Kunga Yoga, 1601 River Road E unit 103, Kitchener, ON (2026)

Whether you’re interested in vinyasa, restorative yoga, Qi Gong or Tai Chi, we have something for everyone.

01/17/2026

In the past, I have written and spoken about challenging community dynamics—patterns of misunderstanding, gossip, polarization, and fear that can arise in many places, particularly within modern Western societies. I have encountered briefly these dynamics before, and those experiences have shaped how I observe and think about community. Living where I do now has offered a meaningful contrast, and it has been instructive to experience something different in practice rather than only in theory.

Small towns often carry a reputation for being insular or driven by rumor. What I have found instead is that they can also be places of familiarity, creativity, and steady, practical support. When people cross paths regularly, relationships tend to develop more organically, and care often shows up in quiet, everyday ways.

When we first moved here, being a mixed-race couple in a town that is still largely culturally homogenous was, admittedly, a bit daunting. I grew up in a small town that did not always get inclusivity right, and that history shaped my expectations. Over time, however, I have come to feel that people here do not generally treat others differently based on superficial differences. When preconceived notions do arise, they seem more likely to be noticed and set aside rather than reinforced. There appears to be a genuine effort—sometimes imperfect, but sincere—to relate with openness, curiosity, and respect.

In daily life, that shows up in simple interactions. My neighbours for instance shared their produce with us when our garden had a poor yield. In my yoga classes, students always linger afterward to talk and laugh and connect. Along the nearby path by our home, people walking their dogs exchange brief greetings that contribute to a sense of ease and mutual acknowledgment rather than forced familiarity.

There is also a noticeable culture of looking out for one another. When there are environmental concerns such as forest fire risk or severe weather, people pass along information or check in. When we first arrived, several individuals offered help, services, or words of welcome. These behaviors align with what social researchers describe as healthy social capital: informal networks of care, trust, and reciprocity that develop over time through repeated, low-stakes interactions.

The community also supports creativity and participation. There are local art programs, craft workshops, and small initiatives that reflect both effort and imagination. While there is room for growth, there is already a foundation of people invested in shared spaces and collective experiences. Annual events and celebrations provide regular opportunities to gather, reconnect, and build continuity. It feels like a place for our kids to grow up with a sense of stability, belonging, and connection.

What I find especially notable is the coexistence of diverse belief systems. Organized religion, church groups, Wiccanism, nature-based spirituality, free-form spiritual practice, and alternative ways of living all seem to exist side by side. While the community’s cultural makeup is relatively consistent, there is a visible willingness to grow in awareness around other cultures and ways of relating. I have not encountered overt malice; more often, people act from kindness, concern, or a desire to do right by one another and support goodness and justice.

Care for nature and wildlife is another shared value. Many people keep animals, steward land, or demonstrate respect for the ecosystems they live within. While I have not met many other vegans, I have met many individuals who care deeply about animals and the environment in their own ways.

Later in our time here, we experienced a small but meaningful example of community consideration. We live across from a church that hosts a by-donation community dinner each month. Without being asked, they made sure there were vegan options available for our family. It was a modest gesture, but one that reflected attentiveness and inclusion. Research on community cohesion consistently shows that shared meals and everyday acts of accommodation play a powerful role in fostering belonging.

This is a place where many people know one another, and while there is a clear distinction between year-round residents and seasonal visitors, there is also a strong sense that locals look out for each other. After the disconnection many communities experienced during COVID, it feels as though this region is gradually repairing, rebuilding trust, and finding a renewed sense of cohesion.

A regional hobby group I belong to includes people with very different lives and viewpoints who interact with kindness, humor, and mutual respect. I have also noticed an increase in groups forming with similar intentions—spaces focused on connection, creativity, and support rather than division. We feel blessed and joyful to be part of more and more of these spaces.

Of course, no community is without its challenges. Small-mindedness, cliques, and misunderstandings still exist. But there is also a growing awareness of how easily negativity can escalate or stagnation can set in. That awareness creates room for more thoughtful choices, and many people here seem invested in making them.

At a time when online spaces are increasingly shaped by judgment, outrage, and dehumanization—often amplified by algorithms that reward emotional reactivity—it has been grounding to experience a community where face-to-face interactions and kindness still matter. Research consistently shows that in-person connection fosters empathy and reduces polarization, and that principle feels quietly at work here.

It is not idealized or perfect, but it reflects a sincere effort by many people to relate with care, openness, and mutual support. Being part of a community that is trying—learning, adjusting, and showing up for one another—feels meaningful, and we are grateful to be here and for our children and hopefully eventually even our grandchildren to prosper and contribute and flourish.

Namaste 🙏🏽

01/15/2026

From Good Intentions to Healthy Impact: Rethinking Care in Group Settings

Care, concern, and a desire to protect one another are among the strongest indicators of a healthy community. When people notice someone struggling, acting differently, or simply standing out, it is often motivated by a sincere wish to help, to prevent harm, or to ensure that everyone remains safe and supported. In many cases, these instincts are rooted in empathy and responsibility, and they deserve to be honored.

At the same time, social science and community psychology suggest that even well-intentioned concern can, under certain conditions, take forms that unintentionally cause harm—particularly when it becomes indirect, informal, or shielded from open dialogue. These dynamics are difficult to recognize precisely because they are expressed through care. Yet their impacts can quietly undermine trust, belonging, and psychological safety, both for individuals and for the community as a whole.

One such pitfall occurs when a group’s attention becomes disproportionately focused on a single individual, often justified as worry for their well-being, safety, or mental health. Research on scapegoating and moral panic demonstrates that groups under stress—whether due to uncertainty, change, or internal conflict—often unconsciously displace anxiety onto a symbolic individual (Allport, 1954; Girard, 1986). The targeting is rarely explicit. Instead, it circulates quietly through private conversations, warnings, and “check-ins,” framed as being in the person’s best interest.

In some cases, this dynamic becomes further complicated by secondary motivations that are rarely acknowledged. Social psychology research on status, attention, and group roles suggests that being a “concerned insider” can confer a sense of importance, influence, or moral authority (Keltner et al., 2014). Individuals may begin to gain social capital by positioning themselves as protectors, informants, or responsible gatekeepers. Over time, they can become increasingly invested in the narrative itself—tracking details, interpreting behavior, and maintaining secrecy—not because the situation is escalating, but because their role within it has become meaningful.

As involvement deepens, the line between care and control can blur. The person of concern becomes a focal point for drama, relevance, and emotional engagement, while the costs are borne almost entirely by the individual being discussed. Importantly, this does not require malice. Research on moral licensing and emotional regulation shows that people can act from unexamined insecurity, anxiety, or unmet relational needs while sincerely believing they are behaving altruistically (Merritt, Effron, & Monin, 2010).

When these dynamics persist for extended periods, another pattern often emerges: role entrenchment. Once individuals have publicly or privately invested in a concern narrative, admitting error becomes psychologically costly. Studies on cognitive dissonance and escalation of commitment show that people are more likely to double down on earlier judgments than revise them, particularly when their social standing or moral identity is at stake (Festinger, 1957; Staw, 1976). At this stage, behavior may subtly shift from monitoring to managing appearances.

Concerned actors may become increasingly motivated to protect their role and reputation rather than reassess the situation. This can include selectively framing events, repeating unverified stories until they feel established, or interpreting ambiguous behavior as confirmation. New people may be quietly brought into the circle—not to resolve the issue, but to reinforce the legitimacy of the narrative through repetition and consensus. Responsibility may be displaced onto the individual being discussed, or onto peripheral others, in order to explain inconsistencies or past overreach.

Crucially, these actions are often justified internally as necessary corrections or protective measures. Yet research on rumor transmission and social contagion shows that repetition alone significantly increases perceived truthfulness, even in the absence of evidence (Hasher, Goldstein, & Toppino, 1977). Over time, the narrative gains weight not because it is accurate, but because it has been socially rehearsed.

A particularly concerning variation of this pattern emerges when the language of mental health is used to undermine an individual’s credibility or self-trust. Studies on epistemic injustice show that when someone’s perceptions are subtly questioned or reinterpreted through a psychiatric lens—without clinical basis or transparency—their capacity to be believed is eroded (Fricker, 2007). Concern is expressed about the person rather than with them, and the individual is discouraged—explicitly or implicitly—from addressing the narrative openly because “it might not be good for them” or “could make things worse.”

This creates a paradoxical bind: silence is framed as care, while openness is framed as risk. Sociologist Erving Goffman’s work on stigma highlights how reputational harm is most effective when it is informal and unchallengeable, operating through suggestion rather than evidence. When concerns remain private and dispersed, no single actor feels responsible, yet the cumulative effect is significant—loss of trust, social narrowing, and a quietly managed identity that the person did not consent to.

Related to this is the practice of reputational containment. Unlike overt shunning, reputational containment aims not to remove someone entirely, but to limit their influence, credibility, or relational access. Organizational research shows that this often appears in the form of “pre-framing” others’ perceptions—soft warnings, partial stories, or repeated emphasis on risk (Ashforth & Kreiner, 1999). Again, the justification is protective: protecting the community, protecting others, or even protecting the individual from themselves. Yet the result is that the person is never encountered directly; they are always preceded by a narrative shaped in their absence.

What makes these dynamics especially persistent is that they provide moral cover. Studies on moralized aggression indicate that people are more willing to engage in harmful behavior when they believe it serves a higher good (Bandura, 1999). Because the behavior is labeled concern, participants experience themselves as ethical—even as relational trust erodes and harm accumulates. Over time, this can normalize unhealthy levels of fixation, manipulation, and involvement that would otherwise raise serious ethical concerns.

It is worth emphasizing that intent is not the central issue here. Many people involved genuinely believe they are acting responsibly. However, community health is determined by process, not intention. Care that cannot withstand transparency, dialogue, and the affected person’s participation is not care—it is governance.

There are more honest and effective ways of relating. Research on restorative and trauma-informed communities consistently points to the same principles: direct conversation rather than whisper networks; consent rather than surveillance; proportionate response rather than fixation; and a willingness to examine one’s own motivations alongside concern for others. Genuine care invites the person into the conversation, respects their agency, and tolerates the discomfort of not fully knowing.

Communities do not become safer by quietly managing people. They become safer by practicing openness, humility, and relational courage—especially when concern arises. When care is real, it does not need secrecy to survive.

Namaste 🙏🏽

01/14/2026

What We Don’t See: Compassion in a World of Partial Information

Healthy communities depend on more than shared rules or values; they depend on how people treat one another in moments of uncertainty. Research on social cohesion and psychological safety shows that communities function best when members feel heard, supported, and treated with basic fairness. Offering one another kindness, patience, and gentle consideration is especially important because we rarely know the full scope of what someone else may be experiencing. Giving all voices space to be heard—rather than prematurely discounted—helps create environments where trust, accountability, and mutual care can emerge.

Across psychology, neuroscience, and social science, one theme appears consistently: human understanding is partial. Much of what another person experiences—pressure, exclusion, cumulative stress, or harm—occurs outside the field of view of observers. Recognizing this limitation is not a weakness of judgment, but a foundation for compassion and fairness within a community.

It is therefore worth approaching conclusions about others with caution. In groups, workplaces, and online spaces, opinions often form quickly and solidify without hearing directly from the person involved or seeking sufficient context. Research on social cognition and group dynamics shows that once an interpretation gains momentum, it is frequently reinforced because it is convenient, familiar, or socially supported—not necessarily because it is accurate. Judging a person’s experience from a distance, or without their presence, increases the risk of error and undermines the fairness that communities rely on.

This dynamic is well illustrated in research on bullying in schools and online environments. Bullying is widely condemned and formally discouraged, precisely because it is understood to be harmful. Yet because it is punishable, it often occurs in subtle, indirect, or insidious ways that are difficult to observe, prove, or address. Studies on peer aggression show that much bullying is relational rather than overt, taking the form of exclusion, reputational harm, coercion, or repeated microaggressions. While individual incidents may appear minor in isolation, their cumulative impact can be significant. Such behaviors can occur frequently even under supervision, which means that much more may be happening within an institution than those outside—or even within—are aware of.

Psychological research on gaslighting highlights how manipulation often works through ambiguity: harmful actions are subtle, deniable, and difficult to catch in real time. When misconduct is hard to observe, those who report it are frequently doubted, especially if others have not personally witnessed it. Group belief or popular consensus, however, has never been a reliable indicator of truth. History repeatedly shows that atrocities persist not because they are invisible to everyone, but because enough people are unwilling—or unable—to see them.

This pattern extends beyond schools. Organizational and social research shows that many forms of mistreatment operate beneath formal awareness, especially when power dynamics and social norms discourage reporting. From outside a workplace or community, it is rarely possible to see the full picture. Communities that value fairness must therefore resist assuming that visible information represents the whole story.

At the same time, most people are not likely to invest significant effort in learning the details of another person’s challenges. This is not a moral failing so much as a practical reality: people are managing their own lives, responsibilities, and pressures. Cognitive research suggests that under such conditions, individuals rely more heavily on mental shortcuts—snap judgments, surface impressions, or prevailing consensus—even when these lack nuance. While understandable, this tendency increases the risk of misunderstanding and exclusion.

The familiar guidance not to judge someone until you have “walked a mile in their shoes” reflects this insight. Perspective-taking research confirms that people routinely underestimate how much history, constraint, and accumulated experience shape another person’s behavior. When additional context is provided, judgments tend to soften, and empathy increases—benefiting both individuals and the wider community.

Social psychology also warns us about the danger of forming opinions in a vacuum. When people hear only one side of a story and maintain emotional or relational distance, they are more likely to engage in fundamental attribution error—attributing others’ suffering to personal flaws rather than situational forces. Reducing complex human experiences to simplistic advice (“just think differently,” “set better boundaries,” “let it go”) often implies that the person is merely mistaken or deluded. Research on validation and trauma-informed care shows that such responses are not only ineffective, but actively invalidating. They increase shame, reduce trust, and discourage disclosure.

Distance further complicates understanding. Online environments and public-facing narratives offer only partial views of reality. Individuals can choose what to share, what to emphasize, and what to withhold, while platforms shape visibility through algorithms. Research on mediated perception shows that people often overestimate how well they understand others based on online content alone. The same is true for public figures: studies on parasocial relationships demonstrate that repeated exposure creates familiarity without genuine knowledge. If misunderstanding is common even where visibility is high, it highlights how cautious communities must be when drawing conclusions from limited information.

History provides sobering examples of the cost of dismissing lived experience. Social psychologists note that this pattern—discrediting individuals until overwhelming evidence emerges—is not anomalous; it is characteristic of how institutions and groups respond to inconvenient truths.

A shocking and tragic news story recently told the story of a highschool teacher who committed su***de much to the communities surprise. On further investigations it was found that he was being harassed by a growing number of students. This was being done in a very elusive manner and only when witnesses came forward acknowledging that they knew what was happening did they realize how pervasive and destructive it was and how long it had been going on.

People may also resist believing injustice is occurring because doing so creates moral tension. Studies on moral disengagement show that acknowledging harm while remaining inactive produces cognitive dissonance. Dismissing the claim resolves that discomfort more easily than cultivating empathy, which requires time, emotional labor, and sometimes action. In this sense, disbelief is not always about evidence; it is often about psychological economy.

Privilege further complicates perception. Research on social position and empathy indicates that those who have not experienced certain forms of discrimination or chronic threat often underestimate their impact. What feels like a minor inconvenience in one person’s world may be a persistent, compounding barrier in another’s. Without shared experience, it is easy to assume an “easy fix” exists—or that the person is overreacting—because the problem does not register as real within one’s own frame of reference.

Reducing complex experiences to simplistic advice often follows from this gap. Suggesting that someone merely needs to “reframe,” “let go,” or “try harder” implicitly frames the issue as perceptual error rather than structural, relational, or cumulative harm. Research on validation makes clear that such responses are not neutral; they communicate dismissal and erode trust.

A deeper cognitive factor also plays a role. Neuroscience shows that perception itself is incomplete; the brain automatically fills in missing information to create a coherent picture of the world. Cognitive science suggests that social understanding works in the same way. From fragments of behavior or secondhand accounts, people form narratives that feel complete despite containing significant gaps. These stories can become shared within groups, reinforcing confidence without increasing accuracy.

This contributes to overconfidence in partial explanations. Research on attribution bias shows that when situational context is limited, observers default to simplified interpretations that emphasize personal traits over circumstances. Such explanations may feel reasonable, but they risk overlooking the complexity of lived experience.

When individuals do speak up, scandals frequently follow a familiar script. Studies of institutional crisis and moral injury show that early stages often involve manipulation, gaslighting, and attempts to discredit those raising concerns. Selective voices are amplified—typically those that align with existing power structures—while others are framed as reactive, unstable, or biased. Context is stripped away, and reactions are judged without reference to what provoked them. Observers, lacking access to full information, may mistake emotional response for unreliability, rather than as evidence of prolonged harm.

Social conformity further compounds this problem. Research on normative influence demonstrates that people often prefer to align with accepted opinion rather than challenge it, because doing so is safer, easier, and socially rewarded. Jumping to conclusions about an individual requires far less effort than questioning a widely shared narrative. Over time, the dominant story gains momentum, not because it is more accurate, but because it is more convenient.

When context is missing, understanding is necessarily limited. Yet people often mistake a coherent story for a complete one. Research on attribution error shows that in the absence of full information, observers default to character explanations rather than situational ones, further reinforcing misunderstanding.

Clinical and communication research highlights the importance of a more supportive approach. Being heard and taken seriously—especially when describing difficulty or harm—is associated with better outcomes and stronger trust. Validation does not require agreement or immediate resolution; it requires acknowledging that another person has access to experiences and information that others do not. Invalidation, particularly when delivered from a distance or without sufficient context, can erode the sense of safety that communities need to function well.

At its core, compassion reflects epistemic humility: an awareness of how much we do not know about one another. Communities grounded in fairness resist the urge to jump to conclusions for the sake of convenience or consensus. Instead, they make room for listening, uncertainty, and care.

One of the most constructive actions available in any community is genuine listening. Taking time to hear another person’s perspective, to seek context, and to remain open to revising assumptions strengthens trust without requiring premature certainty. In recognizing the limits of our own vantage point, kindness and humility become not only ethical values, but practical foundations for healthy, resilient communities.

Namaste 🙏🏽

01/13/2026

When Others Need You to Be Something You Are Not

At certain moments in life, people may relate to us not as we truly are, but as what they need us to represent. Psychological research consistently shows that humans rely on projection—the unconscious attribution of one’s own emotions, fears, or unmet needs onto others—particularly during periods of stress, loss, or unresolved trauma. In these states, the nervous system prioritizes emotional survival over accuracy, meaning truth becomes secondary to whatever story allows a person to feel stable, justified, or empowered.

In such moments, one of the greatest—and most challenging—gifts we can offer is sometimes allowing others to believe they are right, even when we know they are deeply mistaken. This is not agreement or self-erasure, but a deliberate act of restraint grounded in wisdom. Research in conflict resolution and moral psychology shows that when people believe they are morally justified, they experience emotional relief and a sense of restored order. That relief can be powerful enough to outweigh concern for accuracy or proportionality.

Many people carry a deep awareness of injustice in the world—social, historical, and personal. When that burden becomes overwhelming, there is a human tendency to seek symbolic justice. Studies on moral licensing and moral outrage suggest that harming a perceived wrongdoer can feel like restoring balance, even when the punishment is misdirected. If someone comes to believe that you “deserve” their anger or mistreatment, then harming you may feel like an act of justice rather than cruelty, providing temporary reassurance that the world still makes sense.

This dynamic can lead to punishment that is ongoing, unlimited, and multifaceted—social exclusion, character assassination, or persistent hostility—without reflection, trial, or fairness. Such actions often go unrecognized by those enacting them, in part because acknowledging their excess would require empathy. And empathy would interrupt the emotional reward that comes from righteous indignation. Research shows that once people emotionally benefit from moral certainty, they may unconsciously resist information that challenges it, because doing so would remove their sense of moral clarity and relief.

Allowing others to project onto us in these moments can paradoxically reduce harm beyond ourselves. When people feel vindicated or morally settled, they may become less reactive and more regulated in other areas of life. Psychological studies on emotional spillover indicate that individuals who feel internally justified—rightly or wrongly—are more likely to show patience and care toward family members and community. While painful for the one receiving the projection, this dynamic can sometimes soften interactions elsewhere, creating indirect benefits for others.

When people act in mean, petty, or cruel ways, research consistently links such behavior to pain, loneliness, and unresolved grief. For some, the fleeting sense of righteousness or control gained through punishment may be the only relief available during a period of emotional collapse. While this does not excuse harm, it helps explain why people cling to narratives that permit ongoing vengeance without accountability.

Being on the receiving end of such projections is deeply difficult. To be scapegoated and denied one’s humanity or voice feels profoundly unjust. Yet history, psychology, and spiritual traditions alike suggest that conflict is rarely healed through escalation. People will often find ways to remain “right,” even while knowing their behavior is unkind, because the preservation of moral identity can feel essential to survival.

From a Buddhist perspective, this understanding invites radical compassion. Buddhism teaches that clinging to being right perpetuates suffering, while releasing attachment to personal vindication creates freedom. Neuroscientific research on compassion and loving-kindness (mettā) practices shows reduced stress reactivity and increased emotional regulation, allowing practitioners to respond wisely rather than reactively. Compassion here is not passivity; it is a disciplined refusal to participate in cycles of harm.

Sometimes only sustained kindness and non-retaliation allow deeper truths to surface. Research in restorative justice shows that accountability and repair tend to emerge only after emotional safety is restored. When hostility no longer meets resistance, it loses its purpose. Over time, people may come to see that the struggle was never truly with you, but within themselves. And they may begin to make kinder choices and listen to more wholesome voices.

This ethic appears across spiritual traditions. In the Christian narrative, Jesus accepts misunderstanding, blame, and suffering not because injustice is acceptable, but because transformation rarely occurs through force. Many strive to walk in his footsteps, yet few recognize how central this willingness to absorb pain without retaliation truly is.

A well-known Buddhist aspiration reflects this depth of generosity:
“May I become whatever beings need in order to find happiness—whether a lamp, a bridge, a friend, a teacher, or even a sacrifice.”

To live this way is to transform negativity into a gift of the heart. Through sustained compassion and selflessness, one can create ripples of calm, care, and stability that reach far beyond the immediate harm. When people feel settled or empowered—even through imperfect narratives—they may act with greater kindness toward those they love.

In time, truth has a quiet endurance. When righteous harm no longer provides relief, it loses its appeal. And in that space, empathy can finally arise—making room for genuine healing, fairness, and justice rooted not in vengeance, but in understanding.

Radical kindness much needed in the world today. It is a demanding, evidence-supported, and spiritually grounded practice. The world does not need more unending punishment and blame; it needs more people willing to break the cycle of harm by refusing to become what pain demands—and choosing instead to become what healing requires.

Namaste 🙏🏽

Address

1601 River Road E Unit 103
Kitchener, ON
N2A3Y4

Website

http://www.kungayoga.com/

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