Good Morning, Everyone
We can say this regardless of the time of day because returning to the present is always a fresh start. Each fresh start is a new beginning. Every time we return to nowness, it’s like the first day of spring.
This fresh start can occur in an instant or unfold as a broader reset in our lives. It is a vital component of establishing sanity, balance, and serenity on our path. Meditation master Chögyam Trungpa referred to the grand scope of the present—replete with its possibilities, practicalities, and even our past—as nowness. It is more expansive than “the now” or the pinpoint present moment. It is the openness of life unfolding around us, encompassing who we are, where we’re going, and where we’ve come from.
Returning to nowness can be a reboot for the spirit when we become bogged down by worry and doubt. It synchronizes us so we can move forward authentically—acknowledging our fears and confusion but not being blocked by them. Authentic movement is not a frantic push to escape fear but a calm, steady trajectory toward liberation. In this way, fear itself becomes a stepping stone toward fearlessness. Fearless means less fear—we acknowledge our fears, but we do not let them dictate our path.
Dr. Dean Ornish, a cardiologist and senior yoga practitioner, conducted groundbreaking studies in the 1970s that awakened people to the importance of whole foods and a healthy diet. However, he also emphasized that heart disease wasn’t just a result of poor nutrition—it was also due to our inability to release accumulated tension. Modern life conditions us to focus excessively on the negative, a habit rooted in self-protection but one that prevents us from looking up and moving forward. Negative experiences live within us, creating somatic tension and psychological stagnation. It is vital that we learn to release this tension before it drains our life force. Whether through yoga, meditation, walking, or simply gazing out the window, clearing these systemic clogs allows our natural being to reinvigorate and restore.
The brain craves fresh information to forge new synaptic connections that keep it engaged and alive. When we continuously refine the same thought processes without new input, the mind stagnates, pulling back its capabilities as if to say, Oh, we’re doing this again. Habitual patterns, in this way, can become obstacles to spiritual realization. Rather than flowing freely, we find ourselves trapped in energetic cul-de-sacs. But just as morning light signals a new day and spring brings renewal, we, too, can embrace a fresh start—one that replenishes and rejuvenates our system. This reflection is about feeling our doubt yet finding the courage to let it go and step into a fresh morning.
Periods of rest, sleep, and even hibernation are necessary for recovery. However, when the time comes to lift our gaze, we might choose to embrace the next moment, no matter how challenging, uncertain, or frustrating. Each moment is beautiful because it is the next step on our path. Our mind wants that challenge—it thrives on discovery and the unknown.
On a fundamental level, we can distinguish two aspects of the mind: the expansive mind, which seeks growth and renewal, and the protective mind, which prioritizes safety and retreat. The protective mind is natural and necessary. However, when overemphasized, it limits our experience of reality’s vastness and beauty. Even if we are physically constrained—by illness, circumstance, or resources—our mind retains the capacity for profound movement, openness, and understanding. It is a matter of perspective. While survival is crucial, we must allow ourselves to stop worrying about it sometimes. In meditation, we train ourselves to acknowledge our fears yet look beyond them to the full scope of life.
So, where do we look when we’re done licking our wounds or bracing ourselves for the unknown? We look at everything that is already here. These very things provide sustenance to the spirit and allow the mind to refresh. We do not need to force ourselves into new situations to keep the mind fresh. Instead, we simply return to the present as it is, allowing each moment to be a new beginning. When we meet life with openness in this way, we are free to move forward with authenticity. Authenticity means that when we are aligned with ourselves, we can step into nowness with confidence and awareness.
Opening to the world with confidence builds further confidence. When we step forward naturally, we reassure the fearful parts of ourselves that they are seen and cared for. But they do not need to control the journey. These parts will raise objections now and then, and when those fears are valid, we might pause and examine them. However, more often than not, fear arises from insecurity rather than reality. It is like a frightened child—or, in my case, my Aunt Carmen—sitting in the back seat of our car, terrified of how fast my father was driving. We don’t need to disparage or suppress this fear; we can acknowledge it, even smile at it, as Chögyam Trungpa would say. And then, we keep moving forward—with evenness and surety.
I once trained with a coach who had been a fighter pilot in Afghanistan. His missions were reconnaissance flights, flying low through the mountains—danger below from anti-aircraft weaponry, danger above from shifting air currents. Precision was everything. When asked if he was ever afraid, he said, Of course, I was frightened. It would be absurd not to be. But, he explained, he did not allow fear to speak louder than the mission. Instead, he treated fear like a co-pilot—right there beside him, keeping him sharp and present, but never clouding his judgment or holding him back.
It is important to acknowledge our fear-based mind. But it is essential not to allow fear to dictate our course or obscure our purpose. Notice the voice with love and come back to nowness. With mindfulness training, every time we feel fear, we can return. And every time we return, we reset the system, allowing us to step forward with loving confidence in ourselves, our journey, and our world.
There is an old Zen saying: “Disappointment is the chariot of liberation.” But what does that mean? Is it simply wishful thinking when things go wrong? Not quite. It points to a fundamental aspect of the path toward liberation. What are we liberating ourselves from?
human behavior is that we will do the extra work of fabricating a fiction, rather than simply relax with what is. This is where mindfulness comes in: the ability to slow down, synchronize with the moment and rest our attention with what is happening. This allows the space for us to see a perspective grander than one constrained by habittual reaction. With mindfulness we are able to see if the next action is leading to freedom or reinforcing habitual patterns that limit us. And we can take the next step. If we are brave enough, we might step through the veil. When we are controlled by fear, we might cycle back to habit.
Even when we believe we are succeeding within a particular frame, we may only be reinforcing the walls that separate us from deeper understanding. Every mistake, problem, or disappointment is an opportunity—not for blame, but for insight. What we call “failure” often arises from the expectations of the frame we are living within. We didn’t get the job, the person didn’t call back, we failed to reach our goal weight—these disappointments expose the treadmill of habitual thinking that keeps us confined. But when these expectations are disrupted, we have a chance to reset, to step beyond the frame and see our lives with fresh eyes.
In Buddhist teaching, Patience is taught as one of the six paramitas. The Paramitas Generosity, Patience, Discipline, Exertion, Meditation and Wisdom are activities that transcend our conventional frame into a more expansive or “transcendent” expression of experience. This transcendence is sometimes referred to as “the other shore,” as we move from a self-centered, habitual interpretation to one imbued with greater depth and perspective. From this larger perspective, patience can be viewed as a positive application for the development of wisdom. We are not clamping down or tightening up; rather, we are allowing space between an impulse and our action. This space provides the opportunity for us to become cognizant, intentional, and mindful. Transcendent Patience is a momentary pause for us to find the most appropriate response to whatever situation confronts us. More importantly, that space allows us to connect with our natural serenity and peacefulness of mind. Through consistent, dedicated meditation practice, we can develop the ability to recognize these moments of pause—often just before we bite down or cling to our next reaction.
Patience, in its transcendent form, is not merely about waiting for external circumstances to shift. It is about cultivating space within the mind to introduce awareness into our processing. Patience allows us to see our thoughts as they form, granting us the opportunity to respond thoughtfully rather than react impulsively. In Tibetan, this reactive “hook” is referred to as shenpa; Pema Chödrön describes it as the feeling of being hijacked by familiar patterns of reactivity.
Patience also applies on a behavioral level, especially when we are cultivating something new—a relationship, a creative project, or a business. In some spiritual traditions, practitioners “turn it over to God.” In Buddhism, we turn it over to space itself, trusting that space is imbued with the same intelligence and compassion others may attribute to a deity. Rushing a project or relationship may bring temporary gratification but rarely yields sustainable growth. Patience allows the natural rhythms of the process to unfold, supporting more authentic and enduring outcomes.
importance of creating safety for not only himself but also the Dharma and for his students. The need for protection grew alongside his rapidly expanding community. In Tibet, monasteries were safeguarded by monks trained in awareness and nonviolent crowd control. Trungpa’s close attendant, John Perks, a British armed forces veteran, played a pivotal role in this initiative. Perks, who passed away on January 31st, was an outrageous and endlessly creative figure whose book The Mahasiddha and His Idiot Servant captures the spirit of the time.
These principles trace back to the 9th century when the Indian Mahasiddha Padmasambhava introduced Buddhism to Tibet at the invitation of King Trisong Detsen. Padmasambhava encountered numerous obstacles, as Tibet’s rich mystical traditions were diverse and often aggressive. While some practices were positive, others were rooted in fear and superstition. The Tibetan king sought to unify his people through a central spiritual framework, seeing Buddhism’s ideals of nonviolence and compassion as tools for governance. Inspired by India’s spiritual renaissance, Padmasambhava aimed to refine Tibet’s spiritual landscape.
The ideal meditative state—clarity and acceptance—rests on the openness and settledness of the body, heart, and mind. However, life rarely offers us perfect conditions. For me, morning practice often begins with a scattered or resistant mind. The first step, then, is acceptance—meeting the mind as it is and not as I wish it to be.
Once again, meditation isn’t about fixing; it’s about seeing. The mind of meditation arises in awareness like a point in space. And as the space of awareness is relieved of the pressure to fix itself or chose a side, it remains loving and supportive. It is a state of grace. By stepping into the grace of awareness, we don’t need to force change—we simply allow what we notice to be with us, remembering none of it is as real, solid or urgent as our fear suggests. Trungpa Rinpoche famously wrote, “good, bad, happy, sad – all thoughts vanish like an imprint of a bird in the sky.” Once we release ourselves from the grip of control, we see everything as ephemeral, diaphanous and in dynamic transition. Sakyong Mipham calls this the displaysive activity of mind. All of our worries are the mind revealing itself. Many of our worries are kid fears. And like kids, they need to be loved and accepted, but not always believed.
Ego which can be seen as the very limited defensive nature of the mind, serves to reduce our world to a controllable space. Its logical extension is the propagation of surety, dogma and doctrine. The opposite of ignorance(ma-Rigpa) is knowing (Rigpa), and therefore, egoless being is sees and knows what is happening. And it always has. This is Buddha Nature – our natural state. Because it is accepting reality as it is, it is not at war. Thus, Buddha Nature is said to be indestructible. It has never changed. It is the life of the universe and the very life around us. And though our lives will pass into other configurations, our essential nature is said to be part of all of nature. Ego clings to temporal things in order for us to believe that temporary things give us solace and sustenance. We can squint our eyes and believe what we are happy but, inside us, we know that happiness is immaterial. Material things are “like a banquet before the executioner leads us to our death.” Revenge, retribution, and displays of grandiosity masquerading as leadership are fleeting and meaningless. They are basically good, because they are there. But they are expressions of ego and ultimately fleeting.
Physical pain awakens us to the possibility of danger or a need to heal. While few of us like pain, it serves a vital function. Some p
There is nothing wrong with fantasies until they take the place of actual engagement in life. Fantasies allow us to journey into edgy realms with no real investment. By imagining pleasures of the flesh, we have no actual skin in the game. (Yes, bad pun intended.) We can live out fantasies at will in apparent safety. However, as they serve an important creative function, it may be that fantasizing only supports the solitude that allows wounds to fester. Sometimes we analogously recreate the actual wounding we are otherwise unable to look at directly. People may act out abuse sexually by entering a “play space” that is an active dissociation of their primary personality. The “play-space” is a safe space people can act out being unsafe. And whether this is working through their deep wounds or reinforcing them is unclear.
The present moment rests between the past and the future. Specifically, how we could protect ourselves from this situation or how we can enact laws to protect our community in the future. Or, going deeply into the causes and conditions of what happened to us might lie in the past. Either of these examples might be helpful, but they are more the province of therapy. Meditation looks at what is happening now. That is what we mean by the light. Many of us were wounded so deeply in the past that there is little possibility of contacting the source of that suffering. But we can feel their effect right now if we remain conscious. And as we become more and more conscious of that which lies within us, we become more and more whole.