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Cultivating Contentment

Good evening again. I'm smiling. I'm always smiling when I start this. Maybe I shouldn't say I'm always smiling—I don't know if that's true—but I'm happy to be sharing the Dharma in this way, to be meditating together, and to see your chats. Even though I'm here in the room alone, I recognize that we're practicing together.

Tonight, I wanted to talk a little bit about contentment. When we meditate, there might be moments—maybe really short and fleeting, maybe a little bit longer—in which we don't feel a need to change things. We don't have to alter things, we don't have to express something, we don't have to run away from something, or invest some special meaning into a particular experience. Instead, we can just let them be what they are because we have a certain amount of contentment.

We have a feeling that things are okay. This doesn't mean they match our preferences exactly, or that this is just what we always wanted, but we don't have a strong feeling that things have to be different. Instead, there's a sense of satisfaction, a feeling of not being dissatisfied, a sense that our immediate experience doesn't need to change. If we think about it, of course, we can think of all the things that need to change in the world. But right in that very particular moment—for example, feeling the pressure against the chair or the cushion against the body—we might notice that it doesn't need to change. Maybe it's a neutral feeling. Tapping into the understanding that things don't need to change or be different brings some contentment.

This satisfaction with the way things are is associated with being settled, without the agitation of always leaning forward and wanting more. That feeling of dissatisfaction is quieted, and maybe it even goes away. Sometimes this agitation of always wanting something is subtle, and sometimes it's really obvious. When you have a really strong craving and are willing to go to great lengths to satisfy it, that can be an agitating feeling—a sense that things are not settled. Usually, when we have those types of agitated feelings, it's not when we have access to our greatest wisdom. Instead, it's when we're just trying to get what we want.

In the same way that agitation can be subtle or obvious, contentment might be subtle or obvious. Maybe there's a mixture of experiences, and contentment is only a small sliver of our experience. It's easy to be dismissive of it because contentment isn't flashy, compelling, or necessarily impressive. We might think that a source of lasting happiness comes from acquiring an object, buying a thing, or having a certain experience, not recognizing that contentment itself can be a source of real happiness.

Happiness is often talked about in association with getting what one wants. This is what the huge advertising industry tries to convince us of: you'll be happy as soon as you acquire this, whatever it might be. Contentment, however, is more associated with not wanting in the first place. Have you ever noticed—I certainly have—that if I have pizza, which I love, I feel satisfied, but then I want pizza again soon enough? It never ends. There might be a moment of satisfaction, but a person is hungry again soon enough.

Cultivating a sense of contentment is a little steadier and not quite as fleeting. It is associated with a shift in perspective. It's not so much that we have exactly what we want, but that we are okay with what's there and what we are already experiencing. If you've been meditating, you probably recognize that what we can influence is our perspective, our views, and the stance that we take toward an experience. We can't acquire everything we ever wanted—that's not under our control—but we can influence our perspective. So, rather than getting a bazillion dollars, contentment is more about not feeling like you need a bazillion dollars, yet still feeling okay and experiencing a sense of wealth.

There is a quote from the Dhammapada^[1], a very popular collection of verses, that goes like this:
"Freedom from illness is the foremost good fortune. Contentment is the foremost wealth. Trust is the foremost kinship. Nibbāna^[2]—that is freedom, awakening—is the foremost happiness."
This recognizes that to have contentment is a great wealth; it's a treasure.

Contentment is Not Complacency

I want to emphasize that contentment is not complacency. It's not tolerating things, thinking, "Well, I guess this is all I can get," and having a sense of resignation. Passively accepting everything as it is is not what contentment is. It's not disappointment with a smiley face on top of it. Instead, it's tapping into the feeling that some things are all right, without being dismissive or acting like a Pollyanna^[3], pretending that difficulties aren't also arising.

Contentment can feel like a booby prize if we're always striving for a bubbly, "happy birthday" type of happiness, where we feel really energetic and effervescent. If we're filled with greed and craving, believing we need to get something to find lasting happiness, contentment might feel horrifying because it means letting go of the pursuit. If we are accustomed to grumbling and complaining, and that is somehow how we connect with others through mutual outrage or self-righteousness, having a sense of contentment can feel like a failure.

Or, if we are filled with aversion, ill will, or hostility toward others, contentment can feel like we're letting people get away with something. In some ways of thinking, our feeling agitated^[4] is mistakenly believed to force them to feel the dissatisfaction of whatever it is they did.

We can learn something about ourselves if we engage in gentle inquiry. We can investigate if we have any aversion or resistance to this quiet sense of satisfaction—this feeling that things are okay, that we don't need more right now, and that nothing is truly lacking at this moment. Again, I'm not saying there aren't difficulties or injustices. But in this precise moment, as I said in the guided meditation: I am breathing, I am not in imminent danger, I have enough food in my belly. In this basic way, things are okay.

The Enchantment of Craving

It's pretty common for many of us to fall under the enchantment of craving, feeling like, "Oh, I just need this and I need that." It is certainly promoted and encouraged in our society. When we have a sense of craving for what we want, it feels like it's sprinkled with fairy dust. It casts a spell on us, making us believe, "Yes, all this will make us happy. I know it. I just need this thing, or experience, or whatever it might be."

But these cravings—this sense that we need to have something else—arise from a feeling of insufficiency: "I'm not enough, I don't have enough, I need more." This is suffering. What fuels our lack of contentment is suffering. Contentment, therefore, is a form of not suffering. Not being dominated, controlled, or pushed around by the feeling that we need more is a type of freedom. It brings an open spaciousness, allowing for the way things are without insisting that they must be different.

Whether during meditation or in daily life, we can ask ourselves: What in this moment is truly lacking? What do we believe we need? Can we do with less? Do we really need all that right now? Can we honor our commitments to non-harming? We don't want to harm ourselves or others, and sometimes craving can create a foundation for harm.

I want to add that recognizing we really want something, and finding ourselves leaning forward in craving, is not a personal failing. It's part of the human experience. Evolutionary biologists might say that seeking better conditions, better food, and better protection from danger helped our ancestors survive and pass on their genes. We inherited this feeling that there is something better out there. So, feeling that we need more is not a failure.

Instead, I invite us to use it as an opportunity for reflection. We can apply a little bit of mindfulness and awareness to that experience. Can we dial down the feeling that things are lacking? Can we incline the mind toward what is okay and cultivate some contentment?

Contentment and the Three Trainings

Not only does contentment help alleviate suffering, but it can also be a foundational practice that supports the discovery of greater freedom. The Buddhist path to awakening, often described by the Eightfold Path, is sometimes summarized as three trainings: the training in ethics, the training in meditation or mental development, and the training in wisdom. Sīla^[5] (ethics), Samādhi^[6] (meditation), and Paññā^[7] (wisdom). We need all three to find the greatest peace and happiness, and contentment strongly supports all three limbs of practice.

Imagine how a person's ethics would be if they had a deep feeling of contentment. If a person feels they have enough, chances are they will behave in an ethical manner that doesn't harm themselves or others. In the Five Precepts—the ethical training guidelines—one is to not take that which is not given. If you have a sense of contentment, of course, you wouldn't do that. Another precept is to honor the commitments people have to each other and not engage in sexual misconduct. If you are content, you wouldn't jeopardize those commitments. A contented person wouldn't kill living beings, wouldn't lie, and wouldn't feel the need to become intoxicated. In this way, contentment can be a real foundational practice for ethics.

Contentment also deeply supports meditation. A lack of contentment is often associated with thoughts about what we used to have, what we want in the future, or what other people have. Contentment brings attention back to the present moment to see what is truly lacking right here. Practicing with contentment helps us be present and promotes a sense of being settled, without the agitation of always wanting more. The mind becomes less fragmented and more collected, fostering wholeness and steadiness. Contentment is a type of happiness—not a bubbly happiness, but a sense of ease and comfort arising from the absence of agitation. This happiness, comfort, and ease are great supports for concentration. Thus, contentment supports happiness, which in turn supports concentration.

For the third training, wisdom, investigating our relationship to contentment highlights all the ways in which dissatisfaction is present in our lives. When we first look for contentment, we might primarily see where it is not. This discontentment is dukkha^[8]—dissatisfaction, stress, the feeling that things aren't quite right and need to be different somehow.

Our relationship to dukkha is a foundational teaching on the Buddhist path. The Buddha taught that the First Noble Truth is that there is suffering—recognizing the reality of dissatisfaction. He also taught that there is the absence of suffering, and it is possible to live without it. Practicing with contentment helps us explore the Four Noble Truths: the truth of suffering, the truth of the arising of suffering, the truth of the cessation of suffering, and the truth of the path leading to the cessation of suffering.

To be clear, we shouldn't simply be "content with our suffering." The teaching is not to notice suffering and passively resign ourselves to it. Rather, the practice is to develop a wise relationship with both contentment and discontentment. We learn when it is time to take action, make adjustments, or make changes, and when it is time to cultivate contentment so we don't become malcontents. It is a balance. Suffering and contentment both exist on a giant spectrum, and our practice is to notice the shift between these poles.

Practices to Cultivate Contentment

There are a number of practices we can do to cultivate contentment and shift our perspective away from "things are terrible and I need something more," toward "at this moment, I'm not truly lacking anything." Tapping into that experience allows wisdom to arise.

One practice is to explore when you feel the least content. It might be when you're in a hurry, in the midst of a shopping spree, or endlessly searching the internet. Notice the agitation that goes with that, the feeling that "there's going to be something here that makes me feel better or scratches that itch." Recognizing when you feel the least content can provide clues about how to cultivate contentment.

Another way, of course, is to meditate. Sometimes just sitting down, noticing that we're okay, and bringing our attention to the sensations of breathing interrupts the power of craving. Mindfulness meditation helps us learn about our desires. We might notice, "When I'm searching the internet, I also start thinking about food," making that connection. Or we might notice, "I have a lot of desire, and I can feel it in my bodily posture of leaning forward." Meditation increases our sensitivity, allowing us to step back, notice the desire, and let the physical and mental contraction of wanting relax.

Something else we can do—a practice that is not specifically Buddhist but supports happiness in many ways—is gratitude practice. On a regular basis, notice what you appreciate and what you have gratitude for. When I started just jotting down three things I was grateful for at the end of the day, it highlighted all the wonderful things in my life that I had been dismissive of or wasn't valuing. When I sat down to really think about what I was grateful for, I realized how valuable those things were, and a sense of contentment started to grow.

Often, we feel better when things are simpler. We've probably learned in our lives that more, more, more does not lead to greater happiness. Reminding ourselves of that lesson helps support a sense of contentment. The more contentment we cultivate, develop, and tune into, the more we are able to show up in the world without craving and without demanding that the world give us something. Instead, we are freer to give to others. We can serve the world in a way that honors ourselves and others, coming not out of a sense of need, but out of a sense of generosity.

May our practice together be for the benefit of all beings everywhere, without exception. Thank you.