Reconnecting to our Basic Human Dignity
We’re all familiar with the trope of a good angel on one shoulder and a bad angel on the other. This seems grandly narcissistic, as though each of us is caught in a cosmic struggle between ultimate good and ultimate evil. Many of us live under the influence of such external beliefs, and though we may not adhere literally to this idea, we are nonetheless inwardly pressured by the clash between goodness and evil.
False binaries dominate our consciousness, good versus evil, left versus right, wonderful versus horrible. We live squeezed between these exaggerations. The Buddha taught that the truth lies not in extremes but in the “middle way.” This teaching urges us to be present in our lives and act rightly in the moment. Similarly, the 12-step traditions speak of “doing the next right thing.” According to the Buddha, the next right step depends on the specific circumstances of the moment. Instead of fabricating extremes, the middle way turns our attention to what’s really happening.
Unfortunately, our brains are not attuned to the middle, especially when we are emotionally triggered. When we feel threatened we are able to easily grab extremes like little kids pounding their fists on the bed. “I hate you! I hate you!” As a child, we don’t really mean that and the universe cuts us slack. But in our adult life, we provoke consequences when we act. Where is our fist pounding leading? We can recognize the middle way when we question extreme beliefs. If we think, “This is horrible!” we should ask: Is that entirely true? Is there nuance? By examining what’s actually happening, we can orient ourselves toward a larger view of where our life is heading. The next right step becomes clear when we have a sense of direction. If our ultimate goal is to be compassionate, open, and helpful, we might ask does this step lead me toward or away from that view? This approach creates a more practical binary. Which action leads me to where I really want to go?
Where are we heading?
The Buddhist path always returns to the present. The next step is just one step, yet it leads toward the larger trajectory of our life. Where are we heading? By freeing the concept of karma from societal binaries, we see it more accurately as action. Karma is the dynamic interplay of energy. Much of the energy relating to us is shaped by our actions. Karma is vast and multifaceted, yet the middle way simplifies this: What are my actions creating right now, and where are they leading me?
Buddhist teachings encourage us to cultivate a broad, meaningful vision of our lives while connecting to the small, actionable steps within our reach. Material possessions, though significant to society, can be seen as means to an end, not the ultimate goal. Many people claim to be motivated by money but are often paralyzed by fear of it, doing little to address their concerns. In contrast, spiritual fulfillment, which I believe is the union of emotional growth, physical wellness, and mental clarity, motivates us deeply. These qualities thrive when we orient toward benefiting others and the world around us.
The Three Motivations
Buddhist teachings describe three motivations for walking the path:
- Self-Care: The foundational motivation is to care for oneself. We might meditate, exercise, or connect with others to feel better. While essential, this focus is limited; if feeling better is the only goal, we may falter when life doesn’t cooperate. Instead, self-care should build strength and resilience to navigate challenges. This step lays the groundwork for deeper growth.
- Realization: The second motivation is to seek greater understanding. In the 12-step tradition, people often say, “I came for the drinking, but I stayed for the thinking.” This captures the idea that addressing immediate problems leads to self-discovery. The journey progresses from acknowledging weaknesses to cultivating meditation, spiritual connection, and eventually helping others. This motivation deepens our commitment to transformation.
- Benefit to Others: The third motivation involves being of service to the world. This doesn’t mean proselytizing or seeking recognition. Instead, we embody our growth and offer it through our actions. With a clear vision and ample space for motivation, we can focus on the present moment and discern what needs to be done.
WALKING PAST RESTRICTIONS
Rather than clinging to oversimplified notions of good and bad, we can ask: Does this next step bring me closer to happiness, fulfillment, and the ability to contribute to my world? On one shoulder, we might have the voice of motivation, encouraging us forward. On the other, a doubtful voice may say, “You’re not ready,” or “The world isn’t deserving of your efforts.” This voice, born of past pain and fear, resists liberation because liberation challenges the familiar and the comfortable. But, many of have grown weary of treading the same circular path, and we become – or are sometimes forced to become – ready to drop the load and move more freely.
The second motivation—the pursuit of realization—helps us overcome fear. Its scary to change. Its painful to live. And moving forward on the path isn’t always easy or enjoyable, but once we get a glimpse of realization, it is the only direction to take. By aligning ourselves with the goal of liberation, we shed the binaries and constraints that hold us back. Liberation isn’t a grand ascension but a practical return to our natural state—our true selves.
Ultimately, walking the warrior path means shedding what no longer serves us and embracing openness and presence whenever it feels safe. It’s about reconnecting with who we truly are and living in alignment with our highest potential.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
Although masculine and feminine are inseparable, we can separate them to examine the distinct qualities each energy entails. The Tao Te Ching posits that the receptive complements and completes the creative. By considering this provisional binary, we can recognize that each of us has both assertive and receptive qualities. As we become more aware of these energies, we can learn to balance them.
Feminine energy cannot be owned; it is the very nature of the universe. Recent explorations of “dark matter” may be investigating this ancient energy, which existed before light. As all things—past, present, and future—exist in space and the universe, that ancient energy still holds and drives the expansion of the universe. The suggestion is that feminine energy is dark energy, predating creation and birth. Light, as a masculine energy, illuminates the dark, allowing us to perceive it, but the preceding, self-existing condition is feminine. Therefore, light is crucial to the creation of our universe and consciousness, but the darkness of the womb is the primordial state.
The mother cares for and protects the child on the most intimate level. We can extend this concept to include the creation of any kind—such as art, spirituality, or poetry. Personally, I write my creative work with a feminine voice, as it connects me to the sensitive, delicate part of myself essential for writing. The mother upholds our creative being, giving birth to the creator and nurturing the maturation of that creation. Regardless of societal or personal dynamics, every aspect of reality is connected to the feminine. The mother holds, nurtures, and creates us.
The maiden is symbolized by the dakini, often depicted in her late teens or early maturity. The dakini’s energy is linked to sexual awakening and discovery, which can sometimes lack compassion. While the dakini entices and softens the creative energy to approach her, she follows a deeper wisdom. Though often depicted as naked, in flames, and dancing in the sky, her connection is to the sacred feminine space of the universe, an energy predating all things. Her energy might seem capricious because she is linked to a higher order or her own feminine clan or community, making her actions incomprehensible to a more rigid, linear, masculine perspective. Thus, the maiden is always one step ahead of comprehension, dancing in flames in space. Though youthful and sexually appealing, the maiden exists within all of us. You can see her in the eyes of an older person in love or feel her in the embrace of someone who pushes you away for no discernible reason. In our male-dominated society, there has been an attempt to dominate and control this capricious energy, but the dakini cannot be controlled or possessed. She can be held, calmed, or tamed, but only provisionally. Like fire, with which she is associated, she warms, enlightens, reveals darker truths, but can also burn and move from one source of fuel to the next.
At that point, the dakini may leave us, her purpose fulfilled. Alternatively, this energy may transform into a more sustainable form, like the nurturing energy of the sister, akin to ducks that mate for life, swimming together in balanced harmony. Or it may evolve into the protective energy of the mother, who guides and shelters her brood.
So, let’s break down the components of this elephant. The elephant stands on the notion of a “self“. At some point in human evolution we became conscious. That localized sense of perceiving began to organize itself into an entity that is aware of itself. This allowed us a vantage from which to navigate an otherwise unmanageable sea of possibility. Yet, that navigation comes at the cost of limiting those possibilities. This notion of self is a necessary limitation in order for consciousness to have a reference point. Ego is a further limitation of those possibilities. Ego happens as self-awareness becomes a self-consciousness that assumes itself to be self-existing. This assumption of “me” can become a self-referential closed loop that reduces awareness to specifically localized points of view. The ego works as a set of patterned functions that reduce what we see of the world. We conflate reality down to serviceable quanta which, in turn, are seen as a means to serve our perceived compensatory needs. These perceived needs are generated to compensate for feelings of lack or vulnerability. In other words, we see what we are conditioned to see and generate feelings that prompt reactions. We generally do this all without much investigation.
The antidote is to stop. Allow a gap. Breathe out. Drop into ourselves and feel ourselves in our body. That is much closer to reality than circular, ego world building. Just drop it. Come home, and be here. This act of self love will allow the elephant to rest. When the elephant rests we can look around and see the world as it is.
I once wrote an unlove song that went “people suck, and you’re one of them.” Yet life with the irritations of other humans may be worthwhile simply because we have no choice. It is an existential situation that we can either choose to see or turn away from. Sartre’s play was an existential glimpse of a human condition that left us with no alternative, hence the idea of hell. The Buddhists say the cycle of suffering, referred to as l samsara, is endless. And, yet the Buddha predicted that suffering can nonetheless cease if we understand its cause. Our experience of that endless sea of suffering is enacted by the clinging attachment to the straws of life we feel will save us from drowning. Instead of flowing though life with an open sense of discovery, we grasp to the things we love and struggle to get away from things we hate. And in the turbulence of yes and no, wanting and not wanting, we become blind to the rest of our life.
So, why do we suffer? We become comfortable with the familiar. Seeing what we see, knowing what we know, doing what we do supports our sense of security. As we are social creatures, we search out our clan and dance with the partners we enjoy. However, we can unknowingly become attached to what we know, and experience antipathy toward that de don’t. We assume our point of view is self-existing and inviolable. Humans nestle into comfort without looking into that or beyond themselves. Chogyam Trungpa likened this process to creating a cocoon. Cocoon, in this case, is a womb of repetitive patterns, societal norms and bounded thinking in which we find protection but entirely take for granted. We separate ourselves from the dangers of disparity by surrounding ourselves with the familiar. Each of us has our specific style of protective cocoon that makes us feel safe. Ironically, those who flaunt danger sometimes find solace in the familiarity of repetition of their unsafe behavior. A daredevil approach feels brave, but once we’ve learned how to navigate the danger, it becomes a pattern.
It is essential for the butterfly to struggle through its cocoon in order to develop the strength to fly. Likewise, it is essential for those on a wisdom journey, to work with the discomfort of waking up. The Tibetans refer to “lakthong” or clear seeing. Lakthong is seeing beyond our reference points and likened to “waking up. When faced with the discomfort of seeing more clearly, a common tactic is to find fault and assign blame. We can deflect the pain of our burgeoning awareness onto a projection of another object. However, this freezes us in place. Once we pinpoint a problem, then it becomes a scapegoat. We are no longer looking, because we are seeing what we believe. Smart people are very susceptible to irritation and blame. People of high intellect can often become impatient with those moving on slower cycles. It’s natural to value our world from the vantage of our own values. Sometimes this conflates into a rigid false binary. Some people are good and some are evil. Assigning a value of evil may be more about pushing away something you find uncomfortable than an absolute value scale.
At this writing we are heading toward a pivotal, some say existential, national election. The two primary presidential candidates have come under fire. One fending attacks against their age and mental acuity. The other, quite literally, in a narrowly missed assassination attempt. Both of these situations have caused us to stop and reconsider solid paradigmatic points of view.
Binaries are fictions we create to better understand chaos. There is a good, and there is a bad. We have right and we have wrong. We feel comfort in fending off chaos with these solid beliefs. All of us have something we feel is real. But clinging to those beliefs create suffering as readily as clinging to material things or other people. This is called materialism of view. We believe our ideas are real. Well, good luck with that. I’ve actually come to see that binaries are by their nature never real. They are crude designations, the first step in the mental triage in trying to address the unsettling unknowing of chaos. The remedy? Hahaha. Relax. We are struggling through a natural process of rebirth. There is no reason to struggle. Our disquiet is urging us to discomfort. Our discomfort tells the part of ourselves charged with being in control that we are under siege. And so we prove our mettle by digging in. We turn false binaries in rhetoric and rhetoric into violence. At this point, the chaos in our mind becomes chaos in our life.