Welcome to Satsang

You enter the Shala and notice the faint curl of incense smoke through the air, and plush, coloured cushions scattered across the floor like soft invitations. There is a quiet hum in the space — a feeling that something sacred is about to unfold.

People arrive slowly, removing their shoes, softening their voices, allowing their bodies to settle into the warmth of the room. There is no rush, no expectation. Satsang welcomes you exactly as you are.

You take your seat among the cushions, and a gentle stillness moves through the group. For a moment, no one speaks. This shared silence is the beginning; a soft landing into presence. You may notice some anxieties or discomfort arrive, but from the holding of the shala, your mind begins to quiet, breath deepens, and you feel yourself dropping back into your own centre.

Soon, the first notes of devotional singing rise. Someone begins a familiar bhajan, (devotional singing)and voices gather like threads weaving a tapestry of sound. There is no pressure to sing — yet something in you wants to join. The chants are simple, rhythmic, soothing. They open the heart in an unforced way, like a flower responding to sunlight.

As the music fades, chanting flows naturally into stillness. Eyes close. The group breathes as one. You feel the energy shift. The room softens, expands, and becomes more spacious within and around you. This is the medicine of Satsang. The mind loosens its grip, the body unwinds, and the deeper self begins to blossom.

A spiritual discourse follows. A sharing, a question, a gentle teaching. It isn’t dogma. It isn’t rigid. It’s a conversation held in truth. Someone asks about navigating fear. Someone else reflects on love. There is wisdom in the words, yes, but also in the moments of silence between them, in the nods of recognition, in the feeling of being witnessed without judgement.

Here, in this space, community forms effortlessly.

Satsang means “company of truth,” and you feel that truth not just in the teachings, but in the connection — the shared humanity, the tenderness, the sense of belonging that doesn’t need to be earned.

As the session closes, the room settles into one final moment of silence. It’s different from the silence you began with — fuller, deeper, filled with the presence you’ve cultivated together.

You stand to leave, feeling lighter. Clearer.

A little more anchored in yourself.

A little more open to life.

This is the purpose of Satsang.

To grow spiritually without force.

To find inner peace through presence.

To remember the self beneath the noise.

To return home, not alone, but together.

Stepping out of the Shala, the scent of incense still lingers on your clothes, you carry the experience with you… a subtle but unmistakable shift in the heart.

It is a wonderful way to begin your year.