Joy Story

The story is, of course, a profound yogic parable, an illustration of why the yogic texts make such a point of warning us about the fleeting quality of ordinary happiness. Ordinary happiness—sukha—is inseparably linked with its opposite—dukha, or suffering. In fact, the Sanskrit compound word sukha-dukha is classically used as a synonym for everything that is problematic about life inside the cage of ego. The pain-pleasure dichotomy is one of the basic dvandas, the pairs of opposites that plague our lives as long as we're living out of duality-consciousness, the feeling of being separate from others and the world. Like hot and cold, birth and death, and praise and blame, sukha and dukha inevitably follow each other, simply because when our well-being depends on external conditions, it will always come and go. This is the problem the Buddha noticed, the problem that led him to formulate the first noble truth.

Cultivating Santosha
The simple yogic antidote to this problem—the endless unrewarding chase after the mirage of permanent pleasure—is to go to the next level, and begin to cultivate santosha, which the yogic texts translate as contentment. In the Yoga Sutra, santosha is considered an essential practice, because it is the fastest way there is to still the agitation that comes from frustration, discomfort, and unsatisfied desire. Santosha carries a connotation of fullness and satisfaction. Implicit in santosha is the idea of being okay with what you have, accepting what you are, without feeling that you need anything extra to make you happy. Hard core yoga texts like Vyasa's commentary on the Yoga Sutra, actually associate santosha with the spirit of renunciation. In his view, we can only feel real contentment when we are willing to give up striving for what is out of reach, expecting more of life than it can give us, and letting go of the mental patterns that destroy our satisfaction—like comparing our skills, character, possessions, and inner attainments to others.'

Spiritual Happiness
Practicing santosha calms the mind, and when we calm the mind, there's a good chance that the next level of happiness—mudita—will begin to sneak through. Mudita is often translated as joyfulness. In English, the closest translation of mudita would be spiritual happiness. Mudita in its purest form is the joy that Jon experienced—the joy that comes out of nowhere, for no apparent reason, like a message from our deeper self, and that actually has the power to change our state in an instance.

Implicit in joy is a whole host of feelings like gratitude, exaltation, natural equanimity, a capacity to see beauty even in things we don't ordinarily find beautiful, like sidewalk litter and fast-food hamburgers. Mudita can be cultivated, and much of spiritual practice is aimed at generating mudita, joyfulness. In one yoga studio I know, the attendance at the weekly chanting sessions is higher than at any other program. Why? Because chanting generates mudita. So do certain meditation practices, like mantra repetition, and focusing on enlightened beings. The devotional traditions, like bhakti yoga and Sufism and certainly Christianity, specialize in the art of cultivating mudita, which can become a powerful bridge into even subtler and more refined states of awareness.

The Bliss that Passes Understanding
When mudita, joyfulness, deepens until it becomes our entire field of experience, we find ourselves in touch with the most profound level of joy, ananda. Ananda is usually translated as bliss, but in my opinion, the English word "bliss" is much too lightweight to convey what ananda really is. Ananda is ecstasy, rapture, a joy that wells up on its own, from the very depths of the universe, and connects you instantly to the Vastness of pure being. Ananda, in other words, is divine power in the form of happiness. When you touch it, you know it, and you also know that you've touched the deepest level of reality.

According to the great non-dual philosophers of the Upanishads and the Shaiva and Shakta tantras, ananda is actually God. My teacher used to say that when you feel ecstasy surging through your veins, you should know that you are experiencing God. You can find this same idea in Sufi poetry, in the Kaballah, and running like a rich vein through the writings of Christian mystics. C.S. Lewis, the English mystic, called his spiritual autobiography Surprised by Joy because all his experiences of God's presence were experiences of absolute happiness. That's why cultivating joy is such a direct path to inner experience: because it is not only a means, not only a feeling—it is the goal itself.

Following the Lure of Joy
This insight, to me, is the real clue, the secret of how to follow the path of joy. Begin by taking what these great teachers say seriously. Try out their understanding that joy is actually present, inherent in you and in the world around you. Then look for the practices and attitudes that can help you open yourself up to it. Joy can arrive on your doorstep spontaneously, as it did to Jon. But it can also be approached step by step, through a combination of practice and self-inquiry.