In light of the New Year frenzy and the collective excitement of beginning "better", I share a story of two men I met in Morocco who have no need for the dramatics of better beginnings because they seem to have found their groove in their high mountain home, far away from the distractions and temptations of the world. 

  At the top entrance of the Northern Moroccan mountain city, Chefchauen, stands a gate. At the bottom of the stumpy entrance gate (pictured below), inside the weather-worn tower was the windowless workspace of a master weaver and his lifelong friend, business partner, and assistant. You'd walk right by it if you weren't looking, I did, or maybe your head would pivot curiously as it tried and failed to find out where that strange rhythmic swooshing originated.

   Abdulrahim was persistent, as businessmen are. He was the salesman of the duo. Rahim stalks the top parking lot of the city like an owl with a sales pitch, waiting for tourists to get out of their cars. He then approaches with a clumsy gait, a peppy dog, and a welcoming smile. Immediately he explained what he does. "Chefchauen has two resources. Water and wool." 

   I eventually made my way to Rahim's home. We chatted in Spanish which was a relief. Spain's only 150 km away. We drank hand-picked oregano and mint tea. He rolled a cigarette mixed, surprisingly put on some Bob Marley, and proceeded to share stories of the city.

     Chefchuaen is famous for its piercing blue walls. Rahim explained how the townsfolk made the famous sky-blue paint with stones and minerals found on the mountain. It's a violent chemical reaction, where high Ph stone powders are mixed with water. Eventually, we got to talking about the wool blankets and the Berber tribes that make them. Rahim, being a Berber himself, was noticeably proud.

   After the tea and the chat, we strolled not more than 100 feet away. I heard the rhythmic gust of the loom. Abdulselem, master weaver, immersed in blankets, spindles, and shade, worked peacefully in his tower. There was nothing in this room not directly associated with weaving, except for the cigarettes in Selem's front pocket. Selem didn't talk He preferred to communicate through long quiet stares and disinterested nods. He was busy being lost in his work. I could respect that. 

     The loom was an enormous centerpiece that branded this dark workspace with one towering intention; weave and only weave! It reminded me of a grand piano with its countless strings and dancing wooden parts but its energy was more of a religious idol, like a giant buddha carved on the face of a Chinese mountain demanding either prayers or attention, at the least. The man had been up to this for a long time. Praying to wool as a devotee of the loom. That was obvious. The result? A yogi would say, contentment-santosha. But, contentment is the byproduct of focused-sacrificial-commitment. It is the bi-product of giving oneself away to one, precious, and chosen thing. That is why I say he prays to wool. 

     I write this as a reminder; there is great value in developing a life-long relationship with a task, person, skill, or hobby. It's the act of committedly giving ourselves away that makes us "lighter" in mind and richer in spirit. Contemplating this nuance might encourage us to give ourselves away more regularly, which leads to a greater potential for contentment.

     Selem is no doubt a master craftsman but I only spent a few hours with him, which is far from enough to know the workings of his inner self and whether or not he is content with his life as a whole. Still, with my own eyes, I saw a man rooted in peace as he worked for hours. He disappeared into the genesis of native fabrics, effortlessly turning spindles of fiber into art and income. As a self-proclaimed yogi who aims to see lessons, I saw someone disappear before my eyes. I reflected on the yoga theories to extract both details of method and reason.

Analyze the world because through its very existence it reveals the secrets of creation, sorrow, and bliss.

   Contentment (santosha) emerges the more the self dissolves within singular duty, hobby, profession, or passion. That is the key bit of information! The self is a barrier to profound contentment because it is egoic, meaning it is the amalgam of preference, desire, and judgment. It is unstable, made of contradicting wants and polarizing ambitions. Like the exploding concoction of mineral powders that make the blue paint of Chefchauen, our wanting, if it is not focused, is dangerous.

Too much self deters peace. The less we are the fuller we become. We become less by regularly giving ourselves up to our dreams.

    What prevents us from developing these lasting skills, relationships, and hobbies, which in time empty us of ourselves, is an unconscious fixation for either the way things were or the way things could be. We are obsessed with the potential versions of ourselves, which stems from a deep egoism. Selem becomes the loom. He becomes the wool. He becomes the blanket. In those moments, he is no one, and he is content.

    So, how do we develop Santosha-yogic contentment? There are many ways but let's focus on one. Remember, contentment comes from giving ourselves away to one thing and only one thing. It is a needy flower. It demands daily attention, perhaps even daily fixation. If too many options are the problem, this is now a conversation of focus and distraction. The solution is to cut out the options. It is a strategy of reduction, not addition. 

     The Hatha Yoga Pradipika (Chapter 1, sloka 13 and 14) describes the sort of space a yogi should practice within. It reflects the sentiment of reduction. You'll notice its simplicity. It is void of distractions.

Verse/Sloka 12: Construct a simple hut in a place that is free of people and disturbances. It should be in a well-ruled and righteous region where food is easily obtained. There to the measure of a bow’s length, where there are no rocks, fire, or water, the Hatha Yogi should reside.

Verse/Sloka 13: Accomplished masters of Hatha Yoga have given this description of a Yoga residence. It should have a small door, no windows or leaks, neither too high or low, with an even floor, well smeared with cow-dung and free from insects. It should be adorned outside with a porch and a well. A wall should protect it.

     The description of the yogi's workspace mirrors Selem's weaving studio. The room serves one purpose and when it is entered, that intangible purpose is felt. As the walls of a valley funnel the roar of its river, these sorts of spaces shape the minds that enter them. So, what does this have to do with New Year's and the frenzy of new intentions?

     First, it's good to understand that what these intentions are really about is contentment. Second, perhaps it's not about adding new duties, tasks, or desires to an already long list of hopes and dreams. Maybe, a more effective approach would be to remove the unnecessary tendencies, products, devices, habits, and even people from our "huts". 

     Lastly, if there are certain goals, pick one and only one. Become obsessed with it at the expense of all other distractions. Let your free time become a time of fixation and obsession. Give yourself up to the loom. Let it occupy the center. Surround yourself with nothing but the folded blankets of this interest and the spindles of this hobby.

     The more we give ourselves away to things that call us, the emptier we become, and as yogis, you must understand by now, that emptiness is what we all are seeking because when there is no one in us to reject or obsess, life is seen in its liberated form, complete and expressive.

Simple contemplations to check-in with yourself:

1) What are 3 possessions I can let go off? (This exercise will provide a tactile sense of shedding and re-focusing)

2) If I had to cut one voice or influence out of my life who or what would it be? 

3) What are 3 of my most distracting tendencies?