White Mountain Sangha is a loose gathering of people who are interested in... well, already it gets hard to describe. Generally people come to a group like ours with an interest in meditation, or maybe some background in Buddhist practice. But these facts are peripheral to what really compels people to join us. What really drives people to a group like ours is a question. A compelling question. This question can be very clearly formed, for instance, "What's the point of this thing called life?" or "I've heard about this enlightenment business, can I have some please?" For other people, there is a sense of general dis-ease with life, as if there's a missing element. The question in this case is less well formed, but still palpable. What turns out to be important is not so much the question itself, but what a person feels compelled to do with it.
Satsang is for looking into these questions in a very particular way. The nuts and bolts of satsang are pretty simple to describe, although it doesn't really get at the answer to the question "What is satsang?" Nevertheless, it's important to know the form, as simple as ours is. Generally, we start by gathering the group, most often in someone's living room, or sometimes at a yoga studio or similar meeting place. We spend a little time greeting each other, talking and settling in. Next, the teacher "in charge" of the satsang will invite everyone to spend about 20 minutes in seated stillness. There may be a little instruction about how we suggest people hold this time of meditation. After 20 minutes, a bell rings to signal the end of the meditation period. Then the teacher talks for a little while about a topic of interest to "people with questions." Finally, there is time for some dialogue between the teacher and attendees. After satsang is done, we often enjoy tea and goodies together, or sometimes a potluck meal. This is the form of our satsangs.
The spirit of satsang is more difficult to convey, and is best understood by experiencing it. My teacher, Norman, is a very heart-oriented kind of guy, and I think I remember him once calling satsang the "home of the heart." Imagine a place where you are invited to directly and fully feel everything you are given to feel in this life. Satsang is beautiful, fearsome, frustrating, mind-blowing, boring, hilarious, tender, sad, and every other emotion that wants to emerge from your yearning heart. Satsang can be as light and relaxed as you need it to be, or as deep and gut-wrenching as you demand it to be. It can lift you up or slam you down hard.
Let me tell you a story from one of the many satsangs I've attended. This one happened at a 6-day silent retreat I was attending. At this retreat, there were upwards of 200 people gathered to rest and steep in silence and the space of morning and evening satsang each day. At one point, I was fortunate to make my way to the queue to ask a question of the teacher who was leading the retreat. And I did ask my question, and had some dialogue with the teacher around the question, and walked away satisfied with the answer. And then it happened. A reaction of embarrassment descended on me for having show-boated a little during the question, for having in fact interrupted the venerable teacher during his answer. And here is where satsang does its work. There is no place to go on a silent retreat, no book to lose yourself in, no television to distract yourself with. It's you and your reaction, spending the day together. So after the meeting ended, at about noon, I scurried back to my room and scribbled out a kind of mad treatise on what was happening to me, thinking to write the business away. No relief. I then strode to the dining hall for lunch and proceeded to inhale a plate full of food without ever seeing or tasting it. This is very un-serene action for a well-behaved meditator. Next, I plowed my way down to the beach where I was accustomed to lying in the sun for a few minutes to rest my back before afternoon sitting. I literally could not lie still. The reaction had taken my body over like a fire. After about 10 minutes, I had a revelation: Get your ass up to the meditation hall and sit it out. And that's what I did. We had off-and-on sitting time for three hours, so for three hours I watched my body and mind ride the roller coaster of heat, blushing, anxiety, trembling, thought storm embarrassment. By the end of it all I was settling down to bemused chuckling at myself. What a trip!
It's not this specific story I want to emphasize here, entertaining as it may be. Everyone who has ever been in silence for a prolonged period has stories like this, probably many stories. What's so interesting is how through spending time and attention in this way, I can see very clearly the habits and behavior patterns that generally drive me around on these crazy trips. And the trips are fine and I keep taking them, believe me. The difference is that, with some time spent looking into life in this way, I may still take a trip now and then, but the trip doesn't take me. There's something transformative about the simple seeing of how these trips play out. With this direct, honest observation, the power of it all to spin you out of contact with your own awareness winds down.
Now please also remember a time when you felt totally accepted and supported, just exactly as you are. Satsang is also this. In this form of gathering, agreed to and created by all who attend, the bottom line question that's been trying to form in you can safely present itself for your investigation. We call this inquiry, a direct investigation not of the mind but of the heart. And who knew, in my case, that I needed to look into how much importance I place on being perceived as polite and wise to the people I hang out with.
Satsang is something you may want to check out at least once or twice. It's certainly not for everybody. For some, it is a powerful means for exploring the truth of this life, your life. Maybe that's you?
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