Dukkha: The Unsatisfactory Nature of Life

A Power Cut and the Power of Awakening

We ended April with a massive power outage that swept across Portugal, Spain, and France. No electricity. No internet. No access to money, transportation, no gas, or even basic communication. For hours, we were unplugged from the very systems we depend on to live, move, and function.

It was a shocking moment, a reminder of how vulnerable we’ve become as modern human beings. It opened my eyes to how deeply disconnected we are from nature, and how fragile our current way of life truly is.

Everything we rely on is electric. We’ve forgotten the power of the elements of earth, fire, water, and air. The real sources of life.

No battery-powered radios to access the news.
No fire to cook a simple meal, the stove is electric.
No gas to leave the city, stations were shut down.
No access to money, all our “wealth” is stored digitally.

Modern life suddenly felt terrifyingly fragile.

What have we built our lives upon?
And more urgently:

Is it time to change the way we live, as individuals and as a community?

Dukkha: The Unsatisfactory Nature of Life

This experience led me to reflect on one of the Four Noble Truths of Buddhism: the truth of Dukkha.

Dukkha is often translated as suffering, but it goes deeper. It points to the inherent unsatisfactoriness and instability of life. Even in moments of comfort or ease, there’s often a subtle restlessness beneath the surface — a clinging, a fear, a fragile peace that can be shaken at any moment.

This outage was a very real encounter with Dukkha.

We live in a world so dependent on technology that we've lost the ability to simply be without it. We can’t navigate without GPS. We don’t know how to connect without Wi-Fi. We can’t even nourish ourselves without electricity. We've outsourced not only our survival but also our presence, our attention, our sense of rootedness — and when these systems collapse, we feel lost.

This is the deeper truth of Dukkha:
Not just the pain of inconvenience, but the unease of impermanence.
The crumbling illusion of control.
The discomfort of realizing how disconnected we are from the natural world — and from ourselves.

Yoga and the Practice of Reconnection

Both Yoga and Buddhist philosophy invite us into a radical kind of self-inquiry. Not to reject the modern world, but to see it clearly. To become aware of where we place our identity, our attachments, our sense of security.

In Yoga, every practice — from breathwork to asana — is a path of reconnection.
To the body.
To the breath.
To nature.
To the subtle rhythms that are older and wiser than any power grid.

This experience also reminded me of Aparigraha, one of the Niyamas in the Yoga Sutras. It means non-possessiveness— the art of letting go. Letting go of attachment. Letting go of control. Letting go of the belief that security comes from things.

• What would it look like to live with less dependency?

• To build resilience in our nervous systems instead of our devices?

• To reconnect not just with one another, but with the Earth beneath our feet?

Even our asana practice becomes a mirror for this. When we meet discomfort in a pose — shaking muscles, restless thoughts — can we soften, breathe, and stay? Or do we flee, cling, resist?

Each practice becomes a small training for meeting Dukkha with compassion and clarity — on the mat, and in the world.

The Opportunity in Disruption

Disruption is uncomfortable. It shakes us. But it can also awaken us.

When the habitual is stripped away, we’re left with a rare kind of clarity. We see what is real. What is needed. What is possible.

Maybe this power cut was more than just a technological failure.
Maybe it was an invitation.

To slow down.
To reassess how we live.
To remember what truly supports us.
To rebuild — not from fear or habit — but from awareness and wisdom.

closing thoughts

This experience shook me. And honestly, I’m still sitting with it.

It wasn’t just about losing electricity — it was about being forced to feel how far we’ve drifted from what really matters. It made me question how I live, how I consume, how I move through the world. Not with guilt, but with curiosity. With a desire to live more consciously, more connected, more awake.

If you're reading this, maybe you felt it too.
Maybe the discomfort stirred something inside you.
Let’s not rush past it. Let’s listen.

Let’s keep asking the deeper questions.
Let’s keep showing up — to the mat, to the moment, to each other.
Not to escape the world, but to meet it with presence and care.

The truth is, we can’t always control the systems around us.
But we can choose how we respond.
And that — that’s where real power lives.

With love and steady breath,
LYS