The Gentle Unraveling of My Youth
My Take on Ahimsa
In a rare twist of fate, life sends us beautiful souls whose presence makes the world a brighter, happier, more wonderful place. This month, I’m so genuinely honored to share a new writer with our readers. Samone Rae-Anne is the kind of honest soul that gives words meaning. This month, she explores depth, vulnerability, truth, and forgiveness – through Ahimsa.
Enjoy her exquisite verbal soul renderings …
PART 1.
Growing up, I always felt that I needed to justify my existence. Before beginning my yoga teaching journey, I searched for different philosophies to help me discover my purpose. I searched through religious texts, spiritual books, and art. I would find what I believed to be small clues and nuggets of wisdom. Still, it wasn’t until I took my first Yoga teacher training in 2023 that I found something that resonated with me on a soul level. Many yoga teacher training starts with teaching Patanjali’s Eight Limbs of Yoga, which offers a pathway to a life of integrity, balance, and inner peace.
The Eight Limbs of Yoga, which include the Yamas, is a comprehensive, holistic, non-denominational guide to living a harmonious and fulfilling life, both internally and externally. The Sanskrit word “Yamas” translates to “rein in” or “control.” The Yamas are the ethical principles that shape how we interact with the world and ourselves. They offer a pathway to a life of integrity, balance, and inner peace. The Yamas are comprised of five principles: Ahimsa Nonviolence (Ahimsa), Truthfulness (Satya), Non-stealing (Asteya), Moderation (Brahmacharya), and Non-possessiveness(Aparigraha) if we allow ourselves to lean into these precepts they encourage us to cultivate a life of harmony, not only in our actions but also in our thoughts and words.
Ahimsa—the ancient Sanskrit word for nonviolence—calls to us like a whisper through the trees, urging us to tread lightly upon the earth and within ourselves.
But nonviolence is not only the absence of war, nor is it merely refraining from striking another with clenched fists. It is the subtle, everyday practice of gentleness in our thoughts and words and how we cradle our fragile hearts. Yet, we often fail in this tenderness—not in the grand, visible ways history records, but in the quiet battles we fight against ourselves.
At fourteen, I stood at the edge of a bridge, the weight of the sky pressing down on me. My body stretched tall but still grew, feeling like an ill-fitting suit. My mind—a storm of unmet expectations—screamed for silence. I had been rejected by the man whose name I bore, a father absent not just in body but in spirit, lost to the undertow of addiction.
I carried the burden of being the eldest, role model, student-athlete, and one who kept her grades good enough to keep the world from asking too many questions. I was afraid to ask for help. Terrified of being seen as weak or putting a burden on anyone else. My parents were in a rocky place; my siblings relied on me to be a ray of sunshine, and I wanted to be strong for everyone. However, my facade felt less like a mask and more like my prison. I was a tower of responsibilities built on a fault line, and beneath me, the river roared promises of an end and relief. The only thing that saved me that day was a loving gesture I gave to myself.
I wrote a short story from two points of view. The first was from Samone’s Point of view – a happy-go-lucky narrative following a confident and strong main character throughout her daily adventures. The second point of view was from “Sasha’s” perspective – a melancholy hedonist with self-destructive tendencies. In the story, Sasha and Samone cross paths, and Sasha harms Samone badly, putting her in the hospital. A dear friend asked to read my story, and although I was hesitant, I shared. And thanks to that moment when my friend tried to connect, and I chose to engage, I was saved.
After reading the story, he gave me a gentle smile with sad eyes. I knew he saw my hurt but said nothing but, “Good writing. It was a bit dark but good.” A few hours later, I was in the hospital, safe and sound, being evaluated for depression / suicidal thoughts. It wasn’t until I got home that night that I learned it was because my friend reached out to my family to express their concern. At that moment, I realized I needed to feel seen.
Ahimsa is not only about refraining from destruction—it is about recognizing the harm we do to ourselves in the shadows of our minds. I didn’t understand then that my suffering was not a testament to my weakness but to my tenderness. That pain is not a poison to be swallowed but a wound that begs for care. This realization, this understanding of the transformative power of self-compassion, is what saved me.
Examples of Ahimsa don’t need to be as extreme as my above example. We harm ourselves in countless ways—starving ourselves of kindness, holding onto past wounds like they are sacred relics, and speaking to our reflections with the cruel sharpness we would never use on a friend. And when we do, that harm does not stay contained. Pain is an echo, bouncing off the walls of our inner world until it seeps into the spaces around us. The sharp words we fling at strangers, the impatience we have with loved ones, the walls we build so high that no one can reach us—these are all the ripples of self-inflicted violence. A river does not swallow itself, but a heart can. You are not alone in this struggle.
Ahimsa asks us to notice these ripples. It invites us to soften, to turn inward with the same compassion we offer a wounded bird. It does not demand that we never feel anger, grief, or frustration; instead, it says we do not let these emotions fester into self-inflicted wounds. It is a call to lay down the weapons we wield against ourselves, to unclench the fists we keep at our throats.
Looking back, I understand now that the pain I carried at fourteen was not my own to bear. It was the inheritance of a fractured lineage, a world that too often forgets how to be gentle. And yet, I am here. I did not become a secret of the river. Instead, I learned to flow with the waters of my becoming. Rapids, waterfalls, and all.
Looking back, I understand now that the pain I carried at fourteen was not my own to bear.
SAMONE RAE-anne
Ahimsa is the art of gentle unraveling—the slow and patient practice of releasing the pain we have wrapped around ourselves like armor. This ‘gentle unraveling’ is a process of self-discovery and self-acceptance, where we learn to let go of the layers of pain and suffering we have accumulated over time. It is not an easy path, but it is the only one that leads home.
Home is not a place but the moment we choose to stay.
Home is the state of inner peace and self-acceptance we cultivate through Ahimsa. Without this first principle that others cannot be fulfilled, each Yama builds on the one before it. Through nonviolence, we realize that we are enough, just as we are, deserve to be treated with kindness and compassion, and that we must start from within.
Key Aspects of Ahimsa
Ahimsa extends beyond physical actions to encompass thoughts and words. It advocates for avoiding negative thoughts, harsh language, and actions that could cause harm.
Gandhi popularized ahimsa through his philosophy of satyagraha, which combines truth and nonviolent resistance.
Gandhi’s use of ahimsa played a crucial role in India’s independence movement.
STATISTICAL DATA
(Trigger warning: this content discusses suicide and suicidal ideation.)
In 2023, around 48 percent of U.S. native and indigenous LGBTQ youth aged between 13 and 24 years had considered suicide within the past 12 months, compared to 37 percent of white LGBTQ youth. The statistic illustrates the share of U.S. LGBTQ youth who had considered or attempted suicide within the past 12 months as of 2023, by race and ethnicity.
As of 2023, around 38 percent of U.S. LGBTQ youth who wanted mental health care were unable to get it because they could not afford it. The statistic illustrates the share of U.S. LGBTQ youth who wanted mental health care but were unable to get it for select reasons as of 2023.
In 2024, some regions like New South Wales, Australia, recorded higher suspected or confirmed suicide deaths than the previous three years, with 954 deaths compared to 928 in 2023. However, other regions like Queensland, Australia, saw a decrease in suspected suicide deaths in 2024 compared to the previous three years, recording 769 deaths compared to 782 in 2023.
Data from England covering February 2023 to January 2025 shows no statistically significant change in suspected suicide rates in recent months, with the rate in January 2025 at 11.0 deaths per 100,000.
In the United States, the overall age-adjusted suicide rate remained nearly the same in 2022 and 2023, at 14.21 per 100,000 and 14.12 per 100,000, respectively. However, this follows a significant increase in the suicide rate in the United States by 36% between 2000 and 2022.
Demographics and Risk Factors
Gender: Men die from suicide at twice the rate of women globally. In 2023, men died by suicide at 3.8 times the rate of women in the US.
Age: In the US, people aged 85 and older had the highest rates of suicide in 2023. In England in January 2025, the age group with the highest suspected suicide rate was 45-64 (15.6 per 100,000), followed by those aged 25 to 44. Concerningly, suicide rates are reportedly rising in older men, particularly those aged 75 and older. Conversely, after years of growth, suicide rates for teens and young adults began to fall in 2022 and 2023, potentially due to increased awareness and resources.
Race/Ethnicity: In 2023 in the US, age-adjusted suicide rates were highest among non-Hispanic American Indian and Alaska Native people (28.1 per 100,000) and non-Hispanic White people (17.4 per 100,000). Suicide rates for non-Hispanic AI/AN males aged 15-34 reached 82.1 per 100,000.
Methods: In 2023, firearms accounted for 55.36% of all suicide deaths in the US. This represents an increase in firearm-related suicides in recent years, driving the overall increases in suicide deaths to record levels. In England, the most common method of death by suspected suicide remains hanging, suffocation, and strangulation (58.5%), followed by poisoning (20.7%).
Impact of recent events and prevention efforts.
COVID-19 Pandemic: Concerns about the impact of the COVID-19 pandemic on suicide rates, particularly regarding isolation and mental health, have been raised. Some data suggests an increase in youth suicide rates during the pandemic, with varying impact by demographic group.
However, deaths due to drug overdose and alcohol misuse were down in the United States in 2023 and 2024, with provisional data suggesting a 27% one-year drop in overdose deaths. This improvement may be linked to investments in prevention and mental health programs.
Prevention Initiatives: The American Foundation for Suicide Prevention (AFSP) has set a goal to reduce the suicide rate by 20% by 2025 through initiatives like “Project 2025” which focuses on four critical areas: firearms, healthcare systems, emergency departments, and corrections systems. The National Action Alliance for Suicide Prevention shares the same goal.
Data limitations
Data on suspected deaths by suicide are estimates and may be subject to revision. Caution is advised against drawing conclusions about suicide trends based on short-term changes.
Some research suggests that suicides may be misclassified as drug overdose deaths, potentially leading to undercounting.
