Sally Kempton
A spiritual community dissolves the sense of separateness that causes so much of our suffering. With a few friends, create your own.
First published in Yoga Journal
In the thirty-odd years that I’ve been slouching along the spiritual path, I’ve noticed that I’m constantly re-discovering basic truths as if I never knew them before. Oh right, I’ll suddenly remember, during a moment of anxiety, getting into a state of love will unknot nearly any dilemma, or at least make me feel better. And, duh, when I’m willing to be fully present to a situation—for instance, the pain in my body or an uprush of one or another of the kleshas—that awareness by itself will often change it. And, o yes, the extraordinary power of spiritual friendship, the way that, when a group of people gathers together for the sake of experiencing their own truth, they can transcend their ordinary limitations of vision, and move together into powerful states of of love and unity.
I am, and always have been, ambhivilent about groups. Part of this is temperamental—perhaps the result of having watched my public school classmates ganging up on other kids, or residual trauma caused by being the last girl chosen for my 7th grade softball team. Even during the period of my life when I was an enthusiastic member of a spiritual group, I remained suspicious of certain group tendencies –the way groups create their own jargon, their own belief systems, their own unspoken cultural rules, and then let these constructs form intellectual and spiritual fences that keep members in and non-members out.
Yet, all that aside, the fact remains that nearly every great spiritual or inner growth breakthrough of my life has in some way been inspired, triggered or supported by practicing in a group. Moreover, ever since I sang “We Shall Overcome” at my first peace demonstration, I’ve adored the feeling of what Ken Wilber calls the ‘we-space’—that state of unity and love that arises when a group of people give themselves fully to the exploration of the highest human possibilities. At such moments, egos stand aside, the pain of separateness melts away, and we are able to enter into a shared heart-space that is the deepest possible proof of interconnectedness.
It’s a no-brainer, of course, that we as social creatures would benefit from turning our sociability to higher ends. Buddha after all, did make the sangam—the spiritual community—one of the three cornerstones of his path, that Christ told his disciples, “When two or more are gathered in my name, I am there.” At its best, a group practicing together creates what the sages have called satsang, and satsang—usually translated as ‘truth-company,’ or being in the company of the wise—is one of the great doorways to inner freedom. In the The Secret of the Three Cities, a text of Vedanta beloved by Ramana Maharshi, the sage Dattatreya tells his student, Lord Rama “Listen! I will tell you the fundamental cause of salvation. Satsang, association with the wise is the root cause for obliterating all suffering!”
By association with the wise, of course, Dattatreya meant keeping company with a sage. Traditionally, having satsang meant being with an enlightened Guru—someone whose very presence reminds you that behind all the stories you tell yourself about who you are, there’s a deeper reality that is infinitely radiant, loving and wise. I’ve had teachers like that, and I have to say that there is no faster way to elevate your consciousness than hanging around with someone who knows who s/he is and who you are, and who won’t let you get away with being anything less
It’s a lot to ask of a group that it carry the wisdom and conviction of an enlightened teacher. On the other hand, when you spend time in a group of people committed to seeing the intrinsic greatness of each member, you are continually amazed at how enlightened we ordinary, garden-variety humans can be. In the last few years, I’ve had, and read about, so many powerful experiences of peer satsang, that I’m beginning to accept that we bozos on the bus—to quote sixties activist Wavy Gravy—actually have the power to create situations that will support our awakening in the way that the traditional wisdom teachers have historically done. In traditional Buddhist lore, Buddha is supposed to make one more appearance in the form of a teacher called Maitreya. Maitreya means ‘friend.’ Several contemporary writers have suggested that Maitreya Buddha may have already appeared—in the form of the spiritual friends who come together to help enlighten one another.
Last year, meeting with three other teachers I’d never worked with before, I was awed to see the group shift in thirty minutes from chaos and mutual misunderstanding to a state of inspired synergy that let us put on a spontaneous program with not a glitch. Friends who do organizational development tell me that this is not uncommon once a group agrees to put away egoic agendas in favor of finding real solutions. One result, I’m told, of the infusion of spiritual values into mainstream culture has been a phenomenon called ‘the magic in the middle’, where in the midst of a discussion, wisdom begins to surface spontaneously, and people find themselves finishing each other’s sentences and coming to simultaneous shared insights. I’m convinced that all this is the result of the intersection of spiritual and psychological practice that has flourished in the west since the 1970’s—of the yeasty mix of contemplative practices, group dynamics and basic yogic principles seeded into the culture by people who discovered the essential power of sangam, or satsang, and committed themselves to making it part of their work as well as their spiritual lives.
In fact, I suspect that we may be experiencing a time when the kind of deep satsang the sages referred to—the power of wise company that we associated with enlightened teachers—can now be had in any group of practitioners who are willing to be true to their intention to grow towards a truly awake, self-less, or God-centered state. I say this with a few strong caveats: such peer satsangs work best when they’re formed around an ‘awake’ teaching—that is, around the insights of the truly wise. They work even better when there are ‘elders’ in the group, people who’ve done enough practice and study to be able to tell the difference between group wisdom and group auto-suggestion. The elders don’t have to be teachers or obvious leaders. They do need to be willing to stand up for what they’ve learned.
The most obvious example is group meditation or yoga practice. If there are even a few people in the group who meditate deeply, their presence seems to lend part of their skill to the others in the room. Anyone who’s taken a yoga class knows how much deeper our backbends can go when we’re surrounded by other people in deep backbend.
The same principle also holds true in a group that forms for discussion. I’m presently working with a group of about 30 people in a nine-month retreat/study/practice course. Every ten days or so, members of the group meet in small groups—three or four—either in person or by teleconference. They discuss the text we’re studying, and they also discuss their practice and the ways their practice impacts their lives. The insight level of these groups is high, and so is the state of communion they enter from time to time. Every now and then someone will have a melt-down, and the groups have learned how to support each other without letting the group get taken out by it. Recently someone in one of the groups told me when she has an issue or a problem, she’ll find that after a group meeting, she has the insight to deal with it—even though she didn’t discuss it with the group.
Like meditation, asana, and every other form of yoga, satsang is both a practice and a state. And as with meditation and asana, the more you practice satsang, the more likely you are to experience the power that a group has to induce transcendence and states of joyous unity. Though in the yoga world we often think of satsang as a formal program, the truth is that some of the most powerful satsangs are the one’s we create informally, on our own.
An informal satsang group should be small—5 to 7 is a good number, and you can easily form one with two, three, or even one other person. All it takes is 1) a decision to have spiritual dialogue, 2) some sublime and true words to spark your insight, and 3) a shared agreement on the ground-rules. Basic ground-rules might be: no gossip, no discussion of the news or the ball scores, no replay of your last argument with your lover, no blow by blow dissection of your personal problems. This doesn’t mean you shouldn’t discuss personal issues with the group, as long as you are doing it in the context of applying spiritual insight to your life-situations. However, satsang is different than therapy. In satsang, your commitment is to awaken, uplift, enlighten, or remove illusions. In short, to Truth.
First, create a shared intention to be together in the service of spirit, for the sake of experiencing the deepest level of truth, over a period of time. The time commitment is important if you want your group to evolve. It’s a good idea, at your first meeting, to take time to discuss your intention, write it out, and periodically revisit it.
Second, find a text to study together—something that invites truth to be in the room with you. Though chanting and meditation are satsang activities and will powerfully enhance the experience, satsang deepens through discussion.
If there’s not a particular text you want to study, (or teacher whose lectures you’d like to unpack) I suggest working with short passages from the writings of great beings, enlightened teachers or poets, perhaps on a theme. You might choose a passage from the Bhagavad Gita, a teaching of Ramana Maharshi or Buddha, or a contemporary teacher. I like to work with sutras, or short passages, like this one from the Yoga Vasistha: “Consciousness with thoughts is the mind; consciousness without thoughts is God.” Its especially juicy to work with the poetry of enlightened beings, like this one from Kabir:
“Be strong, and enter into your own body
For there your foothold is firm.
Consider it well, O my heart. Do not go elsewhere.
Kabir says: Put all imaginations away and stand fast in what you are.”
Here’s how a satsang program might go:
Light a candle, representing the Witness, or divine awareness.
Chant mantras or meditate together for a few minutes.
Read your chosen passage aloud, contemplate it, and then discuss it. (See Box on page TK to learn how to contemplate a passage.)
In the conversation, your aim should be to allow wisdom to surface. You might take the attitude that there is wisdom inside the text that is calling forth inner wisdom from each of you, and that it will reveal itself as you invite and allow it. Understand that each of you has a natural intelligence that can help to bring it forth, and that wisdom can arise through any of you.
Allow each other to speak. Listen carefully to what the other says. If an insight arises in your mind while you’re listening, write it down rather than interrupting to blurt it out.
As you listen, notice any judgments that may be arising, and let them go. One friend of mine says that in listening, he tells himself that God is speaking through the other person. I find that this works well.
Don’t be afraid to challenge each other, but do it from a state of feeling connected to your contemplative awareness.
When something is said that feels powerful and true, pause for a moment to let it sink in.
Close with a brief meditation—perhaps simply sitting with awareness of the movement of breath, or meditating with an insight that arose during your discussion.
Through all this, open yourself to the feeling- space of satsang, the openness or tenderness that will arise. Treasure it. When it does arise, say "Thank you." Satsang is a rarity. Some people say that it’s the reason we take birth.
How to contemplate a sacred text or poem.
To learn this technique, I suggest you start with this line, which is often ascribed to St. Francis:
"The one you are looking for is the one that is looking."
He is speaking to a seeker of God, or whatever you like to call the subtlest level of being. (This same thought can be found in the Yoga Sutras, the texts of Buddhism, Vedanta, Taoism, mystical Judaism, etcetera.)
Read the line over to yourself, several times. Ask "who or what is the one I am looking for?" How would I understand that? What do I know about about the one I am looking for? What comes to mind? What have I read or heard from reliable teachers that might be relevant? How have I experienced or conceived of the one I am looking for—as a person? A state of being? A deity?
Write down everything that comes up.
Now ask yourself, “Who or what is the one that is looking?” Here, you might want to close your eyes and ask the question inwardly, paying attention to whatever arises in answer.
Finally, go beyond words. Focus on the breath or use whatever means you can to go into a quiet space. Then ask the question “Who or what is looking?” Expect not an answer in words, but an inner feeling-space, an experience of wordlessness or timelessness, or maybe just nothingness.
Now, from this space, pick up your pen and paper and do some automatic writing. See what that inner space has to say, if anything, about the meaning of the passage.
Then, have your satsang or discussion from this place. You can share your insights about the passage on every level. Then, see if you can come to some sort of shared understanding about the text. What does it ‘mean’, what do we get from working with it, what is the experience that arises when we do.
These same steps can be followed with any spiritual passage.
© Copyright 2006. Sally Kempton/Dharana Institute. All Rights Reserved.
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