Rooted Sangha – Session Ten Asteya

Theme: Asteya and the Journey from Bogi to Yogi: A Practice of Enoughness

In yoga philosophy, there’s a quietly powerful teaching that names four stages of being: Bogi, Rogi, Yogi, and Tyagi. It’s not so much a ladder to climb as it is a mirror — an invitation to notice how we’re living and where our energy is flowing.

A Bogi is the indulgent one. The one who seeks satisfaction through the senses — a good meal, the next purchase, the approval of others, the comfort of the familiar. There’s nothing shameful in being a Bogi; we all pass through this stage. It’s simply the phase of seeking outside ourselves. But when pleasure and comfort become our compass, something starts to feel off-kilter. We begin to consume more than we need — food, energy, experiences, attention — and in subtle ways, we start to steal from our own peace.

That’s where Asteya, the practice of non-stealing, begins to whisper to us.

Asteya isn’t only about not taking what belongs to another. It also asks:

Where am I taking more than I need?

Where am I stealing from my own time, energy, or vitality?

Where am I grasping for something that can never truly be mine — control, certainty, perfection?

When we ignore these questions, imbalance sets in. The teachings call this the stage of the Rogi — the one who suffers from dis-ease. Perhaps our body aches, our mind spins, or our heart feels restless. The Rogi begins to see that constant striving and grasping create their own kind of poverty. This is the threshold moment — when we begin to turn inward and seek a different way.

Then, slowly, we meet the Yogi within us — the one who lives in balance. The Yogi learns that joy comes not from accumulation but from presence. To live as a Yogi is to practise Asteya in its truest form: to trust that this moment, this breath, this life, is enough. The Yogi gives rather than takes, offers rather than hoards, and moves through the world with reverence instead of hunger.

And beyond even this lies the Tyagi, the renunciate — the one who has let go entirely, who lives in harmony with what is, without attachment or fear. But most of us are still walking the middle path — dancing between Bogi and Yogi, remembering and forgetting, learning what enoughness really feels like.

So this week, you might notice:

Where am I taking more than I need — from the world, from others, from myself?

Where might I soften into trust instead of grasping for control?

Where can I return to the quiet contentment of the Yogi — the one who knows that everything we truly need is already within us?

Asteya is not a rule; it’s a rhythm — a return to balance.

And in that balance, we find a kind of peace that no amount of grasping could ever bring.

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Connecting these Archetypes to Asteya

After reflecting on these four archetypes, we can begin to see how each one illuminates a different relationship with Asteya.

The Bogi steals from the future self — overindulging or overfilling, seeking satisfaction in more, more, more.

The Rogi steals from the present moment — pushing too hard, ignoring the body’s wisdom, taking energy that hasn’t yet been restored.

The Yogi practises Asteya — living in balance, taking only what is needed, leaving room for breath, time, and grace.

The Tyagi offers Asteya perfected — releasing even the need to hold or own. They live in complete trust that nothing truly belongs to them, and nothing can be stolen from them.

“Asteya isn’t just about objects or possessions. It’s also about not stealing from our own peace, our own time, our own healing. Each of these archetypes shows us where we might be taking too much — or giving too much away.”

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The Patience of Ordinary Things

by Pat Schneider

It is a kind of love, is it not?

How the cup holds the tea,

how the chair stands sturdy and foursquare,

how the floor receives the bottoms of shoes

or toes. How soles of feet know

where they’re supposed to be.

I’ve been thinking about the patience

of ordinary things, how clothes

wait respectfully in closets

and soap dries quietly in the dish,

and towels drink the wet

from the skin of the back.

And the lovely repetition of stairs.

And what is more generous than a window?

I often return to this poem when exploring Asteya, because Schneider reminds us what it means to receive life without grasping. The “ordinary things” — the teacup, the chair, the towel — each offer what they were made for, quietly and completely. They don’t demand attention or more than their purpose allows. They serve, they hold, they give, and they rest.

There’s a profound kind of love in that simplicity.

To live with Asteya is to become like these ordinary things — patient, generous, and content in our place in the world.

In a culture that teaches us to reach endlessly for more, this poem feels like a pause — a reminder that contentment is not complacency, and that true wealth is found in the steadiness of enough.

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Giving Back

After covering room and fuel costs, all proceeds from Rooted are being saved to support a local cause, to be chosen together later this year — as a small act of Bhakti yoga, the yoga of devotion in action.

On 21st September we made our first donation (£110) to Kettering Samaritans.

This week we put another £10 aside, making our current total £50. Our next beneficiary is Johnny's Happy Place.

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Going Forward

Thank you, as always, for pausing to look beneath the ripples — for daring to meet yourself with honesty and compassion.

May you soften towards the parts of yourself that still grasp or reach, recognising how they once protected you, and how you can now let them rest.

May you find the courage to live from a place of enough — to trust that who you are, what you have, and where you are right now is sufficient and sacred.

And may you remember that true abundance arises not from taking or holding tightly, but from the quiet generosity of presence. Your being — steady, open, and content — is the gift the world most needs.

With love, Vicki x