We've been enjoying perfect fall weather in West Virginia – crisp mornings and warm, sunny afternoons, with the bluest blue skies set off by gold and orange leaves.
I've been carving out a little time each day to sit outside and do nothing. The other day, as I was sitting there feeling the warm sun on my face, I caught myself trying to enjoy it without wishing it could be like this forever.
It's a curious thing about being human. Quite often, when we find ourselves in a particularly beautiful or joyful moment, we immediately begin thinking about its inevitable end. We anticipate the cold weather, the fading leaves, the return to our usual routines. Instead of simply experiencing what's here, we start grieving what's going away.
It's as if we have a governor on our feel-good emotions, something that prevents us from allowing ourselves to experience too much pleasure. And in doing so, we can end up stealing some of the very joy we're trying to hold on to.
One of the Yamas, or ethical principles of yoga, is asteya, which translates as non-stealing. It's easy to associate this teaching with taking something that doesn't belong to us. But I find the more subtle applications just as interesting. What if we consider the ways we steal from ourselves?
When we allow worry about the future to intrude on our experience of the present, we diminish what's available to us right now. When we can't enjoy a beautiful afternoon without thinking about how soon it will be over, we're essentially taking something away from ourselves.
Yoga Sutra 2.37 tells us that "for one established in not stealing, all wealth comes to them." There are many ways to understand wealth. I would certainly categorize the ability to be absorbed in joy as a kind of wealth. The capacity to fully experience the good things in our lives, without immediately qualifying or diminishing them, is a valuable resource.
This brings us to another important teaching in yoga: non-attachment.
Non-attachment is sometimes misunderstood as a lack of investment or affection. But I don't think it asks us to care less about the things we love. Rather, it invites us to loosen our grip on them. We can appreciate a beautiful afternoon without needing it to last forever. We can love a season without resisting its passing. We can be fully present for something precisely because we recognize that it won't last.
Perhaps this is where the two teachings meet. Asteya invites us not to steal from the present moment by borrowing trouble from the future. Non-attachment allows us to enjoy what's here without needing to possess it or make it permanent.
I'm trying to practice this in small ways. Sitting in the sun. Feeling the warmth on my face. Noticing the colors of the trees. Letting a beautiful afternoon be exactly what it is, without mentally fast-forwarding to its end.
There is something liberating about allowing joy to be uncomplicated. Not something we have to protect, preserve, or hold on to. Just something we get to experience.
And perhaps that's a kind of wealth worth cultivating.