gift—whether material or energetic—with gratitude and without expectation is to honor the circle of reciprocity.

Albert Einstein once said, “The value of a man resides in what he gives and not in what he is capable of receiving.” And yet, perhaps the two are more connected than we think. Sometimes the most generous thing we can do is to receive fully, because it allows the giver’s offering to be complete.

What if living with Asteya is not just about avoiding harm, but about honoring every exchange as sacred—what we give, what we receive, and what we withhold?

Practicing Asteya in Daily Life

Asteya is not a lofty philosophy reserved for sages. It is a living practice, one that asks for our attention in the smallest of moments:

• Offering gratitude before a meal, remembering that what we eat was once alive.

• Listening without interrupting, giving another person the gift of being fully heard.

• Choosing not to compare, but to celebrate others’ uniqueness while honoring our own.

• Softening the inner critic, choosing self-compassion over self-sabotage.

• Receiving kindness, praise, or help without deflection—simply allowing it to land.

Journaling Practice: Exploring Asteya

Take a few quiet minutes with your journal to explore:

1. Stealing from Others

   • Recall a recent conversation where you interrupted, compared, or pulled the focus away. What was happening inside you in that moment?

   • How might you show up differently next time to honor the other person’s voice and presence?

2. Stealing from the Earth

   • Think about a daily habit (food, energy use, consumption). Where might you be taking more than you are giving back?

   • What simple act of reciprocity could you practice this week to restore balance?

3. Stealing from Yourself

   • Write down three ways your inner critic shows up. How do these voices steal from your joy, energy, or uniqueness?

   • If you released even one of those patterns, what would open up in your life?

4. Receiving as Giving

   • Recall a time someone gave you a compliment, help, or kindness. Did you receive it fully, or brush it off?

   • How would it feel to allow yourself to receive wholeheartedly as an act of honoring both yourself and the giver?

Closing Reflection:

Asteya is not about shame or judgment—it’s about awareness. Every place you notice a theft, big or small, is also an invitation to choose differently. What one choice could you make today to live more fully in reciprocity—with others, with the earth, and with yourself?