In the ancient tradition of Yoga, we often focus on the individual journey: the solitary breath, the personal alignment, the internal quiet. But there is a pillar of practice just as vital as any asana or pranayama: Satsang.

Derived from the Sanskrit words Sat (truth) and Sangha (community), Satsang is often translated as "being in the company of the truth." Usually, we think of this as sitting at the feet of a guru. However, recently, I have witnessed the "truth" of Satsang in much more raw, real-world settings. I’ve seen it in the hospital rooms, the brunch tables, and the quiet hallways of apartment buildings.

The truth is this: We are not meant to carry our heaviest burdens alone.

Acceptance Without the "Sunshine"

I recently sat at a brunch table with a group of women I have called friends for decades. Among us was a dear soul navigating the brutal terrain of Stage 4 cancer.

In a world that often demands "toxic positivity," where people feel the need to "blow sunshine up your ass" when things go wrong, this circle offered something far more yogic: Radical Acceptance.

Our friend spoke her truth. She mentioned her 49th birthday is approaching and that she plans to celebrate it as if it’s her 50th, because she honestly doesn’t know if she will see 50. There was no collective gasp, no frantic sobbing, no attempt to "fix" her feelings. There was only a shared, steady presence.

As the Sufi poet Rumi once said:

"A community of the spirit is a convenience for the travelers. It is a place to rest, and a place to find the way again." (Rumi, The Essential Rumi)

We were her place to rest. The beauty of true friendship isn't found in the celebrations or the "Instagrammable" successes; it is found in the darker, quieter moments where you are allowed to be exactly who you are, in whatever pain you are in, without judgment.

The Apartment Complex Sangha

On the other side of my life, a new connection has provided a different perspective on community. I recently started dating a wonderful man who, in a stroke of absolute "life happens" timing, broke his leg skiing just a week into our journey.

While a broken leg is a crisis, it provided a window into his world. He lives in a building that is more than just a structure to house people; it's an active and vibrant community. In this building, the social room isn't a ghost town; it is the heart of the home.

Since his surgery, there has been a steady flow of neighbors. They bring food. They take his laundry down. They deliver breakfast. Someone lent him a wheelchair. This isn't just "helping a neighbor"; it is a functional ecosystem of care. They know each other by name, they water each other's plants, and they watch out for the ones living alone.

Diversity is the Strength of the Circle

Whether it is my circle of female friends or this apartment community, the common thread is diversity of experience. We come from different socio-economic backgrounds, different careers, and different stages of life.

In my book Mindful Miles, I talk about using Satsang as a way to reach running goals, but the principle applies to everything. Community doesn't require us to be the same; it requires us to bring our unique strengths to bridge each other's weaknesses.

When things "go to shit," as they inevitably do, the community is the safety net that catches you before you hit the floor.

Finding Your Tribe

If you find yourself feeling isolated, please know that your Sangha is out there. It might not look like a group of people in white robes chanting Om. It might look like:

• The neighbor you haven’t properly introduced yourself to yet.

• The community center bulletin board looking for volunteers.

• A local hobby group such as a running club or a knitting circle.

It only takes one connection to start. Surrender to the power of community. Let people in when you are at your worst, and be the one to hold the door open when others are at theirs. At the core of it all, beyond the titles and the health struggles, is simple, unconditional love.

Namaste.