First Thought, Best Thought

First Thought, Best Thought

Commiting to Yes (And…)

First Thought, Best Thought was the title of a book of poetry by Chogyam Trungpa Rinpoche and a phrase he used to describe engaging fresh mind in any creative endeavor. Last week, we discussed the idea of a fresh start—how returning to the breath brings us into the present, allowing our next step to be free of past attachments. In this sense, first thought is the moment the mind comes to a creative inflection point, that is stepping forward with confidence and clarity.

However, first thought is not the first thought we notice. By the time we become aware of our thinking, we are generally enmeshed in a point of view shaped by past experience. This natural function of the mind contextualizes the present based on what we’ve learned, which, while useful, can lend itself to reiteration, blocking true creative exploration.

There are two aspects of mind we can consider: the fresh, free-flowing mind and the compounded mind that analyzes and categorizes based on prior knowledge. The compounded mind refines what it already knows, strengthening established neural pathways. This can feel satisfying and safe. Think serotonin. Fresh mind, on the other hand, forges new synaptic connections—an activity that excites the brain in an entirely different way. Think dopamine. Both aspects are integral to our mind when they harmonize in a workable balance. These fall out of balance when we lock ourselves into a secure redoubt, or jettison ourselves into unprotected space. These are known as 1st and 3rd circles, respectively. The middle way is known as the 2nd circle. This is the space of optimum creativity.

Square One and the Power of Space

In Trungpa Rinpoche’s Dharma Art course, the very first class begins with students sitting in a circle. There is a blank white sheet spread on the floor. This experience, which he called Square One, was designed to immerse students in the energy of clear, open space. The entire premise of Dharma Art—creating authentic expression within one’s environment—relied on the understanding that Square One was completely empty.

Emptiness is often misunderstood. To the materialist, ego-driven mind, emptiness feels like voidness, a loss of reference points. When we are not preoccupied with acquiring, ignoring, or resisting external things, the ego panics, interpreting the lack of engagement as nonexistence. Yet, space—like the vastness surrounding our planet—is filled with energy and potential. In tantric traditions, space is considered the feminine principle, the womb of all creation.

Sitting around the white sheet, the mind naturally throws up objections. It searches for past experiences to contextualize the moment, and when it fails, it fabricates fantasies based on conditioning. Anything to avoid accepting the pure potential of space. This can feel agonizing, especially when we believe we are supposed to create something. But did the universe know what it was creating when it began?

The Sacred Moment of Not Knowing

When faced with uncertainty, the ego scrambles to define, control, or solve what is before it. This is a noble instinct, but it is not the act of creation. Many spiritual traditions hold the moment of not knowing as sacred. The I Ching describes this as the moment just before the sacrifice, when the practitioner silently opens to the divine. This pause—this waiting—creates space for inspiration.

But what is inspiration? What is channeling? What does it mean to create without the conscious mind dictating the process? When we reach our highest potential and then simply open in silence, we are not controlling what comes next; we are making space for it to emerge. The next impulse may arise internally or from the environment. In theatrical improvisation, it might be prompted by a partner’s line. If we already know the line—as in scripted theater—we strive to make our response feel spontaneous. But in true improvisation, we do not know the prompt beforehand, so our response emerges authentically, as if it were a pure first thought.

Improvisation, Acceptance, and Flow

Naturally, even improvisation has guidelines to sustain the creative flow. The most well-known rule is Yes, and…—the principle of accepting whatever is presented and responding intuitively.

Our habitual responses to the world tend to fall into three categories: acceptance, resistance, or avoidance. Improvisation shifts this toward acceptance. The second rule, No Denial, ensures that energy continues moving forward. For instance, if my scene partner says, Good morning, Doctor, I should not reply, I’m not a doctor! That would break the flow. Instead, I might say, Good morning, Mrs. Smith. Your dog is doing very well and can be picked up today. This maintains the reality we are creating while still allowing space for personal agency.

Trungpa Rinpoche’s Dharma Art was a laboratory for discovering pure impulse and response in the creative process. It was not meant for performance. To cultivate a coherent flow, Trungpa employed three guiding principles: Heaven, Earth, and Human. A response could offer a larger perspective (Heaven), set the ground for what is happening now (Earth), or engage another person emotionally (Human).

Just as the universe created itself, humanity may have evolved to perceive, feel, and interact with that unfolding creation. When we gaze at the night sky, we see a seemingly static and reliable expanse. Yet, in reality, it is dynamic and ever-changing. The stars we see may no longer exist as they appear; their light has taken years, even millennia, to reach us. The sky is a snapshot of creation in motion. When we quiet the mind—acknowledging our thoughts but resting in the space between them—we create the silence needed for inspiration to arise.

Creativity as a Way of Being

Of course, not every first thought is brilliant. That’s why the Dharma Art approach values process over performance. What matters is accessing the pure moment of space and noticing what naturally arises—before conditioning encumbers it. This process mirrors the way we engage with structured and unstructured elements in life.

A society functions through rules and norms, yet within that structure, we can live creatively. We don’t need to force ourselves to conform to rigid formulas, but we also don’t have to reject structure altogether. Instead, we can relate to societal frameworks in a way that allows for meaningful interaction while maintaining creative freedom.

In art, we see this dynamic play out in genre conventions. A procedural or romance novel follows a predictable structure (Earth), whereas an experimental novel unfolds in real time (Heaven). The most compelling works balance these elements, engaging readers with familiarity while surprising them with discovery. Similarly, we can author our own lives—grounded in reality yet open to the unknown.

This brings us back to the blank space. Try this experiment: Pause. Let your mind rest. Instead of steering your thoughts toward a desired outcome—especially one shaped by preconceived notions of what meditation or creativity should be—allow yourself to simply be. Notice the first authentic impulse that arises.

If you commit to Yes, and…, you can take the next step toward creating your piece, your day, or your life.

A Fresh Start: Opening to Nowness

Good Morning, Everyone

We can say this regardless of the time of day because returning to the present is always a fresh start. Each fresh start is a new beginning. Every time we return to nowness, it’s like the first day of spring.

This fresh start can occur in an instant or unfold as a broader reset in our lives. It is a vital component of establishing sanity, balance, and serenity on our path. Meditation master Chögyam Trungpa referred to the grand scope of the present—replete with its possibilities, practicalities, and even our past—as nowness. It is more expansive than “the now” or the pinpoint present moment. It is the openness of life unfolding around us, encompassing who we are, where we’re going, and where we’ve come from.

Returning to nowness can be a reboot for the spirit when we become bogged down by worry and doubt. It synchronizes us so we can move forward authentically—acknowledging our fears and confusion but not being blocked by them. Authentic movement is not a frantic push to escape fear but a calm, steady trajectory toward liberation. In this way, fear itself becomes a stepping stone toward fearlessness. Fearless means less fear—we acknowledge our fears, but we do not let them dictate our path.

Dr. Dean Ornish, a cardiologist and senior yoga practitioner, conducted groundbreaking studies in the 1970s that awakened people to the importance of whole foods and a healthy diet. However, he also emphasized that heart disease wasn’t just a result of poor nutrition—it was also due to our inability to release accumulated tension. Modern life conditions us to focus excessively on the negative, a habit rooted in self-protection but one that prevents us from looking up and moving forward. Negative experiences live within us, creating somatic tension and psychological stagnation. It is vital that we learn to release this tension before it drains our life force. Whether through yoga, meditation, walking, or simply gazing out the window, clearing these systemic clogs allows our natural being to reinvigorate and restore.

The brain craves fresh information to forge new synaptic connections that keep it engaged and alive. When we continuously refine the same thought processes without new input, the mind stagnates, pulling back its capabilities as if to say, Oh, we’re doing this again. Habitual patterns, in this way, can become obstacles to spiritual realization. Rather than flowing freely, we find ourselves trapped in energetic cul-de-sacs. But just as morning light signals a new day and spring brings renewal, we, too, can embrace a fresh start—one that replenishes and rejuvenates our system. This reflection is about feeling our doubt yet finding the courage to let it go and step into a fresh morning.

Periods of rest, sleep, and even hibernation are necessary for recovery. However, when the time comes to lift our gaze, we might choose to embrace the next moment, no matter how challenging, uncertain, or frustrating. Each moment is beautiful because it is the next step on our path. Our mind wants that challenge—it thrives on discovery and the unknown.

On a fundamental level, we can distinguish two aspects of the mind: the expansive mind, which seeks growth and renewal, and the protective mind, which prioritizes safety and retreat. The protective mind is natural and necessary. However, when overemphasized, it limits our experience of reality’s vastness and beauty. Even if we are physically constrained—by illness, circumstance, or resources—our mind retains the capacity for profound movement, openness, and understanding. It is a matter of perspective. While survival is crucial, we must allow ourselves to stop worrying about it sometimes. In meditation, we train ourselves to acknowledge our fears yet look beyond them to the full scope of life.

So, where do we look when we’re done licking our wounds or bracing ourselves for the unknown? We look at everything that is already here. These very things provide sustenance to the spirit and allow the mind to refresh. We do not need to force ourselves into new situations to keep the mind fresh. Instead, we simply return to the present as it is, allowing each moment to be a new beginning. When we meet life with openness in this way, we are free to move forward with authenticity. Authenticity means that when we are aligned with ourselves, we can step into nowness with confidence and awareness.

Opening to the world with confidence builds further confidence. When we step forward naturally, we reassure the fearful parts of ourselves that they are seen and cared for. But they do not need to control the journey. These parts will raise objections now and then, and when those fears are valid, we might pause and examine them. However, more often than not, fear arises from insecurity rather than reality. It is like a frightened child—or, in my case, my Aunt Carmen—sitting in the back seat of our car, terrified of how fast my father was driving. We don’t need to disparage or suppress this fear; we can acknowledge it, even smile at it, as Chögyam Trungpa would say. And then, we keep moving forward—with evenness and surety.

I once trained with a coach who had been a fighter pilot in Afghanistan. His missions were reconnaissance flights, flying low through the mountains—danger below from anti-aircraft weaponry, danger above from shifting air currents. Precision was everything. When asked if he was ever afraid, he said, Of course, I was frightened. It would be absurd not to be. But, he explained, he did not allow fear to speak louder than the mission. Instead, he treated fear like a co-pilot—right there beside him, keeping him sharp and present, but never clouding his judgment or holding him back.

It is important to acknowledge our fear-based mind. But it is essential not to allow fear to dictate our course or obscure our purpose. Notice the voice with love and come back to nowness. With mindfulness training, every time we feel fear, we can return. And every time we return, we reset the system, allowing us to step forward with loving confidence in ourselves, our journey, and our world.

 

FOOTSTEPS OF THE BUDDHA

Understanding Merit and Virtue

An essential component of the Buddhist path is accumulating merit through virtuous acts. Virtuous actions, according to Buddhism, are outlined in the Vinaya, the Buddhist code of ethics. The Vinaya is part of the Tripitaka (or “Three Baskets”), which form the foundational teachings of the Buddha. The Tripitaka consists of:

  1. Vinaya – the code of monastic discipline.
  2. Sutras – the direct teachings of the Buddha.
  3. Abhidharma – the study of Buddhist ontology and psychology.

The Abhidharma is particularly fascinating due to its depth and precision in describing the mind. Buddhist scholars, through meditation and contemplation, developed an intricate understanding of human consciousness. Similar to how the Inuit are said to have many words for snow, early Buddhists created thousands of descriptors for the workings of the mind. Their insights into psychology, cosmology, and science parallel many modern understandings, demonstrating the depth of their introspection.

The Sutras and Shastras comprise the Buddha’s teachings and their commentaries from senior students.  These form the textual and liturgical essence of Buddhism as a system and are the most widely known and quoted.

The Central Role of Ethics and Karma

Buddhism is an experiential path. Therefore, despite the richness of Buddhist psychology and the profundity of the teachings, academic knowledge alone is not enough. If our actions create suffering for ourselves and others, our intellectual understanding will be of little benefit. This is why Vinaya is central to the Buddhist path—it guides us in ethical conduct, helping us work with karma.

The Laws of Karma are one of the four foundational reminders in Buddhism (along with The truth of Impermanence, the Preciousness of Human Birth, and the futility of Samsara) is the principle that every action creates further propensities and consequences. This idea parallels Newton’s law that every action has an equal and opposite reaction, but extends into the fourth dimension of time. This is to say, our actions not only have present circumstances, but also create the propensity for future occurrence. Understanding karma can be overwhelming, as every action in our lives is interconnected with everything else. There is no specific definable origin to anything. According to Pratītyasamutpāda (dependent origination), all things arise due to previous causes and conditions, making reality a vast, interwoven web.

If karma is so complex, how do we work with it? The Buddha provided a simple yet profound answer: focus on daily virtuous actions. Buddhism, as ever, reminds us that when in doubt, come back to the present. What are we doing now? In the present we have a choice to more toward enlightenment, or away into the perceived safety of ignorance. By doing positive actions, we create a natural inclination toward virtue. This, in turn, fosters positive circumstances in our lives. As one of my teachers said, while samsara is suffering, moving toward lesser suffering within samsara places us in better circumstances to benefit ourselves and others.

The Practical Application of Dharma

The ultimate view is to avoid Karma, altogether. This happens when we are specifically mindful of our actions, without interpretation. However, this is a highly refined action that may be unrealistic for most of us in daily life. The Buddha’s superpower was in addressing individuals according to their needs.  Therefore, the Buddha’s Dharma is said to be the perfect perfect teaching at at the perfect time, for the perfect circumstance. This process, called transmission, differs from ordinary teaching—it doesn’t just impart knowledge but refines our human experience.

Among the four reminders, the preciousness of human birth is particularly important. To be born as a human, capable of making choices and free from overwhelming suffering, is considered exceedingly rare. A classic Buddhist analogy compares it to a one-eyed turtle surfacing in the ocean and placing its head through a small hoop—an event of almost impossible odds. Recognizing this rarity encourages gratitude and motivates us to use this opportunity wisely. With our actions, we can move the world toward openness and peace, or we can join with so many in self centered delusion.

Accumulating Merit for the Benefit of All

The purpose of spiritual practice is not just personal growth but refining ourselves as an instrument for the benefit of others—our families, communities, and all sentient beings. While the vastness of karma may seem overwhelming, the Buddha made it practical: be mindful of the present moment and the impact of our actions. Virtuous actions lead to virtuous circumstances, reinforcing a cycle of goodness.

Merit functions like a reservoir of positive energy. The more merit we accumulate, the more resilience we develop against negative circumstances. Virtue is not simply about “being good” but engaging in actions that benefit both ourselves and others. When we act selflessly without self-depletion, we strengthen our bodhicitta—the awakened heart-mind dedicated to enlightenment for all beings. The key is to take one step at a time, forgive ourselves when we falter, and return to the path of virtue without recrimination of doubt.

There are traditionally listed 10 virtuous actions to cultivate, and 10 non-virtuous actions to avoid.

The Ten Virtuous and Non-Virtuous Actions

The Ten Non-Virtuous Actions:

  1. Killing – Taking the life of any sentient being.
  2. Stealing – Taking what is not freely given.
  3. Sexual misconduct – Engaging in harmful or exploitative sexual behavior.
  4. Lying – Intentionally deceiving others.
  5. Harsh speech – Using words to hurt, insult, or demean.
  6. Divisive speech – Creating conflict or discord between people.
  7. Idle chatter – Speaking without purpose, gossiping, or wasting time in speech.
  8. Covetousness – Desiring what belongs to others in a way that breeds discontent.
  9. Ill will – Harboring anger, resentment, or a wish to harm others.
  10. Wrong views – Holding beliefs that deny karma, ethics, or the potential for enlightenment.

The Ten Virtuous Actions:

  1. Protecting life – Practicing non-violence and compassion.
  2. Generosity – Giving freely without selfish intent.
  3. Sexual integrity – Engaging in respectful and ethical relationships.
  4. Truthfulness – Speaking honestly and with integrity.
  5. Kind speech – Using words to uplift and encourage.
  6. Harmonious speech – Promoting peace and understanding.
  7. Meaningful speech – Speaking with mindfulness and purpose.
  8. Contentment – Appreciating what one has and avoiding greed.
  9. Goodwill – Cultivating love and compassion for all beings.
  10. Right view – Understanding the nature of reality, karma, and the path to liberation.

By integrating these principles into our lives, we create the conditions for genuine happiness, wisdom, and progress on the spiritual path.

BEYOND THE FRAME

From Imprisonment to Possibility

There is an old Zen saying: “Disappointment is the chariot of liberation.” But what does that mean? Is it simply wishful thinking when things go wrong? Not quite. It points to a fundamental aspect of the path toward liberation. What are we liberating ourselves from?

While we often blame external persons or circumstances for our struggles, the Buddhist tradition is an experiential one—concerned with what is happening here and now. And the common denominator in all of our struggles is ourselves. So, it has been said, we are the working basis of our path to liberation. Everything we need is already here. If we set aside blame and easy answers when things don’t go our way, we have an opportunity to learn something valuable about ourselves. And working with ourselves is key to freeing ourselves from the imprisonment of the relentless patterning that keeps us stuck. What liberates us is developing wisdom; what holds us back is believing in ignorance. Ignorance is not stupidity, nor is it a personal failure—it simply means we have yet to see something clearly. The problems come as we assign meaning to things we don’t understand. Then we are developing frames of belief based on speculation and limited experience. Frames that we become imprisoned by.

Sometimes, what we are ignorant of is right in front of us, waiting to be recognized. Sometimes what blocks our view is believing in what is not there.  A curious aspect of human behavior is that we will do the extra work of fabricating a fiction, rather than simply relax with what is. This is where mindfulness comes in: the ability to slow down, synchronize with the moment and rest our attention with what is happening. This allows the space for us to see a perspective grander than one constrained by habittual reaction. With mindfulness we are able to see if the next action is leading to freedom or reinforcing habitual patterns that limit us. And we can take the next step. If we are brave enough, we might step through the veil. When we are controlled by fear, we might cycle back to habit.

Many of us feel constrained by our lives, sensing we haven’t achieved all we’ve hoped for. But what if our possibility is greater than these speculative hopes? We are not limited in the present moment as the present is a gateway to vast potential. We are limited by the beliefs we create to limit us. Although we must work with what is revealed in the moment, where that leads is an open book. We might believe the remedy to our discontent is to accept what we have. And acceptance is a requisite step for   any change. Often, people struggle because their aspirations and reality don’t align. As the saying goes, “An idea without a plan is a hallucination.” So, we need to join the vast potential of our  potential, with what is possible in the moment. Our potential is not limited by the struggles of daily life, and daily life is not preempted by aspiration. In a mindful universe, they work in tandem. Wisdom illuminates the way, as Compassion patiently takes the next right step. In the Shambhala teachings we call this “joining heaven and earth.”

This principle very much applies to our spiritual journey. Buddhism directs us toward awakening our Buddha Nature. Buddha Nature is the essential part of us that is not trapped in habitual patterns. Hence, realizing our Buddha mind is liberation from the constraints we place upon ourselves. Buddha nature embodies wisdom and compassion: wisdom as the clear perception of reality, and compassion as the means to best actualize movement within that reality. If we have wisdom but lack the ability to apply it, we may remain disconnected from the world. If we focus solely on practical concerns—getting groceries, paying bills—without wisdom, we may feel unfulfilled, sensing that life is meant for something greater. And, of course, we would be correct. Only rather than “greater” we might say, more truthful. I make this distinction because truth is usually less complex than fabrication. It takes a lot of energy to prop up the frames of limited beliefs. If we are willing to try, it may be easier to believe in ourselves and our limitless potential and simply take the next right step.

Although we have the wisdom to see beyond the limits of our conceptual frame, those limits are nonetheless deeply ingrained. “Sure, I could seek enlightenment, but I have to go to work today as I do each morning.” Can we not do both? Can we administer our daily lives while still moving toward liberation? True freedom is not about escaping responsibilities—it’s about liberating ourselves from ignorance and the protective structures we build around it. Ironically, the more we reinforce these structures, the more we blind ourselves to the truth. When we become trapped in habitual thinking, we sleepwalk through life, led by circumstances rather than agency.

Liberation means stepping beyond these frames, engaging with life in a more spontaneous and creative way. The protective structures we build are not evil; they once served a purpose. But as we grow, they often become outdated. The path of liberation involves shedding these layers—loosening the protective skins we’ve wrapped around ourselves and moving toward authentic, natural expression.

Buddha nature is ever-changing, like light reflecting through a crystal, shifting with time. Transitioning from a materialistic mindset to a spiritual one does not guarantee freedom—it is merely a shift from one frame to another. Many spiritual seekers fall into the trap of creating comfortable alcoves where they can hide from themselves. But the true path requires continual movement—questioning, exploring, and being willing to step beyond each frame we construct.

Even when we believe we are succeeding within a particular frame, we may only be reinforcing the walls that separate us from deeper understanding. Every mistake, problem, or disappointment is an opportunity—not for blame, but for insight. What we call “failure” often arises from the expectations of the frame we are living within. We didn’t get the job, the person didn’t call back, we failed to reach our goal weight—these disappointments expose the treadmill of habitual thinking that keeps us confined. But when these expectations are disrupted, we have a chance to reset, to step beyond the frame and see our lives with fresh eyes.

It is not necessary to reach the breaking point before we recognize these patterns. Constant upheaval is not the goal. Instead, we cultivate maitri—loving-kindness, patience, and respect for ourselves—encouraging ourselves gently along the path. When things fall apart, we can see it as an opportunity to reconnect with what is real. Each time this happens it signifies that the frame we relied upon has reached its limit.

Disappointment, then, is not just the chariot of liberation—it is cause for celebration. Chögyam Trungpa Rinpoche famously said, “Chaos should be considered extremely good news.” Chaos, uncertainty, and not knowing can feel dangerous when we cling to familiar structures. But ignorance itself can be the basis for deeper wisdom. When we admit, “I don’t know,” we open ourselves completely—and in that openness, we step toward true liberation.

PATIENCE: ALLOWING CREATIVE SPACE

When we think of patience, we often imagine holding ourselves still with tight muscles, grinding teeth, tapping toes—waiting, holding, and waiting some more. We are locked in a ball of tension waging a war with circumstances.  We live through  moments of turmoil as we wait in grocery lines, toll booths, for a friends to show up or for the next line to come as we write a post. These untoward circumstances often happen when we’re late for something else, placing us under pressure. What these circumstances have in common is that we have squeezed the space so tightly we don’t have room for mindfulness.

The key is space. And our personal space is dependent on relaxation.

In Buddhist teaching, Patience is taught as one of the six paramitas. The Paramitas Generosity, Patience, Discipline, Exertion, Meditation and Wisdom are activities that transcend our conventional frame into a more expansive or “transcendent” expression of experience. This transcendence is sometimes referred to as “the other shore,” as we move from a self-centered, habitual interpretation to one imbued with greater depth and perspective. From this larger perspective, patience can be viewed as a positive application for the development of wisdom. We are not clamping down or tightening up; rather, we are allowing space between an impulse and our action. This space provides the opportunity for us to become cognizant, intentional, and mindful. Transcendent Patience is a momentary pause for us to find the most appropriate response to whatever situation confronts us. More importantly, that space allows us to connect with our natural serenity and peacefulness of mind. Through consistent, dedicated meditation practice, we can develop the ability to recognize these moments of pause—often just before we bite down or cling to our next reaction.

When an untrained mind erupts into reactivity it becomes blindly led into negative consequences. Reaction impairs the mind’s ability to be aware of its actions. We might believe ourselves quick-witted or nimble-minded when, in truth, we are merely reacting with habitual jokes and defense mechanisms that bypass true awareness of the present moment. Why do we do this? Because the present moment may bring feelings of doubt, insecurity, and discomfort. In avoiding these feelings, we jump to conclusions, laugh off discomfort, and otherwise distract ourselves.

Patience, in its transcendent form, is not merely about waiting for external circumstances to shift. It is about cultivating space within the mind to introduce awareness into our processing. Patience allows us to see our thoughts as they form, granting us the opportunity to respond thoughtfully rather than react impulsively. In Tibetan, this reactive “hook” is referred to as shenpa; Pema Chödrön describes it as the feeling of being hijacked by familiar patterns of reactivity.

The application of patience can occur at any stage of the process, but the most elegant moment is just before the mind “bites down.” This requires mental training—daily, consistent practice of observing our thinking and recognizing when we’re reacting rather than resting in peaceful awareness. Even when meditation feels cluttered with thoughts, the simple act of observing the mind builds the muscle of recognition and acceptance. This awareness helps us notice when we’re hooked, when space collapses into habitual patterns, and when we have the opportunity to pause and choose a new path.

With this skill, we move from reaction to response. Reaction is defensive and reflexive; response is thoughtful, measured, and kind. Patience with the mind means seeing our thoughts as they arise without immediately believing or following them. Over time, this practice opens space in the mind, creating a more effective and adaptive processing system.

This internal patience also manifests in external circumstances. Waiting in line or sitting in traffic becomes less distressing when we recognize how the mind panics when it feels out of control. This panic is not caused by the line or the traffic itself but by our resistance to the present moment. The mind clamps down, shutting off awareness and making us irritable or anxious. By practicing patience, we can acknowledge our discomfort, breathe into it, and soften our mental grip.

The Serenity Prayer from 12-step traditions begins, “Grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change.” This sentiment parallels Buddhist patience. When we accept what is, without mental assault or denial, we create space for creative, intelligent responses to emerge. As in improvisational theater’s “yes, and” principle, patience invites us to accept reality and engage with it skillfully.

Patience also applies on a behavioral level, especially when we are cultivating something new—a relationship, a creative project, or a business. In some spiritual traditions, practitioners “turn it over to God.” In Buddhism, we turn it over to space itself, trusting that space is imbued with the same intelligence and compassion others may attribute to a deity. Rushing a project or relationship may bring temporary gratification but rarely yields sustainable growth. Patience allows the natural rhythms of the process to unfold, supporting more authentic and enduring outcomes.

Ultimately, life becomes a creative endeavor when we choose patience. The choice lies in either clamping down and forcing outcomes or relaxing and opening to the possibilities that space and awareness reveal. As the 12-step tradition wisely advises, “Let go and let God.” In the Buddhist tradition, we might instead say, “Let go and let awareness show the way.”

The world moves, demands, and challenges us. When we respond with patience, we align with that movement instead of resisting it. We give ourselves the gift of presence, spaciousness, and wisdom—the true hallmarks of transcendent patience.

 

PROTECTOR PRINCIPLE

   TRANSFORMING AGGRESSION INTO WISDOM

Just he released the book Cutting Through Spiritual Materialism in 1971, Trungpa Rinpoche realized his burgeoning meditation community reach an audience beyond the  familial hippie trappings. This would mean different kinds of peo0ple, with varying degrees of processing, would be enter his community and it would elevate him to the iconic status as one of the key founders Tibetan Buddhism in the West.

Throughout history, iconic figures and spiritual leaders have become reference points for hope and fear, leading to adulation and, sometimes, violent consequences. Contemporaneously, the Manson family and the assassinations of John and Robert Kennedy, and Dr Martin Luther King Jr were on everyone’s minds. Whether driven by personal projections or deeper political motives, such figures faced the double-edged sword of renown.

Trungpa Rinpoche discussed with his senior students the importance of creating safety for not only himself but also the Dharma and for his students. The need for protection grew alongside his rapidly expanding community. In Tibet, monasteries were safeguarded by monks trained in awareness and nonviolent crowd control. Trungpa’s close attendant, John Perks, a British armed forces veteran, played a pivotal role in this initiative. Perks, who passed away on January 31st, was an outrageous and endlessly creative figure whose book The Mahasiddha and His Idiot Servant captures the spirit of the time.

At his inspiration, Trungpa founded a group he referred to as “Kasung,” from the Tibetan meaning “protectors of the word, or command.” These protectors used danger and potential aggression as tools to cultivate awareness—and applied compassion. Traditionally, meditation communities have leaned towards peaceful manifestations. However, with Trungpa’s new community, this nonviolent approach incorporated the realities of danger and aggression to foster greater awareness.  This marked a shift from the ideal, toward engaging with the world as it is.

The motto of the Kasung was “Victory Over War.” Perks designed a system based on his military background, complete with uniforms, drills, and calisthenics. Training included self-defense, defensive driving, and crowd control, but emphasized mindfulness and awareness. In Tibetan monasteries, guards maintained stillness while being acutely aware of their surroundings. This awareness is the ultimate defense against aggression. The best response to aggression is non-aggression and non-violence, aiming to diffuse tensions before harm occurs. Achieving this requires training, self-awareness, and the discipline to transcend personal biases and resentments. Tibetan monastic guards were trained not just to monitor external environments but also to guard against their own reactivity—skills profoundly relevant to staying awake and present in the real world.

These principles trace back to the 9th century when the Indian Mahasiddha Padmasambhava introduced Buddhism to Tibet at the invitation of King Trisong Detsen. Padmasambhava encountered numerous obstacles, as Tibet’s rich mystical traditions were diverse and often aggressive. While some practices were positive, others were rooted in fear and superstition. The Tibetan king sought to unify his people through a central spiritual framework, seeing Buddhism’s ideals of nonviolence and compassion as tools for governance. Inspired by India’s spiritual renaissance, Padmasambhava aimed to refine Tibet’s spiritual landscape.

Skilled at transforming obstacles into assets, Padmasambhava turned the aggressive elements of Tibetan spirituality into protectors of the Dharma. Instead of escalating conflicts, he synthesized various traditions, using negativity, violence, hatred, and fear as signals to awaken and deepen awareness. This approach prevented endless cycles of violence, much like the wars we witness today.

We can apply this in our daily lives. By facing rather than rejecting our negativity, we become more aware of our motivations and develop the discipline to refrain from acting on base impulses. This perspective yields two key outcomes: we stop demonizing the world’s difficulties, and we cultivate personal strength to master challenges and enhance awareness.

As Trungpa Rinpoche addressed larger audiences, strategically placed Kasung provided not only security but also heightened awareness. Trungpa’s self-awareness of his potential shortcomings led him to counterbalance them—for instance, teaching from an uncomfortable chair to stay alert. The Kasung served not just to guard against external threats but also to foster an environment that kept Trungpa attentive and present. Thus, the protectors embodied an outer defense, inner self-awareness, and the overarching principle of protection—all opportunities for wakefulness. This environmental awareness was as integral to the teachings as the words and gestures themselves.

Awareness is our most powerful defense. Ignorance, especially when fueled by aggression, is our greatest threat. When driven by hatred, we lose the ability to perceive the damage we cause. By softening our hearts against our own aggression, we train our minds to stay present. There is no better time to cultivate this presence than the approach of the new year.

The Tibetan calendar is based on solar cycle which feels to me like a much more organic way of calculating our spiritual being. Each month being the cycle of a moon. Many indigenous cultures marked time this way. The Tibetans believe that the end of the lunar new year was preceded by a period of the accumulation of karma so that everything became heightened and increased in its volatility and consequence. Therefore mindfulness – the specific knowing of an object in the present and awareness the present sense of knowing in the environment – becomes more important during this time. Rather than seeing it negatively as a dangerous time, we can understand the danger to be an opportunity to hone the craft of our aware being.

We could become protectors of our own heart and protectors of the heart of our communities.

In honor of the great Lion of Dharma, John Perks.

THE BLAME GAME

Or, How We Choose to Avoid The Point

If the purpose of a spiritual practice is to develop awareness and the ability to be mindful of the details in our lives, then it is crucial for us to acknowledge that we are training ourselves. Training ourselves in what regard? Training ourselves from the conditioned tendencies that promote addictive behaviors, neurotic patterns, Judgement and blame – all of which set the ground for unhappiness.

Disclaimer: Meditation practice will not eliminate unhappiness. However, it can help us develop the mindful awareness to turn unhappiness into learning.  This requires us to be willing release our objectification of the other and to take the opportunity to look at what we’re feeling. When we are triggered by something disagreeable, disconcerting, or discouraging, meditation helps train ourselves to uncouple the usual co-dependent reaction and look inward to see our part in the process, and how we actually feel. This doesn’t mean further victimization or self blame. It means looking at what we can learn about ourselves. We are the only ones we can change. It’s a fool’s game to believe we can change others to secure our own happiness. Other people are notoriously resistant to change, and relying on them for our happiness sets us up for further disappointment. And this disappointment fuels the blame game.

The blame game is a codependent cycle of suffering that happens when we fixate on another to the detriment of our own self-awareness. If we want to grow in our spiritual practice, developing the honesty to see how we create suffering for ourselves is integral. Regardless of what someone may have done to provoke our unhappiness, we can only look within to see our part. Were we expecting to much? Were we wrong about this person’s intentions? Were we duped by our own greed or neediness? These are things we would do well to understand about ourselves, because they are vulnerabilities that leave us susceptible to further suffering. If we hope to create lasting change in ourselves, blaming others, even when it seems justified, blocks self-examination.  Frankly, it’s an easy out when we latch onto blame. We avoid seeing ourselves and miss the opportunity to learn from the situation.

Honesty is admitting to ourselves that we don’t know other people’s intentions. And even if we could, what other people think about us is none of our business. That includes what we assume they think when they act in certain ways. This mental convolution too much work and is the opposite of clarity and mindful thinking. We’re lost in a hall of mirrors, trying to find what’s real, and in our frustration, we fixate on something we can be angry about or hurt over. Often, our unhappiness is rooted in various internal circumstances that are only referred to by the object of our blame.

Blame is a cop-out. It keeps us stuck on an imaginary surface while discomfort brews underneath. Rather than looking inward and learning to navigate our feelings, we focus all our anger outward. The more uncomfortable we feel inside, the more we cling to blame. Rather than looking inward at our own actions, by blaming others we make ourselves the victim and become the center of everything. When we feel badly, it often becomes all about us although we’re not seeing ourselves at all. We can either look inward with honesty and work to deconstruct our suffering, or we can lock onto the other and, so doing, inflame our suffering into an ego state. In any case, the suffering is our own. We can choose to work with it, or be worked over by it.

Blame is not honest. We either misrepresent our internal feelings or distort the truth of a situation. Therefore blame is a common tool used by demagogues and despots throughout history as they assign blame to a set of the populace or an opposing political party, in order to amass power. Blame creates an adversarial stance towards circumstances, that disallows communication and distorts reality. The blame game, so hurtful in personal interaction, becomes horrific on the global scale. We’ve seen this throughout history and we can see this happening now. But, rather than blame those who blame, a better approach is to look inside. How am I contributing to this? What can I do to help? How can I build the inner strength and balance to never be swayed or manipulated?

Mindfulness Awareness practice helps strengthen our inner core.  This helps us to deal with life’s challenges by recognizing the blame game and looking into ourselves for clarity and strength.  Then our interface with life becomes honest and positive.  No one makes us suffer except ourselves. The remedy is to return to our center. Drop the story, pull back from the attack, feel inward, and explore beneath the surface. Shifting focus from others to ourselves opens vast possibilities for self-discovery. The truth is pain exists and is no one’s fault. When we boycott blame and judgement, and look into  painful circumstances, we see they are an opportunity to take responsibility for our feelings and begin to grow.

Rather than checking out in blame, what if we simply checked in to see what we need?

MEETING OUR MIND

IT’S BEEN HERE ALL ALONG

In meditation today, I noticed myself trying to push my mind toward where I thought it should be. This morning my mind most certainly did not comply.  As my focus wavered, ancillary stories began to surface — aging, memory, the need for better sleep. I started vetting strategies like caffeine or ginkgo. None of this was meditation. Then it struck me: my meditation had become an attempt to “fix” my mind.  Rather than simply seeing it as it is I was trying to change it. By stepping back and letting go of the pressure to fix, I allowed myself the space to simply see.

The ideal meditative state—clarity and acceptance—rests on the openness and settledness of the body, heart, and mind. However, life rarely offers us perfect conditions. For me, morning practice often begins with a scattered or resistant mind. The first step, then, is acceptance—meeting the mind as it is and not as I wish it to be.

Acceptance begins with recognition. We notice the mind’s current state— distracted, cloudy, resistant, or grumpy— and then acknowledge what we meet without judgment. This allows us to step away from struggle to control anything.  We open the door to meet our mind as it is. Instead of ego’splaining we listen. This acceptance is an act of love. We are opening our mind to accept ourselves in this very moment.  Once we accept, synchronization naturally follows. This isn’t something forced but rather a harmonious alignment that arises when we stop struggling and simply allow things to be.

Miraculously, we find ourselves in meditation.

From synchronization grows wisdom. Wisdom sees a larger process unfolding: the mind observing itself, guiding itself, and offering comfort and love to its own experience. Wisdom understands that all states of mind, even those we perceive as negative or incorrect, have value simply because they are part of us. Awareness embraces the distracted, discouraged, angry mind as colors in the painting of the present.

When we are frightened, our mind tightens in defence. When the mind tightens, it reduces what is sees to binaries such as good and evil, right or wrong. Thus triggered, the mind sections itself in order to reduce the landscape of reality into that which is controllable. Although rarely helpful, this narrowing is a natural process we need not fight. But if we don’t buy into the game, and simply listen or see, we connect to the space around the event. This allows the wisdom of awareness to resolve the binary. Wisdom never chooses a side as it holds the entire picture. Wisdom isn’t the opposite of confusion—it’s the space that contains it. This spaciousness lets us recognize, accept, synchronize, and ultimately return to the present, using tools like the breath or an object of focus with a light, precise touch. In this way, the mind naturally meets itself. And it will quite naturally allow itself to develop toward further awareness.

Once again, meditation isn’t about fixing; it’s about seeing. The mind of meditation arises in awareness like a point in space. And as the space of awareness is relieved of the pressure to fix itself or chose a side, it remains loving and supportive. It is a state of grace. By stepping into the grace of awareness, we don’t need to force change—we simply allow what we notice to be with us, remembering none of it is as real, solid or urgent as our fear suggests. Trungpa Rinpoche famously wrote, “good, bad, happy, sad – all thoughts vanish like an imprint of a bird in the sky.” Once we release ourselves from the grip of control, we see everything as ephemeral, diaphanous and in dynamic transition. Sakyong Mipham calls this the displaysive activity of mind. All of our worries are the mind revealing itself. Many of our worries are kid fears. And like kids, they need to be loved and accepted, but not always believed.

Meeting our mind is meeting our oldest ally. It’s been with us longer than any relationship we’ve had. Accepting it with the loving space of awareness we see its many colors and configurations. Sometimes it displays in black and white, and sometimes it opens into a rainbow painting.  When we return to present awareness, we are in a point in space where the colors of life become clear.

 

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.