The story of a journey that leads one from an ordinary life to one that is quite extraordinary can be found in virtually every culture throughout history. This story is referred to as the Hero’s journey, the Spiritual journey, or the Transformative journey. By whatever name we use, this journey has several common characteristics.

Someone who is leading a rather ordinary life is called by something seemingly far greater than oneself, and the call can be quite compelling. This can be a series of gentle nudges – a niggling at one’s heart. It can start with a mild dissatisfaction, a “divine discontent” and grow slowly in intensity. The person is unable to clearly understand or articulate the discontent or the attraction.

This calling is sometimes preceded by a crisis or a challenge in one’s life. This may be an outer crisis in one’s life, or the challenge may be solely internal; but either way it feels as if one’s former life is no longer available, and something has ended.

This call and the subsequent journey become the most important thing in one’s life, and it won’t go away! It does not go away when it’s ignored. We may be able to distract ourselves for a while – but not for long; it is very persistent – and seems to grow stronger with time.

The old self and the old life may be challenged and perhaps radically disrupted. The individual feels a loss of identity and a shift in values and purpose. Some might label this as “a mid-life crisis” – but it is much deeper and more significant.

We will face many “angels and demons” on this journey; it is very important to meet them wisely. These angels and demons are all within you; even the ones that appear to be external are representations of that which is in you. The demons may seem very fierce and the angels quite seductive but ultimately awareness and love will transform them into your most powerful allies.

The path is not linear, it has many twists, turns and apparent dead ends. Progress on this journey consists not of personal gain or acquisition but one of letting go and surrendering the personal will. One may become confused or discouraged when he sees that the path is not a straight line, and that progress cannot be measured in a linear way. He may find the journey having many unexpected turns and dead ends and apparent setbacks – it’s like walking a labyrinth.

The mind is challenged by the recognition that “progress’ on this journey is measured more in terms of letting go rather than of gain or acquisition. To the ego, it is a very humbling experience. Ultimately, surrender becomes the only choice. The Tao Te Ching tells us that, “In the pursuit of learning, every day something is acquired. In the pursuit of Tao, every day something is dropped.”

The individual who completes the journey is never the same “person” as the one who began it – a radical transformation has taken place! She who finishes the journey is never she who began it; it is a complete transformation of one’s sense of reality. And the one who has “finished” will realize that there is no end point – the journey is open ended.  And ultimately, one sees that there is not even a journey to be travelled!

The transformed person may return to the world to live an ordinary life (as the world sees it) but live it in an extraordinary way. He is no longer bound by the old reality; he is “In the world but not of it.” As such, he radiates wisdom and compassion effortlessly which benefits his community – and ultimately all beings everywhere.

Not everyone who engages in this journey will complete it. There are some who are unwilling to release the familiar self and the former life. One might become even more entrenched in the former identity and lifestyle.

Finally, I must note that what is described above is a general pattern. With all spiritual teachings it can be useful to speak in generalizations if we know that exceptions are the rule. Do not be dismayed if you find that your journey does not match this description – you are right where you need to be at this time. Always honor the path you are on and know that you are always guided by the clear Light within.

If you ask most Westerners about their religion (if they have one) they will likely tell you what they believe. They may also tell you about worship, rituals, or sacraments that are part of their religious observance. If we were to turn to the (traditional) East and ask someone that same question, we might hear more about spiritual practice (yoga) than about belief or ritual.

The word yoga literally means yoke, which refers to one taking on a particular discipline or spiritual practice. (Like two oxen yoked together, we are yoked to our spiritual practice.)  The essence of spiritual practice is that of cultivating the growth of one’s consciousness rather than trying to achieve salvation after death.

Many religious approaches to spirituality start with the assumption that we are spiritually (and perhaps psychologically) broken or incomplete and need some form of redemption. This assumption is embedded deep in the Western psyche – even with those who do not profess a religious affiliation. Many people in our culture turn to psychotherapy rather than religion to heal their sense of brokenness or deficiency. Psychotherapy can help, but it cannot heal the deepest of our wounds.

Many people turn to some form of Eastern spiritual practice (usually meditation) with the intention of healing this sense of internal deficiency or brokenness. They see spiritual practice as a potential remedy for their hidden pain. Starting with feelings of depression, anxiety, or emptiness they engage in meditation in an attempt to heal this condition. Meditation can help, but as long as the motivation is to fix something that is broken progress will be limited.  

Effective spiritual practice begins with that which Buddhists call Right Understanding and Right Motivation. (The word “right” may be interpreted to mean “wise” or “skillful.”) Right Understanding and Right Motivation can be illustrated by a story about when someone asked Michelangelo how he was able to transform a block of marble into the masterpiece known as David.  

It is said that Michelangelo replied, “It’s quite simple. I bought a block of marble and chiseled away everything that wasn’t David!” He perceived “David” already existing within the stone block and he removed everything that wasn’t part of this vision. And thus, it is with spiritual practice: we begin by resting in our deepest truth: we sit as the Buddha or the Christ; we rest in True Nature as a here and now reality.

Spiritual practice then reveals any internal resistance that blocks your conscious experience of this fundamental Truth. This resistance may be unconscious until it is uncovered by your practice.

What do you do with resistance that arises? In a nutshell: “Just keep engaging the practice.” Meet this resistance as the Buddha or the Christ: meet it with awareness, clarity, and nonresistance; meet it without judgement, interpretation or analysis. As resistance is consciously recognized and met with nonresistance, it will begin to dissolve. Fear, anger, judgment, shame…. whatever arises, meet it with an open mind, an open heart and with no reactivity. This is like a solvent that gradually dissolves all forms of resistance.

Nonresistance does not mean that you have to agree with the story or narrative that’s part of the resistance; (“Ain’t it awful.” “Shame on them.”) but don’t argue with it either. Simply allow what is to be what it is, without adding any commentary to it. Then feel the resistance as a physical sensation, emotion or thought without attachment, identification, or resistance.

To understand and to believe a spiritual truth is a good start but it is not enough to transform one’s consciousness. Transformation occurs only through some form of spiritual practice. Having a good map (like this book) can be helpful, but only if you also engage in the journey!

A Zen story tells of an eager westerner who visited a monastery in Japan where a well-known Zen master lived. Unfortunately for the visitor, he arrived at a time when the master was observing silence, so he was unable to receive any teaching. Since his visit was to be very brief, he begged the master to at least communicate with him in writing. The teacher reluctantly agreed.

The visitor asked, “What is Zen?” The master quickly scribbled the word “Awareness” on a piece of paper. A bit confused, the visitor pressed him a bit: “Could you elaborate?” The master wrote a second note: “Awareness Awareness.” Again, the visitor asked for further explanation. The written response was “Awareness Awareness Awareness.” In frustration, the visitor screamed, “What the hell does Awareness Awareness Awareness mean?” Undaunted, the master wrote “Awareness Awareness Awareness means Awareness.”

It’s difficult to miss the point of this story, but if you are like me, you might identify a bit with the westerner’s desire for more instruction. Although the essence of Zen (and Buddhist practices in general) is to “discover the answer for your self through direct experience,” I find that a bit of elaboration can sometimes be helpful. So, I will be foolish enough to attempt what the enlightened man refused to do and that is to elaborate on the response, “Awareness Awareness Awareness.”

Awareness itself is natural and effortless but our everyday awareness is usually filtered through a particular psychological lens. This filter is created by our conditioning, which includes our personal history, our cultural conditioning, and our biological conditioning. This unconscious embedded history colors everything that we see, hear, feel, and think.

We perceive the world not so much as it is, but as we are! The world that we perceive to be outside of us is largely a projected representation of our internalized history. (There is an objective reality but our experience of it is determined by our conditioning – we don’t see it as it really is.)

Another element that filters our perception of the world is desire. What we desire is what we look for; what we look for shapes what we see. An old Hindu proverb says that “When the pickpocket sees the saint, all he sees is his wallet.” Our everyday awareness is filtered through the lens of memory and desire; we don’t see things as they are as much as we see a projection of our own unconscious.

In mindfulness (awareness) practice we hold the intention to distinguish between our direct experience of life and the memories, desires, judgments, and interpretations with which we clothe these experiences. Without mindfulness we are largely unable to distinguish between the primary experience and the conditioning that we wrap around it.

Mindfulness practice is sometimes referred to as bare attention, which means refraining – as much as is possible – from adding any meaning, judgment, or interpretation to our primary experience of seeing, hearing, thinking, feeling etc. We seek to experience life directly without the filter of judgment and interpretation. If these reactions do arise spontaneously, then we simply notice that without putting any further judgment or interpretation on top of it.

Another element of mindfulness practice is to be aware that you are aware. We practice awareness of our awareness. This is sometimes called self-reflective awareness. Many animals are very aware – perhaps more so than humans – but animals (as far as we know) are not aware that they are aware; they do not have awareness of their awareness.

An important aspect of mindfulness practice is the intention to practice continuously. We may be aware that we are aware –  but for how long? Often, we do not lose awareness per se, but we lose mindfulness. For example, we’ve all had the experience of arriving in our car at a certain destination yet having very little recollection of the experience of driving there. We were obviously aware while we were driving – otherwise we would not have arrived safely – but we may not have been very mindful as we were driving!  

In mindfulness practice awareness is an end in self. Rather than being fixated on a particular object we are primarily concerned with the quality of awareness itself; the object of awareness is relatively unimportant. This practice is sometimes referred to as “choiceless awareness.”

Why is awareness practice so important? An entire book could be written in response to that question; but suffice it to say that mindfulness practice is the most powerful tool for dissolving the trance of the ego. It is this egoic trance that keeps us living in a state of delusion and suffering. Awareness has the potential to free us from the experience of unhappiness.

The bird is often used as a metaphor for spiritual liberation. Birds are not earthbound like humans. They can land on the earth, but their true home is the sky. With spiritual liberation we realize that our true home is not of the earth but of a higher dimension that cannot be seen through earthly eyes.

The wings of the bird are often used as a metaphor for Dharma practice. Just as the movement of the wings gives rise to the bird’s ability to fly so the practice of the Dharma gives rise to our ability to become free.

One wing is labeled Awareness; the other wing is labeled Equanimity. Let’s look at each of these wings.

Awareness refers to a certain type of attention that we apply in Dharma practice. This is called bare attention. Bare attention means being aware of every experience clearly and precisely, without adding any interpretation, judgment, or analysis to our primary awareness. We pay close attention to each experience in the body, the mind, and the senses.

Another aspect of the practice is to pay attention as continuously as possible. The Dharma practice is not limited to formal meditation practice –  such as sitting on our cushion or attending a retreat –  rather it is intended to be used moment by moment, in every life circumstance. The wings of the Dharma must be engaged as continuously as possible for the bird of liberation to fly.

The other wing is called Equanimity which is described as acceptance, allowance, or nonresistance. This means that every experience, large or small, pleasant, or unpleasant, is accepted equally. If the experience is very pleasant, we accept it, but we do not grasp it, hold onto it, or try to re-create it.

If an experience is unpleasant, then we accept it just as if it were a pleasant experience. We do not push away or resist any experience. Resistance can be very obvious much of the time, but it may also take more subtle forms such as sleepiness, denial, body tension, or daydreaming.

It’s essential to understand that we are describing the ideal practice. That’s our intention but we know that we won’t live up to this ideal one hundred percent of the time. When we do fall short of our intention it’s important that we simply return to the primary intention as described. We do not need to judge or evaluate ourselves in any way. Patience and self-kindness are extremely important in this practice.

The fruit of awareness is wisdom. The fruit of equanimity is compassion. When they work together like the wings of a bird then we are moving in the direction of liberation.

The wings of equanimity and awareness must work together in concert for the bird to fly. If we are inclined toward awareness to the exclusion of equanimity, then we may still reap wisdom, but it may be a dry wisdom that has little heart embedded in it.

If we engage in equanimity with little awareness, then we may feel good and become very relaxed, but there is little wisdom acquired.  

Dharma practice is more of an art than a science. We may use a certain formula, but it is applied in a different way with each individual and each circumstance. Having a teacher available can be very important. The role of the teacher is to advise us how to employ the appropriate skill at the right time.

Our bird may be cruising along on an updraft flying with very little effort and then suddenly hits a headwind and needs to work much harder just to maintain minimal progress. As we meditate over time, unconscious conflicts, stresses, unresolved issues often come to the surface of our awareness. Just prior to this emergence there may be unconscious resistance, and we may find that it is difficult to maintain mindfulness – even when there is no identifiable cause for the difficulty. It’s important that we not judge ourselves but to simply continue doing the practice of awareness and equanimity. Once again, this is where a skilled teacher can be of great help.

It’s crucial to understand the role of ethics and morality in your spiritual practice. For many years religion has been the primary provider of mandates for ethical and moral behavior. (Including the American culture until about 1960.) As such, morality, religion, and spirituality have become somewhat conflated; many people equate these terms. They are not the same thing.

Ethical behavior as an essential part of spiritual practice. The purpose of spiritual practice is to awaken to our true nature. Spiritual practice does not necessarily depend upon religion for its foundation.

In this context ethical practice is not imposed from an external or supernatural source –  it is a natural consequence of living as an awakened being. In the awakened state you recognize that you are inherently connected with all of life and with every being that exists; ethical behavior is a natural consequence of this realization.

In spiritual practice you live as if you are already awakened, and then you discover that within you that doesn’t believe this! You then interpret all resistance to practice as a defilement of mind which is born from ignorance, fear and grasping. In spiritual practice our intention is to meet these mental forces with clear nonattached awareness and with compassion  –  this will eventually dissolve defilements.

We practice ethical behavior by creating the intention to follow a particular ethical guideline.  We do this for the purpose of spiritual awakening; not for the purpose of being “good” or “doing it right.” Creating the intention of enlightened (ethical) behavior you then become aware of those times when we behave otherwise.  Consider each infraction as an opportunity to see parts of self that are lost in fear and ignorance. Our intention then is to respond to these with compassion and wisdom.

Perhaps the most universal ethical guideline –  one that is found in virtually every religious tradition –  is the so-called Golden Rule: Do unto others as you would have them do unto you. If you find yourself behaving otherwise, then you use that opportunity to become acquainted with the lost part of yourself that is driving this behavior –  bringing in wisdom and compassion as best you can. Sometimes you may need external help in the form of a teacher, therapist, or support group.

Another universal ethical mandate is to Do No Harm. We see this reflected in the physicians’ Hippocratic oath, as well as in the Buddhist ethical precepts. The Buddha’s Eight-Fold Path includes the Five Precepts of Right Behavior, which is a further delineation of the mandate to Do No Harm. These Precepts specify non-harming by not killing any living being, by not taking what is not given, by refraining from sexual misconduct, by avoiding the misuse of intoxicants, and by practicing Right Speech, which is defined as speech that is true, kind, and necessary.

The precepts, as with any teaching, are subject to some interpretation. “Am I violating the precepts if I use pesticides in my garden, or eat meat, or take antibiotics? What if I am member of the armed services, or I drive a gas guzzling vehicle?” Practicing the Precepts in our complex modern world reveals many gray areas for you to explore. Your own wisdom should be the final determiner.

Don’t get lost in searching for an absolute “right meaning” of an ethical precept but rather ask “How can I best use this precept to support my spiritual practice?” Rather than getting lost in a debate about legalisms, it is far better to return to the intention of spiritual practice which is to awaken spiritually and to help others awaken.

I find it helpful to use the precepts as I would use the “rumble strips” on the edge of a freeway: to let me know when I am straying from my intended path. If I find myself violating a precept or doing harm in any way then I can take a deep breath and look at that part of self that is suffering from ignorance and fear and then bring compassion into that dark place.

If I discover that I am violating an ethical precept, then it is very important that I not respond with guilt or self-criticism; this is not helpful. Rather, I look honestly and compassionately at the energy within my own psyche that is calling for my attention. I then hold that part of myself as a mother would hold a troubled child: with compassion, wisdom, and a gentle discipline, as needed.

The Buddha’s teaching of the Eight-Fold Path is a prescription for freedom from suffering. The path begins with Right Understanding (aka Right View). Right Understanding involves a radical shift from our everyday perspective of life. This could be called a paradigm shift.

A paradigm is the framework by which we understand reality. A paradigm consists of the unconscious assumptions and premises that we assume to be true as we live our life each day. For example, we assume that every effect has a cause; and we assume that the cause must always precede the effect. We also assume that every object must be located somewhere in time and space and that no two objects can exist in the same place and time.

These assumptions appear valid in the everyday world, but with the discovery of quantum mechanics we find that these assumptions are invalidated by observation. To understand quantum physics, we must abandon the Newtonian “common sense” paradigm and work under a whole separate set of assumptions.

So too, our dharma practice must function from a separate set of premises than our everyday “common sense” mind. It’s like quantum science in that it seems to defy our “everyday mind” point of view.

My everyday mind tells me that if I am not happy it’s because I don’t have something that I desire or that I have something that is not desirable. This same mind tells me that if I want something I don’t have I must do something to get it, and I have to do it in a certain way – i.e., do it “right.” The premise is that if I do it right then I will receive the payoff that will bring me a measure of happiness.

This is true for most of what we do as human beings: we study, we practice, and we work to get what we want. Whether it’s joining a gym, enrolling in a school, or embarking on a new diet, our basic premise is that we do this to gain something we want or to get rid of something we don’t want. “I must do something and do it correctly to get what I desire.”

Most people begin meditation practice with that same set of assumptions; believing that if I do this right (or do it long enough) then I will acquire my goal of peace, happiness, or enlightenment. When individuals first engage meditation practice it is not uncommon for them to ask “What will I gain from this…and how long will it take?

Dharma practice requires a paradigm shift akin to that of shifting from Newtonian to quantum physics. We need to let go of our previous pattern of striving for results and begin with the premise that this moment is enough; that nothing is wrong or broken or missing. In the dharma practice we are not trying to get anywhere, we are not trying to achieve anything or get rid of anything: there is no future goal. What we most desire is already here. What we seek is the seeker itself.

But one may well respond: My body hurts, my mind is crazy, I feel anxious, and my life is a mess. How can you say that I have everything I need to be happy right now?

My answer comes in the form of a question: Have you ever had a very scary dream where you have felt terrified…and then you woke up? Your heart may have been pounding, your palms sweating; but soon you saw that you were perfectly safe in your own bed. You may even have been lying next to someone who loves you very much. You spent several minutes in pure hell when in reality you were safe and loved.

The problem wasn’t that a monster was about to devour you, the problem was that you were identified with a world that isn’t real.

We have become identified with a self and a worldview that is not quite real. Our distorted perception causes us to believe that this moment is not enough: that I must acquire something or get rid of something to be happy. Our basic premise is that this moment is not enough (or is too much!).

This premise leads us to believe that our happiness lies in some future moment; so, we reach for that future moment. The best the next moment can offer is some temporary satisfaction or relief. This temporary satisfaction (or the lack of it) drives further grasping toward the next moment hoping that it holds the permanent happiness that we deeply desire. On and on and on this goes, driving what Buddhists call “the wheel of samsara,” which is the endless cycle of suffering from lifetime to lifetime.

In our meditation practice we assume that the source of the happiness and satisfaction that we seek is already within us; it is our true nature. Our practice is not an attempt to get something that we don’t have but rather to see when and how we fail to open to the reality of the present moment.  In seeing clearly how we avoid being present in the moment we can choose to cease our habitual avoidance and learn to stay awake to each moment. Seeing our resistance in the present moment without adding further resistance will eventually dissolve it.

Clear nonattached awareness dissolves delusion. The light of awareness dissolves the shadow of darkness. When the mind is not deluded, we experience the ever-present radiance of our true nature. We then realize that happiness is not based upon any condition, and we are free from suffering.

Mindfulness practice is being aware of each experience and accepting that experience as it arises in the moment. With continued practice we broaden and deepen awareness of each experience as it occurs.

An essential element of mindfulness practice is awareness of the body, which includes awareness of the posture and movement of the body as well as awareness of sensations that occur in the body.

Our experience of the body is always in the present moment. The body knows only the present moment, yet it has its own memory; the body is a storehouse of our personal history. These body memories are mostly unconscious; they lie below the level of immediate awareness. Since the body knows only the present moment it experiences these unconscious memories as if they were occurring right now.

But we tend to disconnect our awareness from the body because it is subject to pain and to unpleasant feelings. The body houses desires and emotions that might be (or might have been) socially taboo. We vacate the body and become enmeshed with our thoughts and beliefs; we become identified with the mind.

When we suppress body awareness, we also suppress our aliveness and the natural joy of being alive. Disconnected from the body we become alienated from nature and from the earth. We then perceive the natural world as foreign and unrelated to ourselves.

One of the most direct ways to access the unconscious mind is through conscious awareness of the body. As we experience the body with awareness and equanimity in the present moment, we make conscious that which has been unconscious. This allows us to metabolize our past experiences and to live in the clear reality of the present rather than living with our perceptions shrouded by ghosts of the past.

There are many reasons, physical, psychological, and spiritual, to practice mindfulness of the body. Jon Kabat-Zinn, originator of a practice called Mindfulness Based Stress Reduction, has documented numerous cases where individuals have improved their physical and psychological health because of the MBSR practice, which includes extensive training in body awareness. The Buddha taught much about awareness of the body as a foundation for spiritual awakening and liberation from suffering.

In mindfulness practice we hold the intention to be aware and accepting of each sensation that arises in the body. Begin by practicing with awareness of the breath and then become aware of other sensations that arise in the body. Don’t think about the body or try to visualize it but just experience the feelings and sensations directly. Feel the body within the body itself. And try to make friends with each experience, even if it’s unpleasant.

An alternative method of body awareness is to sweep awareness through the body from top to bottom and back again, over, and over. Once again, this is not a visualization, it is scanning the body with direct awareness.

To be fully awake and free from suffering it is essential to be aware of the body, and to fully experience the body as it is in each moment. As we practice a clear direct awareness of the body, we will experience the deeper reality of the body; we can discover that it is much more than a physical form and that we are much more than a physical body. To be fully awake we must embrace the body directly with awareness and with equanimity.

Previously we addressed awareness of thinking. Now we focus on awareness of mental states. A mental state forms the background and context for our thoughts and perceptions. A mental state may be any emotion, attitude, or mood; specific examples could include anxiety, depression, judgment, or joy.

Mental states form the lens through which we perceive our world. Mental states supply context and meaning to every experience. For example, if we are identified with depression then every experience is filtered through the lens of deficiency, despair, and despondency. Even a tiny loss or failure can send us spiraling downward into greater darkness.

But even in less acute situations our mental state will color our perception of reality. To the extent that we are unaware of a mental state we will project its meaning onto the objective world and perceive it as “out there.” Sometimes it’s easier to see this in others than in ourselves. We may see how friends or relatives are caught up in their habitual interpretation of life experiences. We may be tempted to roll our eyes when we hear the same story repeated ad infinitum!

It’s not quite as easy to see how we are doing the very same thing! Perhaps it’s in a different way, but if we are honest with ourselves then we can see how it’s working in our own mind. By being aware of our own habituated mental filters we’re less likely to project our subjective interpretation onto the external world and believe it to be objectively real. Some interpretations seem automatic and virtually inevitable; but the key is to understand that it is an interpretation rather than an objective reality.

The Buddha taught extensively about awareness of mind states. He said to be especially aware of unwholesome mental states that are rooted in grasping, aversion, and delusion. Mind states such as prejudice, hatred, cynicism, greed, and fear are examples of unwholesome mental states. When unrecognized these mind states can lead to much suffering for ourselves and often for others.

It’s helpful to be aware of the physical sensations associated with a mental state. If you are caught in a mental state, such as intense fear or anger, it’s helpful to bring some awareness to the body. If we have some awareness of physical sensations in the present moment, then we are less likely to be identified with the mental state.

Without this awareness we are prone to being caught in a storyline that we have associated with that mental state. We may then project this narrative onto the external world and react accordingly. Much human suffering results from this pattern of projection and reactivity.

You might be aware of a physical sensation before you’re aware of the underlying mind state. For example, you might be aware of tightness in the jaw before being aware of anger; or you may feel a knot in the stomach before having awareness of fear. If you experience a chronic or frequent physical sensation it can be helpful to see if there is a mental or emotional counterpart to this sensation; look for a mental state that might lie behind the physical symptom. Conversely, if you experience chronic or frequent emotional patterns then it can be helpful to recognize the physical sensations associated with that emotion.

We are not analyzing our experience; simply notice what is present –in the body and in the mind. Don’t get tangled up in the “paralysis of analysis.” We may become like a dog chasing its own tail!

Identifying with, clinging to, or resisting any mental state will ultimately result in suffering. This is true even with pleasant mind states, such as joy, because joy (or any other mental state) will eventually subside and morph into another state. If we’re clinging to joy, then suffering will result.

Conversely, resisting an unpleasant mental state is counter-productive because that which we resist tends to persist. The best way to move through an unpleasant mental state is to accept it without resistance. (This does not mean accepting the veracity of the storyline that we associate with this state.) Once we fully accept the physical sensations associated with a mental state then the related story will likely fade away.

In summary, when you are identified with a mental state it is helpful to a) become aware of sensations in the body; b) name the mental state –  if you can; c) let go of your grip on the storyline; d) explore the mental state objectively without focusing on the apparent cause or on future action that you might take. If possible, avoid making decisions or taking actions when identified with a mental state (positive or negative.)

And finally, I want to point out that true happiness (aka enlightenment) is not a mental state – it is independent of any mental state or any other condition. (The term nirvana simply means extinction, referring to the extinction of suffering.) True happiness is unconditional, independent of any physical or emotional condition.

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Repeatedly the Buddha was asked speculative questions about the meaning of life or the nature of reality. His response was always the same: “I teach one thing and one thing only, and that is, ‘suffering and the end of suffering.’”  (The English word suffering is translated from the Pali word “dukkha” which can also mean dissatisfaction, stress, or unhappiness.)

When I first studied the Buddhist teachings, I wondered why he didn’t say: “I teach the end of suffering and the discovery of happiness.” I thought, “That would certainly make it much easier to promote Buddhism to the world!”

After a few years of practice, I discovered the answer to my question.

It’s a two-part answer. First, the Buddha did not present happiness as a goal to be achieved because that could foster craving and attachment to a goal, which would ultimately cause even more suffering. (Craving is a primary cause of suffering.)

Second, the word happiness inevitably conjures memories of experiences we consider “happy” by human standards. The “happiness” that the Buddha taught is far beyond any human concept, memory, or experience of personal happiness. Very few people have experienced this happiness that passes all human understanding.

How then does one teach something that is beyond human comprehension? There are two ways; and the Buddha used them both.

One way is to describe everything that it isn’t. The Buddha taught “the end of suffering” (nirvana) rather than “finding happiness.” (The word nirvana simply means to extinguish.)

A second way is to avoid any reference to an outcome and simply teach a method for reaching the direct experience of it – thereby avoiding any need to define it. (Don’t bother to define a strawberry – just taste it!) The Eight-Fold Path was the method that the Buddha taught as the way to the direct experience.

As our practice unfolds, we see that to end suffering we must be willing to experience suffering in a certain way. The only way out is the way through.

To overcome suffering, we must see its cause. To see its cause, we must experience suffering consciously. To experience suffering consciously we must drop all denials and defenses. This puts us on the path beyond suffering.

This is exactly what Insight Meditation practice (vipassana) is designed to do.

Begin by sitting, doing nothing. (Sitting/ Zazen)

Recognize suffering as it arises. (Mindfulness/ Awareness)

Allow everything to be just as it is. (Equanimity)

Recognize the cause of suffering as it arises. (Insight/ Vipassana)

Recognize clearly how knowing the cause of suffering dissolves it. (Insight/ Vipassana)

Recognize that suffering has ceased. (Insight/ Vipassana)

Experience “the end of suffering.” (Nirvana)

Don’t wait for a major disaster to occur in your life; use the everyday suffering that’s right in front of you. Simply be still, let it arise and work with what’s here right now. Your present moment experience is the starting place for the journey.

As our practice unfolds, we see that to end suffering we must be willing to experience suffering in a certain way. The only way out is the way through.

To overcome suffering, we must see its cause. To see its cause, we must experience suffering consciously. To experience suffering consciously we must drop all denials and defenses. This puts us on the path beyond suffering.

Mindfulness practice involves two primary intentions: awareness and equanimity. Awareness is a clear, open attention to our present experience. Equanimity means fully accepting our experience in the present moment. Practicing equanimity will eventually end our suffering. (It won’t necessarily eliminate our pain, but it can eliminate the suffering that arises from resisting our pain.)

When I talk about the practice of equanimity someone will usually raise the objection: “But I can’t always accept my experiences! I can’t just sit like a bump on a log or be a doormat for others to trample; sometimes I need to make changes in my life.”

The practice of equanimity is very liberating, but it is often misunderstood, so I will now address this important question of how the practice of equanimity relates to making changes in our life.

Equanimity means accepting our immediate experience of life in this moment.

Equanimity does not necessarily mean accepting someone else’s beliefs or predictions. Equanimity does not necessarily mean accepting our own beliefs or predictions. Equanimity means accepting our immediate experience of life in this moment.

For example, imagine your doctor tells you that you have a particular disease and have only six months to live. Practicing equanimity does not necessarily mean that you believe this prognosis. Equanimity means accepting the fact that you have received this information; and it means accepting all the facets of your response to what you’ve heard. It does not negate the possibility of getting a second opinion. Practicing equanimity does not negate the possibility of remedying the condition.

The only thing we can ever truthfully say about the future is that nobody knows what will occur. Equanimity is not about the future; it is always about the present.

Equanimity does not mean that we are paralyzed in our ability to act; it simply means that our actions arise from a state of equanimity rather than from a state of resistance. With equanimity we act from a clear mind and an open heart rather than from craving or resistance. When we act from suffering, we perpetuate suffering. When we act from equanimity, we create the opportunity to end suffering… that of others as well as our own.

For example, if I believe I have been insulted by another person then I may or may not choose to respond to that person. What’s crucial is that my decision to respond or not to respond arises from equanimity rather than from anger or fear.

From a state of equanimity, if I choose not to respond my choice is based on my belief that a response would not be necessary or helpful at this time. This is vastly different from choosing not to respond because I am afraid or would feel guilty, or because I am spitefully giving someone the “silent treatment.”

Conversely, if I do choose to speak to this person then I would do so with a clear mind and an open heart and without attachment to any particular result. I choose to respond because I believe that it will enhance my relationship with this person and will be beneficial to both of us.

Another example: suppose I experience sensations of hunger in my body. Practicing equanimity does not necessarily mean that I don’t get something to eat to assuage my hunger; but it does mean that I don’t automatically and unconsciously put food in my mouth in response to the hunger. Having equanimity with these sensations in my body allows me to better choose what food (and how much) my body really needs at this time.

As we practice equanimity for a while, we may see an interesting phenomenon occur very often things will change – and usually in a positive way – if we simply allow life to unfold naturally with little intervention on our part. Very often the outcome will be much better than we could have carried out personally with great effort and struggle.

A Taoist might put it thusly:

The Tao of heaven does not strive, and yet it overcomes.

It does not speak, and yet it is answered.

It does not ask, yet it is supplied with all its needs.

It seems at ease, and yet it follows a plan.

In the ancient texts of the Pali Canon the Buddha is often quoted as saying “I teach one thing and one thing only: suffering and the end of suffering.” To some this teaching may appear pessimistic. Many wonder why he focused so single-mindedly on the topic of suffering.

It can be helpful to look at the Pali word from which the English word suffering is translated. That word is dukkha. It has several translations besides the word suffering. Some of these are: dissatisfaction, anxiety, or stress. Some authors simply call it the human condition. By whatever name we use, we are all familiar with it. It is that chronic sense of dissatisfaction and that existential angst that exists at the core of every human ego.

Sometimes we can divert our attention away from this experience. Often, we feel partially satisfied, and sometimes we may be completely satisfied; but that soon disappears and the familiar question, “Is this all there is?” will arise. Sit quietly doing nothing at all for a short while and you will see this ever-present dissatisfaction at work! This is the energy that drives the endless quest for satisfaction, which is a way of life in our culture.

Dukkha (aka the human condition) is not personal; it is not your fault – and no one else is to blame! Once we see this and accept it, it may become more bearable. When we refuse to acknowledge it, it will dominate our life. Accepting the fact that human life is inherently difficult can relieve us of the pressure of trying to hide from it or run away from it. This allows us to live our life more authentically and opens us to more compassion for ourself and for others.

The Buddha’s message is not at all pessimistic; in fact, it is incredibly optimistic. He tells us that it is possible to transcend (trance-end) the human condition and to be unconditionally always satisfied.

One of the many apocryphal stories about his life tells us of a time when he was walking along a road and a passerby noticed his extraordinary countenance. He approached the Buddha: “Pardon me sir, Are you a man?”  The Buddha replied, “No.” “Then, are you a god?” “No.” “Are you a diva or an angel?” “No.” “Then what are you?” The Buddha’s response was, “I am awake.”  

He proved in his own life that it is possible to become more than human; it is possible to become awake. (“Buddha” means The Awakened One).

And how do we do this? Every one of his teachings is a response to that question. These teachings are epitomized in the Four Noble Truths. This teaching tells us that to become free from suffering it is essential to see the causes of suffering. He taught that suffering is caused by clinging to that which is impermanent; this includes all objects, concepts, relationships, conditions, and experiences. He taught that suffering is caused by clinging to the concept of a separate self which is inherently empty of existence. He taught that suffering is caused by clinging to existence itself.

The human mind cries “My God, what else is there?” He never gave us the answer in words, for that would not be possible. But he did give an answer in his life itself. He demonstrated that it is possible to awaken from the human condition and to discover the reality of Being Itself, which is the only thing that will bring true and lasting satisfaction.

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No mud, no lotus.

Just as mud is necessary for a lotus flower to grow, suffering is necessary for spiritual awakening,

Thats what these words generally mean in the Buddhist traditions. In less eloquent terms: “There’s no Wow without the Ow!”

The relationship between suffering and spirituality has long been known—and long been misunderstood. Some believe that suffering itself to be of value. This is true in both in Christianity and in Hinduism.

Throughout history it was not uncommon for some Christians to practice “mortification of the flesh”, which was the practice of punishing the body by suffering as Christ did – and thus show their love for God. This is still practiced today, but usually to a much lesser degree.

When the Buddha left his home and began his quest for enlightenment, he engaged many of the yogic practices that were common at that time. Some of these practices involved extreme asceticism. He would sit for hours under the blazing Indian sun without moving. He survived on only a few grains of rice each day. He became so emaciated that at one time he could touch his stomach and would feel his backbone. He practiced to the point that he fainted--and might have died were it not for the compassion of a young milkmaid who gave him some rice and milk.

The Buddha realized that neither luxurious living nor extreme ascetism were skillful means to awakening; thus, he designated his teaching The Middle Way.

His teachings included the First Noble Truth which states that “Life is dukkha.” One of the common translations of dukkha is “suffering.”

This implies that suffering is inevitable. Yet the Third Noble Truth says that one can become free from suffering.

I often hear the phrase, “Pain is a given, but suffering is optional.” There is much wisdom in this statement – but it implies that suffering is not inevitable.

The resolution to this apparent contradiction lies in the statement: Suffering is not necessary; but it usually takes a considerable amount of suffering to realize this. And we must experience suffering in a certain way to realize that it is not necessary.

That way is to suffer with awareness and without a story.

In this context, a story is a habituated narrative that is unconsciously repeated until we believe it is true. The most compelling story that we have is the one that identifies me. This inner narrative creates, defends, and validates me.

This story of “who I am” begins early in life and for most people it changes very little. It changes little because it is taken to be real.

We may change the story via psychotherapy and personal growth processes. We may become more functional and experience less suffering. But any story is just a story – it is not reality.

To let go of the story of me is very difficult. Letting go of your identity, you may feel like you are “a nobody.” This is painful – and scary. You may feel as if you don’t even exist. Because you cannot function in the world, and you may feel that you have no value.

Once you disidentify with the self that you know, you may encounter another self that has long been submerged in the unconscious. This is often called the shadow. It consists of unfulfilled desires and unacknowledged pain. Ironically, you must own this repulsive self before you can release it.

We must acknowledge and embrace all the those “deplorable” parts of ourself that we are loathe to accept. This takes courage –and patience. You cannot release your identity in one weekend. It is a slow process. There are several “Ows” before the “Wow.”

Remember that nothing real is ever lost; only our illusions are lost.

Although we lose only illusions, when we are identified with these illusions it can feel as if we are losing something very real – me!

It doesn’t last forever; and what before appeared demonic has become my greatest asset. For example, owning my own suppressed rage has transformed it into a sense of personal power and authority. Owning my suppressed sorrow has given me a deep sense of compassion and greater capacity for joy.

And yet, this “new” me is still just a story. It too must go.

Eventually “I” see that life goes much better without a self, and without a story. Every moment is a new birth. Death is a part of life. Loss and gain, pleasure and pain are experienced with no grasping or resistance. Life is lived through me, and this life has no limitations.

Wow!

It has been said that the entire Buddhadharma might be summed up into three words: “Not always so.” Perhaps the essence of dharma lies in the realization that there is nothing permanent in this world; the nature of this world is ephemeral. This principle is epitomized in a poetic quote from the Diamond Sutra:

Thus, shall you think of all this fleeting world: A star at dawn, a bubble in a stream; a flash of lightning in a summer cloud, a flickering lamp, a phantom, and a dream.

This was taught by the Buddha about 2500 years ago. Interestingly, this teaching seems to be validated by 21st century quantum science. Today many scientists are referring to the physical universe as a type of hologram; the entire universe seems like “a phantom and a dream.”

This idea can be interesting from an intellectual viewpoint, but from an emotional perspective it can be very distressing. The human psyche craves some ground to stand upon, something solid to hold on to. To not have this sense of solidity can be incredibly stressful; it may feel like we are in a freefall.

Frightened by this fall, we may try to hold on to beliefs, objects, or relationships. But eventually we discover that these too are impermanent; they are freefalling just as we are! We may try to cling to our body and to our personal identity. Human mortality is a constant reminder of impermanence.

The bad news is that there is nothing you can hold on to. The good news is that there is nothing you need to hold onto. Our free fall is an illusion; there is nowhere to fall but into reality itself. Your body will die; but you will survive. Only illusions die.

When I was a child, I experienced falling into deep water and nearly drowning. For many years I was terrified of being in water. I would be in a swimming pool only if I could feel my feet planted firmly on the bottom. But this limited me to the shallow end of the pool; I could not swim in the deep end like most of my friends. I felt quite frustrated and alone. I was a prisoner of my own fear.

A turning point came as I was standing chest deep in water when a friend challenged me to touch my toes. With some trepidation I took a deep breath, bent over, and reached for my toes. To my amazement my feet came up off the bottom! I felt a moment of fear but then I experienced my body floating in the water – with no effort on my part. It was wonderful.

By letting go of clinging to the bottom I learned to trust the water and eventually became a very proficient swimmer. I experienced what I most wanted, which was freedom and safety. And I discovered that safety came from letting go rather than from holding on.

When we open to the experience of fear rather than push it away, we discover that fear itself is impermanent. Fear is just another experience –  and every experience is impermanent. And as we open fully to the reality of impermanence, we can discover that which never changes. We discover that every experience always occurs here and now; it is always in the present moment.

You, the one who knows, is present in each moment. The one who knows is present in every experience. This presence is not impermanent; it does not change. The poet T.S. Eliot called this the “still point.”

At the still point of the turning world. Neither flesh nor fleshless;
Neither from nor towards; at the still point, there the dance is,
But neither arrest nor movement.
And do not call it fixity,
Where past and future are gathered. Neither movement from nor towards,
Neither ascent nor decline. Except for the point, the still point,
There would be no dance, and there is only the dance.

Everything in this world is impermanent; it’s all a dance. Deep realization of this brings us home to the still point: the eternal presence in every moment.

The most puzzling of all the Buddhist teachings is the teaching on anatta or not-self. It’s often heard said that Buddhism teaches that “There is no self;” but the Buddha himself never said this. When asked if the self existed or not, he simply refused to answer. He shunned all metaphysical speculation in favor of his teachings that supported liberation from suffering. To that end, the Buddha simply said, “Cling to nothing as self.”  

But today most of us identify with the experience of the mind and the body. We experience sensations, thoughts, emotions, desires, and we “cling to them as self.” We live as if “I am this body, and I am these thoughts, emotions, and desires. The Buddha said that this identification (clinging) inevitably results in suffering.

One might well ask, “Then who am I?” The Buddha might say “Explore this question with direct experience. Explore each moment’s experience by being aware of every thought, sensation, emotion, desire, sound, and image that arises.” If we do this, the question inevitably arises: “Who is it that is aware?

But soon we see that we can never experience the source of awareness. That which is aware is never the object of awareness because it is always the subject; it is the very source of awareness itself. Like a great flashlight, it can shine its light upon anything…except itself!

As we explore the objects of awareness (e.g., thoughts, sensations, emotions) we see that they are always changing. Our experiences are a stream of consciousness, much like a flowing river that is constantly changing. Attempting to cling to any of it is like trying to capture the river in a bucket; once the water is in the bucket, it is no longer the river.

But we can (and do) capture the concept of “a river.” Although the river itself constantly changes our concept of “river” can remain fixed and unchanging. Likewise, although the direct experience of self constantly changes, my concept of self can remain fixed and unchanging. I then perceive “me” to be a fixed entity amidst a swirl of ever-changing experiences.

A concept can be useful when it is consciously used to communicate with others. Rather than going to a river and pointing to it, I can use the term Missouri River to “point to it” in a virtual sense. Likewise, a concept of self can be functional in my thinking and communication in everyday life. I can use it as a skillful means without clinging to it as a metaphysical reality.

As an analogy, I may refer to the sun as, “rising in the east and setting in the west.” I can use this term metaphorically and at the same time know that this is not completely true. I may know there is a larger reality – a “much bigger picture”; knowing this may not change how I live my everyday life, but it certainly gives me greater world view – I now see my life in a larger context.

Likewise, the realization of not-self may seem to change little in the circumstances of my everyday life, yet my life is lived in a vastly different context. We could say that “nothing changes, and yet everything changes.” As the Zen proverb tells us, “Before enlightenment: chop wood; carry water; after enlightenment: chop wood; carry water.”

An essential part of the Buddha’s teaching was awareness of mental states, especially awareness of mental states that lead to suffering. He taught that suffering was caused by craving (greed), aversion (hatred) and delusion (ignorance). He taught that delusion could take three primary forms: unconsciousness (sloth), agitation (worry) and doubt. These five mental states became known as the Five Hindrances. We will explore each of them.

Craving (also referenced as greed or clinging)

Craving could be defined as the physical and mental grasping for some experience that does not exist in the present moment. It may be grasping for some physical, emotional, mental or spiritual experience; or it may be grasping for some external possession, relationship or circumstance. No matter how it is defined, we all know what craving feels like!

It’s said that in rural India monkeys are sometimes caught by placing food inside of a gourd that is tied to a stake in the ground. The opening of the gourd is large enough for the monkey to slip its hand in but is small enough that once the monkey has made a fist, he cannot extract it. So, the monkey is trapped unless he is willing to let go. However, it seems that letting go does not occur as an option to the monkey, so he remains trapped by his grasping. How often do we do the same thing – only in a different way!

Aversion (also referenced as hatred)

Aversion could be defined as resistance to an experience that is present in the body, in the mind, or in our life conditions. Once again, the experience is easier to recognize than to describe; it’s that mental state that says, GO AWAY!  Craving and aversion are often intermingled. Aversion to an experience is simply craving that it ceases. For this reason, in some of the teachings the term craving includes aversion.

The hindrance of unconsciousness is also referred to as sloth or sinking mind. In our sitting meditation it can appear as sleepiness or drowsiness. In our everyday life it can appear as dullness and spaciness, or as daydreaming and fantasizing. Indulgence in intoxicants and mindless entertainment will exacerbate this hindrance.

The hindrance of agitation is also referenced as worry or restlessness. In its mental form it is often called “the monkey mind.” Agitation is characterized by an inability to sustain concentration; it’s a state of continuous distraction. This condition is endemic in our culture today and is catalyzed by our addiction to the cell phone and the internet. Our minds are becoming habituated to distraction.

Doubt

Doubt is the hindrance behind any belief or thought that our spiritual practice is not worth the effort. It can appear in subtle forms such as becoming “too busy” to practice or telling ourselves that “I’m too scattered” or “I just don’t feel up to it.” It can also appear as questioning if our practice is “doing any good.” If it is not recognized it’s the hindrance that can most effectively stop our practice in its tracks. Anytime you find yourself wanting to skip or shortchange your spiritual practice, be on the alert for this hindrance.

How can we overcome these hindrances? In one sense we should not even try because any effort to “destroy” them only makes them stronger. The hindrances tend to dissolve on their own when we see them clearly and directly as they are. This is because the hindrances are rooted in delusion and the only way to overcome delusion is to wake up to reality – to see things as they really are. And thus, we practice Insight Meditation (vipassana) to see things as they really are; we look at each experience with clear, direct awareness and with complete equanimity. The recognition of an illusion is the first step toward the experience of reality. The mind that recognizes delusion is not deluded.

It’s very important to not perceive the recognition of a hindrance as a mistake or as something wrong. It’s perhaps more appropriate to feel a sense of happiness because we have recognized something heretofore hidden and that recognition itself is the first step to freedom. The apparent bad news is in fact good news!

A useful meditation is to simply recognize and name each hindrance as it arises. We can do this sitting on our cushion or active in our daily life. Again, it’s very important to not create any stories or judgments about any of them but to objectively see and name each of them as they arise. This practice will open the door to freedom.

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Many individuals who practice meditation and contemplative prayer are also involved in psychotherapy; this often precipitates questions about the relationship between the two of these disciplines. “Can one grow spiritually without ever having psychotherapy?” “Does psychotherapy enhance meditation practice or vice versa? “Can meditation be considered a form of psychotherapy?”

Some authors see psychology and spirituality as simply unusual parts of a broad spectrum of consciousness, while others see these two practices as largely unrelated. Most psychologists encourage meditation as a support for psychological growth, while a few others see meditation as a potential obstacle to psychological development.

Traditionally, in the East spiritual practice has been emphasized with little attention given to psychological development. In the post-modern West, the opposite is true; it would seem that for many in our culture psychology has replaced spirituality as the primary pathway to happiness. In our mainstream culture psychological wholeness is usually seen as the highest stage of human development.

We do not have the space to explore all the ramifications of this issue so I will focus specifically on the practical aspects of these questions. A clear understanding of the potentialities and the limitations of both psychotherapy and spiritual practice is especially important for all spiritual practitioners.

There are many forms of psychotherapy and many forms of spiritual practice, so it is unwise to make too many generalizations about either one. What is important is to understand the intention of each discipline to see if they are mutually supportive or not.

A common denominator of psychotherapy and spiritual practice is the admonition to “Know thyself.” Most forms of psychotherapy and spiritual practice have an intention of increasing self-awareness; from this perspective these disciplines are mutually supportive.

Another common denominator might be that of “impulse containment.” Both disciplines usually encourage the recognition of impulses and desires without unconsciously acting them out. If one is encouraged to act upon his or her desires, then it should be done consciously and with clear intention.

The biggest difference between psychotherapy and spiritual practice is the nature of the self that is being considered. In psychotherapy the concept of self usually references the personal self or the ego. We could say that most forms of psychotherapy are designed to strengthen the ego.

With most spiritual practice the self addressed is a transcendent self – something far beyond the personal sense of self. The general intention of spiritual practice is to dissolve attachment to the ego. The ego is seen as something that we have rather than as what we are.

In this regard these two disciplines seem to work at cross-purposes with one another. As one student said to me, “My psychotherapist is working to strengthen my ego and my spiritual teacher is committed to dissolving it!”

This clear dilemma need not be problematic if we understand the right function of the ego and the right relationship between these two disciplines.

We need a healthy ego to function in the world, and yet ultimately the ego is not who we are. Psychotherapy can help us to heal and strengthen the ego.

Spiritual practice can help us realize that we are more than the ego.

Much the same could be said about the physical body: we need to have a minimally healthy body to function in the world and yet we are more than the physical body. A healthy body is helpful in our spiritual practice, which in turn can help us see that we are more than the body itself. When we are ill or in great pain it is more difficult to realize this because all that we are aware of is the body and its discomfort.

In similar fashion, a healthy ego can help us realize that we are more than the ego itself. When we experience emotional turmoil or mental instability it is much more difficult to see this because all that we are aware of is our psychological distress.

Psychotherapy and spiritual practice can be mutually supportive if we have a clear understanding of the intention and purpose of each, and of their proper relationship. All too often we try to use one to do what the other is designed to do! For example, we may be trying to use spiritual practice to avoid issues that may need to be addressed in psychotherapy. We can try to use our spiritual practice as a form of escape. (This is sometimes referred to as “the spiritual bypass.”)

Conversely, I have met many individuals who are frustrated with psychotherapy because it does not address their deeper spiritual needs.

Psychotherapy can be immensely helpful, but it alone can take us only so far.

Also, I have seen psychotherapeutic interventions used to treat spiritual emergencies. These interventions are often unsuccessful, and when they do seem to work, they simply mask the symptoms while leaving the real issue unaddressed.

My general advice (for those who want it) is to find a psychotherapist who has a clear understanding of the nature and the purpose of spiritual practice, and to find a spiritual teacher who is psychologically literate and able to discern when psychotherapeutic intervention may be called for.

We are blessed to live in an era when we have access to both powerful disciplines; yet this opportunity emphasizes the need for wisdom to use each of them effectively.

Plants are heliotropic; that is, they naturally move toward sunlight.

Your psyche is Holotropic: it naturally moves toward wholeness.

Long ago humans discovered that the body had a natural tendency to heal. But only in the past 150 years did we discover (or rediscover) that the human psyche also has a natural propensity to heal.

CG Jung was the first in the modern West to see that not only does the psyche have a natural tendency to heal but also that the psyche is always trying to move into a greater degree of wholeness.

He saw every psychological malady as an attempt by the psyche to heal itself. Every apparent problem was seen as an opportunity for greater wholeness rather than as something broken and needing to be fixed.

An acorn strives to become an oak tree because that is its destiny. Likewise, the psyche strives to express greater wholeness because that is its destiny.

Jung saw that our social conditioning tends to split the psyche into factions of “good and bad” or “right and wrong”  – and these two polarities are forever at war with one another. He saw that the pain of this war is itself an attempt to heal; all internal opposition was seen as an opportunity to transform into a reunion at a higher level. To him healing is not simply a restoration, but a transformation into a greater level of wholeness.

John was raised to be polite, nice, and always a good boy. Anger was simply not allowed in his family of origin. But at forty he began to experience depression, ulcers and felt very “unsatisfied” with his life. Psychotherapy helped him identify a great deal of suppressed anger, especially at his father. He had difficulty admitting that he was angry; this generated a great deal of anxiety in him.

This is an example of two psychological archetypes working in a compensatory relationship – specifically, the persona-shadow interaction. John was living the only life he knew: the self he was conditioned to be (the persona)  –  but it was only a half-life. His psyche sought wholeness by pushing his repressed life (shadow) into consciousness. His shadow was revealing itself in the various symptoms that he was experiencing. His persona felt threatened by the admission that he was inwardly very angry. This was unwelcome news to John (the persona), but it was an opportunity to bring him into a greater degree of wholeness –  to a higher level of functioning. It did this by forcing him to look at his repressed, unlived life (the shadow).

To the degree that he resists and tries to hold on to his limited identity he will suffer. To the extent that he can learn to make friends with his shadow he will move toward greater wholeness.

Accepting his shadow does not mean acting out his anger in a harmful way. It means learning to recognize and feel his anger more consciously and learn to direct it into other channels that are nonharmful or even creative and productive. It means learning to recognize what he really needs and find healthy ways to get those needs met. It means finding healthy ways to set boundaries without attacking others.

To do this John will need to feel the pain of the unmet needs of his childhood and to value and love himself in ways that his parents did not. The eventual result will be having greater personal power by becoming more responsible for himself, keeping healthy boundaries, and allowing more intimacy in his life. John will have much greater access to those aspects of his psyche that were buried within his shadow. He will live a much richer life.

Our pain reveals an opportunity to become more than we have been. It is nature’s way of reminding us that we are more than we believe we are. If we understand this, then we suffer less because we can start to learn from our pain rather than seeing it as something broken that needs to be repaired.

The oak tree forever calls to the acorn: Break open and become what you are destined to be!

Of the most interesting discoveries in astronomy within recent decades is that of the black hole. The black hole is a celestial body which is so dense that nothing  – including light itself – can escape its gravitational force. A black hole is like great cosmic garbage disposal – whatever goes into it never comes back!

Black holes are so massive that they tear through the fabric of space-time itself. Because of its extreme mass and gravitational attraction, many of the fundamental laws of physics do not seem to work inside a black hole.

Astronomers have determined there’s a very large black hole at the center of our Milky Way galaxy. Many astronomers believe there is a blackhole at the center of every galaxy.

I now want to shift our view from astronomy to astrospirituality (I just invented that word) A Taoist proverb says, “I am in the universe. The universe is in me.” In certain ways the structure of the human psyche parallels the structure of the universe. For example, the stars in our galaxy circle a blackhole at its center –  and so, too the personality “circles” a blackhole at its center. Let’s look at why this is so.

We begin with the premise that the psyche consists of two primary natures: one is our essential nature which is the true self; the other is the personality which is the false self. The essential nature is innate in us; the personality is a construct. The essential nature is fundamentally the same in all individuals; the personality varies widely from person to person.

The essential nature radiates brightly in most infants and very young children, which is one reason we are attracted to them. The essential nature is naturally attractive, but as the personality develops, and the child is socialized, the essential nature is largely obscured.

If you were raised in a perfect environment by enlightened parents, then you might have a “shining personality” that continues to exude essence. But most of us missed that karmic bus and were raised in an imperfect world by less than enlightened parents.

Chances are that your environment did not provide what was needed to develop your essential nature to its fullness: you had unmet needs, traumatic experiences and parents who did not model essential nature in their own lives. As a result, you developed a “hole” in your awareness of essential nature. (Aka the Black Hole.) This black hole is experienced as an immense deficiency. When you are in it (or even near it) you may feel extremely deficient or defective. You may feel as if you have “a big hole in your soul.”

St Augustine has written, “There is a God-shaped hole in the human heart that only God can fill.” But when you were very young the closest thing to God was your parents and family; you turned to those closest to you to fill the “God-shaped hole.” Unfortunately, you were not raised by gods –  you were raised by imperfect human beings.

This black hole is terrifying to a child, so you attempted to fill this internal hole with something/someone from the outside world. You turned to the world to get what felt missing within yourself. You then developed a strategy for getting what you need from the world to avoid feeling the blackhole. This strategy then determined the primary characteristics of your personality.

Author Salman Rushdie writes, “I used to say: ‘There is a God-shaped hole in me.’ For a long time, I stressed the absence, the hole. Now I find it is the shape of the hole which has become more important.”

This is an important statement because he points to the fact that the more specific you can be about how the hole feels, as well as how you have compensated for it, the more likely you will be able to discover what is on the other side of it.

Determining the missing quality (e.g., love, power, intelligence, will, value) is a good start. Then it is helpful to know specifically how you defend against experiencing the black hole, what circumstances trigger an eruption of defensive reactions, and what type of defensive reaction emerges.

For example, if you are missing the quality of Value then you may feel hurt or angry when you are criticized or when someone does not seem to appreciate you. You may try to always be needed to feel valued, or you may constantly boast about your accomplishments to get that need met.

The black hole may be experienced as intense feelings of shame, unworthiness, or defectiveness. If you can be present to these feelings, without resisting them, then eventually you will move through the black hole and reclaim the essential quality of value. You then realize that you are of infinite value simply because you exist.

Mindfulness practice, which is awareness and acceptance of each moment’s experience, is a skillful way of moving through the blackhole. It is not easy, but the journey through this darkness will eventually reveal the light of essential nature.

Some theories in cosmology suggest that a cosmic black hole may be a portal into a parallel universe. Regarding the external black hole, this remains to be seen, but it’s certainly true of the internal black hole which is the portal to a new universe within yourself!

Love is the essence of what we are and yet it’s essential that we become aware of how we unknowingly hide this truth from ourselves. We need to examine our beliefs about love because we have received many false messages from our culture about it.

We also block our realization of love by holding on to “unfinished business” from the past. In gestalt therapy this term refers to our unexpressed emotions, desires, and words. This energy is locked in the unconscious because earlier in our life we felt that it wasn’t safe to express these feelings, or perhaps even talk to about them. We learned that expressing these parts of us would result in punishment or humiliation. Our repression became habitual, and eventually became unconscious. We not only don’t want to express our feelings; we don’t even want to acknowledge that they are present.

We often choose relationships that support our pattern of repression. These relationships may be comfortable, but they may also offer little opportunity for self-discovery or personal growth. Or we may engage in relationships that do just the opposite. We might be attracted to another because we sense they have something that is missing in ourselves. We find these people stimulating and exciting…until we release our projections and encounter the real person behind the image we have created!

We may find those same qualities that were so attractive to us have become quite problematic! We now see a different aspect of them. We may feel betrayed by the other person, when we are simply discovering our own self-betrayal stemming from our belief that another person can give us something that seems missing within. We are like the beggar who grovels for alms unaware that he has a huge diamond hidden in his own pocket.

Some examples of how this plays out.

Cindy was attracted to Jack because he seemed self-assured, decisive, and clear about what he wants and what he does. Jack was attracted to Cindy because of her perceived compassionate and gentle nature. Both felt that the other “completed them.”

After being together for a while Cindy began to perceive Jack’s self-assurance as aggressiveness, willfulness, and a lack of care for her. This awareness was particularly challenging to Cindy because it mirrored the same qualities that she had repressed within herself. As a child she was often reprimanded for being too loud and unruly. She was taught to be quiet and submissive – like a “good girl” should be.

To Jack, Cindy’s compassion and caring began to look like the dependency and the neediness that Jack hated because it reflected his own repressed feelings of dependency. He was taught to always be “tough,” independent and to act “like a man”  – which meant to never need anything or to depend upon anyone else.

Over time, Jack and Cindy were willing to open to their own repressed feelings and to stop projecting them onto the other. Eventually each of them would grow significantly from their relationship, but it took a lot of internal work for them to get there.

A so-called “difficult relationship” can be a powerful vehicle for growth – if you use it in that way. Yes, the other person is far from perfect, but if you focus on their faults, you diminish the opportunity for your own healing.

And yet, this does not mean that you should tolerate abusive or toxic behavior. It’s okay to set clear boundaries on behavior that is harmful or unacceptable. A major part of discovering love within yourself is to include love for yourself. As you begin to accept all parts of yourself then you can begin to love others for who they are.

If we have not cleared out the internal debris then our love will be blocked, distorted, or tainted. All too often, we want another to love us when we are unwilling to love ourself. We want the other to compensate for the love that we are denying our own self, and it doesn’t work!

If you are willing to love yourself unconditionally then life will present the opportunities for you to do that –  whether you are alone or with another. Some aspects of the hidden self can be found only in relationships, and some can be discovered only if we are alone.

Psychotherapy or some form of support system can be very helpful in your growth process. This environment may provide the safety to feel and to express those parts of yourself that once felt too scary to express.

Journaling can also be helpful. This is something that you can do at any time. It is most effective if you do it on a regular basis.

I have often heard someone say: “The love that I seek is seeking me.” This is always true – but it’s not necessarily in the form of a friend or lover. The love that is always seeking you is your own true nature! It is seeking you because it is you – following you like your own shadow, forever seeking to be recognized.

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‍In the previous teaching I defined The Shadow, described how the Shadow develops and talked about the importance of shadow work in the journey to wholeness.

In this teaching I will describe a way to integrate The Shadow. This is simply an overview – an entire book could be written on this topic.

Shadow work requires us to identify with parts of the self that don’t seem to be “me”– but really are. Shadow work reclaims parts of oneself that have been disowned and forgotten.

One of quickest ways to recognize the shadow is to work with the phenomenon of projection. One way the disowned shadow presents itself to us is in the form of projection: that which we refuse to see within our self will be perceived to be outside of us – typically embodied in other people. What we refuse to see within us, will appear to be outside of us – and will be problematic in some way.

To begin the process, look for any situation where you experience strong and enduring emotions or desires. This may appear as strongly attractive desires (obsession or infatuation) or as strongly repulsive emotions (fear, anger, or judgment.) Look for any situation where a particular emotion seems to be out of proportion to the circumstance.

With projection a trait or quality will appear to be 100% within someone else and 0% (zilch) within me. The perceived quality is typically seen to be either highly desirable or highly repulsive.

Once you identify a projection then 1) notice what it is that you are thinking and feeling when you get triggered; pay close attention to your self-talk; 2) notice what the quality is that you see in others – and that you believe is absent within yourself.

Here are some examples:

Adam is a quiet, peace-loving individual. He will tell you that he never gets angry, but he does become very anxious whenever someone else is expressing anger; he wants to “run and hide.” Adam sees anger as unnecessary, dangerous, and wishes that it never existed. Adams father was a rageaholic who controlled his children through threat and intimidation. Adam’s shadow holds repressed anger.

Betsy has an obsession for men who are in positions of power. She has fantasies of marrying or seducing men in power positions and has occasionally acted on some of these desires. Growing up in the Old South she came to believe that women were never powerful in and of themselves but always derived their power from the men in their lives. Betsy has the qualities of repressed power/authority/self-esteem in her shadow.

Charlie has no problem with anger but does have a deep disdain for “wimpy” men – especially for men who openly express their sadness or pain. He perceives these people to be “feeling sorry for themselves.” As a child Charlie was often belittled by his family for showing feelings of sadness. Charlie has repressed sadness/hurt in his shadow.

Once you have identified a quality then imagine that quality as if it were a part of yourself: consider it to be a subpersonality with a life of its own living beneath your awareness. Then begin to dialogue with this subpersonality. You can do the dialogue in writing or spoken aloud. Speak/ write as yourself and then give a voice to the subpersonality – the shadow quality. Continue this process as long as necessary.

Be patient. Stay with your feelings. Do not judge or edit the results. It becomes more fluent with practice.

Then, allow yourself to become the subpersonality – the projected quality. Let yourself feel the “hidden and forbidden” feelings without acting them out. Feel both the pleasure and the pain that arises in this process.

Shadow work is never easy – it takes courage, patience, and persistence, but the benefit is a new sense of freedom and empowerment. The journey to wholeness is an arduous one but the result is to become infinitely more alive than you can imagine.

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Every spiritual practice has potential perils or pitfalls. In religious literature these perils are depicted as a demon trying to seduce the avatar through pride, greed, or fear. In Christian scripture we see Satan tempting Jesus in the wilderness. In Buddhism we see Mara tempting Siddhartha as he meditated under the Bodhi tree. The Tempter / Temptress is an archetype that we see in many stories and myths.

Although we are personifying these delusions, they are not entities; they are simply habits of mind. They are much more like a computer program than a living being. Likewise, the “ego” is not a thing or an entity; it too is just a programmed habit pattern.

An enemy of spiritual practice is believing that our practice is liberating us from our ego-patterns when in fact it may be strengthening the ego. We can believe we are “making progress” but are unknowingly undermining our intention to be free from ego identification. Author Stephen Levine says, “The ego wants to give the eulogy at its own funeral!”

Every spiritual practice has potential perils. These perils (enemies) fall into two categories. One category is the far enemy, which is very much the opposite of our practice intention. This far enemy acts in direct opposition to the intention of our practice. The far enemy is relatively easy to recognize.

The other category, the near enemy, is far more stealthy and cunning than the far enemy. The near enemy can masquerade as the practice itself. It’s like a spy or a mole pretending to work for your government when he is really working to do bring it down.

Each spiritual practice has its specific perils. I will address perils prevalent in spiritually based mindfulness practice. We’ll look at some individual practices and describe the far and the near enemy of each.

The basic practice is that of awareness. The intention of this practice is to be continuously aware every moment without putting a filter, judgment, or interpretation on top of your primary experience. You seek to experience everything as it is, unclouded by delusion.

The far enemy of this practice is to go unconscious – and to not realize it. You may have had the experience of meditating for a period but when the bell rings you realize that you were not present – you were spaced out, daydreaming or caught up in some internal story. Paradoxically, when you recognize this, you have already begun to wake up – you are no longer unconscious. As soon as you see the enemy you have essentially defeated it!

Legend tells that long after the Buddha had his awakening, Mara would still periodically show up while the Buddha was meditating. The Buddha would open one eye, point to him and say, “I see you, Mara!” Mara then at once disappeared.

A near enemy of awareness practice is to engage in the practice, but to have a hidden agenda, such as making spiritual “progress” or resolving some emotional issue. You can think that you are just being when in fact you are quite engaged in doing something.

A far enemy can operate for minutes, or sometimes hours, before we detect it. But the near enemy can operate for months, or even years, before we recognize it. In this way the near enemy is far more dangerous than the far enemy.

Another key element in dharma practice is that of equanimity. It too has enemies – both far and near. The practice of equanimity is one of nonresistance: allowing and accepting every experience equally and unconditionally.

The far enemy of equanimity is aversion –  rejection of your present experience  – or craving an experience other than the one that’s here and now. Another form of the far enemy could include judging or trying to control your experience.

A near enemy of equanimity is spacey-ness, numbness, and denial masquerading as equanimity. Another particularly “sneaky” near enemy is that of bargaining: making an agreement to have equanimity with some experience, but doing so because you hope that this will make it go away!

When you discover one of these enemies at work be sure to avoid judging yourself and not be self-critical. On the contrary, when you discover this simply delight in the fact that you now see it; this is the first step toward defeating the enemy.

As one final example, let’s look at metta practice. Metta is the practice of cultivating mental states of love, kindness, and goodwill. The far enemy of metta is cruelty, condemnation, or hatred. A near enemy of metta – which can masquerade as the practice itself – is to engage in the practice as if you were doing it for someone else – and not yourself. One can (mis)use metta by wishing to fix or change another person (thereby, avoiding self-change). Another near enemy is to see someone as a victim. As such, we may use the practice to save or rescue someone – which is not its intention.

To be able to name the enemies – especially the near enemies – is one of many good reasons to work with a teacher whenever possible. If this is not possible then find a sangha or a dharma friend who can help you spot the enemies hiding in your spiritual practice.

Please don’t use this to engage in self-criticism or self-doubt. This is not written to sow fear or doubt in your mind but to simply help you be alert for the presence of a practice enemy. When it does arise do not see it as a failure or a mistake; this is simply how we all learn. Welcome every apparent mistake as a learning experience.

A student asked the Zen master, “How do I acquire good judgment?” The master smiled, closed his eyes, and then said, “Bad judgment.”

The only mistake is not learning from our mistakes. As we learn from them, they become our friends – they are no longer “the enemy.”

In Buddhist spirituality it is common for a disciple to take a vow called The Three Refuges. The Refuges are languaged as follows: I take refuge in the Buddha; I take refuge in the Dharma; I take refuge in the Sangha.

If understood in a religious sense these vows can mean that one takes refuge in the divine nature of the Buddha, in the Buddhist teachings and in the Buddhist community. In a less religious and a more personal sense, to “Take refuge in the Buddha” is to take refuge in one’s own Buddha-nature. In this context, to “Take refuge in the Dharma” can mean to take refuge in the practices that awaken our Buddha-nature; and “To take refuge in the Sangha” can mean to take refuge in the innate oneness of all beings as we awaken our Buddha-nature.

To take refuge in something means to make it our home – in the deepest sense of that word. Where we take refuge becomes the foundation of every life experience. When we take refuge in that which is real, we will be free from suffering; when we take refuge in that which is not real suffering is inevitable.

We are conditioned to take refuge in that which is not real and thus the human condition is one of suffering. Very early in life we are conditioned to take refuge in something outside of ourselves. As a child we take refuge in our parents and our family. As we mature the sense of self becomes more internal: we take refuge in the mind. We take refuge in an internalized mental image commonly called the ego or the personality.

The ego is the sense of “me” that I rely upon to survive and to understand the world around me. This ego is identified with a particular strategy developed for getting what we needed as a child. A particular strategy may be that of being nice, charming, or pleasing to others; or it may be a strategy of being aggressive, domineering or controlling; it may be a strategy of being intelligent, competent, and correct – these are but a few of the common patterns that form the core of the ego.

We do need certain skills to survive and to function in this world, but our true nature is much more than our survival skills. When we identify primarily with these survival strategies, we are seeking a false refuge and suffering is inevitable.

Spiritual practice allows us to recognize the false refuges that we have taken and release each one in favor of the true refuge. Rather than meet life with a particular mental strategy we meet each life experience with a nonattached clarity of awareness. We meet each experience with Buddha-nature as we let go of our attachment to old ways of being and sit in the clear space of wisdom and compassion. Each time we do this it weakens identification with the ego and contributes to the realization of who we truly are.

The practice is to recognize our attachment to a false refuge and then let go and take the true refuge. As we release these old patterns we may experience the underlying emotions of anger, fear, grief, guilt, and shame. Trying to avoid these feelings will keep us attached to the false refuge. Even if we are enmeshed in some form of resistance, we can meet that experience with openness, clarity, and compassion. We always start right where we are.

Taking the true refuge is not trying to attain a certain experience or accomplish a particular goal; it is holding the intention to return to the present moment and to meet each experience – no matter what it is – with a clear mind and an open heart: meeting each moment with wisdom and compassion. This is what it means to take true refuge.

In this teaching we look at several ways that you may be unintentionally weakening the effectiveness of your mindfulness practice. These errors are not limited to beginners, but they do tend to show up more in the early stages of practice. It’s skillful to always consider yourself a beginner because that will keep you open and teachable at every stage of your journey.

The mistakes identified are not so much a matter of doing something wrong as a matter of misunderstanding: making erroneous assumptions about the nature of spiritual practice itself. Spiritual practice involves a very different set of premises than those we use in our everyday life. It’s very easy to apply your everyday life mindset when engaging the practice. This can set the stage for future difficulties.

Five mistakes we frequently make:

#1 Misunderstanding the Scope of Spiritual Practice.

When I ask students about their practice, they will often respond by telling me about their daily sitting practice. Now, sitting is a principal form of practice, but often that’s as far as it goes. Yogis (students) will often seem pleased if they’ve been sitting often or apologetic if they’ve not been sitting regularly. What’s revealed in this response is that they tend to see sitting as just about the entirety of their practice, and not realizing that practice is about every aspect of our life – all day long, seven days a week. To attain deep states of awareness on your cushion and then live mindlessly the rest of your day is an incomplete practice. Any practice is better than none, but continuity of practice in everyday life is an extremely important element.

Although you may not always have the same precision and clarity that you have on the cushion, it’s still very important to be aware as continuously as possible throughout the day; and’s particularly important in those life situations where you typically lapse into unconsciousness. A little bit of awareness can save a whole lot of suffering. Always remember that nothing is outside the realm of your practice.

#2 Chasing a Particular Experience.

To some “meditation” means “to not think” while you are sitting perfectly still, bathing in an aura of bliss. Although this is not the stated intention of mindfulness practice, many unconsciously strive for this idealized self-image.

At a retreat, when I have a private session with a yogi, I will usually ask about their practice and how they would assess it. Often, she will say “I had a good meditation this morning” or “This has been a good retreat so far.” When I inquire into what is deemed a “good or bad meditation” she will typically respond by telling me how it felt physically or emotionally. Usually it boils down to this: “good” means pleasant and “bad” means unpleasant. Sometimes “good” means “I have no thoughts,” while “bad” means “I got lost in thinking.”  Even experienced yogis will find themselves chasing the pleasant feelings rather than simply being fully present to what is.

Our intention in mindfulness practice is to improve the quality of awareness irrespective of the specific content of awareness. A “good” meditation is when you can sustain a clear and continuous awareness of each experience that arises without grasping or resisting any of it. You can have a “good meditation” even though the content of your experience is quite unpleasant. You can have a “bad meditation” even if the content is blissful. Let any assessment rest on the quality of awareness, rather than the content.

However, I believe it’s best to avoid assessing your practice at all, unless you are working with a teacher who may need that information to give you some guidance. Mindfulness practice consists of being fully present to each experience without wanting the experience to be anything other than what is. There is no need to review a meditation and “grade it.” When the meditation period ends, let it go and stay in the present moment.

How do we avoid reality? Let us count the ways….

Why do we want to count the ways? Because one of the best ways to discover reality is to figure out how you unconsciously avoid it.

One could say: But what’s so great about reality? It sometimes isn’t very pretty. Why not forget the search for reality and just look for a good fantasy!”

This describes the lifestyle of millions of people – and the result of that isn’t very pretty either.

The only way to find true happiness and true peace of mind is to live in reality.

I define reality in a very simple way: reality is what is. Most of us live in a world created by the mind and its desire to be right, rather than live life as it really is. Why? Because at an early age reality seemed too hard to bear so, we chose to create a world in our own mind and to live in that world. (This may have been a whole series of choices made over time.) We rejected an external reality that we could not control for an internal world that we could control.

How many ways do we avoid reality? In today’s world, with the proliferation of technology and social media, we have access to virtually an endless number of distractions. We can distract ourselves through entertainment, planning, judging, complaining, bragging, shopping, indulging in fantasy, food, sex, drugs, alcohol etc. etc.

Even when we are at a retreat or in our daily spiritual practice, we still have countless distractions that are manufactured by the mind. And our internal distractions require no passwords or monthly fees! We have an internal entertainment center with many channels: the planning channel, judging channel, analyzing, reminiscing, fantasy channel…and everyone’s favorite – the story channel. Even though the story channel has many reruns we never get tired of it because it always stars….me!

The story channel is not just for entertainment when we meditate; it’s there 24/7 anytime we believe that we need it. We typically use it to divert our attention away from some pain that is emerging. We tell our story when we don’t want to feel something, and when we want to be right, or self-righteous, or make someone else wrong. (or “All of the above”!)

Rarely is any of this deliberate; it usually happens unconsciously – and lightning fast! Typically, we’re in the third or fourth “rerun” before we recognize that we’re lost in the story! Many people (perhaps most) never recognize they are caught in a story: believing that their story is the ultimate reality. Acting on this belief is the cause of an immense amount of suffering in our world.

What to do when you see that you’re caught up in a story? First, don’t judge yourself; that’s simply replacing one story with another. Drop all the stories – and if you cannot, just recognize that you are caught up in it. There is a way out.

The way out is to recognize what you are feeling. If you can name an emotion that’s a very good start – but don’t stop there, it’s necessary to feel your feelings fully and completely.

Bring awareness into the body. Emotions dissipate when they are felt completely, in the body, without any attachment to a story. Body awareness will always bring you into the reality of this present moment. Stories in the mind will take you further away from it. The great paradox is that we discover reality when we see how we avoid it – and then stop running away from it.

I will talk about chickens and eggs – and much more. What I want to say is less about biology than psychology/spirituality; however, biology provides us with a very concrete example of my topic in the scenario of the chicken and the egg.

I will discuss a developmental process that is exemplified in the relationship between the chicken and the egg. One might describe the process as follows: 1) the chicken develops within the egg 2) the chicken destroys the egg 3) the chicken develops without the egg 4) the chicken creates the egg.

Timing is crucial in this process. If the egg breaks before the chicken develops, the chicken will not survive. Yet if the shell does not break the chicken will not survive. So, the egg must stay intact until exactly the right time – which is when the chicken is able to destroy the structure that once supported its development.

This relationship of the chicken and the egg is a biological version of a universal process which involves the relationship between form/structure and essence. Structure or form holds and supports a developmental process that takes place within it. Essence refers to the essential nature of the process taking place. In this example, the eggshell is the form/structure, and the developing chicken is the essence.

In human experience structure can refer to forms such as a relationship, a school, a career, a culture, or a belief system. Some forms are external/visible, and others are internal/invisible. And the external forms also have an internal counterpart. For example, a relationship has an external context, such as a friendship, partnership, or marriage; and yet each of these forms has an internal psychological structure within each member in the relationship. Each member views the relationship within the context of his or her own internal psychological structure.

In our human experience we have many forms that hold the development of our body, mind, and our psyche. The womb is a form that holds the human body as it develops. The family is a form that holds the developing child. A school is a form that holds developing individuals. (Our former school is referred to as our alma mater i.e., our mother).

A marriage is a form that holds our development. A career is also a form that holds our development. We have various belief systems – religions philosophies and worldviews – that also serve as forms or structures for our development. All these forms can support our development, and yet at certain times they need to be released for our development to continue. Our physical body itself is a form intended for the development of our soul. We need to embrace the body and yet at a particular time we will need to release the body.

In any of these developmental process’s dysfunction can arise in one of two ways. If we hold on to a structure too long, then that structure may no longer support our development – and may even inhibit it. There is a time when it needs to be released. We may consciously or deliberately leave it or break it down, or the breakdown may seem to be forced upon us – such as our partner wanting a divorce, or our job being terminated. The more we are attached to that structure, the more painful it will be when that structure breaks down.

The other type of dysfunction occurs when the structure breaks down or is left too soon. For example, if a child is being advanced to the next grade before she is ready academically, she’s likely to have great difficulty functioning – and perhaps remedial work will be necessary. Otherwise, academic, behavioral, or psychological problems can result.

And I do not want to imply that it’s always easy to develop within a structure even if a particular structure does support our development. For example, perhaps a challenging relationship may be the perfect structure that we need for our development – even though it is not easy to do.

As an adult, I may find myself in a situation that I don’t like and yet it is necessary for my growth and development. If I drop the structure too quickly then I am likely to flounder in my development and may need to find a similar structure somewhere else.

As we mature psycho-spiritually we learn to release existing forms with less resistance and suffering; and we can more readily create new forms that we need for further development. Our structures become more flexible and permeable – and less rigid.

With spiritual maturity we also gain understanding as to when we need to leave a structure or to stay within it. Sometimes, rather than leave for destroy structure we may be able to change it so that it is more supportive for our growth.

As I use the terms, I am referring to external forms as well as internal, internal psychological forms and structures. The forms that most often need to be released are the internal psychological forms. Sometimes the internal psychological forms can be released without necessarily destroying the extra form.

And yet, in other circumstances, the only way that development can take place internally is to make an external change, such as ending a career or marriage. Sometimes external breakdown occurs even if we want or need it to continue that structure in our life. When this happens – painful though it may be – it is an excellent opportunity for an inquiry into the nature of the self without that familiar structure. I may find that I can grow without that structure, or perhaps I can create one that is more supportive of my development.

In Part II of this teaching, we will examine how this developmental principle relates to spiritual development and related practices.

From Tibetan Buddhism comes the story of a yogi/saint named Milarepa who lived about a thousand years ago. There are many legends about him. In one story Milarepa is living as a hermit in a small cottage on the side of a mountain. He would go out for long walks every day, and one day when Milarepa returned home he found that while he was gone seven demons had moved into his home!

His first response was to demand that they leave, for this was his home and they had no right to be there! He cried out in a loud voice, and at once three of the demons disappeared. But four remained. He once again shouted for them to leave. Still, the four demons remained.

He then realized that he needed a different tactic, so he smiled and said to them, “Welcome to my home, all that I have is yours;” whereupon three of the four demons disappeared. But the last demon, the biggest and the ugliest of them all remained and continued to rampage around his house.

At a loss for what to do, Milarepa finally said, “You may have not only my home, but my life as well;” and he walked up to the demon and proceeded to place his head in the demon’s mouth. The final demon then disappeared!

This story gives us clues as to how we can work with the “demons” in our own life. Our demons can come in many forms. They may range from a mild nuisance to a life-threatening condition; but they are each a form of suffering. And each one is rooted in craving, aversion, and delusion.

Some demons can be banished quickly once they are recognized. These may include the myriad of stories that we create about “how awful life is” because of a particular condition. Unrecognized these stories can cause much suffering; but when recognized we can simply choose to “not go there this time.” These demons may be defeated quickly if we are alert. The Buddha would sometimes vanquish the demon Mara simply by looking him in the eye and saying, “I see you, Mara!”

But other demons do not disappear quite so quickly. Some will disappear only when we open our hearts and meet them with equanimity. This is often the case with certain emotions or mind states. If we resist sadness, anger, fear, or loneliness they can seem to last forever. But when we meet these states with an open heart and an open mind they will eventually dissolve. If we meet them without identification, without resistance, and without acting them out they will eventually disappear, and we may discover the hidden gift that each one brings.

And then there are the great big demons! These are the chronic issues that can seem to plague us for a lifetime. It may be an addiction, depression, anxiety, chronic illness, or low self-esteem. To vanquish this demon, we must offer all of who we are. The only way to “destroy” this demon is to die to who we believe ourselves to be.

I am not suggesting an attitude of resignation or despair but simply a willingness to face our deepest fear and to “die to the self” to become free. In Twelve-Step recovery programs one admits his or her powerlessness over an addictive substance or behavior. The addict must be willing to die to their former self and to be reborn into sobriety. This process includes taking “a searching and fearless moral inventory” of one’s character and one’s past behavior. This can feel like a process of dismemberment!

In your daily life practice notice the appearance of the demons of craving, aversion, and delusion. Some of these demons may disappear at once simply by taking a deep breath and refusing to engage in a familiar story. Other demons will disappear only over time with the practice of equanimity: allowing the experience to be just as is for as long as it is present. And certain demons will disappear only when we are willing to “die” to our present sense of self and to repeatedly surrender fully into the present moment with no attachment to results.

This can take a lot of courage, and patience; but freedom is possible when we stay fully present in the moment and allow life to unfold as it does. Every demon can eventually be vanquished because each is impermanent and appears real only by delusion in the mind. Clear and sustained awareness dissolves this delusion. The bigger the demon the greater the freedom on the other side of it!

Almost everyone has struggled with difficult emotions. It can be incredibly challenging when we feel overwhelmed by feelings that we cannot control. At times like this mindfulness practice may seem like a pipedream!

To work with difficult emotions mindfully we need to discover what it is that makes these emotions difficult. Let’s look at what makes difficult emotions difficult.

Most emotions are quite natural and are not inherently difficult. Just watch young children – they have no trouble at all with their emotions. They simply feel them and express them quite naturally.

The difficulty lies in our resistance to certain emotions. This resistance may sometimes come from other people but as adults the only thing that matters is the resistance that comes from within our own self.

What causes this resistance? I have found three causes (which are not mutually exclusive). First, some emotions are inherently unpleasant. For example, fear, anger, guilt, jealousy, and grief are all accompanied by painful sensations in the body. But painful sensations are not inherently bad, nor are they unbearable. What makes them seem unbearable is the belief that “It shouldn’t be this way!” We often see pain itself as something that’s wrong or bad; we see it as “the enemy,” and as such, we then seek to destroy it.

It’s not wrong to alleviate pain, if it’s possible. But all too often our attempts to eradicate our pain simply suppresses, deflects, or displaces it such that it returns – and often with greater intensity.

What happens if we discover that we cannot escape our pain? We can choose the route of cynicism or depression, or we can realize that pain (as well as pleasure) is an inevitable part of being human. This realization may not diminish our pain, but it will most certainly diminish our suffering.

Another reason that we may resist some emotions is that emotions are not rational – they don’t follow the logic of the thinking mind. We may believe that emotions must have an external cause or that emotions need to be justified or explained. We may tell ourselves that we shouldn’t feel a certain way because we see no reason for it, then we squelch our feelings and push them underground.

Emotions do not need to be justified. Like the weather, they are the result of causes and conditions. Emotions do not need to be acted out, nor do we need a story to justify them. They simply need to be experienced.

The Zen master’s son died, and the master was weeping profusely. His students approached him with many questions about his tears.

“Roshi, did you not teach us that all life is impermanent? Did you not teach us that death is inevitable for everyone?”

“Yes, I did.”

“Then why are you crying?”

“I am crying because I am sad.”

Perhaps the primary reason that we resist emotions is because of our conditioning. We may have been taught by family, peers, and culture that certain emotions are not okay. This “teaching” comes primarily through the role modeling of parents and authority figures. It also comes from the messages we received whenever we expressed certain emotions. “Big boys don’t cry.” “Nice girls don’t get angry.” We developed patterns of resisting our emotions and eventually we didn’t even realize that we were doing it.

These suppressed emotions are often acted out unconsciously or they are stored in the body and can manifest as a variety of physical ailments. Emotions need to be recognized and experienced in a way that is not harmful to our self or others. Mindfulness of emotions is an important part of most any spiritual practice. In our next teaching we will explore some specific ways we can work with difficult emotions.

Generally, when we consider growth, we think of acquiring something; we think of adding on to what we already have. So, when we embark upon the journey of spiritual growth we tend to think of that growth as “more”. Eventually, we discover that “growth” is more a process of letting go than of acquisition. This is because we already are that which we seek to become but we must release all that stands in the way of that realization. The journey becomes one of letting go; but it’s letting go of that which is not truly real; we are letting go of something that in reality never existed. But to the ego it seems very real, it seems like part of “me” is being lost. That “me" to which I so tenaciously cling is the very thing that prohibits me from realizing what I most deeply want – my own true nature.

When we release something to which we are emotionally attached (real or not) the resulting emotion is grief. Since much of the spiritual journey is about letting go, we need to make friends with grief. To “make friends” with grief doesn’t mean to cling to it or dramatize it. It means to allow it rather than wallow in it.

We each have own our pattern and style for grieving. This pattern is influenced by our culture, our ethnicity, our family background, our age, our gender, and our personal temperament. Many of us have been conditioned to believe that it is not okay to grieve or that grief should be expressed only in certain ways. As a result, many people carry much unresolved grief inside them.

The first step in healthy grieving is to remove any shame that may arise when we grieve. We must learn that it is natural to grieve when we experience a loss, and that we do not need to hide our grief.

Grief consists of an ensemble of emotions: anger, sadness, and often fear, guilt, or regret. Early on, denial is a natural part of the process – especially if the loss is a big one or if the emotional connection to the loss person or object is strong.

Grief has its own timetable; we cannot control the beginning or the ending. Some experiences of grief may seem disproportionate to the objective value of the loss, but there is good reason for this: any loss may trigger unresolved grief from earlier losses; we may be grieving many things at once without realizing it.

Our unmet childhood needs must be grieved to be healed. Grief is the healing feeling. We grieve what we have had and lost, we grieve what we needed but never received; we grieve the lost hopes, dreams, and opportunities that seem gone forever. And as we grow older, we see that our life begins to consist of more losses than gains, more endings than beginnings.

The deepest of all human desire is for the realization of our own true nature –  our innate divinity. Our soul grieves its separation from the divine; feeling that grief is the path of return.

Our poet friend Rumi reminds us repeatedly that the most direct road to God is embracing the pain in our heart.

Don’t run away from grief, o soul

Look for the remedy inside the pain…

because the ROSE came from the thorn

and the RUBY came from a stone.

‍

Are you lonely? If so, you are not alone. (Maybe that should make you less lonely!) All joking aside, loneliness is a serious issue – for all of us.

And, perhaps it’s more widespread than you think. A recent study by Cigna Insurance of 20,000 people in the US found that nearly 50% reported feeling lonely most of the time. And curiously, the age group reporting the highest score for loneliness were the ages 18-37.

One might think that social media would reduce our loneliness, but perhaps the opposite is occurring. In one study of Americans aged 19-32, the top 25% of social media users were twice as likely to report feeling lonely as those using it the least.

And the issue is not limited to Americans. Studies in Japan and the UK show equivalent results. 40% of British surveyed reported that their primary social contact was a pet or their television. This issue is so common that the British government has created a cabinet-level position titled “Minister of Loneliness.”  

Loneliness is not just about how we feel emotionally; there are serious health consequences as well. A 2010 Brigham Young University study found that chronic loneliness significantly decreases one’s life span by the same amount as that of smoking ¾ pack of cigarettes a day. It also leads to a greater risk of many health issues: heart disease, stroke, cancer and others.

Loneliness may be categorized into three general types, which are not mutually exclusive.

The first type could be named Circumstantial Loneliness. This is the loneliness that often arises when we are deprived of being with someone with whom we are emotionally attached. This can occur when someone dies, or a relationship ends. It also arises when we are geographically separated from someone we are accustomed to being with.

This form of loneliness is usually temporary and generally fades away after grieving the loss and adjusting to the new circumstances.

A second form is Psychological Loneliness. This type of loneliness tends to be chronic; it is almost always present to some degree, and generally does not disappear with time. The cause of this form of loneliness is in the past and may have little to do with present circumstances – although it can be worsened by present-time events or circumstances.

The source of this loneliness is generally a lack of appropriate bonding or connection with significant others during our childhood. Parent-figures may have been physically absent or emotionally unable to create healthy bonding with their children. There are many other factors that may contribute to this issue.

The present moment social contact may temporarily cover up this feeling – but it usually returns with time; it’s almost always in the background of one’s awareness.

Generally speaking, some form of therapy is usually necessary. This “therapy” can take many different forms, but it most always requires reviewing one’s personal history, uncovering repressed emotions and unmet needs, and mourning these losses from the past.

The third form of loneliness is so common that it’s generally repressed and unrecognized. This type might be called Existential Loneliness. The cause of this loneliness is a sense of separation from our own essential nature – our true self. This is sometimes referred to as “the human condition” and is present any time one is identified with the ego. The Buddha referred to this condition as “dukkha” –which is often translated as suffering or dissatisfaction.

In this form of loneliness, the individual feels a sense of primal alienation from life itself. This is a very painful experience and is usually covered up through a variety of defense mechanisms. Our lifestyle, our relationships, and our identity itself are shaped by our response to this experience of primal loneliness.

Generally, this form of loneliness can be dissolved only through some form of spiritual practice which acknowledges some type of a Higher Power (which can take many forms.) This Higher Power may be seen as a deity, a belief system, a spiritual practice, or some type of ritual. This form of spirituality is transformative and will radically change our understanding of who we are and why we are alive today.

This practice does not see loneliness itself as the problem but focuses primarily on our awareness and our attitude toward the loneliness. Ultimately, we discover that what we are seeking is the seeker itself. Loneliness is a problem only to the extent that we identify with it and make it real; it is dissolved not by trying to fix it but by seeing its unreality (i.e., emptiness).

“Instead of searching for what you do not have, find out what it is that you have never lost.”  

Shame is endemic in our culture. As such, it may be difficult to recognize; it is present in hidden ways. Shame can be subtle and may appear in many guises. If we don’t appear a certain way act or appear a particular way, we may feel some shame. We are told that our value is in what we own, or what we know, or the titles we hold. Our culture says that you must prove your worth; just being yourself is not enough. So, we judge ourselves unmercifully in an attempt to be acceptable.

Meditation teacher Sharon Salzburg tells a story about a memorable conversation she had with His Holiness, the Dalai Lama, while she was in India. At one point during an event, she had the opportunity to ask the Dalai Lama a question, so she ventured, “Your Holiness, what do you think about self-hatred? He looked at her seeming confused and asked: “What’s that?” He had no comprehension whatsoever of the concept of self-hatred.

This powerfully sums up a fundamental difference between our Western, ambition-focused value system and the Buddhist moral compass. While Sharon came to meditation as a result of dealing with feelings of inadequacy and self-judgment for her entire adult life, the Dalai Lama didn’t even know what self-hatred meant. When she explained to him the cycle of self-judgment, guilt, unproductive thought patterns  –  he asked her, “How could you ever think of yourself in that way?” and then explained that we all have Buddha-nature and that we are inherently good.

Author John Bradshaw writes, “Toxic shame gives you a sense of worthlessness, a sense of failing and falling short as a human being. Toxic shame is a rupture of the self with the Self.”

Healing from shame is a journey of recovery. While guilt can be relieved by making amends, paying restitution, or doing some form of penance, shame cannot be healed through any particular action. It is the result of long-term conditioning; it takes more time to recover from it.

Shame is an emotion-backed belief that one is defective, inferior, unworthy, or unlovable. It’s characterized by a tendency to hide and to avoid intimate self-disclosure. One of the most effective remedies for shame is to experience being seen and deeply heard in a safe and affirming environment. One’s perceived badness and defectiveness must be brought into the light of day, and then embraced with acceptance and kindness. To love oneself we may have to experience love from others first.

We seldom recover in isolation. One of the hidden dangers in the recovery process is that the shame-based person may try to go it alone. “I can do this myself – there’s no reason to hang out my dirty laundry for everyone to see.” Going it alone rarely ever works; ultimately, we must learn to love all aspects of our self. Yet, the shamed-based individual has no idea what that even means or how to begin…it’s somewhat like the Dalai Lama’s situation in reverse.

A shame-based individual generally has low self-esteem. This low self-esteem is maintained by negative self-talk –  most of which is below the level of consciousness. Recognizing this self-talk and interrupting the negative messages is immensely helpful. Likewise, recognizing and challenging faulty thinking patterns may be necessary. For example, “Just because someone does not like me does not mean that I am a bad person.”

Learn how to separate guilt from shame. It’s crucial to realize that “making a mistake does not make me a mistake.” Feelings of anger or grief may lie beneath the shame. Accepting these emotions and listening to them is a big step toward healing shame. Self-expression – verbal, written or artistic – can also be helpful, if no self-judgment is applied.

Watch for any feeling of being “not okay.” Be alert for any self-talk that wants to make you bad, flawed, or defective. Challenge that voice with a stronger voice that knows that you are inherently good and worthy of love. Cultivate relationships with individuals who are affirming and supportive of you. Try to avoid toxic individuals. And don’t ever let anyone shame you.

Watch for signs of perfectionism, arrogance, or aggressiveness that might be hiding some underlying shame. It’s good to set goals, but if you don’t achieve a desired goal, it does not make you a failure in any way whatsoever. Be aware of any self-talk that says, “In order to be okay or acceptable, I must do, have, or be something other than what I am right now”.

And finally, spiritual practice can help to heal shame. Awareness is crucial – especially awareness of thoughts and emotions. Being aware of self-talk is essential to changing it. And, simply accepting every experience – without judgment – gives you a solid foundation for healing shame.

Most forms of spiritual practice have the premise that your essential nature is good, true, and beautiful. This true nature can never be sullied by anyone – including yourself. Your spiritual practice is an expression of your basic goodness; never allow shame to cloud or to disrupt it.

Finally, remember that patience is the highest form of faith. You don’t need to beat yourself up by striving, pushing, or trying to control your healing process. Know that your true self is in charge and that it will bring you home to itself – one step at a time.

Community is an essential aspect of spiritual practice. Your sangha, church, temple, or tribe should consist of individuals who affirm and support your basic goodness. Look for every opportunity to see that within yourself.

Whether it is your personal world or the entire world that appears to be falling apart, it is a very difficult experience for any of us.

Paradoxically, these times of upheaval can be extraordinary opportunities for personal and social transformation – if we engage them with great skill and wisdom.

The skill needed is to be willing and able to experience your inner and outer worlds with clear awareness and with an open heart – and without creating a story about what is occurring. The “story” is typically one of blame or victimization. It’s often a form of “I told you so.” This story usually reinforces your sense of identity.

The wisdom needed is to recognize that our distress is caused not so much by change itself as it is the threat to your sense of identity that change can foster. What is really falling apart is your internal belief structures. The deepest of these belief structures is your sense of self-identity.

Your sense of self is internal, but it is also projected outward onto other persons, organizations, and the world around you. When there are changes in these external projections of self then changes in the world can create the feeling that your identity is falling apart.

When relationships, careers or social structures end it can feel as if part of you has died. If a person identifies with his career and this identification supports his sense of worthiness and self-esteem, then when the career ends, so may his feeling of value and self-esteem. He may then sink into a deep depression. When someone experiences a divorce, she will often experience a sense of deep loneliness and sense of not being loveable or accepted by others. This too can result in feeling very depressed.

If you can consciously allow yourself to experience these feelings without becoming lost in them, then a much deeper sense of self will eventually emerge – a self that is not defined by others or by the world. You then experience your essential nature more directly and you will function more freely in your everyday life.

This process essentially reverses the ego-construction process by which your true nature became identified with a limited sense of self defined by external factors. This occurs in your childhood. By the time we reach adulthood your essential nature is trapped in several layers of identification that stifles our freedom, your creativity, and your ability to love unconditionally.

These layers of identification are usually supported by external circumstances. You then live with the fear of losing this external support. And when these supports break down, you may suffer greatly.

If you bring awareness and nonresistance to your suffering, then you begin the process of transformation. This can be very painful, but it is ultimately very freeing.

The key is to stay aware, to stay open to change, to be willing to experience discomfort and to trust the process as it unfolds.

Be the observer of it all. The observer is not touched by any change – it is the doorway to our true self. As your identity shifts to the witness-self, the breakdowns, and the experiences of falling apart are seen as opportunities to be freed from the prison of the ego and to experience true nature more clearly and directly.

It may be difficult for you to think that anger has any wisdom in it. You, like many of us, may equate anger with violence, abuse or bullying. And, like many of us, you may have experienced anger only in its harmful and destructive form. Many of us have been hurt by this expression of anger.

Because this view of anger is so prevalent, many of us have learned to deny or suppress our anger. And as spiritual seekers, we may tend to see anger as “unspiritual” and anathema to the love that we want to express.

But anger, when denied or repressed, can lead to a great many difficulties. Repressed anger can morph into depression, anxiety, and a variety of physical ailments. It can appear as passive-aggressive behavior. This is when someone acts out their buried anger in passive ways –  such as being late or not showing up for appointments, not keeping promises, or not taking responsibility for one’s decisions.

A healthy response to anger is neither repression nor acting it out. A healthy response to anger is to feel it (physically and emotionally) and to focus on your own internal experience rather than the transgressions of another. (Sometimes it is helpful to discharge the anger in a nonharmful way. This does not dissolve the anger, but it can help you to calm down and gain some clarity.)

This doesn’t mean that you must always absolve others of accountability or facing the consequences of their behavior. And it does not mean that the issue is “all yours” either. (We can mistakenly believe that the problem is either “all theirs” or “all mine”. Always consider both the subjective and objective aspects of every situation involving anger.)  Unless immediate action is mandatory, it’s better to look inward first; then if you do act, it’s more likely to be a conscious response rather than an unconscious reaction.

Explore this experience called “anger.” Focus first on your own physical experience. “What do you feel in the body?” Allow whatever is present to be there. Stay with it for a while. Breathe.

Then explore the statement in the anger. What words arise? Initially they may be focused on the other. (EG they shouldn’t have done that… etc.). Try to shift the focus to your own personal experience. (EG, I think… I want… I need …) See what needs or desires are embedded in the anger. Identify and feel these desires fully.

As you feel the desire directly and fully (without focusing on the object of desire) you may become aware of a memory, belief or conditioning that surrounds the desire itself. You will eventually experience a wound that has blocked you from making choices or taking action that will fulfill this desire. (It’s not the wound itself, but our avoidance of it that’s the blockage.)

Once again, the key is to be aware of your experience and allowing it to be there without acting on it or being lost in a story that the mind is spinning. This process will eventually lead to a much deeper fulfillment of the desire than you could receive from anything outside yourself. You can find within yourself that which you were seeking from another – and much more.

This practice will also give you the ability to say “No” to what you don’t need; it can help you set boundaries that are appropriate for your life.

Anger can be the fuel that propels you to stretch and to grow beyond your present comfort zone. It can energize you to make the needed changes in your life – and (perhaps) in the world.

Returning to the issue of addressing anger within the context of spiritual practice: A Buddhist practitioner might ask the following questions:

Isn’t anger aversion?

Isn’t desire craving?

Aren’t craving and aversion causes of suffering?

Shouldn’t I try to let go of craving and aversion?

The answers are Yes, Yes, Yes and No.

You can’t let go of craving and aversion by trying to let go of craving and aversion. “Trying” simply fosters more craving and more aversion. Craving and aversion will cease when we see clearly what it is and allow it to be – just as it is.

Anger disappears when you gain insight into how the anger arises and when you see what’s behind it; the anger then transforms into wisdom and power. Skillful awareness of anger can lead to awakening into a new dimension of your life.

Finally, a lesson on anger from Mahatma Gandhi:

I have learnt through bitter experience this one supreme lesson: to conserve my anger, and as heat conserved is transmuted into energy, even so our anger controlled can be transmuted into a power which can move the world.

When you hear the word chaos what do you think of…confusion… turmoil…. danger?

What if you were to see it as an opportunity?

The spiritual practice of Dancing with Chaos is exactly that: seeing chaos as an opportunity for transformation.

To engage the practice of Dancing with Chaos, we must first re-educate ourselves in the meaning of the word. The word chaos comes from the Greek word khaos which means “formless primordial space.” This refers to the Greek myth in which Gaia (Earth) was formed from khaos. Our earth was formed from chaos; our solar system, our galaxy, our universe was formed from chaos.

Chaos is an opportunity for a new birth. The philosopher Nietzsche wrote “One must allow chaos within oneself to give birth to a dancing star.”

The practice of Dancing with Chaos is that of using chaotic life circumstances (internal or external) to birth a new life; it means opening to chaos rather than recoiling from it or trying to control it. Dancing with Chaos is a skillful surrender into the experience of chaos.

To Dance with Chaos means to find its rhythm and to move with it. Chaos may seem to have no rhythm, but the science of Chaos Theory shows us that within the appearance of chaos lies a hidden order that is quite profound…and quite beautiful! This hidden order emerges from within the chaos itself if we have the eyes to see it.

Dancing with chaos rather than trying to control it will frighten the ego; it undermines the ego’s illusion of control. Letting go feels like loss, and even like death.

In a way, it is a death, but not the death of anything real; it is the death of an illusion. To the caterpillar, entering its cocoon and gradually turning into mush might look like death, but it’s the birth into a new way of being. The caterpillar dies (or so it seems) and it is gone – yet it lives on in the butterfly, in a way that would be incomprehensible to a caterpillar.

The obvious enemy of this practice is the ego’s attempt to control or destroy chaos to restore its illusory comfort. But there is another (near) enemy which is much more subtle; it may masquerade as practice itself – but is not. Some folks seem to live their life in eternal chaos because they unconsciously create confusion through poor communications, unclear boundaries, or an unwillingness to make responsible choices. They may do this because it feels familiar, or it may be a way of manipulating others – or for any number of other reasons. This is not the practice of Dancing with Chaos.

You need not try to create chaos or to perpetuate it; strive to live an orderly and responsible life, but when your life brings chaos unbidden, see it as an opportunity to dance with it rather than resist. You can see chaos as a way that the universe is seeking to evolve through you. Be curious; open and look for what is seeking to emerge – and dance.

Written during the COVID-19 Pandemic

These words from the 23rd Psalm are typically used in a metaphorical sense but now they seem more real. Death, disease, and suffering are all around us. Many of us have become prisoners in our own home; others are risking their lives to earn a living. Many are grieving the loss of loved ones. Many are grieving the loss of their income, job, or business. Death and the shadow of death abounds. As of July 2023, the USA has lost 1.1 million of its citizens to the COVID-19 virus.

But even before the virus appeared, all was not well. The shadow of death was very much present, but it seemed not as contagious. Over 20,000 individuals were killed by gun violence. Nearly 50,000 people killed themselves. Nearly 80,000 people died from opioid overdoses. More than 10 million individuals (mostly women) were physically assaulted by their domestic partners.

I am not trying to ruin your day, but this is happening right now –  some of it in your own neighborhood. Yet, we are not as frightened by these numbers because most of us believe we are immune to these maladies. It is sad; but it is someone else’s sadness.

Yes, many remarkable things are being done by many heroic (and ordinary) individuals; and we do have the potential to heal and to transform our world. But healing will not occur until we address the reality of our life as it is right now.

Some might be thinking, “How can I look at all of this without falling into despair?” “How can I remain positive when all of this is in my face?”  “How can this be addressed so that we can be a better people?”

The answer – in a word – is compassion.

Compassion…what is it?

It can be many things – it is too big to be pinned down by a single definition. We might best understand it by first looking at what it is not.

It is not pity. Pity sees the other as a victim and sees myself as a hero or savior:  I might even feel a sense of superiority. Pity secretly says, “Thank God that’s not me.”

Just notice what you feel when you see a beggar on the street corner. Of course, not everyone will feel the same thing, but it is immensely helpful to notice your own feelings rather than trying figure how much to give or to justify (to yourself) not giving anything. It may be uncomfortable to do this – but it is very revealing. And what is revealed can be healed.

Compassion is not guilt. Sometimes we respond to suffering from a feeling of guilt; we may offer help to others just to assuage our own guilt. Or perhaps we feel guilty if we choose not to help someone out. Compassion is not predicated upon any action or inaction; it is an internal state. We may act with compassion, but whether we do or do not we are not motivated by guilt or pity.

Compassion is not a feeling of depression or despair. We may believe that if we feel terrible enough then we have done our duty. Or we may be vicariously living out repressed feelings of depression or despair by projecting it onto another.

Some individuals find that they will unconsciously merge with the feelings of another person. They may feel what others are feeling –  but lose themselves in that feeling. They seem unable to differentiate between their own feelings and those of another. This is not compassion.

With true compassion we do not lose our sense of self; we keep our own identity. We have can boundaries, but the boundaries are flexible and can be opened if we choose – or we can close them when necessary. Healthy boundaries are more like a gate than a wall.

So, what is compassion? I cannot define it, but I can suggest ways in which you can experience it for yourself.

Compassion begins by being willing to feel – to first feel the depths of your own pain. Do this without internal commentary or interpretation of your experience if you are able. Do not compare this experience with anything in the past or something hoped for in the future. Watch out for overtones of self-pity, resentment, or idealism. Simply be willing to feel what you feel without adding anything to it; open your heart to all of it. Be kind to yourself; listen to your body and gently accept all the places that hurt.

Strange as it may sound, when you are willing to feel pain in this way you diminish your suffering. You will experience the difference between pain and suffering. You will see the difference between that which is inevitable and that which you can avoid. The difference is vast – and it changes everything.

Compassion is a way to overcome suffering. With compassion you face suffering to end suffering; first your own and then that of others. As you do this you will see that suffering is not your personal possession, and it is not your fault. Much of our suffering is due to the belief that we are alone or that something is wrong with us. When suffering is recognized as universal it morphs into compassion.

Much suffering arises when we try to hide our pain, out of shame or the fear of rejection. We need not hide our suffering – nor need we wear it as a badge of honor, pointing to our specialness. (No one has suffered as much as I have!)

When you stop trying to manipulate suffering it lessens immediately. Compassion is simply choosing to keep your heart open as you walk through the dark valley…one step at a time. Compassion is one of the most powerful forces for healing there is.

Grief can be the garden of compassion if you keep your heart open through everything. Your pain can become your greatest ally in your life’s search for love and wisdom.

Rumi

No one wants to be wounded, yet almost everyone is at one time or another. Some wounds are small, some are very large. Some wounds are physical, some are psychological, and some are both. All wounds require healing; psychological wounds are usually more complex and take longer to heal. For example, an abused child will feel the psychological wounds long after his physical wounds heal.

Our relationship to our pain is a key factor in how well the wound heals and whether it becomes a “sacred wound.” A “sacred wound” is a wound that opens us up to a deeper and more sacred place within our self – it opens us to our own soul. Our broken humanness is an opportunity for the soul to reveal herself. The broken places may allow our inner light to shine through.

Our deeper psychological wounds often involve some form of betrayal. A betrayal always involves a broken trust. The deeper the trust, the deeper the betrayal – and the deeper the wound. The deeper the wound, the greater the possible blessing.

Children innately trust adults, especially parents, relatives, teachers and (sometimes) clergy. When one of these is the perpetrator of abuse there will be a deep wound in the child’s psyche and the healing process will be long and complex.

Virtually every sage and saint has been betrayed by someone in their lifetime; and in most cases, he himself has been seen as a betrayer. Jesus of Nazareth was famously betrayed by his own disciple, Judas; and Gautama the Buddha was betrayed by his own cousin, Devadatta, who, on several occasions, tried to assassinate him. Conversely, Jesus was seen by the Jewish Zealots as one who had betrayed their cause, and Gautama could be seen as seen as a betrayer when he left his family for a six-year quest for enlightenment.

We must see the potential for betrayal whenever we place our trust in someone or something that is inherently untrustworthy. Some things may be more trustworthy than others, however, everyone and everything in this temporal universe is inherently untrustworthy because no one or nothing is permanent or lasting – everyone will die; everything will decay.

When we place our faith within the relative world of time and space, we will inevitably experience disillusionment, disenchantment, and betrayal. When this experience does occur it is important not to view this as a failure of our own or as an evil deed by someone else, but rather see that it is the natural consequence of expecting perfection from a world that is not perfect and ultimately, is not real.

Even if our wound does not involve an overt act of betrayal, it is important to examine the inner feeling of betrayal that arises within us when our self-talk is “Something has gone terribly wrong… This should not be!” Our suffering is largely the result of this erroneous assumption rather than from the pain itself.

These experiences can be very painful indeed, but pain is not the sign of a broken universe. Pain is an indicator that something needs our attention; it may be an indicator that something needs to be released.

Knowing all of this is true does not mean that it isn’t perfectly normal to get lost in the story that surrounds our suffering. At times of deep trauma our story may seem like the only thing that we have to hold on to. It’s very important to be very patient with others – and even more patient with yourself  – when we return to the story again and again. Healing has its own timetable.

Kahlil Gibran tells us, “Your pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses your understating.”

Our understanding is enclosed in our familial and cultural conditioning which must be broken through to discover the infinite wisdom that lies within us.

Ultimately, the sacred wound can lead us to a life heretofore not accessible to our conscious awareness – and, to the experience of peace beyond all human understanding.

Surrender is at the foundation of all transformative spiritual practice. it feels difficult because we are accustomed to being in charge – or at least trying to be in charge. Perhaps this is why surrender is at the core of so many spiritual practices. It is anathema to our egocentric way of living.

It is easier to describe what surrender is not, than to describe what it is.

It is not giving your power of choice over to another person, to an organization, or to a doctrine. It is not resignation. It is not “giving up” in despair and hopelessness. It is not apathetically drifting through life.

Surrender is an attitude of nonresistance. It is the practice of nonattachment to the outcome of your actions. It is letting go of unnecessary efforting or striving.

The Chinese might say that it is “Living in the Tao.”

This is the heart of all true spiritual practice because it melts the ego structure and allows true nature to express itself more in your life; it fully allows you to be who you really are.

With this practice you may discover that your life has a Life of its own.

How to surrender? Difficult to answer because it is not something you can “do.”  It is the opposite of doing.

This dilemma is best illustrated with a story.

A traveler from the city became hopelessly lost in the countryside. After fruitless wandering he discovered a farmhouse and a gentleman sitting on the porch. Turning his car up into the driveway, the stranger stuck his head out the window and said, “I am trying to get to Jonesville, but I’ve lost my way. Can you give me directions to Jonesville?”

The farmer sauntered over to the car and stood there with a puzzled look on his face. He looked in every direction several times. Then he looked at the man in the car and replied, “Well sir, I don’t believe that you can get there from here. If I were you, I would start from somewhere else.”

We might respond to the question of “How to surrender?” in much the same way. Ironically, the best way seems to be setting the intention to surrender and then observing all the parts of yourself that don’t want to surrender.

Create the intention to surrender and then observe all internal resistance to that intention as it arises. The resistance might be an aversion to your present experience or that of craving an experience that’s not here. Either way, it’s insisting that you’re here and now experience be other than what it is.

Essentially, surrender means that you accept each moment’s experience no matter what it is. This teaching refers primarily to your personal, subjective experiences. If you find it necessary to change the external conditions of your life, then if it’s helpful or necessary, do so  – but always allow your internal experience to be whatever it is.

For example, if you do not feel well, and believe you might be ill, then take whatever steps you can to facilitate healing and relief; but as you do that, continue to accept each internal experience as it is.

Or if not; then simply notice the nature of your resistance and accept that without creating a story about it. Just note “resistance” or “craving” and let it be – and then be present to whatever arises next.

Do not try to surrender, just notice when and how you are not practicing it – and then surrender any attempt to change anything in the field of your experience. Go ahead and make whatever changes you consider necessary in your life but stay present to your moment-by-moment experience as you do so – whether you get what you want or not.

A by-product of surrender is a deep peace and a sense of being at ease in any situation. But don’t chase that experience of peace. Remember, “You can’t get there from here.”

“We don’t know.” “We don’t have enough information.” “We’re not sure what to do right now.”

You may hear these words often in today’s news. It is ironic that in this age when we are accustomed to having all our questions answered with a single command, (Hey google) we know extraordinarily little about some of the most crucial questions facing us today. This creates a considerable amount of anxiety in our world today.

The human mind is not comfortable with not knowing – particularly when it involves managing our lives. The mind craves the familiar, the certain, the “tried and true;” and it shrinks mightily from the experience of not knowing.

Understanding, planning, and predicting are gears that turn the engine of our modern world. We want leaders who “have a handle on things.” (Very few politicians would be elected to office on a “Don’t Know” platform!) Even when we truly do not know anything, we are loath to accept that fact, to ourselves as well as to others. The mind creates all manner of beliefs, theories, and fantasies to mitigate the anxiety of not knowing.

This aversion to the unknown runs very deep –  it originates in our drive for self-preservation. The unknown harbors the potential for danger: “What I don’t know can hurt me.” The old mind will cling to outmoded beliefs no matter how much suffering it causes, because it helps us feel safe. “Better the devil you know” is our unspoken mantra.

And yet, there is little that we can do to control the future. We never know what will happen next – but we work extremely hard to avoid acknowledging that fact. We use planning as a buffer against the feeling of uncertainty – but often it does not work very well. And when our plans are disrupted, we usually feel disappointment or anger. Underlying these feelings lies the deep anxiety of having little control over our destiny.

In some spiritual practices the state of not knowing is not only tolerated, but it is cultivated; not knowing is used as a vehicle for awakening. “Don’t Know” Mind is a signature meditation practice in Korean Zen, as well as other schools of Buddhism. The Japanese Zen master Suzuki Roshi referred to this state of not knowing as Beginner’s Mind: the mind that is fresh and new in every moment. This is the mind that knows nothing and holds the potential for everything. Beginner’s Mind is fertile ground for unique and creative possibilities – and for enlightenment.

The essence of this practice in everyday life is to simply live in the reality that you truly do not know what the future holds and that you are not in control of most events in your life. To engage this practice, you need to allow any feelings to arise that are related to "Don’t Know Mind" – typically it is fear or anxiety.

One way to engage this practice is to first acknowledge any plans that you need to make, and then make them. Then completely forget about them until you need to act. Set goals if you wish. Name what you need to do right now. Then let that go and live fully in the present moment.

As you focus entirely on the here and now notice feelings that arise. Notice when your mind jumps to the future: planning, worry, daydreaming, hoping. And if you can, notice the feeling that immediately preceded the jump out of the present moment. (E.g., uneasiness, anxiety, boredom….) This may be challenging at first, but with practice you can become aware of the feeling as it arises, and then you can choose to stay with the feeling itself rather than unconsciously split off from it.

Breathe. Notice physical sensations. Notice emotions. Notice memories and thoughts. Allow everything and be open to each feeling. Also, notice the general kind of thought that grabs your attention. Rehearsing a future event? Notice if fear is present. Reminiscing or rehashing the past? Notice if grief or remorse is present. Do not analyze or interpret – just be aware in each moment.

Eventually, you may notice that you are responding to situations in your life more effectively than if you had a plan for them. You may notice more serendipitous events in your life. You begin to trust spontaneity. You may notice more creative ideas arising; creativity flows naturally if we give it space to grow. A mind that is not preoccupied is free.

And when you do decide or act on something, do it and then let go of all attachment to outcome. This practice is always an end in itself.

If you can use these times of uncertainty to practice ‘Don’t Know Mind” then you will not only endure this crisis, but you can be transformed by it. And when the time comes, you will not just “return to normal” but you will be a different person and can be part of creating a different and better world. This time of uncertainty can amplify your suffering, or it can become a launching pad for freedom from it. It all depends on how you choose to live it each moment.

Self as a concept or image is not the same as self as an experienced reality. The concept of self is largely static and fixed while the direct experience of self is constantly changing.

Now, we explore another enigmatic quality of the self, and that is its dual nature. To illustrate the dual nature of the self, we turn to the field of quantum physics – to the dual nature of subatomic particles. Let us consider the electron. The electron can be seen to exist locally as a particle or non-locally as a wave. The electron may be both a particle and a wave at the same time. The way that it appears to us depends upon how we choose to observe it. From one point of view, it behaves like a particle, and yet, from another point of view it behaves like a wave. It seems to be both finite and infinite at the same time: a finite particle when observed, and a wave field of infinite dimensions when not observed.

We can consider the self as being like the electron in certain ways. When awareness is focused on myself, that self can seem very solid, but when my awareness is not focused on myself the self can seem to disappear! For example, imagine that you are engrossed in reading a book. When you are completely “into the book” there (seemingly) is no “you,” there is only the contents of your mind as you read the book. Then, imagine that someone walks into the room and says, “What are you reading?” Suddenly, in your awareness, you “appear” – along with the book in your hand and the image of the other person in the room!

To take our thought experiment a step further, remember when you first heard your alarm clock go off this morning. Seemingly, out of nowhere, “you” appeared, along with the sound of the alarm, the feeling of the bed and the covers, and whatever thoughts and desires might have arisen at the time. Where did all of this come from? Where were “you” five seconds before the alarm rang?

Let us draw upon yet another analogy from our everyday life. Let’s say that you are taking a walk when you begin to feel raindrops falling. You will think, “It’s raining!” Now let us ask, what is “it” that is raining? Where is the rain coming from? Who put the rain there? Of course, the answer is that rain “just happens;” it seems to come out of nowhere. The rain appears when the conditions are present for rain to appear. Where is the rain five seconds before it crystallizes into a snowflake and then melts into a raindrop? Of course, it is everywhere … in the form of water vapor. Given certain conditions the invisible water vapor materializes into a localized and visible form known as rain.

We can consider the self as having a dual nature like an electron or an H2O molecule which can appear as finite or infinite depending upon existing conditions. The self can appear both finite and infinite; the existing conditions, which include the nature and quality of our awareness, will determine how (and if) the self is experienced.

An interesting mindfulness practice is to simply be aware of when and how the experience of a self appears during your day. Notice how the sense of self arises under certain conditions and then disappears under other conditions. Notice if you see any relationship between the arising of self and the arising of suffering (dukkha) or unhappiness. Notice if you see a relationship between the experience of suffering and any attachment to the experience of self.

See if you can experience the rising and falling of self as simply another phenomenon that is occurring –  such as a sound or a sensation. Notice the relationship between the sense of self and the experience of thinking. You may see that your sense of self is largely a construct of conditioned thought patterns, and like everything else it rises and falls with changing conditions.

Although it may be a bit disorienting at first, the realization of the relativity of self turns out to be incredibly good news after all, for then we can begin to see other, more expansive, experiences of self. The more fluid the sense self, the greater the freedom we experience; and we may see more clearly the wisdom of the Buddha’s teaching to “cling to nothing as self.”

Desire is a great enigma: certain teachings tell us that all desire emanates directly from the Divine and others tell us that desire is the cause of all suffering. Which one is correct?

The answer: Both, if correctly understood.

To understand this paradox, we must distinguish desire from craving. Craving is desire with attachment, aka addiction. Desire is a certain type of energy that arises in the mind; craving is attaching that energy to a future experience or event. A desire, in and of itself, can arise and then disappear; like everything else it is impermanent; but craving seems endless because it is always looking to the future to be satisfied. It’s like the donkey that chases a carrot hanging from a stick tied to its own neck: satisfaction is always just beyond reach; always in the future. The donkey can run fast and forever but it will never catch the carrot.

The practice of Living in the Heart of Desire is that of becoming directly aware of the experience of desire without attachment to a particular outcome or object. We experience desire without craving.

All desire is the desire for happiness. Our heart desires happiness from the day we are born, but at an early age happiness becomes associated with physical satisfaction. Happiness becomes equated with getting needs met. As we grow older, we’re conditioned to believe that happiness results from getting what we want. In our search for happiness, we want more… and more … and more … but nothing is ever enough!

All desire is the desire for our own true nature. Happiness arises from the realization of our own true nature, but the conditioned mind tells us that happiness must come to us from an external source.

A quote from the Indian sage Nisargadatta Maharaj:

All you want is to be happy. All your desires, whatever they may be, are longing for happiness. You wish yourself well...desire by itself is not wrong. It is life itself, the urge to grow in knowledge and experience. It is the choices you make that are wrong. To imagine that some little thing-food, sex, power, fame-will make you happy is to deceive oneself. Only something as vast and deep as your real self can make you truly and lastingly happy.

Living in the Heart of Desire is allowing oneself to feel desire fully without being attached to the object of desire. We then experience desire without craving. We do this practice with the understanding that our deepest desire is to experience our own true nature.

This can be challenging at first because the mind is convinced that the object of desire will bring us the happiness that we seek; we must remember that this is not true. It can be challenging also because letting go of the object of desire may bring up grief arising from unmet needs in the past.

The key is to feel all our feelings and remember that what we most want is the experience of our own true nature, and that is not dependent on any external condition or circumstance.

It is, of course, necessary to fulfill some desires to be healthy and functional in the world. Having some needs met may be essential for survival. The desire for food when we are hungry or for money when the rent is due should not be ignored, but the key is to recognize that getting our worldly needs met alone will not make us happy.

Living in the heart of desire with nonattachment to results will connect us with the very source of desire itself which is the Divine seeking to know Itself and experience Itself in you, through you and as you.

The Three Refuges are to be considered the foundation of Buddhist spiritual practice. The Three Refuges are:

I take refuge in the Buddha.

I take refuge in the Dharma.

I take refuge in the Sangha.

The Three Refuges are open ended in the degree to which they can be understood. This means that there is no end to the wisdom that can be acquired by practicing the Refuges diligently.

Our title, The Three Refuges (Reloaded) is a takeoff on one of the Matrix movies: The Matrix Reloaded. In the Matrix movies, The Matrix is a virtual reality created by an artificial intelligence that wants to use human beings as a power source for their system.

The matrix to which I am referring is not necessarily a sinister plot to control anyone, rather it is the matrix of time and space in which we all live. The truth of Three Refuges is beyond time and space – it is absolute.

In this teaching we will learn how to bring this absolute reality into the relative reality of time and space, the matrix in which we all live. Knowing this, we can make the Three Refuges very immediate and practical. The practice then can be used anytime and all the time in our daily life.

A refuge is what we consider to be our home. When we affirm: I take refuge in the Buddha, I take refuge in the Dharma, I take refuge in the Sangha, we are declaring that these Three Refuges become the foundation of who we take ourselves to be, how we live our life, and how we relate to other human beings.

The true Buddha is what you truly are. The Buddha (as are you) is pure Being, existing beyond time and space. The Buddha is the true nature of yourself and of all sentient beings. Taking refuge in the Buddha means that we hold the intention to continuously return to our awareness of this reality. Whenever we become lost in the stories created by our human mind, then as soon as we wake up, we return to the awareness that “I am the Buddha.” In our sitting practice we sit is the Buddha. In our daily life we live as the Buddha.

When we notice something within us and outside of us that appears to be unlike the Buddha, we simply meet it with Buddha nature. To meet it with Buddha nature is to see it as it is, rather than what our human mind tells us that it is. We strive to meet all things with clear awareness, without judgment and with compassion.

It is especially important to remember that we are not practicing to become the Buddha. With this practice we assume that we already are the Buddha. This does not mean holding a mental image of what we believe the historic Buddha would say or do. This is not “What Would the Buddha Do” practice. Siddhartha Gautama was a human being who lived 2500 years ago. Siddhartha realized his Buddha nature, but the true Buddha is not a human being.

The practice is that of holding an intention, rather than trying to “do it perfectly;” we simply return to the intention-without judgment-every time we get lost.

Time is the matrix of our human experience. To take refuge in the Dharma is to bring the Buddha nature into the matrix of time. We create the intention to experience each moment living the Dharma.

Traditionally, the Dharma refers to the teachings and the practice as taught by the historic Buddha. In this context practicing the Dharma means understanding and applying the Buddha’s teachings.

In the context of this practice, to practice the Dharma is to use each moment as an experience to learn in to awaken to the Buddha nature. When I meet each experience as the Buddha then every moment reveals the Dharma. When I need teaching experience with clear awareness and openhearted equanimity then every experience is my teacher.

Once again, the practice is holding an intention, rather than trying to “do it perfectly,” we simply return to the intention, without judgment, every time we get lost.

To practice taking refuge in the Sangha is to express the Buddha nature as it enters the matrix of space. Space is the matrix of relationships. It is in space that we perceive others – other people and other objects. Taking refuge in the Sangha means that we meet all beings in our life as the Buddha.

The way that we relate to others is deeply impacted by our conditioning. Everyone wants to love and be loved, but what this means to us as individuals is significantly affected by our conditioning.

We may have been taught that people will hurt us, or that people are untrustworthy, or that people will take advantage of us. Our relationships are mirrors of our psyche. To the extent that we are entrenched in craving and aversion, relationships will be satisfying or problematic.

The practice of taking refuge in the Sangha means to meet every being with the Buddha nature – with unconditional love and acceptance. It means to meet each being with a clear mind and an open heart. To do this requires the practice of the Dharma to dissolve craving and aversion.

To meet everyone with unconditional love does not mean naïvely allowing ourselves to be used or taken advantage of by others. Unconditional love includes appropriate discernment. We can love all beings without taking them home with us!

A closing statement – one that you may want to repeat every day:

I Take Refuge in the Buddha, the Dharma, the Sangha

I practice as the Buddha.

I meet each experience as the Buddha.

Taking refuge as the Buddha is the path to awakening.

As I meet every moment as the Buddha

Then each experience reveals the Dharma

Taking Refuge in the Dharma is the Path to Wisdom

As I meet every being as the Buddha

Then all beings are my Sangha

Taking Refuge in the Sangha is the path to love.

Taking Refuge in Buddha, Dharma, Sangha,

I reload the matrix of time & space.

Taking Refuge in Buddha Dharma Sangha,

I manifest Buddha Nature in my world.

Authenticity means being real, genuine, and honest. It means being who you really are. Then who are you? My experience of who I am is constantly changing. Who I am seems to be related to the circumstances and experiences that occur in my life. In the evening I rarely feel like the same person that woke up that morning

Today we’re going to him unpack this concept of authenticity and look and what it is. I begin with a down-home story from my own childhood.

As a child I hated green beans. But one summer we purchased a basket of green beans that were fresh from the garden. I loved them! I couldn’t get enough of them.

I asked my mother why we didn’t have fresh beans all the time. She said that they were expensive and not always available. This was my introduction to food economics, I was told, that in order to transport and store certain foods it was necessary to can it, so they do not spoil. We were able to have some fruits and vegetables year-round because of this ability to can them. Taste and nutrition were traded off for more availability. (This was 1950, frozen foods were not readily available.)

Over much of my life I have spoken as a Dharma teacher, as a minister, as a professor. I noticed that some of my teachings seem like fresh vegetables, while others seem like canned vegetables. I noticed something similar as I was listening to others speak as well. Sometimes I felt like I was being offered fresh vegetables and sometimes I felt like I was being offered canned vegetables.

From my own experience I noticed that my teachings seemed fresh and alive when I was teaching something that that my heart was connected to; something that was interesting and exciting for me. I noticed that my teachings were fresh when I was aware in the present moment.

When we have an experience, we stored in memory in a can. The can is actually a concept. The concept is often in the form of language. From these stored concepts we create a memory bank much like canned beans stored on the grocery shelf. When we access our memories it’s like pulling cans off the shelf.

All too often we live from these canned good memories rather than in the fresh experience of the present moment. And all too often we substitute the canned items for the real thing, and then we wonder why my life seems flat boring or dull. Even more problematic is when we substitute concept for the real thing. We believe that this is the way green beans are. We live without the freshness, the taste and nutrition of fresh vegetables.

To exacerbate this problem, we typically “can” the “fresh vegetables so quickly that we never really taste them at all. In other words, we live our life, not from tasty the vegetables and then canning them, but we can them before we ever even taste them. We don’t’ experience life as it is but we experience it through our concepts rather than actual experience. The American philosopher William James states this quite eloquently:

Out of the aboriginal, sensible, muchness attention carves out objects which conception then names and identifies forever  – in the sky “constellations,” on the earth, “beach,” “sea,” “cliff,” “bushes.” Out of time we cut out “days,” and “nights,” “summers,” and “winters” …. And all of these abstracted “what’s” are merely concepts. The intellectual life of man consists almost wholly in his substitution of a conceptual order for the perceptual order in which his experience originally comes.

In other words, our propensity to experience life conceptually rather than through direct experience separates from the aboriginal, sensible, muchness of life and causes us to live somewhat artificially, separating us from things as they are.

The concepts that shield us from experiencing life directly are usually formed when we are very young and were given to us by others. We don’t see the world as it is but rather as we are based upon the set of conceptual maps imprinted on our psyche when we were young.

The goal of Dharma practice is to see things as they truly are; to see everything as it is – alive and vibrant. We do this through the practice of bare attention – not adding anything to our direct experience, The Buddha states this succinctly in a simple, clear and direct teaching to one of his students named Bahiya:

In the seen, there is only the seen,
in the heard, there is only the heard,
in the sensed, there is only the sensed,
in the cognized, there is only the cognized.

To most people death is the ultimate enemy. To the sage death is the ultimate advisor. Here is Don Juan, a Yaqui Indian sorcerer, speaking to his student apprentice, Carlos Castaneda:

Death is our eternal companion. It is always at our left at arm’s length…. It has always been watching you…It always will until the day it taps you…

The thing to do when you are impatient is to turn to your left and ask advice from your death. An immense amount of pettiness is dropped if you catch a glimpse of it or if you just have the feeling that your companion is there watching you.

I invite you to make a list of all your problems and concerns; then ask yourself, “How many of these things would be a problem if I had only one week to live?”

And then ask a second question: “If I had but one week to live, what would be important to me?”

What questions will you ask yourself at that time? Will it be “Did I make enough money?” Or “Did I get through my To Do list?” Probably not, more likely it will be, “Did I live well? Did I love well? Is the world a better place because of my life?”

Seeing death as your advisor is a powerful spiritual practice because it really pulls the rug out from under the ego! All transformative spiritual practice is designed to annihilate the ego, and nothing will do this more quickly than the reminder of our own death.

This practice is not a morbid preoccupation with death but it’s a focus on how we are living our own life right now. Remembering that the span of my life is limited makes my remaining days more precious. It encourages me to not waste energy on matters of little consequence and instead to focus on what really matters most in my life right now.

In the Gospel of Mark Jesus says, “Whoever tries to save his life will lose it but whoever loses his life for my sake will find it.” (8:35)

This is not advocating one to engage in martyrdom. This is a deep wisdom teaching that shows us how to realize our own True (Christ) Nature. It tells us that whoever clings to the life of the ego will lose everything, but whoever is willing to let go of the egocentric life will discover their True Nature, which can never be lost.

The ego is like a caterpillar; it’s not intended to be the end of our development, but simply one stage of it. As the caterpillar dies it’s born into its fullest nature as the butterfly.

This practice may trigger some anxiety; it is especially important not to run from that experience.  Explore the anxiety to understand how you may be clinging to life as you believe it to be – and in that clinging you are denying yourself the experience of being truly alive in the deepest sense of the word.

Facing your death may feel like annihilation, but in reality, it’s just the opposite. It is not death but awakening to your true life. “It is not I who live but Christ who lives in me.” These words of the Apostle Paul exemplify the experience of one who has “died” to the old life and has been reborn into a greater reality.

Don Juan continues his instruction: “Death is the only wise advisor we have. Whenever you feel …that you’re about to be annihilated, turn to your death and ask if that is so. Your death will tell you that you’re wrong; that nothing really matters outside its touch.”

As you fully understand this then you touch that which is beyond birth and death: the timeless reality that is your true home.

This physical universe is but camouflage for a deeper Reality. Intrinsic in that deeper reality is a Universal Intelligence. This Intelligence is always available to you if you can cultivate your ability to access it. And then it can be revealed to you in an infinite number of ways!

To access Universal Intelligence, we must learn how to discern its guidance; we must understand its language. Discerning that guidance is an art; it takes practice.

We have thousands of thoughts, feelings, and desires everyday –  how to discern spiritual guidance?

Based on my own experience, I have found general principles that may help you in the discernment process.

I have found that guidance usually does not appear in the form of thought or in words. It tends to come as a “soft” knowing, an inner urge or an inspirational idea.

True spiritual guidance is never harsh, judgmental, or punitive. Genuine guidance will not make you feel wrong, bad, defective, or deficient in any way. If you experience it as such, I encourage a healthy skepticism: there may be some wisdom behind that voice, but it is probably contaminated with some unresolved psychological matter. Explore this issue before giving credence to the voice. Psychotherapy may be helpful in this regard.

Genuine spiritual guidance is never demanding, it always gives you a choice. It is more of an impulse than a compulsion. It will not direct you to do anything harmful to yourself or to anyone else. Any voice or feeling that demands, condemns, or urges harmful actions is not spiritual guidance but is likely energy arising from an unresolved psychological issue.

Spiritual guidance is never demanding – but it may be very persistent! Although it will not compel you to say or do anything harmful or immoral, it may challenge some very deep-seated beliefs! It often stretches us to grow, and sometimes it may fly in the face of logic, or of what appears to be “common sense.”

Genuine spiritual guidance is best discerned and understood when you are relaxed, at ease and not attached to a specific result. It is difficult to discern true guidance if you are invested in, or attached to, a particular outcome. If you release that attachment, then guidance may very well appear when you least expect it!

Our identification with thinking is the greatest obstacle to the awareness of our guidance. The busy mind is much like a cloudy overcast day: the sun shines brightly but is unseen from the ground – until there is an opening in the cloud cover. Meditation helps to “part the clouds.”

Author Eckhart Tolle writes: “Pay attention to the gap  –  the gap between two thoughts…. When you pay attention to those gaps, awareness of 'something' becomes  –  just awareness. The formless dimension of pure consciousness arises from within you and replaces identification with form.”

And that “formless dimension of pure consciousness” is imbued with Universal Intelligence, always ready to reveal itself to you when it is needed.

Are you looking for the perfect spiritual teacher? If so, you may be surprised that you have already found it – whether you know it or not. Your life is your greatest teacher.

But when identified with ego we are not open to learning what life has to teach us; we are much more invested in confirming what we think we already know. The ego is always trying to prove that it is right, and it will interpret every life experience according to what it believes to be true. Leonardo da Vinci observed that “The greatest deception men suffer is that of their own opinion.”

A powerful spiritual practice is to adopt an attitude which deliberately undermines this prevailing attitude of the ego. An example would be to adopt an attitude such as “Everything (and Everyone) is My Teacher.”

This practice may be likened to that of a scientist conducting research. For science to learn the laws of nature it must first humble itself before nature.

And so, you become a researcher of your own life. Before you can master life, you must humble yourself before it to learn what it has to teach you.

This spiritual practice is a form of learning, but it is quite different from conventional learning; it is not gaining more knowledge but cultivating more wisdom. To grow in wisdom requires a deep emptiness, which is the best attitude for this practice.

A Japanese Zen master received a learned university professor who came to inquire about Zen. The professor introduced himself and began telling the Zen master how much he knew about Asian religion, Asian history, and Asian culture, but he knew relatively little about Zen, so he wanted to add this to his vast repertoire of knowledge.

The Zen master served the professor some tea. He filled the visitor’s cup to overflowing and then kept pouring. The professor shouted, “Stop man; the cup is already too full!” The Zen master responded “Like this cup you too are full of your presumed knowledge. I cannot show you Zen unless you first empty your cup.”

Meeting every experience as the empty teacup requires a willingness to stay open and vulnerable – this is humility. True humility is being teachable; being empty.

To make something (or someone) our teacher does not mean that you turn your life over to it; it simply means that you allow yourself to be open to its teaching. True humility is not self-abasement; and it does not mean that you abdicate our power to make choices.

Do not be attached to always understanding what a particular teaching is – that can be a subtle way for the ego to co-opt the process! The practice is about cultivating a certain attitude; it is not about acquiring knowledge. Just imagine bowing to every experience and saying, “This too, is my teacher.” That will lead to wisdom, which is much more than knowledge or intellectual understanding.

“In times of change, learners inherit the earth, while the learned find themselves beautifully equipped to deal with a world that no longer exists.”

Eric Hoffer

“Blessed are the pure of heart for they shall see God.” (Mt 5.8) These are the words of Jesus as recorded in a set of teachings known today as the Sermon on the Mount.

Although some may hear this as “Be good and when you die you will go to heaven,” there is a much deeper and more profound teaching here that is relevant for our life today. So, let’s unpack this statement.

The “heart” has long been a metaphor for the subconscious and for our feeling nature. The heart is the seat of desire, emotion, intuition, and love. In contrast to this is the conscious, rational function of mind.

Why did he not say, “Blessed are the pure of mind or body….” rather than the “pure of heart”? Why is it we can “see God” only with a pure heart?

And what does it mean to “see God”?

Addressing this last question, we have a quote from Meister Eckhart, a twelfth century German mystic.

“The eye through which I see God is the same eye through which God sees me; my eye and God’s eye are one eye, one seeing, one knowing, one love.”

I “see God” by letting God see through me; and God sees through me only when my heart is pure.

What does it mean to have “a pure heart”? Pure means “uncontaminated, untainted, clear and fresh.”

It would appear that infants are born with a pure heart; and in the words of the poet William Wordsworth, they are “trailing clouds of glory…” This glory seems to follow us for a short time into childhood before it fades away as we become adults.

There was a time when meadow grove and stream,

the earth and every common sight,

to me did seem apparel’d in celestial light,

the glory and the freshness of a dream.

it is not now as it hath been of yore –  

turn wheresoever I may,

by night or day,

the things which I have seen

I now can see no more.

Imagine a spring in a high meadow that yields fresh, pure, clear water. This flowing water becomes a running brook, and then a large stream, and then a broad river flowing down the mountain and through farmlands where the runoff dumps pesticides, hormones, and antibiotics into it. It passes industrial cities that dump sewage and chemical contaminants into it. That once pure river may have become so contaminated that it no longer supports life.

To purify a river, we simply stop dumping pollutants into it. If we cease to contaminate the river it will purify itself. So it is with the heart: the heart becomes pure when we cease to contaminate it with toxins from the ego. The heart is polluted by greed, by hatred, by fear. These forces adulterate the heart and reinforce the ego. Most contamination is hidden from awareness. To become free of toxins we must become aware of their existence.

Ego identification dumps toxins of greed, hatred, and fear into the heart. Letting go of ego identification eventually purifies the heart. To cease identifying with the ego is to clarify our perception. We then see things as they really are rather than as a mirror of our own contaminated heart. To be free from ego identification is to have a pure heart. The pure heart sees God in all things.

“If the doors of our perception where cleansed everything would appear to man as it is, infinite.”

Many in our culture believe that knowledge comes to us only via the senses; that the only legitimate source of knowledge is via empirical science and conclusions drawn from empiricism. Some in our culture believe that true knowledge is also given though divine revelation via sacred scripture. And some believe that legitimate knowledge is also obtainable through intuitive or psychic means. As a culture, we have a very mixed and conflicted epistemology.

Truth can be revealed in an infinite number of ways because truth is what we are. To be is to know. “Truth lies within ourselves: it takes no rise from outward things, whatever you may believe.”  But in egoic identification we separate our sense of self from both being and knowing; we seek truth as if it were outside of us. Only if we feel separated from our essential nature do we seek it outside of ourselves.

Virtually all of us alive today is in the mental structure of consciousness as described by the philosopher Jean Gebser. As such, we perceive time and space as absolute; we perceive the material world to be essentially non-living and devoid of meaning; and we perceive ourselves to be embedded in, yet separated from, the world around us. Present-day humanity, deeply embedded in this structure, feels trapped and isolated in a dead and meaningless universe.

At another level of consciousness (Gebser’s Integral structure of consciousness) we experience the world to be alive with meaning and ourselves an intrinsic part of that meaning. We experience a profound sense of belonging and a deep intimacy with the universe. At the Integral stage of consciousness, we know the universe to be endlessly revealing itself to us.

Several years ago, I was speaking at a church on the island of Maui, HI. At the church service a young Japanese girl, named Kamiko, played an incredibly beautiful piece of music on the piano. After the service I introduced myself and told her how I appreciated her performance. I did not recognize the composition that she played, so I asked her the name of the composer. With a shy smile, she said “me.” Kamiko then told me the following story.

About three years earlier (she was thirteen at that time) Kamiko was with her parents vacationing on Maui. She was swimming alone in shallow water when she noticed three dolphins near her. They were about thirty feet away and began swimming in a circle around her. She was spellbound. They swam in this circle for several minutes and then disappeared.

That night she was awakened by the sound of piano music. Kamiko soon realized that she was the only one who could hear the music – it was coming from inside her. She began to see musical notes in her mind’s eye, so she copied these notes on paper. She did so until the music stopped. This scenario continued intermittently for several nights until she had recorded the complete score. The melody that I heard her play was the first one she had recorded. She “composed” several more pieces in this manner. Eventually the phenomenon ceased, but she began to consciously compose music in a more conventional – yet highly creative way. At age sixteen it seemed that she was well on her way to a shining career in musical composition and performance!

I tell this story not to imply that dolphins have supernatural powers, but to illustrate the point that we live in a universe far more intelligent and interconnected than we can imagine. We live in a universe that loves to reveal its nature to us. We just need to be open… and listen.

I meet many people who are “seeking guidance” about something. This is good if we don’t become too fixated on how that guidance is to appear. Often, I hear it portrayed as some kind of “divine download”  – as if the guidance we look for is floating about in cosmic cyberspace. The guidance that we seek is closer than our next breath when we release the mental constructs that create the illusion of separation.

Often the problem is not that we aren’t getting the right answers, it’s that we are not asking the right questions. Perhaps we need to focus more upon forming the question than getting the answer. I have found much wisdom in these words from Rainer Maria Rilke:

…have patience with everything that remains unsolved in your heart. Try to love the questions themselves, like locked rooms and like books written in a foreign language. Do not now look for the answers. They cannot now be given to you because you could not live them. It is a question of experiencing everything. At present you need to live the question. Perhaps you will gradually, without even noticing it, find yourself experiencing the answer, some distant day.

Conscious evolution involves asking relevant questions and mindfully living out the answers. The questions we ask are shaped by the intentions that we hold in mind and heart; the answers we receive are forged by the quality of our attention.

Now we explore the relevancy of Buddhist teachings to our evolutionary journey. The heart of this philosophy lies in the Eight-fold Path of Awakening, which begins with two principles that are relevant to the journey of conscious evolution. These principles are called right understanding and right motivation.

These are not rules or commandments; they are principles which identify different facets of the awakening process. The term right might best be translated as wise or skillful. In practice, these two principles are interrelated.

Let us talk briefly about wise motivation. We can begin with the recognition that our very motivation to understand and to engage in conscious evolution originates from within the evolutionary process itself. It is not something within us that is reaching for something outside of us; nor is it that something outside of us that is influencing our inner motivation. This motivation to evolve is within us, and it surrounds us; it is the core of who we are.

We recognize that our motivation to evolve is itself part of the response. Our sense of wonder and of awe at the immense potential within us is itself a motivational force and a response. Our desire to bring this potential into manifestation in our life and in the world is an expression of this evolutionary force.

And now we address wise understanding. The wonderful paradox is that both our desire to understand the evolutionary process and our motivation to engage in it consciously, originate from within the evolutionary process itself. Evolution requires itself to become conscious. This reminds me of the well-some of the edge known C W Escher drawing which portrays two hands: each one drawing the other! Our usual assumptions of cause and effect become baffled by this process. Cause and effect are reciprocal and indistinguishable.

Similarly, our familiar dichotomy of doing and not-doing is turned inside out. We are conditioned to think of ourselves as actively doing something from our own volition, or of passively doing nothing at all. Either we are responsible, or we are not; either we are in control, or we are not. We see our self as either active or at rest, giver, or receiver, subject or object.

But the evolutionary impulse is done neither by us, nor for us, nor to us. It is done through us. We are instruments of it and for it. In this process we are simultaneously active and passive, subject and object, seed, and fruit. We are both alpha and omega. We are not a thing; we are a process. Not a noun; but a verb.

The American philosopher John Boodin eloquently captures this sentiment. “We are part of a creative destiny, reaching backward and forward to infinity…. We are the fruition of a process that stretches back to star dust. We are material in the hands of the Genius of the universe for a still larger destiny that we cannot see….”

Evolution is natural: we will it to occur or will it to not occur. However, conscious evolution requires our active consent and our active involvement. We cannot sleep through it. In a recent discussion with a friend on the topic of personal will versus divine will, we concluded that we must be willing to surrender to the divine will; otherwise, it cannot unfold though us. Our primary work then is to see where we are unconsciously blocking the awareness and expression of the divine will. Likewise, conscious evolution may be considered a metaphor for the unfolding of the divine will – not to us or for us, but through us.

We unwittingly block the divine will – AKA conscious evolution – not so much by what we do not know, but by what we know, but don’t know that we know, in other words, by our unconscious beliefs and assumptions. We must know what we know and then discern if what we know is true. If it is not, then it must be released. And if we are not willing to release it, then we need to see why we are holding on to it. Much of conscious evolution is simply becoming conscious of what we believe to be true.

Yet another paradox we meet on our journey is that of what we call “personal” versus what we call “collective;” or individual versus group; or part versus whole. The transformation of consciousness must take place one person at a time; how else could it happen? However, who we are as an individual – as a person – cannot be separated from our relationships and from our environment, who we are is always contextual. Human beings can never be considered solely as individuals – we are innately connected in a broader web.

We are deeply interconnected in many ways and at many levels. Our personal reality is fundamentally embedded in a collective reality. Evolution and transformation can never be considered in isolation. To consider oneself as an individual and as part of a greater whole is to simply look at two sides of our being; they are intrinsically inseparable. We are like an electron that may behave like a wave or may behave like a particle, depending upon circumstances and perspective. We are both an individual and a collective. Personal transformation and global evolution are inseparable. We may consider each aspect separately – this may be helpful for our understanding – but these are but two perspectives of our earthly expression.

Likewise, our human nature is not apart from our divine nature; the absolute is not apart from the relative. Once again, these may be considered separately, but they are simply different profiles of the same face. Evolution and personal transformation are different profiles of the same process separated only by the perspective of time. Both are descriptions of spiritual awakening, which is the destiny of every one of us.

“More than any other time in history, mankind faces a crossroads. One path leads to despair and utter hopelessness. The other, to total extinction. Let us pray we have the wisdom to choose correctly.”

Woody Allen

This is Woody Allen speaking from his signature nihilistic view of life. He reflects the modern worldview that says we are nothing beyond our human biology and that life is meaningless.

But there is another perspective that stands on the premise that life is purposeful and that we are much more than just human; yet, by all appearances we are deeply embedded in our human nature – this is quite clear. The evidence that we are more than human is difficult to perceive.

This is our struggle.

As human beings we have two immensely powerful internal forces pushing us in opposite directions. We have a survival instinct: the drive to survive in physical form. And this has been overlaid by the drive to survive as a psychological entity, as an individual ego. Sometimes this drive can be even stronger than the one for physical survival.

Yet, within us is another powerful drive: the divine impulse to grow, to evolve, and to become more than we seem to be. This drive for self-transcendence is present in all life forms; albeit unconscious in most of them. But, with some humans it has become conscious; and it may be very compelling.

This dilemma of self-preservation and self-transcendence is a central theme throughout human history. In nearly every human being, the tension of these conflicting forces is experienced to some degree; sometimes consciously, but most often not.

In Christian circles we may hear someone say that “Everyone wants to go to heaven, but no one wants to die to get there.” In New Age circles this statement could be paraphrased as “Everyone wants spiritual transformation, but no one wants to sacrifice their ego-identity to attain it.” To face the death of the body is not easy, but we all must, eventually. To face the death of the ego may be even more difficult, and relatively few of us do so.

Human beings will go to almost any length to preserve their identity, to lose it feels like death, or worse. And yet human beings have also gone to incredible lengths to transcend their identity. The history of humanity is a fascinating drama depicting how we have played out these conflicting drives.

This conflict is now being felt more poignantly than ever before. The tension between these two powerful forces is virtually palpable in our world today: caught between the beasts and the angels; torn between safety, comfort and security and the indomitable force within us that demands that we come up higher, to be more than we are now. This tension is part of the present crisis which is evoking us to birth a greater reality.

By deepening our awareness of both forces – the drive to keep our present identity and the drive to evolve beyond it – we will be in a better position to facilitate this birth. The degree of conflict and suffering that we experience in this birthing process is a function of our understanding (or lack of it) and our willingness to consciously embrace the evolutionary process of transformation.

To the degree that we are unconscious our evolution occurs with fits and starts, and with much conflict and suffering. We will evolve, that is a given; but whether that evolution occurs through a cataclysmic Armageddon experience or from a natural cosmic childbirth, is largely up to us.  

Buddhist teachers tell us that craving can be overcome by the diligent practice of nonattached awareness. As we do this, we become able to distinguish between addictive craving and healthy desire. We can then live in the heart of desire rather than in the mind of craving.

As we can experience desire without necessarily acting it and without attachment to results then we begin to gain clarity as to which desires should be acted upon and which ones are best left alone. We become like the surfer who enters the ocean and just watches the waves come in until he finds the one that he wants to ride.

Rather than being preoccupied with the object of desire we can enter the experience of the desire itself by exploring our thoughts, emotions, and physical sensations. We see the desire itself rather than seeing through eyes clouded by desire. We allow desire to be the object of awareness rather than the subject. This practice allows us to experience the deeper essence of desire itself.

As we live in the heart of desire rather than in the mind of craving the force that motivates us will gradually shift. Rather than being driven solely by self-gratification we find that we “march to the tune of a different drummer.”

Our personal desires become aligned with the universal good.

Just as every cell in a healthy body is aligned with the greater good of the body itself, we see that we are all cells in a larger body. This larger body is not formed by religion, politics, ethnicity or economic interests but rather by our common humanity. For some, the body extends even beyond humanity to embrace all life on earth – including the earth itself.

With the simile of each individual as a cell in a larger body egocentric craving could be seen as a form of cancer wherein individual cells selfishly multiply and consume the body rather than support its overall health and wellbeing. Self-centered craving is a form of malignancy that is detrimental to the larger web of life. This malignancy is the cause of a wide variety of ecological, economic, and social crises facing humankind today.

As our personal desires are aligned with the universal good, we become aligned with that which some call the Divine Will, and others call the Evolutionary Impulse. Whatever name we ascribe to it, it becomes the overwhelming desire of our heart. This desire is not craving to save the world or to avenge the injustices of evildoers but to simply do that which makes your heart sing. The deepest desire of your heart is to align your heart with the flow of the One Life as it seeks its unique expression though you.

Attuned to this universal flow of life we see that we are not the doers of our deeds; we are but the channels through which the universe evolves into new dimensions of experience. Our work is to stay awake and to listen to our hearts. Our work is to surrender to the great current of life flowing through us and as us –  and then do what is ours to do.

These days I hear many references to the Apocalypse, so I considered my own view of current events vis a vis what I know about this phenomenon called The Apocalypse.

Most people take the term Apocalypse to mean, “The end of the world,” but that definition is not entirely correct. The term Apocalypse is Greek for the word Revelation. Many associate this word with the last book of the Christian Bible (aka New Testament) which is titled The Book of Revelation.

Many dismiss this text as nonsense. Some see it as God’s “Preview of Coming Attractions.” Most scholars see it as relevant to certain events 2000 years ago, but definitely not pertinent for us today. A few people see this writing as the expression of an archetype that is as relevant today as it was then.

An archetype is a pattern or blueprint through which we understand and shape our life experiences. Archetype’s function both personally, in our own life, and collectively, in our culture. One way to see the various archetypes at work is in stories, particularly in science fiction, fantasy, fairy tales, and myths. Stories such as Star Wars, Harry Potter, Lord of the Rings, Sleeping Beauty, and the Odyssey portray a variety of archetypes such as, the Villain, the Hero, the Wizard, the Wise Old Man, the Damsel in Distress, the Fallen Angel, the Prince Charming, the Evil Witch, and many others. These archetypes shape the way we see human history and contemporary events in our world. (Space does not allow more detail on this fascinating topic.)                      

The archetype of the Apocalypse is found in virtually every culture throughout history. The general pattern of this archetype can be described as follows: Because of humanity’s sinfulness, ignorance and/or need to evolve, some force greater than us destroys our world. The outlook is extremely bleak; and then some benign Power dramatically intervenes – at the very last minute – and saves humanity (sometimes only “the chosen” are saved.) A New Order is established which is followed by a Golden Age that lasts for eons of time.

The underlying message in every apocalyptic story: 1) We have been living in a wrong, sinful or unsustainable way. 2) It is now time to “pay the bill”, to reap what we have sown. 3) Things will get very bad, and then dramatically get better than ever before.

An apocalypse may be likened to an earthquake, which by us is experienced as sudden and unexpected, yet the causative forces have been building up underground for a very long time. A divorce may blindside us. The diagnosis of a serious illness may come like a lightning bolt. A sudden economic downturn throws us for a loop. And yet, the underlying causes of each of these may have been brewing silently for years before their emergence. The same thing is true for wars, famines, plagues and political revolutions.

The “Revelation” arrives like a volcanic eruption – explosive and devastating. In the Gospel of John, Jesus says, “The truth will set you free.” He might have followed this up by saying: “But first, it will knock you on your ass!” (If he did, it was never recorded!)

The vision of a man named John on the Island of Patmos was recorded as The Book of Revelation. It was not written to frighten people but rather to give the Christians of that time faith and hope within in a time of great suffering. In so many words, the underlying message is: “Hang on… the Lord is coming.”

Some are still waiting; most have given up. I don’t expect to see God descending from the heavens on a white horse, but I do believe we may be at the end of a world – a world that we have created and lived in for a long time. It’s a world that is no longer sustainable – or even viable. It is a dying world. It’s like a religion that worships money, power, glamour and self-indulgence. It is a way of life that loves things, uses people and destroys its environment. Perhaps this is a good time for it to die!

Throughout history humans have been though many apocalyptic events, and life on this planet has been through even more of them. Many times, in the history of this planet, life appears to be totally eliminated – but not so! Always, something greater emerges from what appears to be a devastating disaster; like the Phoenix rising from the ashes, life has survived and evolved into more complex, intelligent and durable forms.

We will survive – but not without a significant amount of hard work and suffering. The emergence of the greater is fostered through the work itself. Doing what we need to do to survive is the very thing that births the new life. This is how life has evolved on this planet: from one crisis to the next. As we struggle to go beyond our presumed limitations, God does not descend from the sky; God arises from the depths within each of us.

Do what is yours to do. Do it with courage – but without drama. We don’t need not create a story about what should, could or ought to be; just do what needs to be done. This is how we evolved our physical organs – our eyes, ears, arms, hands; and this is how the soul develops. Do what you are called to do. Do it mindfully and with compassion for all beings – especially for yourself.

These words from Christopher Fry’s play, “A Sleep of Prisoners.” Seem quite relevant today:

The human heart can go the lengths of God…
Dark and cold we may be, but this
Is no winter now. The frozen misery
Of centuries breaks, cracks, begins to move;
The thunder is the thunder of the floes,
The thaw, the flood, the upstart Spring.

Thank God our time is now when wrong
Comes up to face us everywhere,
Never to leave us till we take
The longest stride of soul we ever took.

Affairs are now soul size.
The enterprise
Is exploration into God.
Where are you making for? It takes
So many thousand years to wake,
But will you wake for pity’s sake.