COMING BACK TO MEDITATION

Greetings on this bright and cold January morning.

It’s inaugural day in the US. Dharmajunkies will commemorate the occasion by remembering the lives and works of Doctor Martin Luther King. We also remember President Jimmy Carter. We honor their sacrifice, intelligence and compassion.

As well, we also remember the passing of David lynch the great auteur who was deeply dedicated to meditation. His children recommended that a perfect way to commemorate their father would be for the world to meditate today. So today we bring it back home to remembering those who have come before, our meditation practice, who we are, why we are here and what we can do to help bring love and sanity to our world.

Smrti in Sanskrit or Shi.ne’ in Tibetan can be transcribed as recollection. In meditation we are remembering to come back to the object of our meditation. Remembering to come back to the phrase or image in our contemplative meditation remembering to come back to the breath in Shamata or Zazen. On the deeper level it might be that we are remembering to come back to our essence. Different traditions look at our essence in different ways. It’s often referred to as being aligned with source. Or feeling source alive within us. The Buddhists refer to Buddha nature as an essential part of our being that is clear pure and undefiled. In the Shambhala tradition we talk about Basic Goodness, which both radiates from and evokes “True” confidence. True Confidence is not dependent upon material things, or social accomplishment but confidence that stems from a connection to our essential being. I’ve heard it referred to as a clear and pure running brook that we connect to within ourselves. Yet Basic Goodness, Buddha Nature, compassion and life are fundamental within the universe. Buddha Nature exists within and without us.

When we come back to the breath in meditation we are realigned with our fundamental being. Ideas of outer and inner, good or bad, right and wrong, seem crude in comparison to the experience of oneness or wholeness. That experience of personal unity with the universe, called nonduality in some traditions, is seen as our preternatural primordial state. It is who we are, will be and all we have ever been. The source of wisdom and compassion in the universe predated the existence of time or space itself and has been flowing ever since. The manifestation of the things of the universe are the displays of Buddha Nature. Every moment we are aligned with this, we are blessed. We are aligned with perfection. And everywhere around us are ways that that perfection is manifesting. Life is alive, and living in the trees, the brooks, the fields and also in the buildings, the cars and Elon’s rockets. We might decide that some of these things are more beneficial to our world than others, yet all of them are basically good because all of them are here and therefore deserving of out attention.   However, when we fall into forgetting we live a life selecting what we want to see, we trade the beauty of what is for a life of certainty. We trade a life of discovery, for a life where some things are everything we know. We grossly limit our spiritual and emotional potential. We are missing being at one with the universe and life itself because we are focused on the price of gas. Yet the price of gas is still basically good not because we think we it should be but because it is but because it is happening and because all things – whether we see them as good or bad or happy or sad – are subject to impermanence, change and reconfiguration. We are subject to impermanence, change and reconfiguration, whether we remember that or not. In fear, we live a life of narrow interpretations of reality. I suppose it serves the purpose of allowing a part of ourselves to feel in control. But the only way to effectively have control over life to reduce life down to a small enough space for us to control. Thus, most of  us are actively ignoring the 99.999% of everything else in the universe. Therefore, ego is ignorance from the Buddhist perspective.

Ego which can be seen as the very limited defensive nature of the mind, serves to reduce our world to a controllable space. Its logical extension is the propagation of surety, dogma and doctrine. The opposite of ignorance(ma-Rigpa) is knowing (Rigpa), and therefore, egoless being is sees and knows what is happening. And it always has. This is Buddha Nature – our natural state. Because it is accepting reality as it is, it is not at war. Thus, Buddha Nature is said to be indestructible. It has never changed. It is the life of the universe and the very life around us. And though our lives will pass into other configurations, our essential nature is said to be part of all of nature. Ego clings to temporal things in order for us to believe that temporary things give us solace and sustenance. We can squint our eyes and believe what we are happy but, inside us, we know that happiness is immaterial.  Material things are “like a banquet before the executioner leads us to our death.” Revenge, retribution, and displays of grandiosity masquerading as leadership are fleeting and meaningless. They are basically good, because they are there. But they are expressions of ego and ultimately fleeting.

Each time we return to the breath we come back from our preoccupations into the present, we are home. Sitting between hope and fear, between past and future, we find the middle way that encompasses all possibilities of the universe. Yet all we need to do is train the mind to recognize when it’s not present and develop the willingness to let go of fantasies and come back to what’s here. We don’t have to overstate that. It’s a very simple thing really. We’re just sitting. We’re just breathing. We’re a statue collecting snow in the monastery gardens. There is nothing to do, nothing to achieve, nothing to leave, nowhere to go, nothing to destroy. Only returning home when we stray. Remembering our basic nature, our ability to be present calm and accepting of ourselves and our world.

Revenge, retribution, and displays of grandiosity masquerading as leadership are fleeting and meaningless. They are happening. But they are the tiny grasping hands of ego and ultimately fleeting. What prevails is sanity, love, and service. When bluster and toxicity have dissipated, the love and service of Dr. King, Jimmy Carter and those many others who let their work speak for itself, still inspire and guide the life within our lives. That spirit of the universe is our source, the home we return to each time we remember.

BRINGING THE DARKNESS INTO LIGHT

 

Deeply rooted pain causes great suffering in our life. And the intensity by which we experience pain varies from person to person. However, it is not a competition. We don’t have to argue over the fact that we all experience pain. Pain is our human heritage. Although our pain feels worst to us as it colors everything in life. Yet, as much as pain is a pain, it can also be the impetus for self-discovery. So let’s get to know this irritating, but useful old friend.

Physical pain awakens us to the possibility of danger or a need to heal. While few of us like pain, it serves a vital function. Some people have a rare genetic disorder, CIP, that prevents people from feeling pain. People with CIP may also have difficulty regulating their temperature and sweating. On a physical level pain is instrumental. However, it is our tendency to demonize pain and treat the discomfort rather than the cause. This is also true of psycho/emotional pain. We are averse to looking in to our pain because it is… well, painful. But this keeps us from understanding what the pain is telling us. 

Deeply personal psychological pain often come from a wounding event. This wound amplifies into suffering when we try to deny, change, or get rid of it. If we don’t know it we never learn to work with it. While some pain is universal and all humans experience it, some feels as though we were wounded personally. There is often a sense of embarrassment to this kind of wounding as though it had made us strange, or less than others.  And so we bury these feelings deep in the darkness of our heart. However, wounds that are not seen sometimes do not heal. In fact, unseen wounds can fester. The area around the hidden wound becomes painful as we infect places in our being and areas in our life where the wound is associated. The inflamed area around our wound becomes painful to the touch. In time, we begin to anticipate that pain and learn to avoid the people, places and things that we might bump into. Shadows in the past, beget blockages in the mind, that beget limitations in life. Our life becomes less than it might be because of these unseen influences. How often have we overreacted to circumstances without knowing why? How often did we operate on auto pilot as though following an unseen script?  How often have we sidestepped an important event? How often have we missed a kiss or failed to raise our hand? How much of our life has been dedicated to onanistic meandering rather than meaningful relationships?

There is nothing wrong with fantasies until they take the place of actual engagement in life. Fantasies allow us to journey into edgy realms with no real investment. By imagining pleasures of the flesh, we have no actual skin in the game. (Yes, bad pun intended.) We can live out fantasies at will in apparent safety. However, as they serve an important creative function, it may be that fantasizing only supports the solitude that allows wounds to fester. Sometimes we analogously recreate the actual wounding we are otherwise unable to look at directly.  People may act out abuse sexually by entering a “play space” that is an active dissociation of their primary personality.  The “play-space” is a safe space people can act out being unsafe. And whether this is working through their deep wounds or reinforcing them is unclear.

From a meditation point of view, a method for deep healing would be to gently encourage the wounded areas to come into the light of awareness before we act them out. It may be too painful to experience some wounds directly, but we can prepare a ground of acceptance for them to appear, as they will. And when they or their proxies (such as avoidance, addiction or other types of suffering) arrive, we can open to them and allow them to be in our unbiased, non-judgemental space. If nothing else, by simply allowing the manifestation of our pain to be as it is can be profoundly healing. Sometimes, as we approach the event horizon of our wound our impulse is to pull away. The method for working with that is to just gently learn to stay. Stay with the pain. Just be there. And if we pull away, so be it. If it pulls away, so be it. Recovery is a long slow road. Sometimes, rather than pulling away, we might lunge toward the pain throwing our heart on it’s altar. This act of egotism is not helpful. Other times, as soon as we feel the trigger of our pain, we try and fix it. This is a common mistake, for how can we fix something we haven’t seen?  That said, we don’t have to dig to the origin of the wound. We don’t need to know why or who in order to actually heal. With meditation we look at what is there now. When we talk about bringing darkness into the light, we are not extinguishing anything, we are not vanquishing anything, we are not changing anything. We are simply inviting the wounded being to reveal itself as it is. In Meditation theory, awareness is light and ignorance is darkness. But thjis does not correspond to :”good” and “evil”. Both darkness and light are symbiotic parts to the universe as well as our own nature.  While darkness serves it purpose, sometimes things are brewing there that are affecting 0our lives on the surface. Sometimes things have run their course in the darkness and are ready for birth into our awareness. Darkness is were things incubate, or fester. And light is where they are able to manifest or heal. However, light is a graded process. Sometimes it is less direct than other times. We allow what we allow, as we allow it. Each session in our meditation we may know ourselves a little more deeply.

The present moment rests between the past and the future. Specifically, how we could protect ourselves from this situation or how we can enact laws to protect our community in the future. Or, going deeply into the causes and conditions of what happened to us might lie in the past. Either of these examples might be helpful, but they are more the province of therapy. Meditation looks at what is happening now. That is what we mean by the light. Many of us were wounded so deeply in the past that there is little possibility of contacting the source of that suffering. But we can feel their effect right now if we remain conscious. And as we become more and more conscious of that which lies within us, we become more and more whole.

I have a prayer that I wrote for myself:

May the wounds of my past never be seen as weakness

For they are proof of my strength

And the tools of my compassion

The pictures accompanying this post are by Yayoi Kusama, a Japanese artist who lived through great personal trauma and incorporated her journey in art. 

The FOUR BRAHMAVIARAS

The Brahmaviharas, sometimes translated as the Four Immeasurable Minds, are early Buddhist heart practices that are still embraced by most major schools of Buddhism today. They are loving kindness, compassion, resonant joy, and equanimity. Tonight at Dharmajunkies we will discuss the Brahmaviharas; their Sanskrit origins, their roles in our lives, and their near and far enemies. We will start with meditation and loving kindness practice, sending loving kindness to ourselves, our loved ones, the natural world, and the unseen world. Then, after brief check ins, we’ll have a Dharma talk about the Four Brahmaviharas. Following the talk will be ample time for discussion on the talk and any Dharma-related matters. I look forward to seeing you there! -Sarah

Are We Asking Too Much?

I had a friend who was a poet.  I felt he was closing off to me and I asked if I had hurt his feelings. He replied, “I only have one feeling, and it’s always hurt.” He was a difficult and complex person and yet everyone wanted more of him. This wounded soul asked nothing from anyone but to write and be left alone. Bob Dylan once said, if he wanted happiness, he wouldn’t have been a poet. Both Dylan and Jim Storm avoided adulation because they knew it created binding contracts their creativity could ill afford.

Obligation is not a show of compassion as much as it is a desperate clinging to something that makes us feel secure.

I, on the other hand, could never share my broken heart because I was afraid to know it. I remained buried under the excess weight of my belly. Hence, I remained so protected I couldn’t  heal. My wounds festered and became sore to the touch. So, I avoided bumping into this inflamed pain and would seek comfort in other’s approval. I suppose this let me feel I was securing my place on the planet. And because I wanted others to value me, I was forever the overconfident clown. I believed that if people loved me, I would be indispensable to them.  This maladaptive grasping for  security assured I was always getting hurt, always disappointed and forever let down.  The more I grasped, the emptier I felt. The more I sang for my supper, the greater my resentment grew. I created lists of everything I did for everyone. I created resentments when those gifts were never returned.

Because I could not feel my hurt, I went right to blame and resentment, fixating on how no one got me.  All of my performing, joking and hiding myself was actually a great burden for me to carry. I would avoid going out, because I had this inflated idea of ME to uphold. I couldn’t just show up as myself, could I? It was like spinning plates to prop up this façade anyone but me could see through. What was I protecting inside?

I was a wounded kid who grew up in an environment that I never felt strong enough or big enough and so I was always compensating.  I was forever trying to grab on to everything and anything in my world that gave me purpose, worth and value because I didn’t feel those things for myself. I ended up as something of an emotional hoarder. I wouldn’t allow space into my life because space seemed to remind me, I wasn’t enough.  I would hold on to other people and try to extract their love and praise and when I didn’t get it, I would hold on to the resentments. With no trust to let go and allow space, I was unable to see anyone. Space affords perspective. Without space my mind was a jumbled mess from which only need and resentment grew. Rather than feeling an inner wealth that I could share with others, I walked around constantly disappointed in their lack of following my directives. I was asking way too much of my world

I had a dear friend who was dying of cancer. One night after a party he through with his settlement money, I asked why he never laughed at my jokes.  He said because he felt coerced into laughing at them. He didn’t feel there was any agency from him I was requesting. I began to see that people didn’t trust me because I didn’t trust them.  I didn’t trust space. And I mistook emptiness for a bad thing. Rather than lack, emptiness can be seen as room. I was skillful enough at the art of speaking that I kept everybody giggling and appropriately focused, but I was also not giving any space for their feelings. It has lately become important for me to touch into the emptiness I fell feel inside. It’s important for me to become familiar with feeling emptiness and see it as an opening. From a meditation point of view, every experience we encounter is good. Awareness is the essence of realization, as is taught.  The greater our awareness, the more agency we have in life. Awareness is born of confidence, and in turn engenders confidence. Confidence allows us the strength to offer rather than take We’ve all heard “it’s better to give than to receive” but that always felt like a burden to me  as though we’re giving up things we need to please or appease others. But when we give if we are giving appropriately, we are letting go and letting go creates space both for us and for those to whom we’re giving.  And the greatest gift we can give is our acceptance, which is our awareness turning toward them with the space for them to be as they are. There moments of contact are precious and more meaningful than all the things we clutter our mind with.

We cannot gain self-worth through external means. The things to which we cling are only distractions from the real work, which is to find what we need by building our spirit. That is certainly what I have been looking for and what I am committed to now in the new year. Be the one who loves you. It is human nature to want those who possess themselves.  Conversely, it is also natural to avoid those with excessive needs that aren’t addressed. We can sense that pit of need which actually manifests as demand. We demand, cajole, manipulate in order to fill a space that doesn’t need filling.

Maybe we are the very one to heal our broken heart. And from there we have a full heart to share. No one owes us anything. But we owe ourselves all the love we have.

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MAKING SPACE FOR PEACE

TAKING MY FINGER OFF THE TRIGGER

How can we be less impacted by circumstances as we move through life? Friction in our friendships, difficulties at the office, contention between family members, are common clashes. As well, worry over an uncertain future and thoughts triggered from a wounded past provoke from within. We seem to have triggers everywhere. Some of these we may not be able to change. But we can change our relationship to any of them.

We make difficult circumstances more difficult when we allow the mind to go into adjacent worries, recrimination and judgment. For instance, there is drilling happening not far from my apartment. It’s annoying and incessant. I’m here having to work on a post about creating peace with this going on in the background. It becomes especially painful when the background becomes the foreground, as is happening now as I’m referring to it.  However in the course of writing, I’ll refocus on my work and forget the noise. This cessation of suffering comes and goes and yet the drilling is continuing unabated. Sometimes I’m aware and sometimes not.  Each time I’m aware of the drill I forget all about the periods of relative peace.  It seems this drilling has been going on my entire life and will continue forever.  I cannot help but take this personally.

If I cannot change a situation it falls in the category of pain. Pain is unavoidable in life. Yet any pain can become amplified when it’s cloaked in mental, physical or emotional struggle. This is suffering. And as is said, pain is inevitable, but suffering is optional. The key is being able to accept pain and access the space to see how we can reduce the suffering. Oh, and not take it personally, of course.

Our lives would be so much lighter and more direct if we could accept our pain and move through it without complicating at every turn. So, sitting here with the drilling thinking ‘why did I move to this place?’ Or ‘maybe I should call city services’ is not only an unnecessary complication, it opens the door for further complication. ‘Of course, I can’t call city services, I’ll be on the phone for hours. And then no one will listen.’  The mind piles on more and more evidence that our life is tragic, and we are woefully misunderstood. All the while, I forget that I can just walk into another room. Sometimes I think I like to suffer and feel sorry for myself. Kind of like an auto Munchausen syndrome.

These complications create suffering and distract us from the present. “Distracted” means we are not paying attention. We might think we are present because we are bitching about it, but in reality, we are lost in mental cycles of suffering that have little, if anything, to do with what is happening. Unfortunately, not paying attention leaves us vulnerable. That vulnerability creates anxiety in the part of the mind charged with monitoring our self-defense. When triggered the body grips itself in a faux-protective tension that instigates feelings of unease. The mind tries desperately, to rectify this by  reiterating scenarios it hopes to control. As the mind is where we think we live, we believe these stories that are triggered by anxiety, memory and speculation. These narratives, with ourselves at the center, keep us enthralled and distanced from reality.

In Meditation, each time we recognize distraction we have the choice to create a gap in which we are able to come back to the present. This process extends to triggering situations in life. We can return to the body breathing – which is happening in the present. As we train the mind to leave its dream world behind, we begin to see that operating more closely to reality allows us to recognize and become familiar with the fears we always live with. We become able to work with things that frighten us, until they become workable.

However, as we step out of our cocoon, we still need protection.  But, we change our allegiance from fantasy to awareness. The further we awaken the more danger we perceive. As we step from the cocoon the world is more vibrant because we are leaving a sensually dampened state and stepping into clarity. The world is more vibrant, but that means sirens are louder, people more irritating, and danger more apparent. It is said that irritation is the vanguard of awareness.  Sometimes, we retreat. Yes. But our work is to notice when we are closing down, and to encourage ourselves toward opening when we are able, as we can.

So, how do we step from our cocoon and remain confident as we do so?

Rather than the faux protection of our panicked thinking, Meditation practice allows us to create a gap between input and impulse, which serves as a  mote or buffer of aware space. Whether we are triggered by someone else, or drilling outside the window, all instigating impulses happen in our mind. When the mind builds it cocoon it compounds itself into a hall of mirrors. Turning the attention from this brain constipation toward the aerobic movement of breathing interrupts the process and allows the claustrophobia to abate. When we turn our attention from the overwhelmed brain to the body breathing, we go return to something grounding. And while simple awareness of the breath may seem inadequate to address how impacted we feel, it actually creates a gap that allows the mind more clarity to see clearly.

So how do we work with our thinking? Buddhists believe that our every thought travels the same cyclic journey as as does our life. Each life travels the same cycle as every epoch in history, or any structure in society, every fad and trend. Everything that happens is born in darkness and matures through a process that flowers into consciousness and fades eventually into entropy, death and reconfiguration. At death, a momentum remains to shape the next reconfiguration. Born in darkness, these cycles remain unknown to themselves, unless something interrupts the pattern.

In meditation practice we begin to see aspects of these cycles in our mind. With practice, we actually learn to interrupt the cycle and allow awareness.  The most reliable point of interrupting the cycle happens as a feeling arises.  This is a red flag, of sorts. Our feeling might be pleasurable, neutral or painful.  We generally don’t pay attention to our feelings and move past them toward the next stages in the cycle, craving and grasping. Craving can be wanting something we want, but it can also be yearning for relief from situations we don’t want. The next stage, grasping is when we take hold and make a meal of it. When experiencing painful situations, we naturally crave relief and cling to a struggle that sometimes expands our pain into suffering. If we are not aware, we become lost in a fantasy cocoon fueled by feelings of victimization and retribution.

The interruption point comes as we become conscious of the cycle.  The more we meditate, the more we are familiar with the mind, the sooner we are able to impose a gap of awareness. The most reliable entry point lies between craving (wanting things to change) and grasping (beginning to struggle.)

In simple language, when we notice something unpleasant that has the capacity to engulf us into a cycle of suffering, we can interrupt the process before we take anything personally. We can pick up the laptop and go into another room. If we cannot change the circumstances, we can change our relationship to it. And the best remedy, I have found, is to create internal mental space as a buffer. When we recognize we are in pain, we can interrupt the mind cycle by releasing our grasping and letting go, return to the breath. We are moving from struggling with things we cannot change, toward what we can, our breath. We can slow down and disengage.

By relaxing the nervous system our mind becomes clear and from the vantage of aware space, the situation may reveal itself as entirely workable.

THE NEXT RIGHT BREATH

Stepping Past Mental Confusion.

Walking through life one breath at a time sounds very beautiful and Buddhisty. Yet to our everyday brains, it feels pretty impractical.

In a world filled with endless information and impulses, the idea of simplifying life to a single breath may seem overly reductive, especially in contrast to the overwhelming chaos of our triggered states. And while chaos is part of life these days, perhaps there is a way to navigate this chaos. Instead of trying to control the flood of thoughts and data, we can shift our focus from the mind into action. And we can take that action one step at a time. The question becomes: What is the next right step?

It is often said that action leads to clarity of mind. Action is simple. It is the next step we take, or the next breath we notice. When we remain stuck in our minds, we overwhelm ourselves with outcomes, variables, and possibilities, all echoing endlessly. But reducing this confusion to one practical step can help us move forward. Once we identify that one step, the following steps often reveal themselves naturally.

“Move a muscle and change your mind,” it is said.

When we are stuck, movement leads to clarity. But it is crucial that this movement is an action taken in confidence, and not a reaction based in fear. The key is a mindful pause, that allows us to turn the lights on, before we step. Reactions born of fear such as defensiveness, anger, or frustration only add to confusion because they are blind. They are shaped by past pain that we unconsciously relive. In contrast, the next right step is free of this conditioning. It arises consciously, rooted in the present.

So how do we remain conscious and move beyond our mental entrapment? When the mind gets lost in itself, it can feel as though we are battling others. We fixate on them, or the weather, or the traffic, demonizing any available external. Yet in truth, we are not seeing anything but our projections. This does not help anyone, least of all ourselves. To counter this, we can follow a simple process of turning the mind from itself toward the breathing body and align with the breath. The breath is reliably in the present. By coming back to the present, we turn the mind from darkened reaction, to seeing more simply and the next action often reveals itself. This pause cuts through negative, programmed reactions and allows us to take an authentic step forward—one unclouded by past experiences or future expectations. Free of impulse, this step can follow our higher self or spiritual being.

While it is important to be in the moment, each moment is leading to the next. To make this next authentic action practical, it helps to determine where we are going. If we have a commitment to work for the benefit of all beings then it becomes clear. By “all,” beings we are including ourselves. Helping others at the cost of our own wellness is not truly helpful. So, what is the next step that leads toward helpful engagement with our world?  Once we know this, the next step we take is a natural action. By natural we mean not rooted in confusion or external expectation, but what needs to be done for the benefit of everyone, including ourselves. Taking that step will clarify the next step and in so doing reveal the journey ahead. We move toward helpfulness and harmony, and away from reactive patterns that keep us entangled in life’s struggles.

But, a view of developing ourselves to be a benefit to others, also sounds Buddhisty and impractical. But, what is happening here is very practical. We are not reaching beyond ourselves, or trying to gain anything that is not already here. We are simply adjusting our view away from self-centered desires that actually are impractical. If our view is only our own happiness, than we have created a very narrow space. Happiness is dependent on other things, our livelihood, our relationships, the weather. It is actually, out of our control and largely theoretical. Real happiness comes to us. It is a product of living a life we believe in, and is connected to al beings. We are part of life on this planet, and part of the consciousness of the universe. But, this is only accessible in the present – right here, right now. And should we adopt the view that we are here to benefit our world, we are connected to a vastness that is inspiring.

Many traditions speak of karma, each with its own interpretation. In Buddhist teachings, karma reflects vast interactive forces that guide us into certain life situations, like currents in a river. When lost in the river, we cannot fully understand these currents. However, we still have choices: to fight, to succumb, or to guide ourselves through. By choosing to guide, we release ourselves from struggle, moving one stroke—or one breath—at a time, away from danger and toward safety.

If we panic, we create more waves and confusion, making progress even harder. But when we understand the right direction—away from the waterfall, for example, and toward a safe dock—we can calmly take one stroke at a time. It is not necessary to comprehend the full scope of karma to reduce its influence. Instead, by waking up and becoming aware of the present moment, we stop creating new karma through ignorance or momentum. Awareness allows us to choose the next right action, breaking free of preprogrammed reactions.

If our higher mind aligns with the benefit of ourselves and others, each step we take—each breath—becomes the next right action toward that view.


The Four R’s: A Tool for Moments of Confusion

When confusion arises, we often try to fight through it, only to find our destination slipping further away. Instead, we can use the Four R’s:

  1. Recognize the confusion. Acknowledge it without judgment.
  2. Release your grip on the struggle. Let go of what is causing or worsening the confusion.
  3. Return to the rhythm of your breathing. Anchor yourself in the present moment.
  4. Realign with the flow of life. Allow the next action to arise naturally.

By employing this process, we can release ourselves into the natural flow of life. One breath at a time. And by training in returning to the breath in meditation practice, we are training to return to life whenever we are caught in our mind.

HOME

Landing Back to Earth

Walking the emotional gauntlet of the holiday season is challenging. The holidays are often described as loving and warm, but it can also feel cold and threatening.

Incidents of familial violence and self-harm spike during this time.  Perhaps we try hard to please those we love. Maybe we get caught up in competition over how much we can give. Or perhaps we feel anxious about our financial security and our ability to be generous and offer ourselves to others. Maybe we fall into the trap of need, looking with avarice at all the shining bobbles. Even when we have much for which to feel grateful, sometimes home is where the hurt is.

What does it mean to come home for the holidays when we don’t feel safe at home at any time. And maybe if we don’t feel safe at home, we never feel safe anywhere.  What does it mean to offer kindness and love to others when we don’t feel those things for ourselves? We often create more hardship by failing to include ourselves in the love we want to extend. How I feel about myself is no one’s fault. It is, however, my responsibility. How I feel about myself reflects how I feel about the life I live, the world I inhabit, the home I create and the love I extend to others.

Traditional Buddhism teaches about 6 realms of existence from hell to God realms. Yet, the human realm is said to be the most rewarding and the most challenging as humans have the ability to achieve and realize so much and yet that very possibility gives us a sense of unease, expectation, and demand.  because we see the possibility, we believe our lives should be bigger, grander, and better. Buddha suggested that the root of our suffering lies in non-acceptance of what our life actually is. And acceptance of our life begins with acceptance of ourselves.

It is not selfish to care for ourselves, especially when this enables us to care for others. Yet, caring for ourselves is not mindlessly grasping for everything we think we want. Because the more we want, the more we need. It’s as though the universe only understands verbs. We pray, “I want this” and “I want that”, but the universe only hears “want, want, want.” So, it sends us more wanting. And the more we want, the less we feel we have. As we cling to the ephemeral, we end up judging life by what we don’t have.

Yet, despite whatever it is we want today, humans need peace, comfort, and kindness everyday. This sustenance may be closer than we realize. But it cannot be realized through grasping, competition, coveting or creating internal pressure around what we think others think. Those ploys only leave us bereft. If I believe that I am worthless—or less worthy than anyone else—then what value can I offer to others? I can only offer my need. “You didn’t call me back”, “you didn’t get my joke”, “You don’t get me.” , “Goddamnit, does anyone get me?” No one gets anyone as their too busy trying to get for themselves. No one wants to prop us up indefinitely. While some may be willing to try, no one is comfortable with the feeling of indebtedness that comes from holding us together. And it does us no good.

But maybe we can find a way to hold ourselves together.

This holiday season, instead of looking to external sources to fill our needs, perhaps we could begin by turning inward.  My mother, after being divorced by my father, lived a very modest life. She often lived with others in places that were never truly her own. At one point, we were roommates in a beautiful little home on a river in Colorado, but it was never truly hers. Eventually, she found a humble home behind the most popular bar in town, where drunks stumbled around at night to the sounds of country blues and fist fights.

Despite this, she made that small place her home, furnishing it with second-hand furniture and Walmart discount items. Her heart, her acceptance of others, and her warmth filled that little home. Anyone was welcome. And I dragged some characters through. People would visit—many of whom had greater means than she — and would leave feeling enriched. Even when space was tight, she would welcome everyone, “As long as there’s floor space.” At times, the house was so crowded with animals, guests, and family that it was hard to find that floor space. Yet, no matter how uncomfortable everyone felt comfortable.  Over the years, people kept coming back to her home because they felt the love.

Certainly, there have been grander expressions of love throughout history: Helen of Troy, whose face launched a thousand ships; Poe’s dark yearning for his Annabel Lee; F. Scott’s stumbling drunken pursuit of Zelda. Juliette and her Romeo. But sometimes, it’s the quiet moments of affection—a drooling cat kneading biscuits on your chest—that are the most healing. But, it’s not the cat that heals us. It is the power of our affection and connection to our heart. That is how we create a home no matter where we are. It’s not the cat’s responsibility; it’s ours. We have the power to heal ourselves through kindness and affection. Then we can welcome others.

When the Buddha attained enlightenment his profound sense of peace drew others to him. After years of searching and training, the Buddha finally sat down, exhausted, and gave up all concepts, all material desires, and all yearning. When everything settled, he connected to the earth and found profound enlightenment. His contentment was radiant and animals and people alike were drawn to his peace. When asked who he was, he simply replied, “I am awake.” A skeptic asked how he could prove this.  Buddha simply touched the earth.  “The earth is my witness, ” he said.

In this moment, right here and now, we can be at home. In this moment, right here and now, we can welcome our world. In this very moment, we can drop the anxiety of wanting more and find peace in who we are.

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WALKING THE BUDDHA’S PATH

Reconnecting to our Basic Human Dignity

We’re all familiar with the trope of a good angel on one shoulder and a bad angel on the other. This seems grandly narcissistic, as though each of us is caught in a cosmic struggle between ultimate good and ultimate evil. Many of us live under the influence of such external beliefs, and though we may not adhere literally to this idea, we are nonetheless inwardly pressured by the clash between goodness and evil.

False binaries dominate our consciousness, good versus evil, left versus right, wonderful versus horrible. We live squeezed between these exaggerations. The Buddha taught that the truth lies not in extremes but in the “middle way.” This teaching urges us to be present in our lives and act rightly in the moment. Similarly, the 12-step traditions speak of “doing the next right thing.” According to the Buddha, the next right step depends on the specific circumstances of the moment. Instead of fabricating extremes, the middle way turns our attention to what’s really happening.

Unfortunately, our brains are not attuned to the middle, especially when we are emotionally triggered. When we feel threatened we are able to easily grab extremes like little kids pounding their fists on the bed. “I hate you! I hate you!” As a child, we don’t really mean that and the universe cuts us slack. But in our adult life, we provoke consequences when we act. Where is our fist pounding leading? We can recognize the middle way when we question extreme beliefs. If we think, “This is horrible!” we should ask: Is that entirely true? Is there nuance? By examining what’s actually happening, we can orient ourselves toward a larger view of where our life is heading. The next right step becomes clear when we have a sense of direction. If our ultimate goal is to be compassionate, open, and helpful, we might ask does this step lead me toward or away from that view? This approach creates a more practical binary.  Which action leads me to where I really want to go?

Where are we heading?

The Buddhist path always returns to the present. The next step is just one step, yet it leads toward the larger trajectory of our life. Where are we heading? By freeing the concept of karma from societal binaries, we see it more accurately as action. Karma is the dynamic interplay of energy. Much of the energy relating to us is shaped by our actions. Karma is vast and multifaceted, yet the middle way simplifies this: What are my actions creating right now, and where are they leading me?

Buddhist teachings encourage us to cultivate a broad, meaningful vision of our lives while connecting to the small, actionable steps within our reach. Material possessions, though significant to society, can be seen as means to an end, not the ultimate goal. Many people claim to be motivated by money but are often paralyzed by fear of it, doing little to address their concerns. In contrast, spiritual fulfillment, which I believe is the union of emotional growth, physical wellness, and mental clarity, motivates us deeply. These qualities thrive when we orient toward benefiting others and the world around us.

The Three Motivations

Buddhist teachings describe three motivations for walking the path:

  1. Self-Care: The foundational motivation is to care for oneself. We might meditate, exercise, or connect with others to feel better. While essential, this focus is limited; if feeling better is the only goal, we may falter when life doesn’t cooperate. Instead, self-care should build strength and resilience to navigate challenges. This step lays the groundwork for deeper growth.
  2. Realization: The second motivation is to seek greater understanding. In the 12-step tradition, people often say, “I came for the drinking, but I stayed for the thinking.” This captures the idea that addressing immediate problems leads to self-discovery. The journey progresses from acknowledging weaknesses to cultivating meditation, spiritual connection, and eventually helping others. This motivation deepens our commitment to transformation.
  3. Benefit to Others: The third motivation involves being of service to the world. This doesn’t mean proselytizing or seeking recognition. Instead, we embody our growth and offer it through our actions. With a clear vision and ample space for motivation, we can focus on the present moment and discern what needs to be done.

 

WALKING PAST RESTRICTIONS

Rather than clinging to oversimplified notions of good and bad, we can ask: Does this next step bring me closer to happiness, fulfillment, and the ability to contribute to my world? On one shoulder, we might have the voice of motivation, encouraging us forward. On the other, a doubtful voice may say, “You’re not ready,” or “The world isn’t deserving of your efforts.” This voice, born of past pain and fear, resists liberation because liberation challenges the familiar and the comfortable. But, many of have grown weary of treading the same circular path, and we become – or are sometimes forced to become – ready to drop the load and move more freely.

The second motivation—the pursuit of realization—helps us overcome fear. Its scary to change. Its painful to live. And moving forward on the path isn’t always easy or enjoyable, but once we get a glimpse of realization, it is the only direction to take. By aligning ourselves with the goal of liberation, we shed the binaries and constraints that hold us back. Liberation isn’t a grand ascension but a practical return to our natural state—our true selves.

Ultimately, walking the warrior path means shedding what no longer serves us and embracing openness and presence whenever it feels safe. It’s about reconnecting with who we truly are and living in alignment with our highest potential.

RISE UP AND SIT DOWN

Gaining Mastery Over Our Suffering: the Courage to Face Our Pain

I would like to address rising up and facing our pain as a way of navigating a life of turmoil and challenge. This is not to over dramatize life’s difficulties or to define ourselves by pain. Rather, by facing what is truly happening, we can minimize the suffering in order to work with the pain.

Therefore, distinguishing pain from suffering is key. It is said that pain is inevitable, while suffering is optional. Pain may accompany growth or even be necessary for it. Working through pain brings physical strength and emotional maturity. However, our interpretation of pain often complicates our view and tension amplifies it into suffering. We take pain personally, becoming entangled in hypotheticals, judgment, and resentment. Instead of meeting pain, as it is, in order to work with it, we struggle against it, giving it power over us. This creates great Suffering. Yet, since suffering is optional, it can be addressed and reduced.

The point isn’t to get rid of the pain. The point is to reduce the suffering we create, so we can address the pain. As we age, when our back hurts its natural and not aimed at us personally. Yet thoughts of how we hate aging, fears of what might come or how we might need to change what is happening and how the government might be implicated in any of it are not helpful. I have found that when I experience back pain, I reflexively curl away from it contorting my body into an unhealthy shape. This supports the disability and promotes a mindset of suffering. Instead of running away from the pain, I’ve learned to lean in to it remembering to breathe and gently ease up past the pain, into my best posture. This is not about pushing into the pain in damaging and dangerous ways. It’s about feeling into it and gently moving past it to a posture of authority. This actually helps diminish the pain and release the suffering we create because of it.  I have found that gentle persistence toward regaining somatic authority is possible. I don’t have to be owned by my pain. I can learn to live with it, and even learn from it.  And in this way, I can limit the suffering I create in frustration of the inevitable. Frustration is an easy out when we’re in pain, but it is not helpful to healing. Kindness, ease and awareness are essential for us to support ourselves.

But this talk is not about back pain. This talk is also about our mental and emotional health and how with meditation we are retraining the mind away from reflexive reactions so we have a way of working with pain that allows us to gain mastery over suffering. The title of this talk is “Sit Down and Rise Up.” Or, maybe “Rise Up and Sit Down” depending on its whim. By sitting down and connecting to the earth, we ground ourselves in the present. With practice, we grow comfortable with our own presence and begin to connect to our innate dignity, confidence, and well-being. Rising up in a gently uplifted posture lengthens the spine, creating space for tension to release and openness to dawn. With practice we become confident with openness. Openness, in turn, engenders more confidence in not just our spirit, but our body. With practice we become familiar with the warrior’s seat, and are able to return to it.

Our body and mind are sometimes in cahoots with suffering. The mind might attach to a darkness and the body might tighten in reaction. For instance, defensiveness often triggers a somatic constriction, arrogance has its puffed up posture, and depression is a collapse of body and mind. These physical and mental reactions to fear happen so quickly they feel inevitable. We assume it’s natural to collapse when sad, shiver when cold, or tense up when threatened. But these responses do not protect us, in fact they often amplify the pain, or support the disfunction causing it. Ironically, the tension we instinctively adopt when we feel threatened is entirely counterproductive. Tension reduces the body’s ability to respond and it clouds the mind. No martial arts teacher trains students to be tense, frightened, or defensive. Instead, they are trained to be relaxed and open, ready to respond to what is happening. In life, what is happening is not always what we think. The only reliable defense to an unpredictable world is to pay attention. And paying attention requires relaxation and confidence.

Training the mind to pause when threatened and turn its attention to the body allows us awareness in the present. And, if a threat is real, awareness is our best defence. Therefor the base point of this journey is a relaxed body, open heart, and clear mind. With meditation practice, we repeatedly return to this base point with the breath, teaching our body, emotions, and mind to learn to return to our base point in real-life situations. This posture becomes our command position, where we see more clearly and face challenges with calm strength.

Seeing clearly requires moving beyond judgment-based biases, which are often projections of past wounds. Judgment is a reflexive defense that distances us from the present, limiting clarity and effective action. Instead, we synchronize the mind with the body, breathing through fear until we can assess the situation clearly. Assessment, unlike judgment, is simple and self-reflective. It acknowledges fear without blame and responds thoughtfully.

This principle is critical for martial artists, who remain present and open rather than reactive. In contrast, action movies often glorify revenge or hatred as motivation, creating a satisfying but false narrative. Real strength lies in remaining open and responsive, not closed off by anger or fear.

For example, Muhammad Ali trained himself to relax and release tension when struck by an opponent, by famously using the “rope-a-dope” strategy. By leaning back on the ropes, dancing and smiling, not only replenished his energy, but seriously disheartened his opponents. When balanced, he faced the moment rather than retreating, demonstrating mastery over both his body and mind.

Rising up to meet the moment—rather than defeating or escaping it—is a better way to defend ourselves and face life’s challenges. This openness, practiced over time, resonates with even the most fearful parts of our minds. Meeting obstacles with awareness, we align the body, mind, and spirit to face the outer and inner challenges of life. Even adopting an upright posture for two minutes can produce confidence-enhancing hormones, reinforcing our sense of agency over a situation.

Once we learn to rise to pain, we no longer allow fear, anger, or pain to cower us. This reduces suffering, confusion, and mental conflict. It’s as though we rise up and shake off the baggage we once thought was protecting us. Sitting down to rise up is the warrior’s proclamation—a way to cultivate gentleness toward ourselves, which translates into effectiveness in the world.

Living fearlessly does not mean living without fear. True fearlessness is the ability to look at fear and see it as an ally.

POST TRAUMATIC LOVE

The Heartbreak Clash

Lord Gampopa, a seminal figure in Tibetan Buddhism, taught that we are the “working basis” of our liberation. In other words, who we are—our body, mind, spirit, work, life, and relationships—holds all the information we need for our freedom. We don’t have to look beyond ourselves. The key is to look beneath the surface turmoil and learn from what’s right in front of us. This requires taking things less personally and seeing the path as a practical, step-by-step process, not some distant cosmic reach. Maybe the cosmic is right here, right now.

On the flip side, sometimes we place so much pressure on the present moment that we take it too personally, making things harder for ourselves and others. The present is just a blip in our flow—we meet the moment and move on. But when we hit a snag, it can occupy much more of our time and energy than is helpful. If we could retrain our minds to notice and let go, we might see difficulties as opportunities to learn who we are and how we behave, freeing ourselves from the habitual patterns that keep us stuck.

The cocoon we build around ourselves is meant to protect us, and we cling to it tightly. We begin to believe that this reductive state is who we are, and proclaim, “No one knows me,” as we search for someone who will “get” us. But do we even understand ourselves? Maybe the person we think is misunderstanding us could reveal something new about who we are.

Conflict often arises when we cling to our defenses. This is not to say defenses are inherently wrong or unhelpful, but when we identify with them, we mistake them for ourselves. Since defenses are only partial aspects of who we are, identifying with them limits our lives. Over time, we start feeling claustrophobic and dissatisfied, wanting to break free of those limiting beliefs. The easy way out is to blame others: “This is toxic, I have to leave!” But that often leads to the next entanglement, where we replay old traumas. The goal of the Buddhist path is to help us see beyond these patterns, gently recognizing them as limitations.

Each time we notice the mind clinging, grasping, or fixating, and acknowledge it, we can let go and return to clarity. This is what meditators call “coming back.” Each time we return, we crack open the cocoon, letting more sunlight in. With practice, we can rest in a state of unclouded clarity, which becomes our foundation. From there, we step into new possibilities, rather than merely repeating the past. When we react out of fear or anxiety, we can only do what we’ve done before. How many times in relationships have we said, “Let’s make a fresh start,” only to end up repeating the same cycle? Without returning to zero, to openness, our next move isn’t truly creative. Acting out of pain or anxiety only reinforces past injuries, carrying them with us into every new situation.

I once dated an astrologer who, after reading our charts, told me we had a rare but perfect astrological conflict called the “heartbreak clash.” It seemed insurmountable, and everything we read suggested it was impossible to overcome. But along with the clash came an undeniable attraction. We felt drawn to the conflict, as if we had to overcome it. “I always go for damaged angels” or “every partner I choose is the wrong one”—maybe we’re all damaged angels, and there’s no such thing as a “wrong” partner. Maybe there are only partners who push the right buttons to unlock parts of us.

I went to another astrologer, a Vajrayana Buddhist practitioner, who, after looking at our chart, said, “Classical astrologers would tell you to get out. But my teacher, Chögyam Trungpa Rinpoche, would smile and say, ‘I don’t see a problem.'” He beamed at me and continued, “It’s our vow as Vajrayana practitioners to transmute the difficulties in our lives and find the wisdom at their core. This situation is perfect for that.”

Opening to these deep wounds can release enormous energy. We instinctively shy away from this because we don’t want to face what lies beneath. Trauma isn’t just painful; it’s the avoidance of that pain that prolongs it. We cover our wounds, hiding them from the light, and they fester. We flinch at the thought of touching those wounds, carrying them around without acknowledging them. The heartbreak clash offers an opportunity to unlock that puzzle. Imagine stepping through the iron cocoon of your defenses, even if only occasionally, and seeing things in a fresh light. That is love. And love isn’t separate from pain; it exists alongside it. Our focus is the choice we make.

However, love brings our past traumas into the present. At work, in public, or on the street, we can keep our wounds hidden, pretending to be okay. But what does “okay” really mean? Okay according to others’ standards? Or according to what we think others expect of us? And what does “starting over” mean if we haven’t learned the lessons of our past?

Once we cross into love, it opens a whole new dimension. It’s like a friendship evolving into something deeper. As soon as we do, we give the other person access to those dangerous, hidden places we’ve tried to protect. This makes relationships both challenging and invaluable.

But the other person isn’t directly touching our wounds; they’re triggering the defenses we’ve placed around them. More importantly, we’re not seeing our wounds; we’re seeing them through the lens of our defenses. The easy way out is to blame—to fixate on the other person, diverting attention from ourselves. This blocks our ability to learn. Another shortcut is judgment: believing the other person is wrong by some standard. But what does that really mean? By whose standards? Humans notoriously adjust ethical scales to serve their own self-interest. We can quote the Bible, the Buddha, or any law book to justify our point, but all we’re really doing is hiding our fear of what lies beneath.

Erich Fromm, the philosopher and therapist, said that true love occurs when two people are ready for the same thing. Maybe every love teaches us something different about ourselves, until we finally find someone else. Perhaps we failed to see those opportunities because we were focused on the flaws of others. But ultimately, we are the only ones we can change. And we’re often the last ones we want to see. It takes time to be ready to see ourselves. Yet, looking inward is the only way to be truly honest—and honesty is what frees us from our defenses, step by step.

This is the essence of transformation in Vajrayana Buddhism: the power to break free from the chains of our fear, burning them away in the fire of our passion.