Most of us don’t struggle because we don’t try hard enough. We struggle because we retain too much—outcomes, opinions, identities, and stories about how things should have gone. Life becomes heavy not because effort is missing, but because residue builds up. The Vedic mantra “Agnaye Tvaį¹ Idam Na Mama” offers a different way to live. It doesn’t ask us to withdraw from life or suppress effort. It asks us to act fully, offer honestly, and allow things to complete without being carried forward unnecessarily—like fire does.
I spoke with my coach Allison recently, and she explained this using the idea of drag in triathlon. To go faster, she said, you don’t always need to try harder. Very often, speed comes from removing what slows you down—poor alignment, excess tension, unnecessary movement. She also pointed out that drag isn’t only physical. It’s mental and emotional too. The stress we carry, the thoughts we replay, the emotional turbulence we don’t release all create resistance. When that resistance is reduced, movement becomes smoother and effort begins to work the way it should.
The same thing happens in life. We don’t feel weighed down because we aren’t doing enough. We feel weighed down because we keep retaining too much after the moment has passed. Conversations replay. Results linger. Expectations harden. This quiet retention creates inner resistance, and over time, it exhausts us.
The Vedic tradition describes life as shaped by five basic forces, known as the paƱcabhÅ«tas: earth (prithvi), water (apas), fire (agni), air (vayu), and space (akasha). Each of these elements interacts with the world in its own way. Earth gives stability, but it holds impressions. Water allows flow, but it absorbs what it carries. Air enables movement, but it becomes polluted. Space allows everything to exist.
Fire behaves differently.
Fire alone consumes without becoming impure. It burns what is offered to it and leaves no residue behind. It does not store what it receives, and it does not return it. It transforms and releases. Because of this, fire has always been trusted with offerings.
This is why fire stands at the center of a marriage ceremony. Marriage is not meant to be about owning another person or securing control over the future. It is a commitment that is offered freely. When vows are spoken before fire, they are released. They are no longer held as personal claims. Fire quietly reminds both people that love can be deep and sincere without becoming possessive.
This is the spirit behind the mantra “Agnaye Tvaį¹ Idam Na Mama”—this is for fire, not for me. It is not only a phrase used in ritual. It is a way of relating to action itself. I will do what needs to be done. I will offer it honestly. I will not retain the outcome longer than necessary.
Fire also lives within us as the ability to digest—not just food, but experience. Each day brings praise and criticism, success and failure, ease and strain. When this inner fire is healthy, these experiences move through us. When it is not, they linger and settle. Over time, they turn into pride, regret, anxiety, or resentment.
To live Agnaye Tvaį¹ Idam Na Mama is to reduce inner resistance by allowing experiences to pass through rather than remain stored. It means acting fully and then stepping back. Just as an athlete moves more freely when they stop fighting the water or wind, life begins to feel less heavy when we stop replaying outcomes or turning every moment into a statement about who we are.
This applies to spiritual practice as well. Practice is meant to change us, but not to become another thing we retain. We sit, observe, reflect, and grow. That growth happens naturally when practice is sincere. But when we begin to measure progress or build identity around improvement, practice quietly becomes burdened.
This is why it is said that the goal is not to become fire. Fire already knows how to burn. Our role is simply to live in a way that allows its work to happen. That means giving effort without gripping results, feeling fully without storing the feeling, and engaging deeply without hardening around outcomes.
And slowly, life begins to feel less heavy—not because we are doing less, but because we are no longer carrying what has already passed.
That is how fire teaches us to act fully, without retaining.
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