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Love, Boundaries & the Yogic Path

February invites us into conversations about love—how we give it, receive it, and often measure ourselves by it. Hearts, flowers, devotion. You know the drill. Modern culture defines love as limitless availability, endurance to the point of permanence, and sacrifice. Unconditional love is often framed as

• Loving no matter how you’re treated
• Staying connected regardless of harm (keep the “peace”)
• Enduring at the cost of self-respect
• Proving love through sacrifice

I’m curious if any of these scenarios sound familiar to you.

From a yogic lens, this is not love—it is attachment (rāga) mixed with fear. Yoga is clear: attachment masquerading as love leads to suffering. The Bhagavad Gītā reminds us that love rooted in fear of loss, identity, or outcome binds us. Love rooted in clarity liberates.

From a yogic perspective, unconditional love is not an emotional contract or a guarantee of permanence. Yoga offers a quieter, wiser teaching: love is not proven by how much we tolerate, but by how honestly we live. We meet ourselves and others in love when we are grounded in compassionate clarity rather than fear. Love is a quality of presence.

Attachment: A Yogic Definition vs. Modern Attachment Theory

Both yoga philosophy and modern trauma therapy use the word attachment, but they are pointing to different layers of human experience. Treated as interchangeable, confusion arises. They are not—and understanding the distinction allows us to work with attachment more compassionately and effectively.

In yoga, attachment is described primarily through the concept of rāga—one of the kleshas (causes of suffering) outlined in the Yoga Sūtras.

Rāga refers to:

• Clinging to pleasure, outcomes, identities, or relationships
• Grasping for security outside oneself
• Needing something to stay the same in order to feel whole

From a yogic perspective, attachment is existential, not developmental. It arises from avidyā—a misunderstanding of our true nature. We attach because we forget that wholeness is inherent, not conditional.

Yoga does not pathologize attachment—it recognizes it as a universal human condition. The remedy is not avoidance or detachment from life, but vairāgya: non-grasping, discernment, and freedom within relationship.

In contrast, attachment theory, rooted in the work of John Bowlby and expanded in trauma-informed modalities, describes attachment as a biological and relational survival system. Here, attachment is developmental and relational, not philosophical. Attachment needs are real, valid, and necessary, especially in infancy and childhood. Disruptions or trauma in early attachment can shape how the nervous system perceives safety in adulthood.

Trauma therapy does not aim to eliminate attachment, but to restore secure attachment—the felt sense that connection is safe and reliable.

The tension between these frameworks comes when:

• Yogic non-attachment is mistaken for emotional detachment or avoidance
• Therapeutic attachment needs are seen as spiritual “failures”
• Clients are encouraged to bypass attachment wounds in the name of transcendence

Yoga was never meant to be practiced in a vacuum of unmet developmental needs. A dysregulated nervous system cannot simply “let go” through insight alone.

Alignment in “Attachment”

Rather than opposing each other, yoga philosophy and attachment theory operate on different timelines and layers of healing.

• Attachment theory asks: What does this nervous system need to feel safe right now?
• Yoga philosophy asks: Who am I beneath the need for control or certainty?

In a skillful integration, secure attachment becomes the foundation for non-attachment, co-regulation supports the capacity for self-regulation, and relationship safety makes inner freedom possible. Yoga therapy, at its best, honors both.

Attachment theory reminds us that love is first learned through felt experience. Through early relationships, the nervous system comes to recognize what safety, comfort, and care feel like in the body. When those experiences are inconsistent or overwhelming, the body adapts—not because it is broken, but because it is learning, and all learning is rooted in a trying to survive. From this lens, attachment patterns are stories about how we learned of love. Boundaries then become a way of teaching the nervous system something new: that love can be steady without being consuming, close without being intrusive, and caring without requiring self-sacrifice. When offered with clarity and kindness, boundaries help the body trust that connection does not have to come at the cost of safety. In this way, boundaries are not a withdrawal of love, but an invitation into a more sustainable experience of it.

Boundaries Are Not the Opposite of Love

The first yogic ethical principle (yama), ahimsa (non-harming), begins within. When we say “Yes” out of fear, obligation, or the desire to be liked, we quietly practice harm. When we override our needs, ignore our limits, or silence our inner voice, the body keeps the score—through tension, fatigue, resentment, or emotional withdrawal. When we say “Yes” when our body says “No”, or remain in situations that erode our well-being, we are practicing subtle harm—often in the name of love. Hence the confusion. Yoga asks us to listen more deeply.

Healthy boundaries are an embodied act of self-respect. They are the embodied “no” that protects our energy, time, and truth so that our “yes” can be authentic. They allow us to offer care without depletion, presence without resentment, and generosity without self-abandonment. In this way, boundaries do not diminish love—they protect it. As a Yoga Therapist, I now understand that tending to one’s own nervous system, capacity, and well-being is not selfish—it is responsible.

Yoga: Practice of Boundaries

For those of us walking a yogic path, love is not only something we give—it is something we practice. And one of the most profound, and often misunderstood, expressions of love is the ability to set and maintain healthy boundaries. In yoga, boundaries are not walls. They are containers—much like the edges of the mat that create a safe space for practice. Without them, energy scatters, resentment builds, and the nervous system shifts into protection. With clear, established boundaries, love becomes sustainable.

Asana teaches us that boundaries shift moment to moment. A pose that was accessible yesterday may require support today. The same is true in relationships and life. Our needs evolve as we heal, grow, and listen more closely to ourselves.

I wish boundaries were as simple as a one-time declaration. But like yoga itself, boundaries, and love for that matter, are an ongoing practice of self-awareness (svadhyaya). Boundaries, like yoga, ask us to check in: What do I need now? What is sustainable? What allows me to be kind without losing myself?

When we honor these questions, we remain in “right” relationship—with ourselves first, and then with others.

“Right” Relationship as Alignment, Not Approval

When yoga speaks of right relationship, it is easy to misinterpret the word right as meaning correct, morally superior, or socially approved. But in the yogic tradition, right does not point to external validation or rigid rules—it points to alignment.

Right relationship is not about doing what looks good, keeps the peace, or meets expectations. It is about living in harmony with dharma—your inner truth, values, capacity, and lived reality in a given moment.

Alignment is felt, not argued; Expressed, not reasoned. The body often knows before the mind does. When a relationship is aligned:

• The breath moves freely
• The nervous system remains regulated
• There is honesty without collapse
• Care flows without coercion
• Choice replaces obligation

This does not mean the relationship is always easy or comfortable. Growth often stretches us, pulls and pushes. But even in difficulty, there is a sense of integrity, a quiet knowing that you are not betraying yourself to belong.

“True belonging doesn’t require you to change who you are;

it requires you to be who you are.” (Brene Brown)

Moving Away from External Measures

Externally approved relationships often rely on performance:

• Being agreeable
• Being needed
• Being “good” or self-sacrificing
• Avoiding conflict to maintain harmony

Approval-seeking pulls us out of alignment because it prioritizes appearance over truth. Over time, this creates inner conflict—and the body responds with tension, fatigue, or emotional withdrawal.

Yoga invites us to release these measures. Right relationship, instead, asks:

• Can I be myself here?
• Can I speak honestly without fear of punishment or erasure?
• Does this relationship support my well-being and growth?

If the answer is consistently “No”, yoga would say something is out of alignment—not morally wrong, but energetically and relation-ally unsustainable.

Alignment Is Dynamic

Alignment is not fixed. Just as a pose changes from day to day, right relationship evolves as we grow, heal, and change. What was once aligned may no longer be. Recognizing this is not failure, it is awareness. This awareness becomes the girt that allows for agency to shift.

Yoga teaches us to respond to life as it is, not as we wish it to be. Choosing alignment may sometimes mean:

• Renegotiating boundaries
• Allowing distance
• Releasing roles or expectations
• Letting go with compassion

With practice, these choices, made with kindness and clarity, without blame or justification, allow for greater ease.

Right Relationship Begins Within

Perhaps most importantly, right relationship begins with ourselves. When we are in alignment internally—when our thoughts, words, actions, and values move in the same direction—our relationships naturally reflect that coherence.

From this place, love becomes steadier. Boundaries become clearer. And connection becomes something we participate in consciously, rather than something we perform to be accepted.

In yoga, right relationship is not about being right. It is about being true.

Right Relationship as Transparent Alignment

Transparent Alignment, a paradigm I developed as a result of my yoga study, deepens this teaching by asking us not only to know what is true for us, but to live it visibly and coherently. It is the practice of allowing our inner knowing—values, capacity, nervous system state—to be reflected in our words, choices, and boundaries without distortion.

Transparent Alignment is not oversharing, justification, or defense. It is quiet congruence. When we are transparently aligned, what we feel, what we say, and what we do are moving in the same direction. This is dharma made relational. This is intention in action. It creates right relationship not because others agree with our choices, but because there is no hidden agenda, self-betrayal, or performative harmony beneath them.

From a yogic lens, this is ahimsa in action. When alignment is obscured, when we say “Yes” while bracing inside, or remain connected while quietly resentful, we create subtle harm, first within ourselves and eventually within the relationship. Transparent Alignment interrupts this cycle. It allows connection to be honest rather than managed, compassionate rather than compensatory.

Right relationship, then, is not about staying, fixing, or proving devotion. It is about showing up in a way that is internally true and externally clear. When alignment is transparent, love does not need to be convincing. Boundaries do not need to be defended. And relationship becomes a living practice, responsive, ethical, and sustainable. Living in Transparent Alignment is what allows me to care for and love myself and others at the same time.

Yoga and Unconditional Love

Unconditional love is often mistaken for limitless tolerance. But in yoga philosophy, love (prema or maitri) is rooted in clarity, not sacrifice. It does not require us to betray ourselves to remain connected. Instead, it asks us to show up fully, present, honest, and aligned.

Unconditional love means we can care deeply without controlling outcomes. We can hold compassion without absorbing another’s emotional weight. We can remain open-hearted while choosing distance, rest, or change. Love, in this sense, is spacious and steady—not enmeshed or depleted.

Yoga does not use the modern phrase “unconditional love” in the way it is often understood today. Instead, it points us toward qualities of the heart: maitrī (loving-kindness), karuṇā (compassion), prema (mature love)—always paired with vairāgya (non-attachment).

This pairing matters.

Love, in yoga, is unconditional in its regard, but relationships are conditional in their form. Mutual respect, safety, honesty, and care are not negotiable. You can hold goodwill for another while choosing distance, change, or clear limits. This is not a failure of love but rather discernment (tapas) in the practice of ahimsa (non-harming).

The Somatic Wisdom of Love and Limits

The body is often the first to tell the truth. The nervous system responds when boundaries are crossed or needs ignored. Somatic messages include tightening throat, shortened breath, clenching muscles, fatigue, or withdrawal. These are not flaws; they are messages.

In a yogic and therapeutic context, maintaining boundaries supports regulation and healing. When we listen to the body’s cues and respond with honesty, we remain in right relationship—with ourselves first, and then with others.

Unconditional love, when embodied, feels spacious. The breath remains steady. The jaw softens. There is no urgency to fix, prove, or endure. Love becomes a state of steadiness rather than struggle. Yoga reminds us that attachment disguised as love leads to suffering. Love rooted in clarity unshackles.

Is Unconditional Love Possible?

Yoga would say “Yes,” but not as a permanent personality trait or relational guarantee.

Unconditional love is a practice, not a destination. It arises in moments of presence, meditation, devotion, and deep self-awareness. It grows as we loosen our grip on outcomes and identities. Fully expressed unconditional love embodies universal goodwill, Metta, the sincere wish that all beings be safe and free, rather than as limitless endurance in personal relationships.

The work is not to achieve perfect love, but to remove the conditions that block our natural capacity for care.

Love With Integrity

This February, consider a more grounded vision of love. One that honors tenderness and truth. Consider love not as something you prove, but something you embody. Let your boundaries be clear, compassionate, and consistent. Root love in truth rather than obligation. Allow for compassion without collapse, boundaries without bitterness, and care without control. When we live this way, we model a love that is grounded, resilient, and deeply, honestly human.

Yoga teaches us that when we stay true to ourselves, love becomes clearer, bigger not diminished, potent not commanding. Love rooted in integrity, heals rather than harms. The yogic path reminds us: when we care for ourselves with honesty and tenderness, we expand our capacity to love others without condition—and without harm.