Peace is not passive. It is a call to action — a courageous choice to confront injustice, inequality, and harm with clarity, compassion, and truth.
In this final installment of our Ahimsa in Action series, in honour of International Peace Day, observed around the world each year on 21 September,two teachers reflect on the role of silence, activism, and yoga in times of crisis. Their words remind us that peace is not only an inner state, but also a collective responsibility — one that asks us to act with courage, solidarity, and care.
Peace is a White Person’s Word
by Bex Tyrer
“Peace is a white person’s word” is a quote by Kwame Ture which has haunted me for a while. It points to the understanding of peace as a privilege and the masking of the quiet hierarchy of systems of injustice which often enforce it.
In the context of Israel and Palestine, as history teaches, peace will remain an illusion until the historical wrongs have been righted. The cycle of violence will continue unless the current power imbalance is rectified and the sources of generational trauma are addressed. Peace can be enforced through the obliteration of a people, or in the case of the Occupation, through a highly complex system of checkpoints and smart technology. Although it comes at the cost of destabilizing not only the region, but also of rocking the world.
In 2004 I was part of a “Peace Cycle” from London to Palestine. It was primarily an awareness-raising campaign. In retrospect it might not have had the outcome those of us who cycled the 7,000-plus kilometres had hoped for, but it most certainly, irrefutably changed me and my global outlook. Living in occupied Palestine for two years taught me more than a history book and gave me a far wider education than the slim narration I had received via even the more reputable news publications.
The occupation of Palestine has been whitewashed as too political, religious, or complicated to demand real attention from the average citizen. Yet, thanks to the bravery of the journalists on the ground who have live-streamed the genocide of their own people, there has been a way to bypass decades of propaganda. It has happened slowly, but it feels as if the veil of apathy and miseducation has been lifted.
The global mobilisation towards a free Palestine is gathering momentum across borders, religions, class, and all other sorts of categorizations and perceived divisions. The reason being, I do believe, is that the marathon of human rights and ecological abuses carried out by Israel — and with the direct supervision, funding, and cheerleading of the major powers — has shaken us all awake to the fact that we are all in some ways complicit in this tragedy and, by the same stroke, a potential part of the solution. At the time of writing, the mass mobilisation of people on the streets around the world, plus the Armada of boats sailing to Gaza, are testament to a wave of resistance that is determined to build a kinder world.
Yet what, you might ask, has this to do with Yoga? The Yoga Barn recently offered this prompt, which I feel is pertinent for us all to contemplate: “How does your Yoga practice help you respond to injustice or suffering?” And it has been an important point of consideration during my past two decades of teaching. After all, my background in Human Rights has blended into my study of Yoga. It has been impossible for me to separate the two.
When I first began practicing Yoga I was absolutely the “angry activist.” The anger, I do believe, was justified, and yet it came at the cost of being able to take wise action. I was busy reacting, rather than taking time to consider and respond. As our practice works on multiple levels and layers of being, Yoga also opened me up to an even deeper sense of feeling. Rather than numb or distract, it has given me the courage to hold the rage and … the grief. Through the privilege of having a dedicated practice, I have learnt how to slow down, watch my emotions, and then respond with more stability and humility.
Ironically, the reputation of the modern Yoga world as a place of white privilege and narcissism encourages me to prove it wrong! I do believe that Yoga is aligned with creating a more just world collectively, as opposed to a purely personal spiritual or even physical practice. Yet this is not automatic — it needs to be worked for. After all, if you are reading this, you and I have not chosen to retreat from the world but rather to engage with it. It might be tempting to do what I call “do an ostrich” and just turn away from whatever is uncomfortable, but this does an injustice to our practice, which contains the capacity to allow us to break down learnt illusions and exist in a web of interconnectedness. How can we expect to be personally “happy” if it comes at the cost of others’ suffering?
Yoga reminds us that we all come with our imprints of life experience, or samskaras. They can be both destructive or constructive. As we complement our life with a yoga practice, how do our worldly skills, interests, and even privilege support us to move forward in “the direction of our choice” as opposed to blindly following the majority? How do we, each and every single one of us, serve life daily?
As the Bhagavad Gita reminds us, we all have a unique set of skills, but moreover, we have a responsibility to make an offering back to life each and every day. This is where dharma and duty collide. Yoga can potentially support us to find our own personal centre amidst the collective pain, and support us to work with whatever tools we have to speak up and out. For some this is to heal old wounds that can benefit the next generations. For others this may mean making difficult choices in order to align work with ethics. For others it could be using their platforms in a way which requires courage — to speak up for those whose voices have been silenced.
It reminds me of the Jains, who gifted the world of Yoga with its cornerstone of “Ahimsa.” Many of us have translated Ahimsa as “non-violence,” but I would argue that for the Jains it was more akin to “compassionate action.” Some of the Jain leaders were so committed to not causing violence that they stood completely still. For a lifetime. They refused to take any action which may cause a subsequent reaction. To take a stand for a kinder world. Literally.
Finally, I would like to share a poem that I recited by heart many years ago entitled “A Yogi’s Prayer.” I no longer know the original author, nor the source, yet it is a prayer for the modern practitioner who practices not solely for their own well-being, but in recognition that their own “peace” is entwined with liberation.
A Yogi’s Prayer
May all who are free set others free.
May all the world’s leaders lead with wisdom and compassion, and may justice prevail.
May everyone here live lives of health.
May our works flourish so that they aid everyone.
And long may our eyes see the sun.
— Bex Tyrer, Yoga Teacher
Standing in the Gap: Activism, Yoga & the Role of Silence in Times of Crisis
by Nadine McNeil
As I prepare to return to Jamaica, the land of my birth, I sit in Bali reflecting on the deep interconnectedness of the personal and the global, of individual suffering and collective action. Yesterday, Jamaica announced its general elections will take place on 3 September, and the weight of that announcement sits heavily with me—especially considering the tragedy that unfolded on October 7, 2023.
On that day, the world witnessed the devastating Hamas attack in Israel, while in Jamaica, the daughter and baby-mother of a senior Member of Parliament were brutally murdered. Both events occurred on the same day, yet the global outcry over the attack in Gaza overshadowed the violence occurring in my own homeland.
At the time, I was already grappling with my own personal turmoil—immersed in a grueling court case, drowning in debt, and watching my mother decline. Alone, with no siblings, no partner, no children, no support—just carrying the weight of it all.
A dear friend called to ask if I had heard the news, but I had not. My response then, and it remains now, was that I simply did not have the emotional capacity to extend my attention and energy beyond what was immediately in front of me. I had witnessed atrocities firsthand, from the Middle East to Africa, and while my heart ached for every human life lost, I knew I had to focus on surviving the storm I was living through.
Our friendship strained, as she couldn’t understand my silence, and I felt misunderstood for not responding. I now realize that silence is a powerful statement in itself, and at that time, my silence wasn’t indifference. It was a diplomatic response, an act of avoidance—one I had learned over years of facing and surviving crises. But silence can also be complicit. This is something I’ve come to acknowledge fully.
Jamaica and the Global Mirror
Jamaica, the place I call home, is under pressure. The cost of living has skyrocketed, basic infrastructure is crumbling, and corruption is rampant. For those living on the ground, this is a time of intense struggle, especially as the country faces its own history of political violence.
The tension between inner-city communities like Gully and Gaza, along with the brutal history of election-related violence, has always loomed large. Gaza is not just a place in the Middle East; it’s right here in Jamaica too—embodied in the words of Vybz Kartel’s infamous tagline, “It ah tape? Gaza nuh rape.” The same energy that fuels Gaza in the Middle East has taken root in Jamaica’s inner cities, spreading the same patterns of violence, division, and trauma across borders. Now, as I prepare to return to this environment, the weight of these realities looms even heavier.
What Keeps Me Grounded
But what keeps me grounded in times of global and personal turmoil? For me, the answer has always been yoga. Since entering an ashram in 2008, the tenets of yoga—Serve, Love, Give, Meditate, Purify, Realize—have been my guiding light. These words, these practices, have shaped how I navigate life’s challenges, from the personal to the political.
The Collective Responsibility of Peace
Activism, however, has always been rooted in a belief that peace must start within. I didn’t come to yoga as an escape; I came to it as a path to healing, to inner transformation, to recalibration in a chaotic world.
But I know this truth: peace is not just about finding stillness on the mat. It’s about making peace a living, breathing practice that extends far beyond the confines of my body. Too many people roll out their mats and pretend that yoga ends when the class is over. Too many of us compartmentalize activism, thinking that once we roll up our mats, we are absolved of our responsibilities to the world.
But I am acutely aware of how dangerous this is. Yoga cannot just be a personal practice; it must be a collective one—one that permeates our actions, our choices, and our words. To sit in silence when injustice prevails, to let the world burn and not act, is complicity. My call to action is not just to speak but to act—to recognize that doing yoga and turning away from the pain and suffering around us is not enough.
Yoga as a Vehicle for Global Change
The core of my message is this: personal transformation through yoga is the vehicle for a larger social and global change. But this change is not something that happens by accident. It must be intentional. Conscious.
If we are not actively reshaping ourselves, we cannot expect to reshape the world. It has to start within—within my heart, my home, my community.
I am not just reclaiming my voice; I am demanding that others do the same. I am inviting people to use their voices, their practices, and their platforms to make a tangible difference.
Inner peace is not a passive state. It is a radical act, a transformative power that must extend outwards. We cannot be content with the illusion of peace that comes from personal serenity while the world falls apart around us. Yoga is not just about finding inner peace—it is about using that peace to disrupt the systems of oppression, injustice, and violence that permeate the world.
A Call to Stand Together
There are no right answers and no wrong questions. Only the deep, unyielding need to show up in the world with grace, compassion, and love.
I am asking us to stand with me, to stand together, and to explore the path to healing—not just for ourselves, but for the collective. The healing we long for in the world begins with the healing we allow ourselves to experience, in mind, body, and spirit.
Each one needs one.
And so it is.
— Nadine McNeil, Yoga Teacher
Closing Note & Final Bow
Peace is not passive. It asks us to engage with injustice, question privilege, and act with courage. These voices challenge us to see yoga not as retreat, but as a call to participate in the healing of our world.
With these reflections, our Ahimsa in Action series comes to a close — but the practice of ahimsa never ends. Peace is both within us and between us, something we are called to embody in our thoughts, words, and daily actions.
We offer deep gratitude to the teachers and contributors who shared their wisdom, stories, and prayers:
Jana Johnson, Punnu Wasu, Karina Kalilah, Shervin Booloorian, Katrina Blackstone, Seed, Kerry Clancy, Bex Tyrer, and Nadine McNeil. May their words continue to resonate far beyond this page.
This series was lovingly compiled and curated by Francie Fishman — yoga and voice activation teacher, sound healer, and community catalyst — with the intention to honour and uplift the many ways peace is practiced in our community.
May these teachings ripple outward, sparking compassion, courage, and care in your own life and community.
🌿 This piece is Part 3 of our Ahimsa in Action series at The Yoga Barn. Learn more about our community and explore ways to give back here
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