Enough & More: A Yogic Blessing of Santosha for the Season
In the last few weeks, I’ve started taking walks after dark. Stepping out into the brisk air and silence, and moving through the quiet streets of my neighborhood with my four-legged companion faithfully by my side. It began out of necessity, a few busy days and earlier nightfall propelled me into the darkness to provide the miles needed to keep my pup happy and healthy, but it quickly changed to a desire. Bundled up, no music or podcasts to distract, the deep quiet punctuated by the colorful lights of the season through the windows and strung around trees, fences, and hung from the eaves. It feels magical, but not in an etheric way. In a grounded, centered, what’s right here, right now sort of way.
My walks have nothing to do with a destination. In the envelope of cold and darkness, I feel slower, willing to allow more sniffs, more stops, more space for curiosity (both my dog’s and my own). I feel more patient and slow, like the season. I feel content to go at the pace that presents itself, and not push an agenda. After dark, I’m not trying to go anywhere or gain anything, and it feels like the greatest relief. I feel more connected to the unseen humanity behind the rectangular windows of light. Strangers in the daytime, become comforting presences in the ink of night. This is what the season of shorter days and longer nights is all about, and I’m stepping into rhythm with it. It soothes my body, my mind, and my soul.
This internal shift is natural, in the most original sense of the word. It is of nature, it is elemental, it emerges from the marrow of our bones as we attune to the fundament of our cells. It turns us inward, toward our center. It happens for me every year, though it comes by surprise each time, calling me toward deepening connection, simplicity, slowing down, and quiet. And I think, if we tune in, this shift might have some resonance for us all (in the Northern Hemisphere at least). The recalibration brings us into relationship with what is right in front of us, the beauty of the season, the quiet reprieve of darkness, the shared understanding of the light. The slogans of the season, though they may have twisted roots, expound the possibilities available. “Peace on Earth,” “Goodwill,” “Joy to the World.”
When we abide by nature’s call, we may find that we are drawn toward appreciation, gratitude, even generosity. When we align inwardly rather than become swept up in the commercialization and consumerism that our culture has come to identify as “the holidays,” we nurture our quiet center, and in doing so, cultivate contentment and gain access to Joy. When we dare feel full, not by our gains, but by the simple fact that we exist, we realize that this is enough. Our center does not need more, it is already and always full, AND it’s desire is to live MORE of that, from that. In Tantra, this is the weighpoint against which we measure our experience. Is what we are seeking trying to fill a hole or void within, or is it making available the enhancement and expression of what we already are? Are we reaching toward more from a place of lack or as a way to express our fullness? Can we forgive our family for not seeing eye to eye with our values and beliefs, and simply enjoy their presence? Can we offer our loved ones gifts from the generosity of our hearts rather than from the insatiable want for more material comforts or a sense of proving worth? Can we be enough and more? Can the more we seek enhance the enough that we already are instead of being a way to compensate for our lack?
You see, true joy doesn’t emerge from acquiring. Joy doesn’t blossom from material things, and it doesn’t flower in acquisition. We will never find contentment by seeking outside of ourselves. Rather, true joy comes when we see that what we’ve been longing for has been with us all along. When we realize that our time together is fleeting, we find more joy in our connections. When we take time to appreciate what we have, and tap into a wellspring of generosity available for those with less. Joy opens us, rather than closes us. Joy can break our hearts open to the beauty of a leafless tree against a gray sky, or the smallest token of recognition from a stranger. Joy makes space for the opinions of others, holding our boundaries, while also opening our hearts. Joy rises from love rather than safety. Joy is the outflowing of our internal contentment, called Santosha in the Yoga Sutra of Patanjali. And more stuff, more control, and more expectation, more demand, more security, more righteousness will NEVER get us there. Contentment requires a surrender to the beauty of what IS. Even if what IS is a far cry from what you think it “should” be.
In this season of darkness, we celebrate the light, illuminating our homes, our neighborhoods, our city centers. Though our minds may have forgotten, our hearts know that the light will come again, and that without the darkness, our light ceases to shine so brightly. Without the friction of difficulty, we struggle to settle into the ease. Without less, it’s difficult for us to realize the bounty of the MORE that is available even in the smallest of things. This season, when not hijacked by capitalist consumer driven culture, calls us to feel full and content. I invite you to tap into that rhythm by turning inward, appreciating the life you have, seeking the tiny sparks of beauty and joy even within the challenges, and tending to them with care and gratitude. When you do, you will find that just like the season, the light that you tend will grow once more into fullness, just as the light will come again to temper the night.
