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Santosh means contentment. We must explore what it truly is and what it is not. For example, after we finished earlier and everyone was hungry, we ate a good meal. Now we are full and satisfied. Does this mean we are now in satsaṅg? My answer is no. You must understand that this is the normal way of life, not a yogic achievement. To be satisfied after eating is normal. Our life typically follows this pattern: we have desires, we act to fulfill them, and for a time we are happy. This is not satsaṅg. In the normal way of life, when a desire is fulfilled, we are satisfied, but it does not last. As soon as one desire is fulfilled, another arises. Often, we desire something and do not get it. This is not at all the point of Santosh. So what is it? Santosh means "I am satisfied." Full stop. It is not "I am satisfied because of something," but simply "I am satisfied." This means there is no external condition necessary for that state. It depends only on me, not on outer life circumstances, whether I am satisfied or not. The satisfaction we feel after a meal, upon receiving a gift, or hearing praise depends entirely on the situation. This is the normal way of life, what we call sukha and duḥkha. When a desire is fulfilled, sukha (happiness) arises. When it is not, duḥkha (suffering) arises—disappointment, anger, sadness. We are all in this cycle; it is the normal way of life, not the yogic way. The yogic way is the opposite; we try to come out of this. Santosh is an inner achievement. It is not a small one. Among the ten principles, we are already at number seven. To be happy, content, and satisfied independent of outer conditions is the goal. As Swamiji used to say in Hindi: "Santoshi nar sadhasukhi." A satisfied person is one who is always happy—always happy, whether it is raining or the sun is shining, whether you have just eaten or not. This is what we try to achieve. How can we come to this state? We can approach it with two attitudes. The first is somewhat scientific: whatever my present life situation is, it is a result of my karmas. Since I created this karma myself, I should not complain. I should accept it. To live through these karmas is the best way to purify them. By not getting angry or creating new bad karma, I have a chance in the present situation to create positive new karma, which will influence my future. The second approach is from the bhakti point of view: whatever my life situation at present, it is God's will. Even if it seems difficult or painful, there must be something in it because it is God's will. When you look back on your life experiences, how often has a happy situation led to a disaster? As a rule, when life is happy and unchallenging, we tend to become spiritually lazy and even lose our path. The more challenging and hard situations are real training for us; they are situations in which we grow spiritually. This is an advanced state of bhakti, when we can see the blessing in hard life situations. Essentially, whether our life is smooth and we enjoy it, or hard and we struggle, we can see both as a blessing. When we are deep within ourselves and can have this attitude, then we live in santoṣa. We simply accept the present as it is. This is why we find the principle of Santoṣa as one of the nine principles in Bhakti Yoga. To remind us, the principles of Bhakti Yoga (Navadhā Bhakti) are: 1. Satsaṅg – good company. 2. Hari kathā – hearing or speaking about God (e.g., reading the Rāmāyaṇa). 3. Śraddhā – faith. 4. Īśvara Bhajan – singing the praise of the Lord. 5. Mantra Japa – the practice of mantra. 6. Śama and dama – withdrawing and controlling the senses from the outer world. 7. Santon kā ādar – honoring all saints and those dedicated to the spiritual path. 8. Santoṣa – contentment. 9. Īśvara Praṇidhāna – devotion to God, the essence of Bhakti Yoga. This shows how wrong it is to say that Rāja Yoga and Patañjali know nothing about Bhakti Yoga. If you look carefully, we are right in the middle of bhakti yoga here. It all belongs together, which is why Swamiji teaches it this way. Santoṣa means we are satisfied, independent of any concrete situation. We do not depend on whether our wishes are fulfilled or not. This is a crucial point because it is our wishes and desires that create restlessness in us. When we act, we almost always have some self-interest or motivation; 99% of our activities follow some desire. The temporary fulfillment of a desire does not bring peace because it is just that—temporary. But Santosh makes us independent from desires. One could translate Santoṣa as wishlessness. You have no desire anymore, which means you live in the present. Desire is always directed toward the future: "I hope I will get that." If you do not get it, thoughts turn to the past: "How could it happen? What did I do wrong?" This leads to inner regret and turmoil. Consider what happens in meditation: why does our mind jump around like a monkey? 99% of the time, our mind is following our desires—what we would like to have, what did not work. The mind is always searching. In santoṣa, your mind no longer searches for anything, so a natural state of peace arises. We always react to changes in the outer world, analyzing how they relate to our interests, judging them as good or bad. When you achieve santoṣa, that need disappears. Think of how we constantly react and discuss things like the weather—whether it is raining or sunny, and how we feel about it. I think 50% of all discussions in the world are about that. There is a short story that illustrates this. Someone asked a person, "How do you think the weather will be tomorrow?" He answered, "Oh, I'm sure it will be the weather I like." The other was astonished: "How can you know that?" He said, "Because I found it so disturbing to always judge the weather that I decided to like every weather. Therefore, I can be sure tomorrow will have the weather I like." That is Santosh. Why do we need to judge? Here, someone is happy if the sun is out, while another says we urgently need rain for the earth. The facts do not change; we cannot change them, but we can change our reaction. When we achieve santoṣa, we become the richest person in the world because we have no desires. We have what we need. If someone is a billionaire but not satisfied, he is a poor person. Looking at the principles, we see a connection between three of them: Asteya, Aparigraha, and Santoṣa. Asteya clearly tells us, "Do not steal." This is the first step of self-control. For example, if someone has a nice bicycle and I have none, I might want it. If it is unlocked, I could steal it. Asteya says that is not good; it causes suffering, creates bad karma, and disturbs the mind. So we control ourselves. That is not yet a high achievement. The next step: I need a bicycle, so I go to a shop and buy one. This is neutral karma. But you still have the desire for the bike. Then you want a motorbike, then a car, and so on. You are not creating bad karma like stealing, but you are getting more involved in the material world. This is where the principle of aparigraha (non-possessiveness) comes in, telling us this is not so good for you. So you decide not to buy the bike. Yet, the wish remains inside, and you might feel jealous seeing your neighbor with a nice bike. The next step is santoṣa. You realize you do not really need it. You have only short distances to walk, so why not walk? It is healthier. You accept your life situation as it is and are happy without the bike. Now comes an important point. Suppose someone guesses your thoughts and gives you a bike as a present. How do you react? The point is not to refuse it. The point is: are you overjoyed? If so, the desire was still there. But you could also say, "OK, God saw my needs and fulfilled them. Thank you, God." Then, if the bike is stolen a week later, how angry we can become. If you are in santoṣa, you will accept it as God's training or as the result of your karma, perhaps even as a blessing. A story perfectly illustrates this. It takes place in China during the building of the Great Wall. A farmer lived with his son and his one horse. One day, the horse ran away. The villagers felt compassion for him. The horse ran off and joined a herd of wild horses. After a month, it became homesick and returned, leading the entire herd of about fifteen horses back with it. The villagers were amazed and came to congratulate the farmer on his good fortune. But he was not as happy as they expected; he simply said, "God's will." Now he was rich in horses, but they were wild and unusable. His son, a good rider, set about taming them. While taming one particularly wild horse, he was thrown and broke his shoulder, becoming a cripple. The villagers came again to express their sorrow. Again, the farmer did not seem very touched. The villagers were confused, wondering if he was cruel for not suffering over his son's injury. Not long after, the army came, surrounded the village, and recruited every young man for the wall's construction. All families lost their sons—their best workers—except this farmer, because his son was a cripple and unwanted. It was a disaster for the whole village, except for him. The villagers then realized he must be the wisest among them and wanted to make him village chief. He refused because he understood they expected him to know the future and guide the village's fate, which he could not do. He did not know the future. But he was happy, in balance, and satisfied independent of outer changes. This is a good example of santoṣa, which makes us independent from life's whirlpools. Now, looking at the sūtra on the result of santoṣa (sūtra 42), it says that as a result of santoṣa, one gains supreme happiness. The Sanskrit text uses the word sukha: "anuttama sukha" means the highest happiness. This is not yet the word ānanda, which signifies divine bliss—the quality of our soul (Ātmā) as in Satchitānanda. But "supreme sukha" is already quite close, like a reflection of that divine bliss. How does this happen? Clearly, it cannot come from outside. Normal sukha comes from outside, from a positive change in life conditions, from fulfilled wishes, and lasts only a short time. But this highest happiness, arising from santoṣa, is independent of outer conditions; it comes from inside. It is easy to understand: when we follow desires, we are always in the future or past, never truly in the present. When we are satisfied, there is no need to be disturbed by the past or future—by regret or hope. We can be fully in the present. Only the present is real. Only in the present can we experience our Ātmā. Only in the present can we meditate. If the mind is diverted to past or future, it is not meditation. Thus, achieving santoṣa brings us into touch with our inner self. It is not yet samādhi—oneness with the inner self—but we are close, and a reflection of that highest happiness appears. It is often called being happy without any good reason. If someone asks "Why?" there is no why. I am happy. Santosh is also a word Swamījī often uses as a yoga name because it provides such good orientation on the spiritual path. As you may realize, all these positive qualities—the yamas and niyamas—are so interwoven that you cannot fully realize one without realizing many others. Swamījī uses four of these ten principles as yoga names: Ahiṃsā (e.g., a girl named Ahiṃsā in Hamburg), Satya (e.g., Satyadev, Satyānand), Tapas (e.g., a girl named Tapasvinī in London), and Santoṣa. When we try to realize even one of them, we make many positive steps. But reaching this point depends on our life experiences. Unfortunately, to realize this, we often have to go through many hard experiences. The blessings a Guru or God can give us depend very much on our state of development. The Guru's blessings can be quite different, and we should not judge the Guru but reflect on ourselves. Another story illustrates this well. It is about Kṛṣṇa and Arjuna, not in the context of the Bhagavad Gītā, but as Guru and disciple. As was common, the Guru traveled with his disciple, giving satsaṅg and darśan. One day, Kṛṣṇa came to a city where a rich merchant, a devotee of Kṛṣṇa, lived. Upon hearing of Kṛṣṇa's arrival, he was overjoyed and immediately invited Kṛṣṇa for dinner. Kṛṣṇa accepted. That evening, the merchant hosted a feast: the house was decorated, there was music, and many tables were laden with delicious food. Kṛṣṇa and Arjuna enjoyed the meal and stayed overnight. The next morning, after breakfast, as they were leaving, Kṛṣṇa turned to the merchant and said, "I am very happy. Everything was very nice. I would like to give you a blessing: whatever you possess today, within one year, you will have double." The merchant was thrilled and began calculating: one house would become two, 100 cows would become 200, and so on. Some days later, Kṛṣṇa came to a small village where a poor old woman, also a devotee, lived. She had gone through all stages of life and now lived a simple, spiritual life of sādhanā, prayer, and retreat. Her only possession was an old cow that no longer gave milk, but which she loved and cared for like a pet. When she heard Kṛṣṇa had come, she was delighted and invited him. Kṛṣṇa accepted. As she had little, she could only offer a simple meal, even borrowing dishes from neighbors, but it was served with love. Kṛṣṇa enjoyed it and stayed in her hut overnight. The next morning, after a small breakfast, he turned to her and said, "I thank you very much. It was very nice. I must tell you one thing: tomorrow your cow will die." Then he left. Arjuna, who had heard all this, was utterly confused and could not hold back. Almost aggressively, he said to his Guru, "Gurujī, I do not understand why you are so unjust. To the rich merchant who gave you a feast, you gave a great blessing. To the poor woman who could only offer a simple meal, you gave a great curse. You give him so much and take from her the only thing she has." Kṛṣṇa smiled and said, "It seems you cannot understand the way of a guru." Usually, a guru does not explain his actions; it can take years to understand one Guru Vākya. But in this special case, he was merciful and explained. He said, "You see, this merchant is my devotee, yes. But much more, he is a devotee of his money and possessions. He already has so much that he should be satisfied, but he is not. He still desires more, believing that if he had more, he would be happier. That is not the reality of life. So, what can I do for him when I want to give a blessing? I can only fulfill his wishes. 'You want more? You get more, and more, and even more.' Until one day he will realize: however much I have, I do not find peace; I am not happy. I cannot find satisfaction through all this. Only on that day will he become a real seeker. He is not yet one. Now look at this old woman. She has had all that. She has experienced it and left it long behind. She lives a simple, spiritual life with no desires. Her only problem is her attachment to the cow. Half the day she thinks of me, of God, and the other half she thinks of the cow. When the cow dies naturally, she will be unhappy for a time. But slowly she will overcome it and forget the cow. Then, having no other desires, nothing will distract her mind. Where your mind goes, there you go. Her whole mind will be directed to the divine, and she will merge into the divine. Therefore, it is not my curse; it is my blessing that her cow will die." This story illustrates how it depends on us what we can receive, and how Santosh makes us independent from whatever happens around us. There is also a famous bhajan about Santosh that we often sing. As mentioned, we can translate Santosh as wishlessness. The bhajan says: "I have no desire for the happiness of heaven. I have no desire to become a ruler or rich. I have no desire even for the sādhanā that leads to liberation." But then it says: "But one wish I have: the dust (rāja) of your holy lotus feet." You might say this means he is not wishless; he has a wish. But such a wish does not really count as a worldly desire. It is an entirely spiritual wish—of the same quality as saying, "My only desire is to serve you, to be close to you, to become one with you." Such spiritual desires lift us out of trouble. Let us sing: Na main maṅgūṁ svaraga khāna, na main maṅgūṁ rāja pāna. Na main maṅgūṁ dhana daura, Prabhu icchā nahīṁ dhana daurada. Na main maṅgūṁ indra loka kī bhoga, sampati na maṅgūṁ dharā pata kī. Na main maṅgūṁ mukti ke sadā, mukti dāsī guru caraṇa kī. Rāja dīna dayāla maya caraṇa kī, caraṇa kī pada kamala kī. Prabhu caraṇa kī pada kamala kī, Rāja dīna dayāla maya caraṇa kī. Śrī dīna prabhu jī caraṇa rāja māṁgu, śrī dīna dayālu caraṇa rāja māṁgu. Yahī vinatī lālā nanda kī, Rāja dīna dūra samaya caraṇa kī. Rāja dīna dayāla mayā caraṇa kī, caraṇa kī pada kamala kī. Rādhā caraṇa kī pada kamala kī, Rāja dīna dūra samaya caraṇa kī. Rāja dīna dayāla mayā caraṇa kī.