Hello All -

Just a quick note to let you know I’ll be leading one final Nejang and mantra retreat this year, this one at the beautiful Omega Institute (where I have served as one of the resident meditation instructors for the past several years). At my retreats—which include instruction on meditation, visualizations, and Nejang self-healing exercises from Tibetan medicine—we’re basically entering into these practices so that we can uncover and reclaim our true selves and release all the layers of “persona” that have been clouding our perceptions all these years. Nejang is also excellent for physical, mental, emotional and spiritual health. So if you are ready to let go of all that is false and causing constriction, come expand with us at this nurtuting Summer Solstice retreat.

INFO/REGISTRATION HERE : https://www.eomega.org/workshops/activating-bliss-within

Please spread the word and share with those whom you think might benefit.

Space is limited, so sign up soon if you can.

Experience the potency of Nejang Yoga, a Tibetan self-healing practice that combines pranayama, gentle movement, and self-massage.

All the masters tell us that our true nature is bliss. Yet, in stressful times, many of us have moments in which our own lives (and minds) seem intolerable. We invite you to experience the potency of Nejang Yoga—a simple but profound self-healing practice from the traditions of Sowa Rigpa and Tibetan Buddhism that helps to purify afflictions and ailments at the level of the subtle body.

Also known as Tibetan rejuvenation yoga or Tibetan longevity yoga, Nejang (which translates as “cleaning the energy sites in the body”) is a Tibetan practice that combines pranayama, gentle movement, and self-massage.

In this profoundly healing retreat, you learn:

• Empty-body meditation, to expand awareness of yourself beyond the physical body and activate the innermost healing state

• Vajra chanting to purify your innermost “secret” obstacles of body, speech, and mind

• Ninefold purification breathing, another subtle body practice that purifies the three poisons of anger, attachment, and ignorance

• Nejang self-healing yoga to help restore health, balance, and energetic flow at the level of the subtle body (thereby helping to purify the root causes of physical, mental, and emotional issues)

Nejang Yoga has been shown to help alleviate depression and anxiety, improve digestion, calm the nervous system, restore balance, cultivate states of peace, maintain good health, extend the lifespan, and deeply transform your mind.

You also learn and practice simple healing meditations, visualization, and pranayama to help activate the profound states of healing and bliss that exist within. This is a program of deep self-care, rejuvenation, and revitalization. It reminds us how to gently return to our true selves, to understand that you actually do have agency over your health and states of mind, and to recognize the uncomplicated and unexcelled bliss that resides within.

Nejang Yoga is a simple, gentle practice, accessible to all ages, body types, and abilities. All ages are encouraged to join—especially seniors and people recovering from injuries or living with disabilities. Nejang can be practiced in a chair or a wheelchair. Modifications will be offered by the instructor.

Recommended Reading:

• Nejang: Tibetan Self-Healing Yoga by Dr. Nida Chenagtsang

• Let Meditation Be Thy Medicine by Dr. Nida Chenagtsang

WHAT TO EXPECT AT OMEGA:

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Years ago, shortly after 9/11, I very suddenly left my marriage, my apartment, my job, my entire NYC life, and my dog--oh, my dog!--to go live at a Buddhist retreat center in the Rocky Mountains. I felt it was essential that I dismantle my material life and take steps to really learn and understand and embody how to be a good human (rather than a good consumer, or a good capitalist, or a good wife as defined by the patriarchy.) I was already a meditation practitioner and a yogi at that point in time, and while I was not yet officially Buddhist (as in taking the vows), I knew that the Buddhadharma was going to be my refuge and my path. There, at the dharma center, I took a work-study job painting auspicious symbols that would eventually be mounted inside the Great Stupa of Dharmakaya, which was then still under construction. I had no sense, back then, of the auspiciousness of taking even a small part in the offering of a stupa. I had no sense of what it meant to accumulate merit, or to dedicate the merit, or anything like that. That was all to come. In the meantime, I was just a heartbroken, deluded ex-materialist New Yorker suffering from confusion and full and abject despair. And so, my despair and I grabbed a backpack, hopped on a plane, and re-planted ourselves in Colorado, where we lived for about nine months in a tent.

It’s a long story (actually, it’s a book, and I joke that the title will be In Tents--which it won’t be, despite the great pun) but I’m writing about it today because recently I’ve felt inspired to work with mandala art again--giant outdoor nature mandalas, working with nature’s auspicious symbols. And when a friend reached out through social media to ask if I would consider leading a workshop or retreat in nature mandalas, my first thought was to decline the invitation, because I felt I had no formal training in this practice (at least not in any theoretical and/or Andy Goldsworthy kind of way), and because so much of my work is 100% intuitive, and how can you teach that, given that our individual relationships to our own intuitions are so personal and relative?

But anyway, my friend’s invitation got me thinking about the times in my life I’ve gravitated toward mandalas, which helped me realize that a) I actually do have some formal training in the form (see below) and b) I always seem to turn to the mandala-making practice when I am in a particular form of despair. Feelings of despair--whether it is an inherited Irish ancestral thing or not--can tend to make my thoughts disorganized (or maybe it’s the disorganized “style” that leads to despair?) and there is something about working with sacred geometry that helps that aspect of self get re-organized.

Whatever the reason. I appreciate the intuition that guides me there, and everywhere, as needed. Read on…

I was guided to that dharma center twenty years ago, for sure (another long story). There, my fellow lost-soul work-study residents and I participated in all the daily practices of the dharma community (ie: morning meditations, mantra recitations, sadhanas, dharma teachings) and dedicated a few hours each day to our work departments. The stupa artisans and I worked in a small studio shed next to the stupa, where the master artist--always kind, always holding vast visions in his good mind, always wearing an apron coated in dust-- would cast the plaster molds and give us instruction as to how to mix the colors and paint the dry casts (called tsa-tsas). It was like a 3-D form of paint-by-numbers and I loved it. It seemed like an absolutely perfect thing to do in my current situation (which, in reality, included homelessness, money-lessness, husband-lessness, dog-lessness--dog-less!--joblessness, happiness-lessness, etc). I had emptied myself of myself (and I now realize I do that a lot, and it’s actually not a good thing, on any practical or spiritual level. But I digress). There was just something so constructive about painting those molds so mindfully, especially after having initiated so much destruction to my domestic construct back in NYC. Each tsa-tsa or cast that we painted was about 3x3 inches and we worked on each separately, leaving it to the master artist to assemble them all into the larger compositions (which, as I already mentioned, would eventually be installed on the walls of the first floor of the stupa, long after I had departed.) I liked not knowing the end result; not knowing The Big Picture. It’s as though my mind was not even ready for that; plus, none of my Big Pictures had really worked out. And so I took on Beginner’s Mind, again and again, and that in itself became a daily cleanse, an internal cleanse of habituated thoughts.. As we worked, my fellow artisans and I talked--sparsely but meaningfully--about life-at-the-dharma-center things like the meanings of that day’s slogan (part of our ongoing Lojong practice), or yesterday evening’s sweat lodge, or the benefits of working with the Five Wisdom Energies (better than psychedelics is all I am saying. Says the person who, back in 2002, had never yet taken any psychedelics. But if you are reading between the lines, you might deduce that, since then, I have. And that there is still little that compares to the Wisdom Energies practice. But I digress again. As I said, this all amounts to a book..)

Anyway, I stayed at the dharma center for many months. I took refuge vows, and then Bodhisattva vows. I met great, great female masters, including Ani Pema Chodron and Mindrolling Jetsün Khandro Rinpoche. I cultivated relationships to things like peace and quiet and sunrise. I studied Zen archery, ikebana, mindful tea-drinking, and the preliminary stages of tangkha painting. I exchanged infrequent emails with my husband--infrequent because those were the days of dial-up internet, and the whole campus of a few hundred volunteers shared one dusty old Dell desktop for said dial-up service, and these were also the days of seriously no cell phone service in the Rockies. Suffice to say, my contact with the outside world was limited. Despite that, I wrote and submitted a non-fiction book proposal and ended up getting a two-book deal with Random House. I broke through my fear of singing in front of other people. I made great friends--including the center’s dharma-dog. I painted lots and lots of tiny plaster Buddhas, and tiny birds in flight, hoping that my own heart could some day once again take flight in such a pure and free way. I cried every day: sometimes in joy, sometimes with an ancient longing. And by the time I left (to take a writing residency in Woodstock, NY) I did feel that--through the guidance of the Noble Eightfold Path--I did have a better sense of how to be a good human. Of what to aspire to. I was still, of course, ensnared by the material world, but I’d hoped I was in a better position to try it all again. (Not realizing, of course, that we cannot succeed at samsara, but willing to enjoy the attempt).

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Farewell, Thom Jones (originally posted October 20, 2016 on Blogger)

I woke up this morning thinking intensely of my friend Thom Jones (and the other night I actually dreamed I was writing like him) so after I made my tea, I sat at the computer, intending to write to him because I hadn’t heard from him in a while. That’s when I discovered—via his Facebook page, of all places—that he died on Friday 10/14. I was travelling all weekend and not was not online much to check emails or Facebook. So my first reaction on learning that he’d died was shock—that such a driving force of goodness and intelligence could just disappear (although, given that both Thom and I believe in reincarnation, we know that his mind/soul lives on and will delight us again in some other form); then there is the guilt that so many months have passed without my reaching out to check in; then there is the sorrow that life is indeed very short and very impermanent.

Thom and I met through my role as an editor at various literary magazines in New York City and also through our mutual friend Alice Turner, who died two years ago. Thom and I shared a love of books (but not so much of having to write them), a love of dogs (which should be listed first), and complicated brain chemistries and life histories that left us both prone to intense depressions. And thus prone to be writers. He was, in so many ways, my de facto psychopharmacologist (back in the days when I took meds) and my de facto shrink. A number of times, especially during the “get me off this planet” years, he probably saved my life. His humor was one of a kind. Truly. You’d have to read his stories to know what I mean. There was no writer like Thom Jones and this is why still, to this day, zillions of aspiring writers try to write like Thom Jones. But miss the mark. Because you can’t be authentic by trying to imitate someone else.

Thom’s world view encompassed so much—light and dark, good and evil, truth; always Truth. Thom saw and described the world as only a depressive, genius, and sometimes off-kilter person can: as both beautiful and terrible. Poignant and banal; supremely intelligent and idiotic. Thom understood and accepted that such dichotomies exist. That you can’t have one without the other. (We had many conversations about duality). And that, in the end, Beauty always wins. So it’s no wonder that Thom was one of the first authors to write—full force, no-holds-barred—about manic depression and AS a manic depressive. And certainly to first to make it all seem comic. And therefore bearable. And temporary.

Those of you who read authors’ acknowledgements page (and most writer and editors read it first, before reading the book) know that Thom broke ground in his acknowledgements page by thanking a Big Pharm company—I think it was Eli Lilly?—for providing him the opportunity and the sanity to write (I should find that page and quote it properly, but I am away from my books right now). Before then, not everyone was willing to admit they struggled with psychological issues and/or that they took medications to cope. Both the struggle and the ways in which one attempted to cure such struggles were considered shameful things. Dark. Scary. Thom helped take that shame away. And I know he became a willing confidante, cheerleader, uncle, friend, mentor and counselor to many a young writer struggling with the “curse of a creative mind.” His simple kindness and total lack of judgment has helped many, many people I am sure.

I also had the honor and pleasure of editing Thom, which gave me a cherished window into his creative process. Structurally, his first drafts were often a delightful mess, but one could always see the genius and energy behind his words. (As an editor, I have an inexplicable ability to take messes and make sense of them--inexplicable because I don’t seem to have that skill when it comes to my own life). Plus, in Thom’s early drafts, there was always an irrefutable through-line, and that though line was pretty much, as stated above: life is painfully comic and/or comically painful, but beauty and love always prevail. Other editors/readers might see a different through-line, but that is also the genius of Thom’s work. It operates on so many levels.

Since 1998, I’ve used Thom’s brilliant—sorry, I meant f*cking brilliant—story “Cold Snap” in all of my creative writing classes at Columbia University and NYU. My strategy is to bring this one out about three weeks into the semester, after we’ve read and discussed a few modern classics and gotten a sense of typical story structure. Then—wham—I offer them Thom Jones and enjoy the pleasure, again and again, of witnessing their reaction, of feeling what they feel, which is basically “you mean I can write as myself, with a voice?” Invariably, some students will then try to write using Thom’s voice, and, if I’m successful as a teacher, I can help them find their own voice, which sounds cliché, but is the essence of all creative writing. What I’m trying to say here is that Thom Jones is/was one of those authors who can help an aspiring writer find his/her own voice. His work gets writers excited to write. So read him. And love him. And celebrate him. He took on a lot of pain in this lifetime and gave back reams of beauty, of life, of wonder. That’s what a true Artist does.

Praise him.

Thom’s advice to me, during my dark days, was always to 1) write about it and 2) spend more time with dogs. Chloe and Sugar. Chloe and Sugar. Our dogs never met, but they know one each other’s names. Meaning they would bark to one another over the phone—that sort of thing. Thom and I would interpret their dialogue, assuming they were discussing Schoepenhauer or the sutras of the Buddha.

We shared many, many emails about writing and the writing life—his were manic; mine were depressive. And he was always very, very encouraging about my own writing. He said my emails alone “marked” me as a writer, that I had that unnameable something that was akin to lighter fuel—invisible but ready for flame. I hadn’t sent him my material—I was not the kind of writer who did that to other writers. I did not like to fob my work on others unless they requested it. And Thom did request my work, so I sent him a gift subscription to BARK magazine, where many of my essays about my dog Wallace had appeared since 2000. (Eventually I convinced him to write some pieces for BARK, which he did, and which appeared in one of our anthologies.) And when I got my first book deal around 2013 or so, he was my biggest cheerleader, constantly telling me, “You are next. You are next.” And the thing is—I knew he meant it. Thom did not bullshit. His energy had a purity and directness that did not require any artifice or adaptation of person. He was himself.

I haven’t gone through my correspondence yet to highlight all the nuggets of advice I’m sure to find in his many emails, and I look forward to reading some of our exchanges about Schopenhauer (Thom’s favorite philosopher) and Buddhism (my guiding force) but for now I am just going to sit with this feeling of awe and gratitude and wonder, that a man with such an “untamable” and “poisoned” (his words, not mine) mind could put forth so much kindness and generosity and joy and peace. Those qualities are all the antidotes to poison. Imagine the amount of energy and essential goodness it took? To transmute one’s own mental poisons into beauty for others to enjoy? Thank you, Mr. Jones.

Here’s an oft-quoted quote from an interview in the Mississippi Review: “I channeled my obsessive-compulsive behavior into my writing and soon found that if I wrote a lot each and every day, a kind of psychological integration took place within me and a form of peace became available...”

Again, thank you, Mr. Jones. You were a true champion in this lifetime. May you now dwell in the purest of Pure Lands. Om Ami Dewa Hri.

My heart goes out to his family, including his sweet-faced Boxer-dog Sugar.

~ photo of Thom Jones by Zhong Juanning‎

http://www.nytimes.com/2016/10/19/books/thom-jones-dead.html

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ABOUT INNER NECESSITIES

Dear Readers: In January 2025, as the world titled on its axis, I decided to start sharing shorter posts here on Substack—the kind of short bursts of insight or inspirationand images that I usually share on social media. As many of you know, things are shifting quite dramatically in the social media realm, and I am not sure I want to remain connected to a platform like Meta, which does not have pure motivation at its core. We need to stay mindful of the energy we are transmitting at all times, and I want to stay aligned with an energy that comes from a place of truth. I’ll share these shorter posts on the sub-newletter “INNER NECESSITIES” and these posts will always be available for free subscribers.

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WHAT IS THE “INNER NECESSITIES” NEWSLETTER, AND WHY?:

Dear Readers: In January 2025, as the world titled on its axis, I decided to start sharing shorter posts here on Substack—the kind of short bursts of insight or inspirationand images that I usually share on social media. As many of you know, things are shifting quite dramatically in the social media realm, and I am not sure I want to remain connected to a platform like Meta, which does not have pure motivation at its core. We need to stay mindful of the energy we are transmitting at all times, and I want to stay aligned with an energy that comes from a place of truth. I’ll share these shorter posts on the sub-newletter “INNER NECESSITIES” and these posts will always be available for free subscribers.

Please consider subscribing to my other newsletter/s to help me sustain these offerings.

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Strange times indeed...I just had to tell a potential editorial client that I cannot take on any projects written by AI. And I could really use the income. It's just that one of my greatest skills as an editor is an ability to read the "energy" of a work.

I can always tell whether the author is writing from an authentic and inspired place, and/or when the prose is simply false or lifeless. I can tell whether an author is truly invested in the truth of her/his work (and that includes a fictional truth). I can feel an author's confidence, over-confidence, and insecurity (and only one of these energies serves the work). I can feel an author’s over-inflated ego blocking my access to the work like a barbed-wire fence. And I can feel an author’s insecurity diluting my access—almost like the effects of looking into a fun-mirrow. Because of all of this, I can tell within seconds if a manuscript in the slush pile is a keeper (and as such have found many prize-winners in slush piles.)

And I'm not trying to be braggy here: it's just that we artists are, ideally, infusing all of our creative works with an essence--our essence--and if I that essence is fractured and/or I can't feel that essence at all I'll usually pass on the piece. This applies to both my casual reading (remember THAT?) and any reading I do as an acquisitions editor or literary editor. If a book or story or essay lacks a true unimpeded life force, I'm not interested. Because as a reader, spending time with a fractured work is not a valid energetic exchange.

As an editor, I approach a manuscript from a place of wholeness, of wanting to help. And I am not talking about perfection here. Nor am I saying that if an author is insecure (and what author is not) then his/her project is doomed. I am just saying that I feel this, and if I sense that the work has merit, I will discuss all this with the author. As all editors know, 90% of the job amounts to talk therapy, and I love it.

So, no, I won’t edit anything written by A.I. I am not letting my own mind and soul go near anything so mindless or soulless. Call me paranoid or supersious, but that artificial realm is not where I want to place my energy. I don't enjoy talking to robots on the telephone, or chatting with Zendesk robots who give themselves snappy little Anglo names, or engaging in any kind of written exchange with artificial anything. And yes, I am somewhat of a dinosaur in the publishing world, because I still like to edit physical manuscripts on paper, marking things up with a physical pen. My days are numbered, I suppose. But they always were :) And I do way to spend my days with sentient beings--not bots.

So if you have a manuscript written by the real you, I’d be happy to consult :)

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White Lotus Explores “Eastern Religion” in Season Three--and Gets it Wrong, Mostly

I always feel icky after watching any White Lotus episode—especially the latter two seasons.  After viewing, I always feel energetically drained and slimed.  Then I have to remind myself that I generally do not like Mike White productions, because Mike White does not seem to have any love for women. Or men. Or humans in general.  Or for life itself. And yes, this series is meant to be satire, and satire is meant to poke fun at people, but there really is no fun in these stories—ever—and there is just no love.  And by that I mean love of or for the characters that White and his team have created. Yes, they are fictional, but without any base level of love or joy—or even a sense of redemption or hope—coming from the creator or writers themselves—viewers have nothing to sustain them. Because love is a forward-moving energetic flow that sustains everything. Even fiction.

Unless, of course, one is the kind of person who truly enjoys (or thinks they truly enjoy) the backward-flowing energy of hate, and enjoys hating everyone and everything.  And, as we know, the United States country has produced a lot of people like that, and these days they’re much more vocal and visible.  Let’s not go there. Even though we will....

 So why did I even watch Season 3 after swearing never to waste my time on White Lotus again after Season 2? Well, I am human after all, and flawed, and sometimes crave the distraction of seeing beautiful clothes and beautiful locations and allowing my eyes to take in some color after a long and dreary winter in the Northeast. And I especially love to witnessing great artists (the actors) in the midst of their craft.  I can feel an energetic expansion within my own energy body when I witness a great artist in the midst of her/his own expansion.  That’s what art is about.

 Plus, I had heard—or read somewhere—that Mike White planned to “explore Eastern spirituality” in Season 3, and Eastern spirituality is my thing. Our thing. (I actually think it’s the thing, but that’s what not this post is about.).  

 So I decided to watch Season 3, and I even felt a sense of hope. Maybe Mike White would offer his huge audience some real and true and beneficial Buddhist philosophy or pith teachings.  Maybe people could finally start to understand that our capitalist approach to life on planet earth is ultimately destructive, and that destruction does not lead to happiness. (Only creation does, and what lies beyond creation stage). I thought: Maybe—at this critical juncture in time, when the greed and destruction and ecocide and injustices are increasing due to a certain mob of billionaires—Mike White and his team could help turn the tide back toward wisdom and compassion. But I overlooked one main point, which is that Mike White never seems to offer hope. That’s not his niche. His niche seems to be: people suck. People suck so much they only want to watch programs that reconfirm their conviction that people suck.  I don’t share that view, and neither my mind nor my energy body enjoys riding that particular kind of train. 

 Yet there I was, nestling onto my sofa and clicking my way onto HBO. I watched Season 3 right after leading my own retreat at a Tibetan/Buddhist retreat center in the Catskills. My mind and heart were full of dharma, of the medicine of Dharma, of devotion for my teachers and the teachings, of gratitude for the beauty of this earth and all Her flowers that were starting to poke forth in the Northeast, and I was excited for some of these poor deluded White Lotus characters—the entitled guests, the earnest staff-- to have their minds and hearts blown open by this medicine, by these truths.    

But. I must say it: this series was not so much an exploration of Eastern religion as it was a presentation of Mike White’s (and/or the writers’ and/or their characters’) perceptions--and misperceptions--of Eastern religion.  I am speaking of Buddhism here, as that (Thai Theravadin Buddhism) seemed to be the primary  “source” of inspiration for the views presented in the show, even though we get a brief introduction to the Hindu deity Brahma at the forest shrine.

I should also point here that I am a long-term practitioner of Tibetan Buddhism and am ordained as a householder yogini.  I have not studied much Theravadin Buddhism; nor have I taught from that tradition, so I am not an expert in Theravadin teachings.  But from a broader Buddhist perspective, I can say that the picture of Buddhism that White and his team painted here is not 100% accurate. Maybe not even 50%.

 And I would love to know whether this ignorance was--if these misperceptions were--deliberate or not.  This is an HBO series, remember, so who is to say whether show’s writers and creators are truly ignorant of the true principles of Buddhism? Or if are they merely (and subtly) trying to show the Western characters’ deep ignorance?  (And please note that when I use the term “ignorance” I am not taking a derogatory stance; ignorance—viewed as a mental poising, is simply “mis-knowing,” as the wonderful American teacher and scholar Bob Thurman points out. It’s not knowing what we don’t yet know. It's misperceiving something untrue as an absolute truth. ) We obviously saw the latter—the deeply ingrained ignorance--displayed clearly and blithely and brilliantly through Parker Posey’s character, who remained pleasantly numb with privilege throughout the series.  Parker’s portrayal was genius—both stupefying and riveting--but also obviously satirical. She was the season’s Grande Ignoramus. (And she did so much with her eyes!)

But even the characters who are supposed to be Thai Buddhist (and therefore, we would assume, impart Buddhist wisdom)--most notably the main teacher (or even Ajahn?) at the monastery–-offer teachings that aren’t exactly Buddhist.  He tells Jason Isaac’s character that “When you’re born, you’re like a single drop of water... separated from the one giant consciousness.” He adds that when you die, you descend back into the water and become one with the ocean again. “No more separated, no more suffering. One consciousness . . . death is a happy return, like coming home.” 

This is a beautiful concept, and beautiful poetry. (Indeed, it sounds a lot like Rumi’s famous line: "You are not a drop in the ocean; you are the entire ocean in a drop,"  and it also sounds a tiny bit like Thích Nhất Hạnh.)  Too many Westerners, raised on this concept of “one life to live, followed by eternal hell or damnation” can fear death—the kind of fear that paralyzes--so this idea of returning painlessly to the source, of merging with the All, of the Mother and Child reunion, is a beautiful one to consider.  It opens us up to a flow of possibility, of solace. It releases the energetic constrictions of fear and terror.  So I understand how/that a realized master could compassionately offer this view of death as a way to bring solace to a visiting Westerner who is caught in the grips of fear and confusion and pondering death.  But this teacher would also have the option—dare I say the responsibility?—of bringing up the concept of karma.  Of cause and effect.  Of the cycle of samsara.  That we, based on our own mental afflictions—our kleshas--and actions in this life, will continue to reborn in realms or states of mind that reflect those past unpurified actions.  Until, of course, we attain liberation, and then we are free from the cycle.  As a Buddhist myself, I do not fear death, because my tradition offers many daily practices we can do to prepare our minds for the transference of consciousness. Death is not the same “unknown” for me as it is for many Westerners. 

Also, any teacher at this level would likely have a heightened level of perception and therefore know  that Jason’s character was contemplating suicide, and would therefore compassionately point out that suicide is never a solution; never an escape. To seek release from suffering through that method only brings on more suffering. Sorry to say, but that’s the View.  

 And please note I am not going to attempt to explain karma here, by the way. I am not a realized master and it’s a huge topic.  Maybe that is why Mike White chose to stay away from it altogether.  But, in doing so, he missed, well, a huge point and, in my humble opinion, did a great disservice to his audience and lost an opportunity to bend a lot of minds toward compassion.  Toward the power of compassion.  Toward the liberation of wisdom. (Again, no recrimination here...just observation). But then again, Jason Isaacs’ character did eventually choice not to pull a murder-suicide on his whole family, which is about as much moral compass as we can expect from a White Lotus, I guess.  So all of Mike White’s poor, suffering audience members, starved for hope and redemption in this degenerate times, are forced accept that this is all our misguided, deluded characters are capable of.  And remember: to choose not to harm is still one step up from choosing to cause harm. So good on ya, Timothy.  And Jason Isaacs was superb, by the way.  Both he and Parker Posey were brilliant with what was not said. 

Another concept of Buddhism that the show doesn’t seem to grasp is the concept—and practice of—renunciation. Our token white male incel proud-boy character—played by Patrick Schwarzenegger —tells his hapless younger brother that “Buddhism is for people that want to suppress in life. They’re afraid. Don’t get attached. Don’t have desires. Don’t even try. Just sit there in a lotus position with a thumb up your ass.”  This is the audience’s first spoken introduction to Buddhism, by the way. To give that role--that responsibility--to such a man as this is an interesting choice. Especially in these times, when another such a man is also propagandizing certain views.  And from a writing perspective, Saxon’s inaccurate point of view is never truly counter-balanced by an authentic householding character.  

Anyway: so renunciation is perhaps another misconception that many Western Christians commonly hold about Buddhism.  But renunciation is not so much pushing away or suppressing pr denying oneself; it’s not a form of Christian self-punishment or self- flagellation or giving up coffee for Lent.  Renunciation is more about recognizing at an ultimate level that destructive desire, insatiable need, addiction, attachment and aversions are mental poisons, are unskillful habituations, that lead to no ultimate satisfactions. Many of us live in a culture—capitalism—that has led us to believe that satisfying all of our desires, and “getting what we want,” and being more, and having more, is going to lead to happiness and inner peace.  Our proud-boy even says: “It’s good to want things…getting what you want in life, that’s happiness, bro.” Capitalism wants us to spend money, energy, and currency, and to keep spending, because Capitalism serves itself.  We are so accustomed to feeding our own insatiable desires that to even consider renouncing any of it feels like deprivation. Denial.  But hey, we’re Number One! We’re the Best We Can Be. We Deserve it All! We worked hard for this pleasure! We deserve our reward. Reward/punishment, reward/punishment. That’s a different system; a different cycle.  Renunciation is more like stepping out of that cycle.  I call it “stepping off the conveyer belt.”   We recognize that feeling our insatiable desires does not bring happiness.  We seek to let go of the clinging, the grasping, the tendency to define ourselves by our stuff, our looks, our status.  

 I know that I am giving a rather simplistic and crude description here, but I am just trying to explain what the misconception about renunciation typically is and to try to explain what it is not.  Renunciation is not an attitude of denying yourself something that will give you pleasure.  It’s not: see how virtuous I am? I am denying myself sex and cigarettes. Yay, me.  It’s about recognizing that pleasure—and pain—are temporary and learning how to stay in, well, a non-clinging state.  It’s best if you ask a master to explain, bro. :)  

So by having Piper—one of the few characters who is not wholly caught in the delusion of capitalism--decide not to spend a year at the monastery (because the food is bad?!?) Mike White gives the impression that he still seems to believe—or wants to continue to spread the message—that money can by lasting and enduring happiness. But according to “Eastern spirituality” it cannot.  Do you think the billionaires who are currently working together to destroy the planet do that because they are happy? Do you think the character Gaitok--who shot and killed a man despite his own Buddhist mindset--will now live happily ever after because he has a better job?  Do you think that the character of Belinda will now have happiness and success because she sacrificed her integrity and chose to allow herself to be blackmailed?  Sure, they can still engage in practices and meritorious actions that will help purify the negative karma they just accumulated, but their actions as they stand do not guarantee eternal glory. 

Some of you may be familiar with the well-known Four Immeasurables prayer, which start with “May all beings have happiness and the causes of happiness.  From a Buddhist perspective, the “causes of happiness” are—simply put—helping others.  The causes of unhappiness are—simply put—harming others. And unskillful behavior—lying, stealing, killing (to name a few), sexual misconduct, clouding the mind--harms others AND ourselves.  Our friend the Ajahn even says this in one of the episodes: “Violence does spiritual harm to the victim and the perpetrator. Buddhists believe: always nonviolence.”

But anyway, back to Piper’s choice (which honestly feels disingenuous—not a true-to-character choice but rather a true-to-director’s insincere plot-driven choice):  I’ve stayed in plenty of monasteries with unpalatable food, and I have stayed in monasteries with excellent food. I have stayed in ashrams in South India with two-inch mattresses and no AC and swarms of ants in my room (and I was able to chant them away, no harm done);  I have stayed in ashrams that served French crepes dusted with cacao powder and paired with fresh papaya juice. I have stayed in super-fancy Ayurvedic resorts where neighbors blare mantras and prayers from loudspeakers all night long, and ended up sleeping outside in a hammock to try in a quieter area of the resort. In all cases, what mattered was being near my Gurus. Or receiving the teachings. Or doing the practices.  Or volunteering to support the community. Capitalism wants us to place utmost important on not only physical comfort but on luxury.  Trust me, you can be happy in a hammock.  You can reach states of bliss in a hammock. You can become one with an ant, even, if that’s your thing.

 What we learn in these monastic settings, in these spiritual communities, is that we can find, within us, an innate bliss that has nothing to do with physical comfort.  We learn how to tap into states of wisdom and compassion. We don’t have to keep reacting to external circumstances—oh, ho it’s too hot:, oh, it’s too cold; oh, this food is not spicy; oh this food is too spicy; oh, no, he has sixpack abs and I don’t; oh no, her shoes are better than my shoes; oh no, that evil man whom the audience knows from the get-go is my father is acting like an evil man again; oh no, I better shoot him.....whatever it is.  In spiritual communities/meditation practice, we find the inner peace—yes, the inner peace you keep reading about in Pema Chodron books--that has nothing to do with how many likes you get on Instagram.  We find it within.

 Another big misconception about Buddhism tends to be this whole “life is suffering” thing. (The first of the Four Noble Truths).  People often think that Buddhists are downers, pessimists, nihilists, too serious no fun.  I remember years and years ago one of my Hindu teachers proclaiming that “Buddhists never laugh.”  (Not true. I’ll show you pictures...). When I first became Buddhist a few decades ago, I was definitely freaked out by this “life is suffering thing” because I felt that I was already overwhelmed by suffering. I was maxed out with suffering.  Can’t we just cut straight to the happiness, please? I wasn’t ready—or so I thought—to take that on as a Truth.  But then one of my teachers—I think it was Bob Thurman again—pointed out that an alternate translation was: In life, there is suffering.  That I could take in. That I could agree with.  Not happily, at times, but it’s certainly true. And the good news is that the Buddhist teachings offer us ways to liberate ourselves (and all beings) from that suffering.  (The Fourth Noble Truth).  This is slightly different from how this teaching was portrayed in White Lotus. 

 Our friend the Ajahn says something to the effect of that there is no real resolution to life’s questions/issues/problems. He says we should just be patient and accept that.  And the acceptance statement is correct—my main Tibetan teacher is always encouraging us to acknowledge and accept our circumstances exactly as they are. No attraction, no aversion, no story, no denial: just accept.  (Easier said than done, for most Westerners) But The Third Noble Truths state that the cessation of suffering is possible and that the way is the Noble Eightfold Path.  So even if, according to White Lotus, there is no resolution, according to the Buddha, there is.  Just something to think about.    

 A lot of us were charmed by—and rooting for—the sweet character of Gaitok—a native Thai householder who truly lived, practiced, and understood the Buddhist teachings.  How refreshing it was to see such non-toxic versions of masculinity on screen! (Gaitok and Pornchai). But of course, in the hands of destroying-creator Mike White (and his toxic world view), Gaitok’s purity was corrupted.  To me, as a Buddhist who has taken Buddhist vows—and understands the karmic repercussions of violating those vows—this seemed implausible. Even impossible.  As in: no way could he or would he shoot to kill. But not every Buddhist is a perfect Buddhist, and it’s very hard to hold all the vows in such a world as the one were in.  (Just look at that character Frank, who totally went off the cushion, as we say, and then hopped back on.)  In desperate times, we can make desparate choices.

I also have to remind myself that Mike White is not a Buddhist. Again, this is not a criticism: this is just to say that Buddhism is a very different mindset from the Western mindsight in which most Americans have been indoctrinated.  So it would be challenging for a non-Buddhist writer to truly capture a Buddhist character.  From what I understand, Mike White has not practiced Buddhism but has “read some books” about it.  And the Buddha himself stressed that one should practice the methods--not just believe them. It’s best to experience the Buddhist teachings; ie: the Noble Eightfold Path.  Once a practitioner has experienced the true benefit of Right Motivation or Right Action, for example, it would be (to me at least) impossible to revert to unskillful behaviors, such as shooting someone just to win a girl or get a better job.

What I found most disturbing—and misogynistic—is that White tried to essentially “place the blame” for Gaitok’s corruption on a woman, the “ambitious” Mook—who might as well have been named Mara--and who, uncharacteristically for Thai culture, believes that “violence is a part of life.” Her character was also confusing and disappointing, but Mike White’s team has not been successful in accurate portrayals of women, IMHO.

 And while we’re on the topic of misogyny—I’ll just briefly say that it’s gotten worse in the past two seasons.  What’s with all the closeups on butts, Mike? And what’s with the female-in-orgasm soundtrack? Yes, HBO is famous for its misogynist gaze, but weren’t you wanting to explore Eastern spirituality?  

 But back to violence.  Yes, it’s a theme of this season. Several characters are fairly stewing in the impulse for much of the show.  Did any character in this series truly practice non-violence (of body, speech, or mind)?  A few of the therapists did, as far as we witnessed.  But I realize—as I write this essay at the request of a student—Mike White did not write this series to be of benefit to all sentient beings; or to offer any true Buddhist wisdom as a way to help lead viewers out of their own suffering.  Mike White writes for himself, and for HBO perhaps.  I’m not criticizing; just saying. Right now a lot of Buddhist teachers are offering commentary online on this season, but we should perhaps bear in mind that Mike White’s motivation was not to liberate others. It was, perhaps, to entertain. Or to....drumroll please...make money. Which is the dominant game which most of us are trapped in. 

 I also question the motivations and actions of the character Belinda.  When we met her in Season One, she was presented as a sensitive, grounded and open-hearted healer, who chants the Gayatri mantra in decent Sanskrit. In Season Three, she is still technically a healer, hoping to pick up some “tips” for the Hawaii spa, but from a Buddhist perspective she willingly and readily destroys any merit she may have accumulated as a healer by agreeing to allow a crook and a murderer to buy her silence.  Both she and her son are presented as Christians, and maybe Mike White is trying to show that from the Christian view one can engage in destructive acts, trusting that all will be forgiven by Jesus and the afterlife will be eternal heaven, no matter how you behave on earth.  (Many Fascists, for example, call themselves Christian.) Or maybe Mike White is just extra flexible when it comes to tossing aside his characters’ commitments to morality, and twisting their authentic character arcs to serve a show’s implausible plot points. All I can say is that—as a Sowa Rigpa therapist—I have been taught that any time a healer or doctor lies or steals or behaves unskillfully, s/he is actually reducing her/his efficacy—and potency—as a healer.  And if Belinda’s character were truly a tapped-in energy healer, she would already have understood this. I also want to ask: if she does end up opening a spa with her blood money, who is to say it would succeed?  Would you want to go to a spa knowing that its origins are connected to the hush up of a murder? Would that be a truly healing environment?  Buddhists--and other followers of traditions that hold an understanding of karma and reincarnation—hold their own selves accountable for their own actions; their own happiness; their own quality of life. All these decisions that these characters make for the sake of money—they’re worshipping a false god. It’s not a path to true liberation. 

 The series does have a few nice moments here and there. I appreciate that Mike White is giving a plug to the books of the great Buddhist teacher Ani Pema Chodron, whose classics WHEN THINGS FALL APARTand START WHERE YOU ARE have transformed many a life, including my own.  

And sure, maybe Maybe Mike’s motivation here was not bodhicitta, but simple director-ly cleverness. It’s possible that White only included those titles because it’s a clever way to foreshadow plot. (For example, we see the Saxon character holding a copy of WHEN THINGS FALL APART shortly before the family crisis to come. Perfect product placement.) But whatever the motivation, I am sure that many, many viewers can benefit from reading her works. 

 I also appreciate the Ajahn’s teachings to the Western students, even though he’s offering a sort of watered-down spirituality that’s not strictly Theravadin. Still, what is says could be beneficial for people to hear.  The time to wake up is now, after all.    

 I also like it when Lochlan asks, “But what if this life is just a test to see if we can become better people?” (Even though he seems to be lusting after his sister; never mind his encounters with his brother. Go, Tar Heels!).  

 To me, the most spiritual moment in the whole series is when the Quinn character--in season one—points out, in agony, that one billion animals died in the Australian wildfires and asks: “Where does all that pain go?” This one line of dialogue struck me as a true statement—a genuine question of angst--which came from a writer’s heart, from her or his pain. It was one second of truth in a series full of snark and falsehood and ickiness.  I wish there were more such moments in this series, even if the series is meant to be satire. 

 And as an aside: isn’t it interesting that, in Mike White’s series, it’s always the awkward young white men who get to have the most sincere lines and the most open hearts, whereas the females just get to pant and moan on the soundtrack. Except the Chelsea character, of course. She was sweet.

 Anyway, in terms of where all that pain goes: it’s a great question.  And Buddhism has an answer. But White Lotus decides not to go there. So I’d go so far to say that this series, at an ultimate level, just creates more pain.  As does much television. So, to recover from having watched yet another energy-draining season of White Lotus, I am going to rewatch one of my favorite dharma films, the 2003 South Korean masterpiece: SPRING, SUMMER, FALL, WINTER...AND SPRING.

If you’d like to learn more about how the Buddhist path translates into daily life--how it’s more than just sitting in lotus with a thumb up your ass (yo, Duke!), I highly recommend this meditative gem.

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THIS BEING HUMAN is a reader-supported publication. INNER NECCESSITIES is a sub-newsletter which serves the function of a social-media post. If you have the means and you value this work, I’d be so grateful if you’d consider becoming a paid subscriber. This will help me sustain these offerings and continue writing.

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We’re packing a lot of beneficial material into our upcoming Sowa Rigpa spiritual-healing retreat next weekend at Menla March 27 - 30 (ie: trauma-healing, soul-retrieving, Tibetan bla massage, healing meditations, Nejang yoga and deep work with the five elements) and in the evening sessions we will be focusing on mantra. We’ll learn how to use our own voices to help heal our own voices, bodies, and minds, and how we can even use the voice (and Sanskrit syllables) to essentially call back lost parts of ourselves and our souls. These are very simple practices, but the effects are profound. And I think we all realize the importance--and benefit--of simple SIMPLICITY these days. Capitalism has made our lives complicated. But we are, in essence, quite simple and powerful enough without needing to add so many layers of complexity. So we will learn and practice simple healing mantras from the Tibetan tradition, and we will also spend time with the Ali-Kali syllables in Sanskrit.

In Sowa Ripga, there is a branch of healing (called mantra-healing) which uses specific Tibetan and Sanskrit mantras to initiate healing states, remove subtle-body blockages, and restore balance and energetic flow at physical, mental and subtle levels. With mantra-healing, we are using the vibrations of the mantra to affect the vibrations of our own physical, mental and subtle body systems, with the aim of restoring balance, maintaining health, cultivating states of peace, and preventing future illnesses and imbalances.

During the evening program of this retreat, we will practice healing mantras together as a group (singing them in the call-and-response style of traditional kirtan) in order to further purify our channels and open up the chakras.

On Sat 3/29 there will be a public kirtan open to the community.

This retreat is a program of deep-self care; of rejuvenation; of re-learning how to gently return to our true selves; of practicing simple methods that can activate the profound states of healing and bliss that exist within us all. This retreat is a precious opportunity to learn how to reclaim sovereignty over your own physical health and mental well-being and to understand--at a subtle level--what it means to become co-creators of our own realities. Plus, Menla is a truly magical place--the land of the Medicine Buddha--where the land, air, water and trees all support your well-being. Together, through these practices, we can rediscover and reclaim our vital essences and our authentic selves. And, as the great Gabor Mate often says, authenticity is a survival need.

Tibet House US - NYC

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THIS BEING HUMAN is a reader-supported publication. If you have the means and you value this work, I’d be so grateful if you’d consider becoming a paid subscriber. This will help me sustain these offerings and continue writing.

Too sensitive. Yep. Growing up, I felt everything.  In a family system of mostly shut-down, traumatized people, I was the one who stayed open and observed, witnessed, felt. (And please note I am not saying this in any kind of superior way--because we’re all always just trying to cope with being human) but to “feel” back then was to feel agonized and frightened and confused and also full of a painful yearning for love and harmony for everyone. When the feeling got to be too much,  I tried to shut myself down, but soon realized that this state of numbness and denial was even more toxic and agonizing than the state of facing the honest agony I was trying to deny.  To face is to process, after all; to deny is to suppress.  One is movement and growth; the other is not. And one of the Laws of the Universe is expansion. The Universe is ever-expanding. So is consciousness. We have no choice but to expand. And yet, so many of us try to Stay Exactly The Same, Thank You Very Much. And how’s that working for you these days? :)

Anyway, back in the day, my struggling, shut-down, trapped-by-social-conditioning father would criticize me angrily for being “too sensitive.”  I would counter that he was entirely insensitive.  Back in my teenage years, my father and I both saw the others’ state of being as fundamentally flawed, both of us fixed in our false perceptions.

I was also, in his eyes, too analytical.  Too suspicious of stepping onto the capitalist conveyer belt. Too “unrealistic” (meaning: I believed in the necessity of art and that one could make a life as an artist.) Too questioning as to why people could not just be authentic.  Too unwilling to just make small talk when there were real humans in the room, with important thoughts and feelings that seemed to me to be pushing at the edges of their auras, begging for release. Oh, what karma we had together!  Sometimes I think my entire existence pushed his buttons, but I also think that this is how people change and grow and evolve...by having their buttons pushed, and I was quite a button-pusher as a teenager.  (Once again, I offer a full and sincere cosmic apology to my beloved father, and honor the soul who took on the role of my father in this lifetime...). 

The good news is that we did reach a place of harmony, my father and I. And now he is in the Pure Lands, liberated from this realm, and hopefully he will never have to take human incarnation again.  The only comforting thought I have these days, as we witness the Fascist takeover, is that none of my three parents--who experienced presidents like Roosevelt--have to witness such a travesty.  

But weren’t we talking about sensitivity? When I heard Glennon Doyle requote Hannah Gadsby the other day, I remembered how perfect this quote is.  There is no such thing as “too sensitive.” Because to be sensitive is to be open and aware and willing to be human.  To be sensitive means that all of your subtle body energies are flowing properly, without obstruction. To be sensitive is to have the capacity to access your own true nature, your inner chitta, your Bodhicitta. And to awaken and offer compassion is the most beautiful human exchange we can share.  

I know a lot of people are overwhelmed by the goings-on of the external world right now.  By the colossal misdeeds of the oligarchs. Those of us who feel are feeling not only our own fear and disappointment and worry, but the global fear and disappointment as well.  You’re not alone. None of us are.  But please don’t shut down.  Don’t try to lower your empathetic antennae. It’s our sensitivity that could help save this world.  Or at least help one person or neighbor in your community who, right now, might be having having his/her/their basic identity scrubbed from websites or banned in schools.  Yes, it’s painful to feel, but it’s also crucial.  

And pain can be transformed into nectar, but that’s another long story.

I am sending so much love to all my “sensitive” friends and relations. I’ll keeping feeling you in the airwaves.....

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WHAT IS THE “INNER NECESSITIES” NEWSLETTER, AND WHY?:

Dear Readers: In January 2025, as the world titled on its axis, I decided to start sharing shorter posts here—the kind of short bursts of insight or inspirationand images that I usually share on social media. As many of you know, things are shifting quite dramatically in the social media realm, and I am not sure I want to remain connected to a platform like Meta, which does not have pure motivation at its core. We need to stay mindful of the energy we are transmitting at all times, and I want to stay aligned with an energy that comes from a place of truth. I’ll share these shorter posts on the sub-newletter “INNER NECESSITIES.”

INNER NECESSITIES is my new free “social media section” of a broader reader-supported publication. If you have the means and you value this work, I’d be so grateful if you’d consider becoming a paid subscriber for any of my writing-themed Substacks. On thos pages, I write about such topics as dogs, spiriutality, healing, writing, and being a human in this realm. Your support will help me sustain these offerings and continue writing.

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In stressful times such as these--with so much upheaval, trauma, and loss--our energy can get depleted. In Tibetan medicine, we’d say that our vital energy, our soul energy and/or our very essence can get weakened through these traumas and chronic stresses. If you’d like to learn some simple but profound self-healing methods from the Sowa RIgpa tradition, please join me at @menlaretreat March 27 - 30 for our special retreat: RESTORING OUR VITAL ESSENCE & RECLAIMING THE SOUL: Healing Ourselves With Body, Voice and Mind With The Spiritual Healing Methods of Sowa Rigpa.

We’ll explore and practice some rare yogic methods from Tibetan medical traditions, including meditations and Nejang longevity yoga and #vajrayoga, and in the evenings we will sing healing mantras from the Tibetan medical “mantra-pharmacy.” Our primary focus will be on experiencing bLa therapy--a form of simple self-massage that has parallels to a “soul-retrieval” in that this method calls back any bLa energy lost in traumas. When we are able to hook back our bLa, we can restore our life force; our vital essence. We can become ourselves again. We can become whole.
And it is essential to be as whole and authentic as we can possibly be in this new version of the world. We need to make sure our energy bodies and our boundaries remain impenetrable. We need to be able to connect with the absolute truths, so that we are not susceptible to manipulation. And we need to continue to connect with--and heal--our ancestral lineages. The time is now.

In the evenings, we will sing healing mantras together and visualize streams of healing energy while we chant.

There will be plenty of time for journaling, rest, hikes, steams, soaks, and rare Tibetan therapies (including Kunye massage) at our famous Tibetan wellness center: Dewa Spa.

We’ll also work with the elements of nature to help restore balance within our internal elements. We’ll be surrounded by sacred mountains, old growth trees, pure waters, and open starry skies.

From the view of Sowa Rigpa, we really can use our own bodies, minds, and voices to help heal ourselves (and others). So please join us. We all need to be restored to our true, vital selves.

A limited number of scholarships are available (thanks to the generosity of Tibet House US - NYC) but definitely apply early, as those are first come/first served.

These are gentle practices, open to all ages and physical abilities. If you're fed-up, tired, cranky, despairing, freaked out, panicked, overwhelmed, grief-stricken, pissed off at corporate destruction, worried, and/or all of the above, please join us at Menla. Menla is a very fabulous retreat center in the Catskill mountains of New York. The energy there is very healing and pure. The land, long considered sacred by the original nations, is blessed by mountains, old growth forests, clear mountain streams, lush gardens, starry skies, etc. And it was blessed by HH the Dalai Lama himself.

The land alone will help heal you, and the water is like nectar, and the air is pure, and the sky is clear and in the spring the entire earth will be waking from her long winter slumber, ready to burst forth into joy again.

Our aspiration is that participants will leave the retreat feeling restored, rejuvenated, rebalanced, and revitalized.

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Visit Menla.org to view the deluxe accommadations, and the simple ones.

And, if you are local and want to join us for one evening event, we are opening up the kirtan Saturday 3/29 to the public.

So if you're freaking out as budgets get cut and services get eliminated and books get banned and words get removed from the common lexicon, and billionaires dance on the graves of justice, remember your chitta. Remember your own good heart. You're freaking out because you care about the world. And if you feel the need to chant a lot of mani mantras, join me in a few weeks at @menlaretreat for this retreat and/or a special kirtan. We'll join our good hearts together and become the answer to each other's prayers.

#ptsd #traumahealing #traumarecovery #soulretrieval #retreat #catskills #leeharrington #leemirabaiharrington #leemharrington #vajrayoga #menla #tibethouse

Hello Friends —

I am going to start sharing shorter posts here—the kind of short bursts of insight or inspiration, with images, that I usually share on social media. As many of you know, things are shifting quite dramatically in the social media realm, and I am not sure I want to remain connected to a platform like Meta, which does not have pure motivation at its core. We need to stay mindful of the energy we are transmitting at all times, and I want to stay aligned with an energy that comes from a place of truth.

I’ll share these shorter posts on the sub-newletter “INNER NECESSITIES.”

1/22/25, posted from a tiny rustic retreat center in South Carolina:

I’ve literally been snowed in to my retreat cabin because we got about 7 inches of snow in South Carolina, and apparently there is only one snow plow and the entire county. And the center where I’m staying doesn’t have plows or shovels or snowblowers or salt to clear the pathways for us to walk around or drive. I’m not complaining… I’m just illustrating that snow is a rare occurrence in the south, but due to climate change, suddenly we are facing freezing temperatures and unexpected blizzards. The center is delightfully rustic, and there is no Wi-Fi and barely any cell service, which is one of the many reasons I love to take retreats there. And I spent the entire day yesterday sitting in front of an old-fashioned gas heater, waiting to figure out when the roads would be safe enough for me to leave. (The roads haven’t been plowed yet because of aforementioned lack of plows). I also had to wrap my socked feet in plastic wrap because I don’t have waterproof snow boots with me (I left those up north, which is where one usually needs them,) and every time I have to walk out to the bathhouse through the snow my shoes gets soaked.

Again, I’m not complaining—nor am I discounting the hardships of those who faced the fires in LA or the floods in Asheville or the wars everywhere—but the experience got me thinking about hardships, and my ancestors who endured the great depression, and hearing stories about people having to wrap their feet in extra layers of newspaper for a sort of warmth if they had holes in their shoes, and I think about this new regime consisting of misguided billionaires who are serving the needs of other misguided billionaires and I wonder who is going to take care of the poor as the winters get colder and the summers get hotter.

And of course that is our job: to take care of one another. And it is the job of the divine ones to guide us. And usually the most efficient way to connect with divine guidance is not to worry but to trust. And so as the sun rises I wrap my feet in these weird plastic raiments and prepare to step into this cold unknown, I hope I can find a way to be of benefit, moment by moment.

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#retreat #climatechange #retreat #meditation #contemplation