Month: May 2025

Posted on by joseph mauricio

TOUCHING GRASS

FINDING SANITY IN EVERYDAY LIFE

Life gets chaotic. And when it does, our mind often meets it with its own brand of turbulence—unsteady, distorted, spinning out. Difficulties begin to feel heavier than they are, sometimes surreal. We wander through a neurotic hall of mirrors, chasing meaning, searching for something to anchor us. In that disoriented state, we’re susceptible to toxic philosophies, sweet distractions, spiritual bypassing, and addictions of all kinds. All trying to ease the discomfort we can’t quite name.

But the answer for which we’re reaching will never be clear if we’re not here to see it. It’s not our ideas. It’s under our feet. Touching grass. That’s it. Stop, drop open and breathe. Let the earth hold you. Because when your body remembers it’s safe, the mind begins to settle. And when the mind settles, clarity returns. Then we might see things as they are.

Aye, but there’s the rub. Things as they are, are not always as we want them. Sometimes facing what’s actually here is uncomfortable. This makes it hard to settle.  So we react—grasping, theorizing, telling ourselves stories, reaching for complicated solutions to soothe a panic that’s already passed. The mind assumes if we feel this much urgency, the answer must be profound and complex. But, it can be quite simple.

In the face of complexity make it easy. Just come back. Just come home and let the view become clear. The body needs grounding, so the mind fnds stillness. Then no matter how chaotic life is, we don’t have to be. We can be grounded and clear. When we are grounded, our next step becomes clear. We don’t have to plan our future, we don’t need to finish the post or clear our to do list. We don’t have to feel embarrassed by our past or anxious about what lies ahead.  We come home to now. Then take one step.

Our panic is ancient, primal. But so is our connection to the earth. That’s why the remedy works—it speaks to the same deep psychology. Like an inner child in a storm, calmed by the presence of something strong and still. Not because the storm is over, but because we are there to sit with us in it.

The earth is always here. And storms always clear.

When we don’t feel that connection, we scramble. Running out into danger as the mind starts inventing enemies, catastrophes, theories, someone to blame, someone to save us. And that swirl of confusion becomes the climate of our inner world. We lose trust in ourselves. We lose track of what’s real.

But what if most of our stories aren’t real at all? What if they’re just echoes of a body that doesn’t feel safe, a mind trying to make sense of an inner alarm? What if the clarity we long for doesn’t come from answers—but from coming home?

Touching earth reminds the nervous system: You are here. You are held. You are  okay. When the body feels safe, it naturally softens, opens and the mind clears. Then we see what is happening and know we have the strength to meet it.

Perhaps, the only meaning to life is that we’re here. This breath is happening now. That the ground still holds us. No need to theologize, strategize or apologize. No need to diagnose or decode. There’s nothing wrong with seeking when we are on a clear path. But when times are difficult, maybe it’s best to stop searching and solving and start listening. Come back to the basics. The basics are what is here. The breath. The body. The grass. The places sanity returns. And no one needs to know. No one needs approve. No one needs to agree. This is between ourselves. We can be the family we need, we can be the guidance we seek, we can be the reason we’re here. By just being here. That’s it. That’s the whole of the law, as Crowley never said.

We can practice this each day. Being aware of our feet on the earth as we walk. Coming back to our seat at work. Feeling the breath in meditation. We can begin each session feeling our feet, feeling our hands, feeling our seat. We can let ourselves find safety in the present. It’s important to acknowledge that everything we want in our future has t0 begin with what is here right now. Just stay here with your life. And when you stray -as inevitably you will- just come back. Right now, come back here.

And we have everything we need to be here.

Posted on by joseph mauricio

A MOTHER’S LOVE

Opening to Compassion

The ideal of a mother’s love as being nurturing and sustaining is an archetype deeply embedded in nature and consciousness. Regardless of the individual relationships with our mother, the essence of motherhood—the embodiment of love and loving-kindness—pervades our experience. This ideal is not just a sentimental notion; it is a foundational aspect of the path of wisdom.

Wisdom alone can become cold, sharp, even unyielding. But when united with love, wisdom finds true expression. Love and loving-kindness are essential forces that balance and ground wisdom in compassion. They bind the clarity of insight to the warmth of connection, allowing both to flourish together.

In many spiritual traditions, this love is awakened through devotion—whether to a teacher, a lineage, a deity, or even our ancestors. For some, it comes from connection to a godhead: a creator or a divine messenger such as the Father and the Son. My grandfather, a pastor in a small community church, had a banner above his pulpit that read: “God is love.” He believed that this was an essential truth. Not a god of war or wrath, but a god that is love. This love is nurturing, caring and complete. This love is larger than us, but one one that we could grow into.

Love and loving-kindness are natural to sentient beings. Because they are part of our primordial nature, we don’t need to acquire or construct them from outside ourselves. Instead, devotion—to a teacher, to the divine, or to life itself—can awaken the love already within us. This process has been described as a mother and child reunion—not only by Paul Simon, but in the sense that our opening heart reconnected to the primordial love that gave birth, and continues to nurture, the universe.

On a journey to developing transcendent compassion we are not seeking to possess this love. Rather, we allow it to ignite our own inner capacity for love. It is not about gaining something new, but uncovering what has always been there—our inherent ability to respond to the universe with love.

So our task is not to create love, but to liberate it. We open to it—not by striving, but by dissolving the obstacles that prevent it from flowing freely.

These obstacles show up in both our ability to receive love and our willingness to express it. Most often, these blocks are rooted in fear. Fear causes us to shut down and react from our most primal conditioning. Biologically and psychologically, this manifests in what Western psychology calls fight, flight, or freeze—and what Buddhist psychology identifies as passion, aggression, and ignorance. We are either grasping toward something, pushing it away, or dissociating from it. These reactions are not mindful; they are reflexive, often pre-conscious. They hijack our awareness before we even realize what’s happening.

Tibetan teacher Zigar Kontrul, Rinpoche and his student Pema Chödrön refer to this as “shenpa“—the experience of being “hooked.” While often translated as “attachment,” shenpa more accurately describes that moment when something grabs us and pulls us out of our natural state. Before we even choose to cling; the experience has taken hold of us.

In classical Buddhism, passion, aggression, and ignorance are all forms of desire—desire to grasp, to resist, or to escape. While it is possible to open to desire, and release the clinging, when fear is involved, our clinging is closing down.  This blocks the radiance of our natural passion and love. To love is to open—and clinging – even when we believe we are expressing our love, is actually the opposite of opening. Sometimes, the power of our love, causes us to be fearful and cling, such as when we  expresses our love through control, manipulation or aggression.

True love arises when we open to experience without grasping or avoidance. But this kind of openness is deeply challenging, even excruciating. To stay still and present while a storm of emotion passes through us requires discipline, training, and deep courage. We are learning to remain still within the fire.

In Tibetan Vajrayana, the deity Vajrayogini embodies this teaching. She is depicted as a young woman standing within flames—the flames of compassion and passion. In one hand she holds a skull cup filled with Amrita, a nectar that intoxicates fearful beliefs and allows us to let go; in the other, a curved knife that cuts through clinging. Together, these symbolize the essence of love and wisdom—complete openness coupled with sharp discernment. We open fully to love but do not cling, possess, or manipulate it. We do not run toward or away; instead, we stand still and dance within the flames.

In certain tantric rituals, such as Chöd or Tsok, practitioners visualize themselves as the deity, allowing all fear, negativity, and clinging to be consumed by the flames of compassion. In doing so, we burn away our neurosis and awaken our natural capacity to love.

On a practical level, we can trust this: we are loving beings. We are the result of love. The Mahayana ideal tells us that all beings, at some point in the cycle of existence, have been our mother—and we theirs. Whether or not we believe in literal reincarnation, the message is clear: we are all interconnected through the web of care, nurture, and compassion.

Our role is to accept love, to recognize it, to avoid clinging to it, and to offer it back to the world—without expectation. Like the rain, which falls without concern for whether flowers will bloom, we offer our love freely. And in doing so, we create the conditions for the blossoming of life wherever it can take root.

Posted on by joseph mauricio

DEVELOPING MASTERY

The Discipline of Mind Training

1. Who’s in Charge of This Mind?

There’s an old Zen saying: If the student understands the martial art, they will succeed—some of the time. If they understand the art and their opponent, they will succeed—most of the time. But if they understand the art, their opponent, and themselves—there can only be success.

This is true because on the path to understanding ourselves, everything – even failure – becomes part of that deepening. Failure is powerful fuel for insight.  Stumbling is part of the process of learning ballet.

In the Japanese contemplative art of Kyūdō, or meditative archery, the practitioner begins just one arrow’s length from the target. Obviously, success is guaranteed. But the real inquiry is: Where was the mind during that moment?

The point isn’t the target. The target is the mind.

Training the mind is the process of coming to understand it—so that we can understand ourselves. This isn’t about controlling reality or forcing outcomes. True agency means having the capacity to recognize when we’ve been led astray and the skill to return to center, to clarity.

Without training, we’re dragged by impulse: desire leading to desire, followed by frustration and disillusionment and more desire. With training, we gain the mastery to gain agency in life. We are no longer dragged by our nose at every impulse. I’m hungry, I’m horney, I’m tired. We gain the strength to stay in the game regardless.

Like a ship’s captain navigating turbulent seas, we don’t engage each wave or obsess over every danger. We know there are sharks below, yet we maintain internal balance and guide the vessel for the sake of ourselves and our fellows. This is the function of discipline: to cultivate the strength and steadiness needed to navigate life—not from reactivity, but from clarity.

A serious student of meditation gives themselves to training—as any martial artist, craftsperson, or career professional would, with repetitive, often boring, daily practice. This is what allows great artists, writers, and musicians to face their inner demons and still show up.

Meditation is not an escape, a state, or a lifestyle hashtag. It is a practice—a method for developing mastery over the mind, so that we can reclaim agency in our lives.

 

2. Stability, Clarity and Strength

We begin with the body by to taking our seat.

Taking our seat means we accept the moment as it is and are willing to both settle into it, and to rise up and face it.  We let the fears, triggers, and emotional currents arise around us—but we do not chase them. We notice. We return. Again and again, we come back—until something in us begins to settle into stability.

That stability becomes the ballast for a turbulent mind. And from that ballast, the mind settles and clarity naturally arises.

Clarity doesn’t come from avoiding confusion, but by sitting through it—training our mind to stay upright as we pass through briars and storms. This work is worth it because we are gaining strength through wisdom. And with this training, there is only success. You have a hard session, that’s great. You have an amazing session, that’s fine. You don’t want to be here, keep going. Be here not wanting to. Be fully here and fully not wanting to! We keep reminding our mind to come back. We’re building strength so our mind doesn’t push us around.

The cycle is self-reinforcing, never final, always deepening. And always predicated on returning to the present. The present is our seat of power.

 

3. RETURNING TO PORT: Confidence, Not Control

Each return to center strengthens us. Each foray into the wilds of the mind builds experience. This is mastery with the mind—not domination, but partnership. We don’t suppress the mind. We steady it. We navigate with it. We apply just enough discipline to keep it returning to the present in order to release its power.

When we lose our seat, we lose access to the space that reveals awareness—and we lose confidence. Without confidence, there is no agency. We become reactive, trapped in our assumptions, convinced our view is the view. And as the mind narrows, we begin to build an echo chamber—around us, and inside us.

We become susceptible to victimization, as we are so easily led. Locked in our mother’s basement we conjure doom for the world. And feeling helpless, we will follow any hand that offers to pull us out. But, let me be clear, there is no hand to trust and there is no way out. The only way out is the way in. Meditation training is changing the only thing we can change –  our mind.  And the process is long and slow, like learning the cello, or getting a black belt. But unlike other forms of mastery, meditation has no requisites, other than the breath.

Standing 5 feet something, I may never be a basketball player. I am not expecting to to be a model anytime soon. Without college level science I might never calculate the weight of the universe. But there are no requisites to gaining mastery over the mind. None aside from a willingness to try.

Life can be overwhelming. So, cut it all back, and begin at the beginning. Don’t listen. Don’t trust. But don’t wait. Just sit. The beginning is now. Here is where we start. Right here. You can’t change the world in this moment. You can’t change other people any time. But you can change your mind through training. And the mind becomes strong through training.

One breath at a time.