Author: joseph mauricio

Posted on by joseph mauricio

PRESENT TRAUMATIC STRESS DISORDER

Working With Emotions, Healing Our World

Today is Veterans Day, 2025. I want to acknowledge all those who have served, suffered, and even lost their lives so that the rest of us may live relatively free and open lives. Veterans include not only those who served in the military, but also the families of those who died in service. However, there are many who have sacrificed for the cause of freedom and liberation within our own shores. The first black children integrated into schools, the first students who spoke out against an unjust Vietnam War, and those who currently challenge human participation in climate change, racial violence and societal hatred. With great respect for those who have served our military, I also want to recognize all who have suffered and been wounded in life, yet continue to face the world with courage.

Many of us feel shaken, frightened, and insecure these days—whether we put on a strong front or collapse wrapped in the fabric of time and space on our bed. We are human, and being human is a complex endeavor. Humans hurt, and humans heal. Hurt humans hurt humans. But healing humans, heal humans.

I work as a coach, chaplain, and teacher. And I am often on call for people in my life who need me. I don’t deserve any medals for this, because, in truth, it is very healing for me. I’ve been fortunate to structure my life around spiritual work, both individually and within communities. It allows me to take the pain I’ve endured and transform it into empathy and understanding for others. Though my pain is by no means comparable to the suffering many have faced, it has a very real effect on me. My wounds hold me back as I try and protect them behind defensive walls of blame, resentment and inebriation.

I started my journey with meditation when I was most confused about how to move forward. Each step forward seemed to be met with a step back—sometimes a frozen moment, sometimes a lashing out, sometimes a dive into extreme tequila to numb the pain of indecision. These may sound like champagne problems—or in my case, a tequila-and-cocaine problem—but it still kept me from fully participating in life. I was always healing, always beginning again, but the object of healing was undefined, so this process only supporting my impairment. It wasn’t until I began looking at the things that were blocking me that I could begin to heal.

The Buddhist path, the 12-step systems, and many therapeutic and spiritual paths encourage us to start with acknowledging the problem. For the alcoholic, that acknowledgment is simply their addiction and their powerlessness over it.  Buddhists, acknowledging the pain we endure and look at how trying to deny, avoid or struggle with that truth creates great suffering.  This acknowledgment doesn’t have to be measured against anyone else’s experience—it’s our own pain we’re recognizing. Just as some alcoholics enter recovery with what their friends might see as a minimal problem, and others are urged to enter treatment because their addiction is overt, once we step onto the path of recovery, our journeys are equal. The same is true for the Buddhist path. Once we acknowledge our own pain, we don’t have to compare it to anyone else. However, we can see commonality as we begin to see the pain in the world. Reflexively, once we see the pain in the world, we can begin to understand it more deeply within ourselves.

In healing communities, and discussion groups we are often encouraged to speak from the “I” posture. When we present grand ideas about how the world should be, we evoke resistance and counter propositions. But no one can argue when we express our true feelings about our own pain and suffering. Being honest with ourselves in the present moment, acknowledging how we are hurting, is the first step toward transformation. And by transformation, I don’t mean we will somehow escape our pain for a “better” life. Alcoholics will always be alcoholics, whether sober or not. Buddhists will always face human pain, whether enlightened or not. In fact, it’s possible that the Buddha experienced more pain after his enlightenment than he did before. Trungpa, Rinpoche said that spiritual transformation is not turning lead into gold. It is turning lead into lead. However it is lead we’ve acknowledged and understood so that we can to learn to work with it.

The Buddha’s journey began when he realized there was a world beyond the walls of his father’s palace. As a young prince, he was given every luxury and every training to succeed his father as head of the Shakya clan. Yet, there was an itch inside him—a sense of unease that even all his wealth and privilege could not soothe. Like many of us, especially in our youth, that discomfort manifested as an urge to see the world outside the palace walls. He eventually rebelled, snuck out, and was shocked by the pain and suffering he saw in the world. This sparked his desire to understand the nature of pain. The more he exposed himself to suffering, the more deeply he felt it, and it became clear that his path was not to escape pain, but to understand it—both his own suffering and that of others—in hopes of alleviating the suffering we create.

Ultimately, the Buddha realized that none of us can escape pain. But as is said, while pain is inevitable, suffering is optional. We amplify our suffering by refusing to acknowledge our pain. Once we do, we can begin to process it and transform it into a tool for understanding others. Understanding others, whether we agree with them or not, is a profound purpose in life. By de-emphasizing the importance of our self-cherishing, we can look beyond the walls we build around ourselves and start to see how we can communicate, connect, and ultimately heal the world around us.

Posted on by joseph mauricio

FACING TODAY

Many of us were shocked by the results of the election. Personally, this was a resounding shot across the bow of my serenity and well being. The voice of the people apparently spoke to underwrite a massive upheaval of our political self-identification.

Although Vice President Harris tried to position herself as being aligned with change, she was very much a Washington insider. The Republican vote was a clear repudiation of our country’s standard operating procedures. Among other things this vote has pushed Washington aside for a radical new approach to governance that could likely reshape our society. While there are obviously those excited by this prospect, there are many who are untrusting of this aggressive leap toward a conservative view, which is now endowed to all of us.  We are not alone. Much of the world is facing drastic swings to the right. It seems to be in the air.

Whether this is a natural swing of the social pendulum, or a reaction to unspoken fears of climate disasters and over population, the new configuration in the US seems to echo the Russian model of a strong man, supported by a like minded politi- bureau and a strong oligarchy. In our nascent form we only have one oligarch, but He is the wealthiest of all and has controlling interests already tied to the government. Some of us are very frightened by this.

But, mind can run wild. We can hark back to Germany in the 30’s, or leap forward to a frightened neo Orwellian world. Or, we can choose to stay here and n abandon ourselves or our people. The only refuge practitioners have is to rest in the present, hold space for a shifting world, and open our eyes. No matter how much we want to avert our gaze, looking directly into the eclipse may be all that we can do.  Before we take the bait and assign blame for anything, can we look inward and see if we were present and paying attention while all of this was taking place?

It’s not about Trump. He won decidedly. The senate and Supreme Court have republican majorities. Maybe the House will, as well. Most of our country seems okay with this. Maybe we’re a different country than we thought. Maybe it’s about facing today and seeing ourselves. Facing today. Can we look at this new country, as it is, without creating more chaos and exaggeration? Can we look at ourselves with love and compassion without losing our strength? Now, more than ever can we remain strong enough to be kind?

Thanks for listening. Here is a clip from post election a social post by Venus Williams:

You are awakening to the
same country you fell asleep to.
The very same country.

Pull yourself together.

And,
when you see me,
do not ask me
“What do we do now?
How do we get through the next four years?”

Some of my Ancestors dealt with
at least 400 years of this
under worse conditions.

Continue to do the good work.
Continue to build bridges not walls.
Continue to lead with compassion.
Continue the demanding work
of liberation for all.
Continue to dismantle broken systems,
large and small.
Continue to set the best example
for the children.
Continue to be a vessel of nourishing joy.

Continue right where you are.
Right where you live into your days.

Do so in the name of
The Creator who expects
nothing less from each of us.

And if you are not “continuing”
ALL of the above,
in community, partnership, collaboration?
What is it you have been doing?
What is it you are waiting for?

And please join us tonight for an open and free online discussion Facing Today beginning at 7pm.

POST ELECTION STRESS DISCUSSION TONIGHT 7PM (ET)
meeting link: https://tinyurl.com/DharmaJunkies/

Posted on by joseph mauricio

FACING TOMORROW

I would like to talk about facing tomorrow. In some cases, this could be looking directly into the face of danger – or many dangers. If we’re honest, we just don’t know.  And, it’s natural to be frightened when we are unsure of an outcome. But are we ever really sure of a future outcome? Or is surety based on safely believing what we are compelled to believe? “Everything happens for a reason.” “God will protect us.” “Karma means the good guys win in the end.” We grasp for easy answers to assuage our fear. And frequently none of these answers are true.

Fear is a natural response to not knowing. Grasping for something seemingly tangible just to feel secure ironically leaves us vulnerable and unprotected. It is no value to pretend we know what we just don’t know. But, what we do know is that awareness is the best defence. To arm ourselves with awareness, it is essential that we are willing to see what’s happening. Fear happens, not knowing happens. If this is the case, it’s important to acknowledge that. We don’t know what will happen, and we are frightened. But fear does not need to limit us. Fear can either be a doorway or a wall. With courage and belief in ourselves we can accept our fear, admit we don’t know, and  face what happens. We can do this if we develop confidence in our own goodness, and the goodness of our awake nature.

Confidence and fear are not mutually exclusive. Fear is an experience humans have had throughout existence. Fear has kept us alive, awake and present. If we don’t recoil from the experience of fear, fear will create an edge that keeps us awake. In fact, it is a mistake to believe that fear signifies a problem. Fear might signify the possibility of a problem, but if we pay attention, we can move forward and see what actually lies before us. And knowing the truth is always 0ur best defense. To have our life, our joy, our spirits subsumed in worry over things we cannot control is is not protecting us, although it is robbing us of our life. The life force within us is more powerful than we understand. Maybe one of the most powerful forces in the universe.  The stream of life is a powerful experience that we can tap into whenever we are present and aware.

Buddhist teachings suggest that our life force stems from our life source. Our humanity is an expression of that source. We can learn to rest in source. It is at once universal and personal. It is our Buddha nature. When we rest in that awake nature we are doing all we need to maintain our humanity. We don’t have to be bigger, stronger, funnier or louder than how we are feeling. Circumstances outside of our control often force us to deny our humanity by reacting in ignorance and becoming something we are not. This is quite dishonest. We follow paths because other people lead us and sometimes these paths are not to our benefit or the benefit of our world. We believe that mindlessly following the status quo, or our elite subset of the status quo, will provide us what we need for security and happiness. And we need any number of things to supply the basic requirements for life. However, to the broken parts of us, none of this is ever enough so we want what we don’t have. We mistake things we want for what we need. Often we are searching for what we want so relentlessly we ignore the things we need. This keeps us agitated and unhappily trying to find happiness as we become more and more depleted of our vital spirit. Wanting is, by definition, not accepting. Wanting is desiring different circumstances than what we have.

If, for instance, we really want love in our life, there is evidence that finding that love within ourselves is a necessary requisite. If we love ourselves, we are less inclined to be led by circumstances that are not to our benefit. If we love ourselves, we have a gift that no one can take from us. We can find strength in that love. And we can build confidence in that love. However, this “essential love” is not indulgence. It is not self-cherishing or self-defending which are the province of ego. Our ego proclaims itself so loudly it does not need encouragement. Ego proclamation is a reaction to fear. We get frightened, so we puff up like a blowfish porcupine. But, it is hollow and never enough.

Also, most reactions we have to fear only make us more vulnerable and less able to actually protect ourselves. The single most important thing we need for protection from danger is awareness. But, awareness comes from a stable and open mind. In other words, a stable and open mind rests on acceptance of what is happening here and now. When we are lost in a state of fearful confusion we are giving up on ourselves. We are allowing ourselves to be led by the nose. We are likely to become victims.  Aggressive forces throughout societal evolution have instilled fear in the populace to gain control. Fear of immigrants across the border. Fear of witches in the village. Fear of our own urges under our bed sheets. All of those fears make us vulnerable to be led by anybody wishing to control us. It’s ironic that people who believe so much in the strength in their own individualism as we Americans do, can be led into situations where others can steer them quite effectively. The more aggressive we are, the more easily we are led.

Facing the possibility of change with an open heart, a strong back and a clear mind is nonviolent warriorship which is the seat of the bodhisattva. Connecting to our inner life force, we find a strength that can lead us forward. Sit down, rise up and meet the change. There is great strength in this. Finding false strength in what everybody else is doing or in reacting to what everyone else is doing, which is the same, are just expressions of being controlled by fear. On the other hand, bravery is sitting in the maelstrom, open and aware, feeling our fear and remaining open and clear. Doing this as a training practice every morning is how we remain spiritually fit and connected to our life.

But we don’t have to perform or be supersized to show up for life. We can just do it. We can step past the fear. We can meet the day with humility and grace and trust in our basic goodness.  Standing at the door we might be afraid that if we walk through we won’t be up to the task. But all we have to do is simply be present. Let your mind be busy, let the world be crazy, let other people pull and tug but remain in your seat like a spiritual warrior.  That is your birthright.

Love yourself so that you can love your world.

Whatever happens tomorrow is what happens tomorrow. Take this opportunity to connect to your awake nature finding strength in that, remain steadfast and present in promoting love and goodness in your world.

Posted on by joseph mauricio

FACING CHAOS

The Way of the Warrior

Facing Chaos – The Way of the Warrior

We live in turbulent times. It sometimes feels like we’re in the apocalypse as scripted by Stephen King. Yet, our challenges don’t seem to be enough. When facing difficulties, we often magnify them, making them seem outsized and uncontrollable by thinking everything is about us.

In some ways, it is about us, but not in the way we might think. Challenges happen, but they’re not always happening to us. We tend to personalize our experiences as a way to claim ownership, yet our need to control situations often overshadows our ability to navigate them with clarity. Pulling our hair out over a crisis? That’s egotism. Breaking down over someone else’s pain? Egotism. Shouting out impulsive plans for everyone else? Egotism on steroids. Instead of making situations harder for everyone, maybe we can work on making them easier for ourselves.

Chaos is, after all, a relative concept. Any point in the universe might feel chaotic simply because it can’t organize its experience. When we try to control the uncontrollable, we create existential dissonance. We all crave control, but when we shrink life to fit manageable pieces, it becomes less than it could be, and soon we feel claustrophobic. Real growth pushes us beyond our comfort bubble, which can be terrifying, especially when the way forward is unclear.

Yet, none of this is about us personally; it’s just life. Sometimes life is wonderful, and sometimes it’s terrifying. I’m writing this just before the 2024 election, advertised as a turning point. But even if it’s meant to steer the ship of state, true change will take time. The magnifying glass showing imminent catastrophe can be set aside for clear-sightedness, allowing us to see a way forward.

Two election cycles ago, when Donald Trump won against Hillary Clinton, I sat with the Dharmajunkies, processing shock, fear, and uncertainty. We were mostly devastated—except for one person, an Indian who had recently moved to the U.S. Though he didn’t vote, he understood the significance. He reminded us that while our culture is relatively young, his culture has endured disruptions for thousands of years and remains intact. This was a calming reminder: despite the chaos, we are still here, and there is still goodness. And that goodness is reason enough to remain steadfast. Facing chaos with steadiness could be the enlightened warrior’s creed.

Chaos is the convergence of everything we can’t define. Often, it pushes us to take impulsive, reactive positions, assigning blame and creating aggression. This is lazy. A true warrior does not respond to chaos with aggression; instead, they observe it with dignity and grace. Warriors don’t choose sides just for security; they gather information and strengthen themselves. Courage, in the face of chaos, is our greatest resource.

Instead of defining chaos, we might look inward to define what it means to be a warrior. What does it mean to stay strong through change? To face the unknown with dignity and purpose? To resist knee-jerk reactions and hateful defensiveness? Compassion in chaos is key. True compassion is not about silencing ourselves or playing the victim. It’s about opening our hearts before we act, understanding before we decide, and standing strong without needing to defend ourselves. Compassion can be fierce. Imagine a mother bear pulling her cub off a dangerous road and disciplining it for running into harm’s way. Tibetan Buddhists invoke the deity Dorje Trollo, a symbol of assertive compassion. Dorje Trollo embodies a fierce love that destroys what needs to be destroyed and cares for what needs care. He holds a three-pointed dagger, symbolizing the clarity to cut through passion, aggression, and ignorance, so we can see and act compassionately.

Padmasambhava, a great teacher, practitioner, and shaman, embodied the warrior’s path. People often think of magic as a tool for self-gratification—changing an apple into an orange to impress others. But Padmasambhava’s approach was to see things as they are and transform them toward goodness. He was invited to Tibet to guide the spread of Buddhism. While Tibet’s mystical traditions emphasized manipulating reality for power, Padmasambhava subtly shifted this perspective. The true warrior, he taught, develops inner strength, which no one can take away.

Recognizing that our struggles are often of our own making, “magic” should dispel our illusions. Even when confronted by an external threat, a warrior’s primary task is to maintain balance and strength. The “war” becomes an inner journey of self-mastery. Padmasambhava honored the ancient Himalayan traditions yet redirected their dark energies to protect kindness, clarity, and compassion.

Through Dorje Trollo, Padmasambhava demonstrated that our darkest energies can be tamed and used for good. Mastering our biases and tapping into inner strength brings clarity, a force more powerful than we realize. We don’t need to lose heart over others’ narrow views. The warrior’s creed is to protect our hearts because they are our most powerful tools.

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MIND THE GAP

Discovering the   S p  a   c     e   Around Us

Today we’re discussing “the gap,” a simple yet crucial principle in meditation. This concept relates to the Buddha’s Third Noble Truth—The Cessation of Suffering—which is often discussed as though it were a permanent state. However, one of Buddhism’s core principles, and perhaps a basic aspect of human existence, is that all things are impermanent. When asked if Buddhism itself is impermanent, His Holiness Dilgo Khyentse Rinpoche answered, “Yes, that will pass as well.” This is a startling notion, especially for those who have dedicated their lives to this path.

If all things are impermanent, then so too is suffering. This is the good news: no matter how dire our circumstances, they are not permanent. The saying goes, “The good news is all things change, and the bad news is all things change.”

If suffering is impermanent, we might ask, what does it change into? The opposite would be non-suffering, or nirvana—the cessation of suffering. But even these are just points along an ever-changing spectrum. Suffering and its cessation are not final end points but experiences along the way. We amplify our suffering by clinging to the idea of “self,” making our suffering seem more important than that of others. This personalization of suffering adds unnecessary weight, making it appear more solid and real than it truly is.

Moments of non-suffering are often more frequent than we notice, but they are just as impermanent. If you’re experiencing pain in one leg, for instance, you can shift your focus to the other leg, which is pain-free, showing that the pain is not as all-encompassing as it feels. Similarly, emotional pain—like heartbreak or financial crises—often feels inescapable. Yet, moments arise when you feel a brief sense of relief or peace, only for the mind to pull you back into suffering.

These fleeting moments of relief are what we call “the gap.” This gap is significant because it demonstrates the non-solidity of suffering. The cessation of suffering is not one final moment of peace but a recurring experience interwoven through life, just like suffering itself. It’s like looking out the window of a tour bus—on one side, you see turmoil, and on the other, a beautiful, calm ocean. Both exist, and where you focus your attention matters.

When we’re locked in the truth of our suffering, we amplify it, believing that our suffering is the most important in the universe. But in reality, it’s just part of the broader fluctuations of life. Recognizing this brings relief, as we realize that our suffering doesn’t color everything—there are always gaps of peace, no matter how small.

Likewise, the peace that comes from noticing the gap is impermanent. It’s always there but not always accessible, especially during moments of intense pain or stress. Still, at some point, whether in dreaming, connection with loved ones, or even in death, relief from suffering will come. This brings us to a deeper question—if everything is impermanent, what about death?

In Buddhism, even death is not permanent. Many in the West interpret this to mean reincarnation as a new human form. But the Buddhist view of impermanence is more aligned with the scientific understanding that energy cannot be destroyed, only transformed. As Joni Mitchell sang, “We are stardust, we are golden,” pointing to the fact that the very atoms in our bodies come from stars. Nothing is self-existent; everything arises from the space around us.

Space, in this sense, is a fundamental element in the universe. It’s sometimes referred to as the “womb of life” or, in tantric traditions, the “vagina of life,” as it gives birth to tangible reality. Yet, even tangible reality is imbued with space. Nothing is solid; everything contains elements of openness and impermanence.

Western society, influenced by materialism, struggles to recognize space. We tend to make “things” out of everything, from our thoughts to our experiences. This materialistic orientation blinds us to the changeability of life and the creative potential that space represents. Transformation is scary, so we cling to the solidity of things, keeping openness and creativity at bay.

In Eastern philosophy, however, space is recognized as one of the basic elements—alongside earth, air, fire, and water. Space is seen as the quintessence, the “fifth element,” which is not only essential but the very mother of all other elements. It’s the space between things that allows for change and transformation and for the other elements to clarify.

Meditation training helps us reconnect with this space. By letting go of our thoughts and coming back to the breath, we begin to experience non-conceptual space. This practice allows us to see the lack of solidity in our thoughts and beliefs, helping us open to a more creative and essential life.

In Buddhism, the teachings of the Third Turning point to Buddha-nature, a concept that unifies emptiness and compassion. Buddha-nature is dynamic and ever-present, though not solid or permanent. It’s always part of our experience, even if we don’t always notice it. The practical work of meditation is to retrain the mind to see space—to notice the gaps in our thinking and in our lives.

Space has two cognitive components: one is clarity, where nothing obstructs our view, and the other is darkness or unknowing, where there’s no light. People who embody space in their personality often exhibit openness and acceptance, though they may be difficult to engage for feedback. Space, in its essence, is neutral, offering neither judgment nor obstruction. It simply exists.

This doesn’t mean we should dissolve into space and abandon our responsibilities. Bills still need to be paid, and people still need our care. Form and emptiness become one in the mind of the practitioner. We learn to acknowledge the reality of suffering, treat it with respect, but also see it as transparent, changeable, and impermanent.

In meditation, we can support this understanding by noticing the space in our lives—the gaps. As Chögyam Trungpa Rinpoche used to say, “Mind the gap,” a phrase also used in the London Underground to warn passengers of the space between the train and platform. For practitioners, it means to acknowledge and respect the moments of openness and non-suffering. These moments, even if unclear or uncomfortable, offer potential for insight and transformation.

By staying with the gap, rather than clinging to certainty or suffering, we allow the natural clarity of space to emerge. It’s in these gaps, these spaces of unknowing, that transformation becomes possible.

 

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GIVING PEACE A CHANCE

Remembering John Lennon during the week of his birthday, I wanted to reflect on the third Noble Truth of the Buddha’s teaching—the truth of the cessation of suffering—as a state of peace.

Peace is natural to the mind. As a natural state, the cessation of suffering is readily accessible. However, peace is not a fixed state. There is always suffering in our lives, and accepting our suffering is key to finding the peace that is already present. You might say peace is both intermittent and permanent. It is always there, but sometimes it becomes obscured by the tightness and difficulty that suffering induces.

Unfortunately, humans often identify more with pain than peace, becoming deeply attached to our suffering. It becomes personal, embedding itself in our body and psychology. By identifying with pain and devoting ourselves to struggling or avoiding it, we amplify the suffering. This is why, despite our tendency to assign blame, the second Noble Truth asks us to accept our role in our suffering. Blame is easy, but unfortunately, we are the only ones we can change. So, the first two Noble Truths involve accepting the truth of suffering and our part in it, as we identify with struggle. This is a war we cannot win, but we can accept, let go, and carry on.

John and Yoko posted on billboards in Times Square in 1970, “War is Over. If You Want It.” Trungpa Rinpoche coined the phrase “Victory Over War” and urged his students to develop confidence in basic human goodness. Dr. King saw the mountain and said, “I may not make it with you” and tragically he didn’t. But he pointed a way to peace that still influences our world today. But, can there be peace while there is so much war? I think there better be. Being free of suffering is accessible any time we are open to it, even as wars continue around us. Whatever its social implications, “giving peace a chance” is crucial on a personal level. War is over if we want it. A decade after his famous billboards the country had swung to the right under Reagan. Just before his death in 1980, Lennon was asked if the peace and love generation didn’t feel a bit naive in retrospect. He said, if you smile and someone hits you in the mouth, it doesn’t mean the smile didn’t exist.

In the midst of our suffering, and our struggle with suffering, we can remember that nothing is permanent—not even suffering. Like its absence, suffering is there when we allow it to be. Since both suffering and peace are always with us, it becomes a matter of where we place our identification. Suffering feels urgent, so it garners our attention. It takes training the mind to turn away from habitual beliefs and see things in a fresh way. The bad news is that everything is impermanent, but the good news is that everything is impermanent.

Buddhist teachings highlight that fear of impermanence is one of the causes of our suffering. Our inability to let go of aspects of our mind and life that are needing to  change or come to an end creates great friction. Ironically, while impermanence is painful, it is also what provides relief—because suffering is impermanent too. So, how can something always present be impermanent? Things are “intermittently permanent.” They are always with us, but like the weather, they are always changing. There are times when the weather is beautiful and times when it is threatening. While it’s important to enjoy life when the skies are clear, it may also be important to evacuate when hurricanes come. Florida is a poignant example—paradise that is intermittently deadly.

Perhaps it’s our lot to prepare for the worst and live for the best.

From a meditation perspective, we are letting go and opening up. But as a race of beings, we are too fearful to open up heedlessly. Still, we can look at ourselves: is our life based on fear? Can we give peace a chance, even intermittently? Pema Chödrön was once asked the point of meditation, and she asked her students if they ever experienced interruptions to their pain. In Buddhism, we refer to these as “gaps.” These gaps are pauses in our identification with the struggle of maintaining the fiction we call “Me.” A student answered, “Yes, I experience slight gaps now and then.” Pema smiled and said, “Our work is to make those gaps longer.”

Finally, the cessation of suffering is both the fruition of the path and a foundational state necessary for any creative endeavor. It is also an ongoing possibility. If we cling to the idea of cessation, we miss the point, turning something intermittent into something perceived as solid—another source of suffering. The possibility of peace is here now, even as we lose it by thinking about it. Peace is a felt sense. It is connecting to a part of our being that has always been there, and according to Buddhist thought, that peace is not diminished or changed by suffering.

Even in the middle of war, there are moments when soldiers connect to peace, despite the shelling around them. It takes courage to stay connected to the heart amidst danger. The image of the Bodhisattva is of a person who enters the war while keeping peace in their heart. In doing so, their very presence brings healing to those in pain. In this way, they bring peace.

We don’t have to change the world. But we can allow ourselves to change—slowly, carefully, and completely—if we just give it a chance.

Posted on by joseph mauricio

THE DECISION POINT

Which Way to Go Depends on Where I’m Going

In the past, the inflection points my life have been poorly considered. These junctures were opportunities to directly engage my life, and perhaps steer it into a fruitful direction. However, driven by the anxiety and pressure I always lived under, I’d jump past these moments trying to reach some supposed, imposed goal, usually landing in a new version of the same mess. This pattern defied my ADHD.  My patterns of disability have stayed with me longer than most of my jobs and all of my loves.

As I began to study mindfulness training, it became clear that before stepping into a decision point I needed to know where I was, and where I was heading. Mindfulness of where I am was a process of seeing the self-imposed limitations that held me chained to patterns of habit. But what if I was to set those aside? Once free of my cage, where would I go? That’s a sobering thought. Perhaps that is why we stay stuck where we are, or in my case lurch forward out of – and then into – the same old mud.

I think of the story of bluesman Robert Johnson at the Mississippi crossroads, where, as the legend goes, he sold his soul to the devil to be the greatest blues guitarist. His choice, though fateful, shaped a musical legacy that still resonates today. In life, our crossroads, or decision points, feel binary—right or wrong, good or bad, as though we were “caught in the devil’s bargain” as Joni Mitchell famously wrote. I think it’s a way of spiritual self soothing to place ourselves between absolute good and absolute evil. Then we know where we are. But for many of us much of the time, one way feels more appealing than the other and so we are locked in turmoil on our dirt road.

Robert Johnson stood at the crossroad and made a choice to sell his soul to the devil. And the world begat more soul because of it. Did he lose his soul simply because he followed his passion? This split screen right or wrong may be helpful to controlling agents such as political movements, or churches in league with the state, but for me it is not an effective way to make a mindful decision. The Buddhist perspective of the middle path rests within the binary, seeing decision points as nuanced and provisional. Sometimes a left turn is the right choice, other times the opposite direction is appropriate. Pausing to reevaluate may be necessary no matter our pressure to decide. Yet, before I know which way to turn, it seems important to know where I’m going.

So, despite decisions being dependent on the moment, they hold meaning when they’re guided by principles larger than the moment. Where am I and where am I heading? These questions are the foundation of a mindful path. A mindful path is a wisdom path, despite what we may call it. Am I heading toward greater understanding of my mind my world?

This guiding principle is deeply personal. As a Buddhist I orient myself toward the two-step process foundational to Buddhism. First, the path of personal liberation is working on myself so that I can see more clearly and be less reactive. While I may never fully escape my inner struggles, the journey to transform them is what empowers me and allows me to open my heart to others. The second stage is that I open my process toward benefiting others. Bringing these together, my aspiration is to understand myself, so that I can understand others and be a benefit to my world. Aspiring to benefit others actually reduces the pressure I feel as it creates more room for me. I don’t have to do it on my own, but I can play my part for the benefit of others. So, at each juncture I might ask, is this good for me? And will it help me connect to my world? If I become an amazing blues guitarist along the way, so much the better.

Ultimately, responsibility is mine. No matter how difficult life gets, I am accountable for my actions and for the wounds that shape those actions. While life is greater than me, it is still my responsibility to steer my own ship. I remind myself: what others think is not my business. If something unsettles me, it’s likely pointing to a vulnerability within myself. In any altercation, I can avoid blame and see what it is I can change. All I can change with any certainty is myself. So, why does this hurt? What is it in me that is laying myself open for disappointment? Am I asking too much from someone? Am I expecting someone to fix my life? Those approaches don’t help me. Looking into my heart and seeing how my wounds are shaping me allows me to see how others are similarly trauma shaped. And then rather than demanding from my life, I can actually give back. And for me, that is the greatest feeling.

At every crossroads, the way forward becomes clearer when we are guided by an understanding of where we are going. So, at each juncture I can pause and ask Is the benefitting me? AND is it benefit to my world?

If I choose to help someone who is hurting me, I may be limiting my ability to be a functional and helpful member of my society. If I help only myself, the pressure is all on me. And I find limited joy in always thinking of myself. My life is too small and so there is never enough. Me-me-me needs more-more-more.

Making choices that lead to benefiting myself and my world is a sustainable principle to help me forward. I don’t have to get there, or anywhere in particular. I just need the willingness to eyes open as I let go.

Posted on by joseph mauricio

FUGGETTA BOUT IT

Would Life Be Easier Without Remembering?

Memory is an essential component of how we identify with our lives. Without it, we would lose much of our personal identity and our capacity to navigate the world effectively. Memory is also critical in our development as humans, particularly in forming mental strategies for protection. As we evolved, we traded physical defenses—fangs, venom, scales, and talons—for enhanced cognitive abilities, including an increased capacity for memory.

This enhancement of memory served our defensive systems well, allowing us to predict future events based on past experience. Early mammals developed the ability to remember dangerous or painful situations in order to avoid them in the future. Humans evolved to build on this by not only remembering danger but also transferring knowledge from one situation to another, improving our ability to evade risks.

Memory, therefore, serves an important survival purpose. Yet, it also encumbers and complicates our moment-to-moment perception of reality. Much of what various meditative disciplines seek to achieve is clarity of mind—the idea of direct perception or a non-dual experience where there is no separation between the perceiver and the perceived.

In a dualistic experience, we are distanced from direct perception. Our minds filter everything we see, hear, feel, taste, touch and think —through the lens of memory. This process involves not only concepts of belief but also adjacent ideas and internal impulses that may have little relevance to the actual experience. Memory is an imperfect and shambolic system, that often clouds our clarity of mind.

If we could jettison memory, we might achieve a more direct perception of reality and a state of greater clarity. However, this would also mean losing the sophisticated context that helps us understand what we are perceiving. This raises an important question: How can we retain the useful aspects of memory without allowing it to weigh us down and dull our perceptions?

While some aspects of memory enhance perception, they can also lead to mental complication, keeping us weighted down.

Emotional Attachment and Memory

Emotional attachment to memory, in particular, often leads to confusion in our perception. Memory, while useful for survival and learning, can also project us into the future, often in negative ways. Many of us overuse the ability to foresee future outcomes, living in states of paranoia and expecting the worst in any situation. Being stuck in either the past or the future keeps us from effectively connecting to the present moment.

But what would life be like without emotional attachment to memory? Many cultural narratives emphasize memory—advertisements encourage us to live our lives “creating memories,” as though memories were material commodities. But is this really how we want to live? Using our present experiences merely as fodder for future recollection robs us of both the present and the future. We sit idly, turning the pages of memory, rather than engaging with life as it unfolds.

Meditation and the Importance of Recognition

In meditation practice, recognizing our distraction is of utmost importance. It is unnecessary to berate ourselves for not being present. When we are distracted, we are given the opportunity to recognize that and return to the present moment. This process develops two essential functions of the mind: the ability to recognize an event and the strength to let go of attachment to it, thus returning to the present.

These two seemingly subtle aspects of meditation—recognition and letting go—can transform our lives by distancing us from the emotional baggage attached to past experiences. For example, when you see a rose, you might first recognize its beauty. If it has emotional resonance based on past experience, you might notice that as well. But returning to the present moment without attaching undue significance to the rose because of the past keeps your mind clear and balanced.

Consider a child bitten by a white dog. As the child grows older, they may retain an irrational fear of white dogs, which might even extend to other animals, like white cats or other dogs. The trauma attaches itself to the body, and the memory of that experience continues to cloud perception. While this process is a sophisticated mental development, it is not always helpful.

The key is recognition: recognizing the fear, recognizing the white dog, recognizing the potential irrationality of the fear, and then letting go. Each step brings us closer to direct perception—closer to what is actually happening now, free from the distorting influence of past trauma.

Loosening Emotional Attachment

For meditators, difficult choices must be made. We must ask ourselves whether we are truly living in the present moment or if we are stuck in a cocoon of past experiences that cloud our perception and unconsciously motivate our actions. While emotional connection to life is important, it is equally important to let go of the attachments that pull us away from the present moment.

No matter how beautiful or profound a moment is, our experience of life is temporary. Loosening our attachment is essential. One way to do this is to reduce our tendency to assign significance to everything. For instance, we may adopt beliefs such as “this is God’s plan” or “this must mean something important,” adding layers of meaning where they may not be necessary.

I recall once being nervous for an audition and, in a state of fear, finding a feather on the ground. I kept the feather and subsequently passed the audition. Afterward, I began seeing feathers before other important moments, believing they were signs of good luck. However, a friend eventually pointed out that they were pigeon feathers, common all over the sidewalks of New York. In my panic, I had ascribed significance to something entirely mundane.

By loosening this need for meaning, we can move through life with greater clarity and freedom. We no longer need to grasp for confirmation of our significance in the world. Instead, we gain confidence by recognizing and letting go, allowing us to connect with the present moment fully.

In this way, meditation helps develop a lightness and clarity in our perception and, consequently, in our lives.

Posted on by joseph mauricio

YA GOTTA HAVE HEART

The perennial Broadway musical Damn Yankees had a signature song,”You Gotta Have Heart,” which was sung by a group of underdog ball players trying to summon the courage to beat the fearsome Yankees in the big game. It was a beautiful, heartfelt moment in an uplifting musical. The key theme was the connection between heart and courage, the spirit to face and rise above challenges.

In those days, particularly in New York City, baseball inspired a sense of loyalty, camaraderie and courage. In a memory burnished into the hearts of sports lovers forever, Babe Ruth famously pointed to where he intended to hit a home run in a 1932 World Series —and then did just that. This kind of magic requires immense courage, but not aggressive courage. It’s a courage that comes from the heart. The root of the word “courage” is cor, which means “heart” in Latin and has similar meanings in French and Old English. So, to have courage is to have heart. It’s a joyful bravery that arises from deep within us, overcoming doubt and confusion. If Babe Ruth had been uncertain, he wouldn’t have been able to point to that spot with such confidence. Confidence, courage, heart—these are the topics of today’s post.

There’s a beautiful moment in Peter Jackson’s Beatles documentary Get Back where John Lennon, recording the song “Don’t Let Me Down,” turns to Ringo and asks him to crash the cymbal on the downbeat to give him “the courage to come screaming in.” Here is a man who was part of the greatest songwriting team in history, arguably the most famous rock star of his time, a millionaire, a published author—yet he still felt insecure enough to ask for that symbolic gesture. This moment reveals that courage from the heart encompasses our insecurities, acknowledges our frailties, and allows us to move forward despite doubt.

When faced with overwhelming challenges, we can either brace ourselves and charge forward or, more mindfully, open our hearts, relax, and smile at our fears, stepping forward nonetheless.

“You Gotta Have Heart” was the standout moment in the musical because it inspired the audience. It was uplifting and exhilarating, but more importantly, it encouraged a sense of collective spirit. Conversely, when poorly conceived, aggressively executed acts of bravery occur, they often create division. Some people build communities around what they hate, using those objects as sacrifices to summon dark intentions. When politicians demonize aspects of society to rally support, they act from aggression, not heart. Acting from aggression means denying our own vulnerabilities and leaving little room for others to open their hearts in return. For many, the idea of opening their hearts feels threatening and exhilaratingly dangerous, leading them to avoid vulnerability altogether.

On a personal level, many of us close down our hearts under a false sense of bravery to focus on issues. We seek approval from others, rallying friends who will uncritically support our views, reinforcing our grievances against those we believe have wronged us. While this may create a temporary swell of approval, it is ultimately hollow and fleeting, leaving us feeling manipulated. This might not feel like aggression; it could feel like passion for a cause. Yet, in such moments, we often fall into the trap of preaching rather than sharing something personal.

When we fail to take ownership of our fears, doubts, and insecurities—often because we are unaware of them—we prevent others from connecting with us. Instead of inviting a dialogue, we simply inform others of our views, using our intellect as a shield to guard our hearts. Genuine communication depends on allowing space for everyone to process their own feelings. Otherwise, it risks becoming coercive. When we are passionate about something, we might push our views forcefully, trying to impose our “truth.” However, there is no absolute truth; what matters is acknowledging our feelings and understanding.

Having the courage to sit with our feelings and embrace our doubts, insecurities, aspirations, and desires is incredibly powerful. From a Buddhist perspective, we strive to embody the middle way, recognizing that falling into either extreme—over-expressing the heart or retreating into the intellect—can hinder communication. When we are deeply in our hearts but lack awareness, it can become overwhelming for others to engage. The middle way allows us to hold both extremes in a state of resolution, enabling clear expression and deep feeling.

In ideal discourse, it is important for others to pause and fully process the points expressed. Coming from the heart requires time for the body and mind to register the experience. Conversely, when we engage solely from our intellect, conversations can become cold and rapid, leading to confusion and emotional hurt. By incorporating the heart, we slow the process down and allow feelings to surface.

In the Dharma Junkies weekly group, we encourage people to speak from an “I” position, expressing how they feel. This approach makes their expressions inviolable, as no one can argue with one’s feelings. We take ownership of our emotions without expecting others to validate them. Equally, we create space for each person to share their own truth, free from argumentation, allowing their truths to resonate with others. This space is a show of respect.

Another practice we maintain in our community shares is to avoid commenting directly on another person’s perspective. When someone’s viewpoint provokes personal feelings in us, we acknowledge their position and then share our own feelings without comparing or contesting.

To communicate with courage means to speak from the heart, grounded in clarity, while allowing our words to be heard—and accepting whether they are received or not. This path can be lonely, as the warrior knows only their own feelings and heart, taking responsibility for them and offering them to others.

In group dynamics, addressing an audience or community can become cold when we rely too heavily on intellect. Conversely, when we come from the heart, the communication becomes warmer and more resonant. However, if we delve too deeply into our emotions, it can become overly personal, hindering effective communication. Balancing intellectual exploration and emotional depth is crucial, as both extremes primarily serve our own needs. To truly connect with a group, we must be willing to step beyond our insecurities into clarity.

Or, “Ya Gotta Have Heart. Miles and Miles and Miles of heart.”

 

Posted on by joseph mauricio

The Art of Changing

Say You Want a Revolution?

“You say you want a revolution, well you know, we’d all love to see the plan.”

— John Lennon

 

We’ve talked about stasis and change: the need to regroup, find a home base, and connect with ourselves. Naturally, this leads to a desire to move beyond that base and explore new horizons. Interestingly, I personally struggle with both the claustrophobia of a static environment and a reluctance to change it. It’s a tough bind.

Often, when we feel the itch to break away from our home base, we fantasize about a new place we’d rather be—a new partner, a new job, or even a new body that will transform us into something… what exactly? “Once I transform my body, I’ll find the job that leads to a new partner.” Meanwhile, I stay stuck because instead of tackling one thing, I’m layering conditions: I can’t do this until I do that, but I can’t do that because of something else.

Clearly, I haven’t mastered the art of change. Maybe it’s not laziness or incompetence; maybe I’m trapped in a pattern and don’t know how to break free. The first step is to settle down. Struggling doesn’t help—working does, but only in a clear direction. Instead of pursuing six different goals at once, I could pick one and encourage myself to move forward.

Are you stuck in a pattern, or even a series of patterns that feel immovable? A mindful investigation of being stuck involves unpacking and examining how we got here. What are we doing in our struggle to free ourselves, like being trapped in a Chinese finger trap? Is it productive or just uncomfortable? Let’s explore.

First, we’re in a state of non-acceptance, which triggers unhelpful struggle. Ironically, before change can happen, we must first accept where we are. One major obstacle to acceptance is our unexamined fantasies about what we think we want. I remember once trying to pursue my dream of working in independent films. Transitioning from stage and comedic improv to the detail-oriented world of film shoots—and I hated it. I also couldn’t stand the endless cycle of auditions. What I loved was being in creative flow, not the grind of auditioning.

This isn’t a judgment of those who thrive in film work, but an acknowledgment of my own discomfort. What’s important is that my fantasy was entirely different from reality. I once attended a coaching workshop with a former extreme fighter pilot who became a commercial airline pilot. He said, “My life now feels like driving a bus across a desert—endlessly, monotonously.” Reality didn’t match his childhood dream.

Fantasies aren’t reality because we don’t truly examine what they would cost us or entail. They provide a direction to head toward but aren’t the destination. As I’ve heard it said, “A fantasy without a plan is a hallucination.” Hallucinations can be interesting, but they’re not a viable life plan.

The first step in creating change is accepting where we are—not by endorsing or trying to like it, but simply grounding ourselves in reality. From here, fantasies can become inspiration, not burdensome expectations. A view of a mountain might inspire us, but it doesn’t have to be a goal we must reach—it’s just a direction.

Accepting where we are, and being inspired by new possibilities, are the first steps. Once we’ve determined our direction, we can move authentically toward that view. But to make it a reality, we have to overcome the resistance to movement. Even when we want change, parts of us—often unconsciously—resist it.

A teacher once said, “Obstacles are meant to be difficult. What kind of obstacle worth any merit would be easy?” Instead of seeing resistance as self-sabotage, it’s more helpful to understand it. Seeing where we apply the brakes without judgment helps ease the process forward. Fear of change is natural.

I’ve identified three categories of resistance: mind, spirit, and body. These are foundational in meditation, Buddhism, and yogic philosophy.

Starting with the mind, we often assume that just knowing we should lose weight, get a job, or leave a relationship will make it happen easily. But unaddressed fears and obstacles stop us. The mind can see the view, but it also needs clarity. “I want my life to change.” Okay, but what specifically do I want to change first? For me, it’s my health and well-being, including my diet, as I’m overweight. But dieting alone doesn’t work long-term—it usually backfires. That’s because the spirit or heart isn’t fully aligned with the mind’s goals.

Once the mind clarifies its wants, we need to ensure we believe in them. This requires self-reflection and doing things for personal growth, not for external validation. What do I really want?

On a spiritual level, we face early fears or unmet needs that resist change. We need to negotiate with those parts of ourselves, assuring that this change is for our best interest. This could be as simple as telling ourselves, “I love you, and this is the best step forward.” Spiritually, we must avoid negativity and self-judgment. It’s about deeply coming on board with our vision of change.

Finally, the body is the most ancient part of us, focused on survival. It resists change, even though change is necessary for thriving. This is why sticking to simple changes like exercise can be so hard. The body responds to force but often reverts to comfort.

In substance abuse counseling, a 90-day commitment to sobriety is often recommended because the body needs time to adjust. This three-month period is crucial for the body to embrace a new pattern.

The mind might think it controls the body, but the body operates on its own terms. We need to slow the mind to the level of the heart, and the heart to the level of the body, to truly enact change.

The social and political implications are clear. Before we can change anyone’s perspective, we must first understand their needs. Calling someone a fool for holding different views achieves nothing. The “other party” might not support their leader as much as they yearn for change. How can we encourage that change to benefit everyone?

Struggle can strengthen, as a butterfly gains the power to fly by pushing out of its cocoon. Change may require effort, but it doesn’t have to be self-defeating if we know where we’re going.

We’d all love to see the plan.