Category: Writing

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.

Posted on by joseph mauricio

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.

 

Posted on by joseph mauricio

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.

 

 

Posted on by joseph mauricio

HOME IS WHERE THE HURT IS

And Home is Where the Heart is

From the moment life emerged in that first warm pond, it has been on a continuous quest for safety and growth. While life seeks a safe place to rest, it also repeatedly ventures beyond its comfort zone to explore and evolve. Life has always been challenging, yet resilience is less about brute force and more about channeling energy into a sustainable flow. The idea of overcoming life’s obstacles through sheer grit and determination may sound heroic, but in reality, our journey through life is much more nuanced.

We move forward with bravery, only to retreat to our safe haven for rest and replenishment. Along the way, we conquer some obstacles, avoid others, and inevitably fall to those that outmatch us. There’s little value in keeping score. Life does its best, evolving continuously, regardless of the challenges it faces.

The Human Tendency to Complicate Life

Yet, we humans have an extraordinary ability to complicate even the simplest processes. This tendency arises from our belief that we know better—that there’s always a nicer place, a better relationship, or a more lucrative position awaiting us. We cling to grand ideas that often bear little connection to reality. In our pursuit of fantasies, we end up stepping on each other’s toes, competing for ever-narrowing spaces. Siblings compete with each other, children with their parents, and families with their neighbors. This relentless competition drives our children to Yale, whether or not they even wanted to attend college.

Home: The Seat of Our Wounds

Ideally, home should be a sanctuary—a place to rest and recover. However, in many cases, the wounds we carry within our families prevent us from truly settling into ourselves. Home, where our deepest wounds reside, becomes a reflection of the heart, the core of our body-mind system. These wounds of the heart, in turn, project onto every aspect of our lives.

Personal Boundaries and Connection

Each of us carries an internal “hula hoop” that creates space around the tender parts of our being—those areas shaped during our vulnerable, early years. For some, especially those who have faced significant trauma, this protective boundary becomes rigid, making it difficult to connect with others. Yet, despite these defenses, we all long to connect on a deep, human level.

As we open our hearts to others, we risk re-experiencing past pain. The process of pulling inward for self-care and then extending outward to connect with others is essential for growth. Reaching out is vital because it allows us to learn about the world around us. However, those who experienced significant trauma in childhood may struggle to form connections and attachments.

The Role of Intimacy in Breaking Boundaries

Intimate experiences, such as orgasms, allow us to move beyond our personal boundaries and connect deeply with another person. Although these moments may seem complex or elusive, they serve a biological purpose: bonding couples for more effective child-rearing. The connection felt during such intimate moments transcends ordinary life, allowing someone to bypass our defenses and access our innermost selves. This deep bond makes separation particularly painful, as the intimacy once shared becomes public, leaving us exposed.

The Importance of Early Attachment

Childbirth and early child-rearing are other profound examples of moving past boundaries. If a child is not nurtured correctly in the early stages, they may face lifelong attachment issues. When the bond between parent and child is weak or strained by external pressures, the child may struggle to form attachments later in life. While some philosophies view attachment as problematic altogether, I feel it more practical to accept and examine our attachments to understand how they may be limiting our growth and how we might move beyond those limitations.

Challenges in Settling and Relaxing

When there are problems at the root level of our being, it’s like living in a building with a chipped cornerstone—settling and relaxing into life becomes challenging. These “cracks” in our root chakra can keep us energetically unsettled, always searching and shifting. However, by repeatedly returning to the present moment, we can become more familiar and even friendly with our difficulties, eventually finding the means to relax into ourselves.

Family Relationships: A Special Challenge

Family relationships are particularly challenging because they are unavoidable and deeply rooted in our circumstances. If we choose to maintain these profound connections, we must be willing to confront individuals who can bypass our defenses before we even realize it. This sensitivity can make us feel judged, threatened, or even loved before any words or gestures are exchanged. For instance, after a conflict, walking into a room with that person can feel like stepping into a minefield, as we are already on guard, ready to defend ourselves.

Deepening Self-Understanding

These situations offer an opportunity to explore our defensive mechanisms and begin to unpack our reflexive ways of dealing with the world. Lashing out before understanding the situation is not mindful. A wise friend once said, “What other people think is none of my business.” The point is that we often speculate about others’ thoughts and judgments, which may not even be accurate. Instead, it might be simpler and more effective to keep interactions civil and surface-level, allowing our deeper emotional connections to change naturally.

The Power of Non-Verbal Communication

A lot can be communicated through a smile, a touch on the shoulder, or simply being present with another person. Receptive presence is a technique used in animal care. The attendant simply sits near the frightened animal until shows signs of relaxation and receptivity. It works for people animals as well. Simple gestures of contact can open the energy between people, restoring intimacy without the need for words.

Retaining Connection in the Face of Challenges

With the many challenges to intimacy, it is of major importance to retain our connection to those with whom we are deeply bound. It is often said that our family is our spiritual path. Some believe there is no accident that we find ourselves in the specific family to which we are bound. These karmic connections are challenging, because we grew up with family members that have had access to our  most intimate being. This opens many flashpoints that can be challenging to navigate. Once we are triggered, it is crucial to look at ourselves before we react.  We might ask what we can learn before we anticipate others judgement of us, or place blame on another. When it hurts we might look inward, because we are the working basis of our liberation and we are the only factor we can effectively change. “What do I need right now? How can I effectively express my needs?” This is how we learn about ourselves.

I love my family very deeply, although all of us have shared our woundedness, our reactions, and our difficulties as we have grown. There have been unskillful attempts at communication, and there have been breakthroughs into heart connection. The breakthroughs came as we were able to work past 0ur defenses. And I believe each of us has learned profound lessons through these connections.

The heart of our being lies within its protective layering.  Understanding the language of the heart requires the bravery to feel pain and to recognize that suffering as our own, and to own our own pain.

 

 

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Posted on by joseph mauricio

SPEAKING TO EACH OTHER

I would like to introduce the community council. The idea behind this gathering is to create a mindful approach to communication in our lives and within our community. This will also allow awareness of ourselves, which enables progress on our path.

The Power of a Dharma Community: One of the remarkable things about a Dharma community, which is a mindful and intentional community, is that our everyday actions can be guided by our mindfulness practice. In turn, our mindfulness practice deepens when applied to our daily lives.

The Role of Communication: Communication is a fundamental aspect of everyday life. It’s the bridge to understanding each other. However, poor communication often creates barriers rather than bridges. While boundaries are necessary to maintain clarity and focus, they need not be barriers to communication. If the true purpose is communication, then understanding one another is our purpose. It is important to mentally restate that intention at the outset, as well as remind ourselves throughout.

Communication is not a speech, it is a dual process of speaking and listening.

Intentions Shape Communication: Our intentions set the tone for communication. If our goal is to belittle or attack, we close off the possibility of true dialogue. Effective communication is not about winning or dominating; it’s about reaching out to another’s heart and engaging with their basic human dignity. By doing so, we create the highest potential for a meaningful exchange. When we attack, we are forced to deal with the worst in another. When we treat the other with dignity, we are working with their best.

So, what is your intention? Is it to force another into your corner? Or, is it to open to a changeable creative exchange? Which of these possibilities teaches us more about ourselves and each other?

Openness in Communication: Openness is the second key aspect of communication. It implies changeability and creativity. True openness means allowing space for reflection, listening to our own words, and genuinely hearing the other person without judgment or interruption. It’s about giving others the authority to speak their truth without needing our approval.

The Council’s Purpose: The purpose of our community council is not to force conformity but to create a space where everyone feels they are heard. In moments of disagreement, it’s vital to retain our openness and respond thoughtfully, without aggression or coercion. Speaking from a place of truth allows us to communicate effectively, even when our views differ.

The Role of Council Members: As council members, we are entrusted with holding this space. We must empower ourselves and others to engage in mindful, open, and compassionate communication. Even when we’re triggered or uncomfortable, it’s important to stay grounded, remember our role, and guide newer members toward less aggressive communication.

Conclusion: In summary, open communication involves three key points:

  1. Boundaries: Holding to our own truth without attacking others.
  2. Openness: Speaking clearly and listening genuinely.
  3. Empowerment: Holding our seat with confidence and guiding others toward mindful communication.

When we are empowered  with confidence, we are cognizant of our own dignity, and not obligated to anyone’s approval.  Then we can hold the space to allow a flow of ideas, some supporting and some challenging. Yet, if we hold our set and hold space we can enact out intention to create a community where everyone feels heard, respected, and valued.

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Posted on by joseph mauricio

THE FEMININE

Understanding our Mother, Sister and Maiden

 

When exploring the feminine principle in human experience, we’re not specifically referring to women, but rather using the image of women as a gateway to understanding this essential energy. Everyone possesses both feminine and masculine energies, which together make up the whole integrated human experience.

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.

Today, we focus on the receptive qualities of feminine energy. Receptive does not mean submissive; it is, in fact, a very powerful energy. In classical Tibetan Buddhism, the feminine is represented by the mother, sister, and maiden. These stages provide entry points to understanding this powerful energy. The mother symbolizes birth and nurturing. Space itself can be seen as feminine, as it contains and gives rise to all things. In some instances, assertive energy is required for creation, but it is always the feminine that nurtures that creation. The creative, assertive energy tends to proclaim itself, often competing with other masculine energies. Consequently, our temporal understanding is often skewed, viewing things predominantly from the masculine perspective.

We have recently lived in a time dominated by masculine energy. However, the masculine is ultimately at the service of the feminine, its mother. This interlocking energy dynamic shows the masculine creative energy dominating other masculine energies to serve the feminine. This has been misunderstood as the masculine choosing, with the feminine in service to it. In our materialistic society, we value things based on monetary concerns. Thus, the male providing money for the family’s safety has been misinterpreted as an act of dominance rather than service. The most important aspect, from a spiritual point of view, is the sacred bond of the family. The feminine gives birth to the family and should be protected by the creative energies within herself, her partner, and society.

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.

From a Tibetan Buddhist perspective, feminine receptive energy should be protected. In our contemporary society, this protection could come from the society, culture, laws, and the world itself, rather than a single male figure. The saying “It takes a village” reflects the importance of a communal nurturing and protection for the creation birthed by the receptive.

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 sister represents the feminine energy that is connected to us at all times, an equal and vital part of our experience. Although we live in a time that favors masculine energy—due to a preference for survival over thriving—feminine energy remains equally important. Acknowledging, accepting, and bonding with the feminine can be seen as a supportive element. When we think of protection, procreation, and health, we might initially evoke strong masculine energy, but often the nurturing, friendly aspect of sisterly feminine energy is more appropriate. While men tend to create linear structures and hierarchies, women often foster horizontal communal energies. Soldiers referring to themselves as a “band of brothers” are describing the essence of sisterhood. This sisterhood involves an egalitarian, communicative, and connective quality. When we bond emotionally with our world, environment, or each other, we express this feminine energy.

The maiden represents the youthful, attractive, and capricious quality of sexual energy. The maiden entices, challenges, and playfully engages the creative. It’s important to stress that we are discussing essential energies, not men and women. The maiden can be represented by the partner in a sexual union who embodies the playful, receptive, and challenging aspect of the relationship. While many relationships have a blend of masculine and feminine qualities, each of us can connect with and invoke this youthful sexuality within us. The mother, sister, and maiden exist concurrently as well as consecutively, both within us and in the energies we invoke in others. Gender fluidity recognizes that regardless of one’s identification, all of us exist on a spectrum of gender possibilities.

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.

In Tibetan culture, men were part of a nomadic hunting-gathering system in a harsh environment where vegetation and sustenance were scarce. These communities, particularly in medieval times, were ruled by feminine structures. Sexual bonding between men and women was not permanent; as men often left and didn’t return, the community needed to continue procreating. Mothers ruled the roost and were not obligated to the monogamous structures that contemporary society demands. While the mother and sister energies may bond for life, the early stage energy of the maiden is not intended for such structure. She is an energy of capriciousness, embodying the trickster. This is the transformative energy of falling in love. The word “falling” is crucial here. When we fall in love, we leave behind our hardened positions and embark on a journey of transformation. We become something beyond what we have known and fiercely defended. In this process, we are reborn or recreated.

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.

These energies are present everywhere—in the trees, the plants, the wind, and the earth. There is the Goddess of Fire, the Goddess of the Wind, the Goddess of Earth, and the Goddess of the Mind. Most essential is the Goddess of Space, for she is the womb of all creation. Though space can be vast beyond comprehension and even deadly, it is also nurturing, friendly, and inviting. The way to connect with this energy is through gentleness, kindness, patience, and respect. These qualities are accessible to us all, as they are the energies of the goddess within each of us.