Last week I attended an overnight gathering of women in business, hosted by the wonderful people at Hawkwood (a centre for arts and education on the edge of Stroud, and a really very lovely place). Before I set off I felt a bit anxious that I would be out of place. Perhaps there had been some mistake in inviting me, and everyone else would be properly grown up, confident, successful, and so on… By the time I left, I felt very different: energised and inspired, heartened by our open sharing of experience and connected to a warm and vibrant community, albeit briefly.
Sangha is a Sanskrit word meaning community, assembly, company or association. It often refers to a community of Buddhist practitioners, and sometimes only to ordained nuns and monks.
Although there are also traditional communities in yoga - notably ashrams - the path of yoga has mostly been personal and often private.
However, sangha is a concept that is increasingly used in connection with yoga. When we come together regularly, as we do in a weekly class, we start to feel part of a group: we see the same friendly faces each week, which can form the basis of a supportive environment for our practice.
At its best, a sangha enables each member to play a role in both receiving and offering support, and we come to know that we are part of something greater than ourselves. This is particularly true if we commit to the group for a period of time, and if there is space for us to get to know each other a bit, and to form trusting connections.
Sometimes a group is short-lived, like the one I was part of last week. Others may last for months or years. When trust can really deepen and connections grow, these longer-lasting groups can be immensely beneficial, offering a regular and reciprocal space in which we can feel seen and accepted. Our need to connect is a fundamental part of being human and when we are able to do that in a way that feels authentic and includes the messy reality - rather than a curated version - we can relax more into ourselves.
We’ve just had the final gathering of the year for the women’s group I hold. For two of the women it was their last meeting, as they are leaving the group. I’ve been thinking about a few things since we gathered:
Endings, departures and saying goodbye
Sometimes it is very clear that something has run its course, perhaps because there was always an end date. At other times an ending might be imposed on us: circumstances dictate that we need to stop doing something. In other situations we have to choose the timing of an ending. Endings can be difficult, and most of us have memories of endings that left us with unresolved feelings. When we choose the moment of our departing, however, there are particular aspects to this which can be both empowering and deeply sad. We choose to stop doing one thing, even though it is something we really enjoy or benefit from, because we want to make time for something else that also feels important. We are making a choice, but it means saying ‘no’ to something we hold dear.
So we took a lot of care to make this goodbye as good an experience of ending as possible, acknowledging the good experiences, now stored as memories of trust and connection, along with the sadness of leaving.
There were a couple of beautiful comments that were made in this context:
Mothering, and relationships that nurture us
One of the women in the group named mothering as a quality - or spirit - that characterises the relational feel of the group. The kind of trust, acceptance, and nurture we cultivate in this sort of community can offer an experience of deep care and affection that is profound, sustaining, and akin to mothering - but perhaps simpler than in our family relationships.
The light within
Everyone lit a candle to complete our day together, forming a circle of little lights in the centre of the room, just as it was getting dark. One of the other women in the group said she saw them as symbols of our inner light, little bright beacons, and she hoped they would continue to shine brightly, most especially for those leaving the group.
Let’s approach our yoga practice similarly. Whether we practise alone or with others, in a regular or occasional group, on-line or in person, we can support and encourage ourselves with breathing, grounding and internal awareness. We can cultivate a sense of being part of something greater, even in solitary practice, by remembering that the teachings connect us to others who are also seekers. As we practise bringing the light of awareness to our experience, we can offer ourselves a kind of holding and profound care. We can acknowledge this, do it consciously, practise kindness.
If we are lucky enough to also practise alongside others, we can bring awareness to the group we are part of, and the ways we both give and receive support.
We might find inspiration as well from observing the inter-connectedness of nature, and in particular the social networks trees offer each other: “when they grow together, nutrients and water can be optimally divided between them all, so that each tree grows into the best it can be….a tree is only as strong as the forest that surrounds it….their well-being depends on their community.”
(“The Hidden Life of Trees”, by Peter Wohlleben)
Slad Valley, in autumn sunshine
And if you’d like to help grow a little Substack community here, please do write in the comments - I’d love to hear what you think, what communities you feel part of, and for us to grow a conversation :)
I loved reading this Frankie, and when I practise yoga nidra you are often in my mind. Here's to more non-curated messy stuff in the cafés of Stroud in 2024! xxx
Hi Frankie
I loved reading this. Beginnings and endings, leaving and saying goodbye, the trust developed in groups, things I think about a lot. Lizx