You don't need a mat or a yoga studio to practice yoga.
You can do it in your car in the Target parking lot. You can do it at 7:30 p.m. after a long workday at Trader Joe's when you're tired, hungry, and mentally arguing with the price of raspberries. You can do it with a hand basket, a list, and the determination to make this shopping trip as quick as possible.
In yoga philosophy, there's a set of guidelines called the yamas. They're often described as ethical principles or ways to live more harmoniously, but I think of them more as gentle reminders about how we can move through the world: how we treat ourselves, how we treat others, and how we can make more mindful choices in our everyday lives.
Lately, I've been thinking about the yamas as something to practice at the grocery store.
Not as a performance, and not as a moral high ground to stand on. Just as a quiet way of asking, "Who am I, and how can I be more aware of what I can do better or differently in this very ordinary moment?"
Ahimsa: Non-harming, even when you're hangry
Ahimsa is usually translated as non-violence or non-harming. At the grocery store, it can look a lot less dramatic.
Like not beating myself up when I linger in the snack aisle.
Like choosing food from a place of self-care.
Like letting myself buy the expensive raspberries or my favorite bakery treat without turning it into a whole story about what I "deserve."
On a practical level, ahimsa at the grocery store might mean asking, "What would be the kindest thing I could put in my cart for my body this week?" instead of, "What would be the most correct thing? The most disciplined thing?"
Some weeks, that's extra vegetables and good protein. Some weeks, it's the salty tortilla chips and the spicy green salsa I really like. Both can be a form of non-harming in their own way.
Satya: Telling the truth on your list
Satya is truthfulness, and it can be surprisingly loud under the quiet hum of fluorescent lights.
Satya at the grocery store might become:
- Being honest about how much you actually cook on weeknights, so you don't buy a bunch of produce that will rot in your fridge.
- Finally admitting that you're not really a kale person, so you stop forcing yourself to buy food you don't enjoy because you "should" eat it.
- Buying foods that reflect how the real you eats, not the fantasy version of you, and doing so without guilt or shame.
For me, satya lives in the space between the person I think I should be and the person who is actually pushing the cart.
When I shop from satya, I buy lunch items I will actually pack, snacks that may not be the healthiest but that I'll still lovingly pour into bowls to enjoy on a weekend movie night with my husband, and weeknight meal options with enough ease built in so that I don't end up getting takeout when there's a fridge full of food at home because cooking feels like too much effort.
Asteya: Non-stealing from your future self
Asteya is usually translated as non-stealing, but in this context, I think about it as not stealing time, energy, or resources from your future self.
At the grocery store, this looks like:
- Not planning weeknight dinners with lots of prep or complicated steps when you know you may not have the energy for them.
- Not under-buying because you're in a weird "I should be able to use what I already have" mood, and then leaving your future self with pumpkin pie filling, a bag of lentils, and a jar of relish to rely on for the week.
- Not scrolling your phone in the parking lot for so long that you steal the time you actually needed to get home, put things away, cook, and settle into your evening.
When I practice asteya, I ask, "What would make this week easier for the version of me who actually has to live it?" and I let that guide my choices.
Brahmacharya: Where is my energy going?
Brahmacharya is sometimes translated in ways that don't totally land for modern life, but one way to think of it is the wisest use of one's energy.
At the grocery store, brahmacharya might look like:
- Shopping when you have enough bandwidth to make decent choices, instead of waiting until you're exhausted and starving and grabbing whatever looks good.
- Sticking to the list enough that you don't feel compelled to walk every aisle and create decision fatigue for yourself.
- Choosing a store, or a time of day, that feels calmer or easier, because protecting your nervous system is part of the shopping experience too.
For me, it has also meant noticing that certain aisles, certain stores, and things like self-checkout are big energy drains. Not in a moral way, just in a "I walk out more frazzled and less grounded than I walked in" way.
Brahmacharya means I can choose not to put myself through that, whether or not other people might find it odd that I sometimes like to shop for groceries at 7 p.m. on a Sunday or that I prefer never to use self-checkout because, in my opinion, it creates the illusion of saving time. The average shopper is not faster or more skilled at correctly scanning and bagging items than someone who has been properly trained to do the job. We've all been had, lol.
Aparigraha: Letting go of the extra
Aparigraha is non-grasping, or non-hoarding.
At the grocery store, that could mean:
- Not buying something that won't be used soon, like a giant bag of flour just because it's on sale. You may need it in a month when holiday baking season starts, but not today. It can wait.
- Letting go of the urge to keep adding "just in case" items to your cart, driving up your spending total and making storage and organization more of a project than it needs to be when you get home.
- Putting something back if you realize it came from fear or want instead of true need or nourishment.
For me, aparigraha sometimes looks like taking a breath in front of the cart and asking, "Is this it?" Then trusting that yes, it is, because I can come back tomorrow, or the day after that, or next Tuesday if I need to.
Why this matters
None of this is about being a perfect yogi at Fresh Thyme every time.
It's about using the most ordinary parts of your life to live your yoga and be kinder to your body, more honest with yourself, a little less frantic and grasping, and a little more grounded.
You don't have to call it anything. You don't have to shout, "I'm practicing the yamas!" to the person next to you in line at the deli counter.
You can just notice:
- the way you talk to yourself as you navigate the aisles,
- the way you write your list,
- the way you choose foods for the version of you who will be tired after work on Wednesday night.
And noticing is part of the work ♥