Building a Practice

Wrote this to a friend and wanted to share it with a larger audience.

Bill,

I have been thinking about this for several days. We had a great talk about your feelings of worthlessness especially working for such a huge company like xxx and your need to be “The Best Little Boy.” You had some great insights into why after so many successes in life you still feel that you are not pushing hard enough and/or that you are not good enough! I had some comments about your Grandfather and your dad.

So the question is: Have you been continuing to mindfully work on this issue? Or have you just tucked it away and gotten on with life? I understand the latter approach but to create a new feeling, a new attitude, a new practice; one must meditate on the answer. One must sit with these feelings, out in the open, and see what lessons they can teach you.

When the football is coming at you is no time to practice catching and running for the final touchdown in front of a stadium full of people. The time to practice is before the pressure of the game and the arrival of the audience who is watching.

Holding a self-confidence that does not depend on constant performance and that does not allow past, no longer viable triggers to trigger old feelings, attitudes, and behaviors ... depends on changing deep, long-held, most likely incorrect convictions. Practice, practice, practice.

As I said, sit with the emotions even if they are painful company. Develop new ways of thinking and often repeat them to yourself. Create new mantras to remind and support you. Then, once the Practice of New Thinking comes easily, and when old triggers no longer are needed, and if old triggers do arise no longer create havoc; then one can drop the issue because in essence, it really no longer exists!

Love you,

Michael

The Fine Art of Failure

This came across my e-mail today and spoke to me! The Fine Art of Failure

The ego wants resolution, wants to control impermanence, wants something secure and certain to hold on to. It freezes what is actually fluid, it grasps at what is in motion, it tries to escape the beautiful truth of the fully alive nature of everything. As a result, we feel dissatisfied, haunted, threatened. We spend much of our time in a cage created by our own fear of discomfort.

 

Life, Death, and The Buddhist Heart Sutra

Wow, it has been almost a month since I've written. Partly my travels to NYC released some of the "need to write" and working yet again on another editing of my musical (new working name "GREGORY") and my memoirs have taken up a lot of my free time.

This morning a Facebook post prompted this:

1) The Heart Sūtra (Sanskrit: प्रज्ञापारमिताहृदय Prajñāpāramitāhṛdaya or Chinese: 心經 Xīnjīng) is a popular sutra in Mahāyāna Buddhism. Its Sanskrit title, Prajñāpāramitāhṛdaya, can be translated as "The Heart of the Perfection of Wisdom."

2) The sutra famously states, "Form is empty" (śūnyatā). Individual identity does not exist!

3) Since there is no INDIVIDUAL identity (the piece of paper having in it the tree, the sun, the rain, the logger, his family, the food his mother prepares for him, the manufacturing company, etc are all part of the paper's identity) then we are all one. 

4) We need to respect each other, not judge eachother be good to ourselves and to eachother, take care of each other as we can. The "I" of me does not exist separately than any other person, The flower is empty of a separate existence, but that doesn’t mean that the flower is not there. 

5) The Buddhist Monk Thich Nhat Hanh has used the phrase, ‘The Insight that Brings Us to the Other Shore,’ because in the mantra there is the expression pāragate which means ‘gone over to the other shore, the shore of wisdom’. Pārāyana and pāramitā have both been translated as ‘crossing over to the other shore.’ In the Sutta Nipāta there is a chapter called Pārāyana which has also been translated as ‘crossing over to the other shore.’ 

6) This helps me deal with death as it says that there is no form in life or death, therefore, there is no life and death. Death, something we all seem to fear and suffer with as soon as we reach the sentient age, is made up of everything that goes before, during, and after it. 

7) We all breath. (The main tenet of meditation.) We all die (perhaps the main tenet of life.) No exceptions. Therefore neither has a separate identity. Death is empty of a separate existence, but that doesn’t mean that death is not there. For me, this idea makes it a little easier to live with (pun intended) dying.

8) Thich Nhat Hanh's interpretations - https://plumvillage.org/about/thich-nhat-hanh/letters/thich-nhat-hanh-new-heart-sutra-translation/

Problems into Possibilities

Turning Problems into Possibilities

The moment you notice it, take hold of that mental affliction with your attention and purposefully turn it into an aspiration. It’s as though you see the mental affliction as raw material, the way a potter would view clay. You don’t see clay as a problem; you see it as an opportunity to create something. —Lama Kathy Wesley, “Your Mistakes Are Progress”

I would add "physical" affliction to "mental" affliction as raw material. To address both mental and physical, I have been actively making changes in my life. It feels good to actually be doing something about something I have been unhappy about! I am not taking the clay of my life and fashioning it into the opportunity to create a new sculpture of my life.

This approach to turning problems into possibilities also means turning around your thinking. If you wake up with a painful hip, notice it and turn it into I am working on treating my body in a way that makes my hip feel healthy and whole. It means being thankful for a positive outcome as though it has already manifested, and even better knowing that it has begun!

Previously, I believe, I wrote about some of the pangs of growing older, this post is a review for myself of the changes I have made to live the positive aspects of growing older.

My painful hips, knees, rotator cuffs, neck, lower back, etc. cause me to limit my activity. On waking, my hips and lower back are so painful as to make me feel "crippled." I sit in front of my computer for too long of a time and raise stiff and sometimes in pain. Stairs have become more difficult for me to climb: up and down!

Began with a Pulmonary Doctor who thought I had COPD (Chronic obstructive pulmonary disease, involving constriction of the airways and difficulty or discomfort in breathing) but all my tests came back "normal." Yet I seem more easily out of breath. Carrying groceries in from the car, to the condo, and putting them away has become a more difficult task.

My sleeping habits have become erratic again and I nap for up to an hour almost every day. My weight is stable at "TOO MUCH!" Yet I have not been enjoying my meals. Sweets, pastries, etc have always been a downfall and Christmas Treats were no different.

I will not even go into changes and minor difficulties with bathroom activities!

But enough for the NEGATIVE side of me. There is also a VERY POSITIVE aspect to my life on which I am actively working and maybe it is just in time for the New Year, 2019, although I do not believe in New Year Resolutions. Those usually fail by January 15th!

I decided that I will grow older gracefully in those areas over which I have no control but will take in hand those over which I do. So I have begun to work harder on physical limitations that do not need to be so limiting. It feels good not only to have made this decision but to have been working on it now for over one month!

1) I am now working with a personal trainer. Our sessions have been so helpful to my overall body awareness and I engage in the stretching and movement even on days when she is not here. Yesterday, we decided to have her come to the condo twice a week if only because we are making so much progress. Once we get a routine in place in the condo, she will come with me to LA Fitness (downstairs of the condo) to see what I might do there to continue the good work we do (upstairs in the condo.)

2) My Guru, Corrine, introduced me to the trainer and Corrine will be working with me to develop some Yoga and Buddhist Meditations and Practices to compliment the work of the trainer. 

Here is a "Heartfelt Desires" page I developed on Corrine's recommention:

Heartfelt Desires

PART ONE: December 15, 2018 (Gray Font)

Working with Jessica Dare (Physical Trainer) and Corinne Peterson (Yoga Teacher/Guru,) I am setting down preliminary Heartfelt Desires for my Body Awareness, Movement, and Care Practice.

These desires are made in positive statements, with gratitude and thankfulness for their already being a chosen focus of my daily life, already being part of my experience, and already seeing progress accomplished.

PART TWO: December 21, 2018 (Black Font)

The next part of the process is to take each one and imagine it were already true, right now, in this moment. How would each feel in the body of it were true?

• • • • •

I am comfortable in my body and as a 73 year old, I look and feel good in my clothing.

Feeling better about myself, enjoying shopping for exciting new clothing, am proud of how I look, look forward to “dressing up” in sport coat etc. Confident in my presence with others.

My breathing is full and deep.

Energetic, doing more, getting out on every day activities as well as special ones in nature. Fairing well in all I attempt Not avoiding activities due to fear.

My energy is high and easily available.

My health is strong and free from illness and injury.

Facing each day knowing I am OK. Not working unnecessarily about “old age.” Looking forward to spending each day productively and positively.

My body movement and stretching, walking and exercise add to my all around good health and happiness.

Exercising regularly and daily. Looking forward to the day’s movement activities. Knowing that what I do adds to my overall health and therefore the ability to do what I want and to enjoy myself and my life. Doing things now that I have not been able to do in the recent past.

My eating habits are thoughtful and I am aware of how my choices affect my Heartfelt Desires.

Feeling good about what I eat and the decisions I make. Not feeling guilty about the decisions I make and or over the ones I know I should make but do not. Feeling comfortable not bloated or stomach sick.

I allow my eating choices to be at the “comfort food” level now and then, but keep these choices as the exception and not the rule.

Giving myself permission to eat for pleasure, but now and then, not all the time. Feeling the power of being able to make good eating decisions for myself. Feeling powerful in being part of the “solution” for myself, not the problem.

My strength, cardio, and flexibility health continue to improve as I continue to pay attention to these Heartfelt Desires.

Besides living well day to day, I am making my future potential life better. I am giving my body the chance to take care of me and allowing me to live longer and better. I am more active day to day as well as over time. I am able to do things I have not been able to do. I look forward to travel: in the U.S., in Europe, and in more challenging places like Asia.

• • • • •

I get a massage every other week, again very beneficial to my overall good health feeling and am thinking of increasing it to every week. Sarah, my massage therapist of 5+ years uses Thai Massage rather than table massage.

Traditional Thai massage uses no oils or lotions. The recipient remains clothed during treatment. There is constant body contact between the giver and receiver, but rather than rubbing on muscles, the body is compressed, pulled, stretched and rocked.

The recipient wears loose, comfortable clothing and lies on a mat or firm mattress on the floor. The receiver will be positioned in a variety of yoga-like positions during the course of the massage, that is also combined with deep static and rhythmic pressures.

The massage generally follows designated lines in the body. The legs and feet of the giver can be used to position the body or limbs of the recipient. In other positions, hands fix the body, while the feet do the massaging. There is a standard procedure and rhythm to the massage, which the giver will adjust to fit the receiver.

3) I joined Weight Watchers and have begun to be more careful in what I choose to eat.

4) I will begin a series of acupuncture sessions, with Marc, to work on my lower back and hip problems. A number of years ago, Marc helped me work through some fairly severe Rotator Cuff problems.

5) I have been meditating every day, sometimes for a short period of time and sometimes for longer periods of time. I use my own techniques (learned from Corrine) and also use the online "headspace.com."

6) I also have been reading and continuing my studies in Buddhism. Next step will be to find someone or someplace where I can participate in discussions of what I read about and about newly learned ideas.

• • • • •

So all in all, I feel pretty good about who I am today and where I am going tomorrow. I didn't even talk about my continuing writing, working on my memoirs, continuing the push to create ALZHEIMER'S: The Musical, and making presentations to various groups on living well with Alzheimer's Dementia. I also didn't talk about how much I continue to love my condo, my kitties, my friends, and my family.

So all in all, it looks like the beginning of a beautiful 2 0 1 9 !

Emptiness

(From: https://tricycle.org)

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This one is interesting, here is my interpretation. Buddhist thinking says everything is “empty.” We assign values based on our experiences, studies, perceptions, what important people in our life tell us (especially as children when we have little or no “power!") 

Part of moving towards enlightenment is the ability to accept (and see) the emptiness in all things, rethink our perceptions, be careful with judgements, and then come to conclusions. 

For example, we have decided that recreational drug use is bad. We are told that drug use is bad (if not sinful!) There are laws against recreational use of drugs and an inordinate number of people are in jail for minor drug abuse. 

But over the last what, ten or twenty years,  thinking has turned to the benefits of medical use of Marijuana. 

And currently, recreational use of the drug is accepted in several states with more states removing the illegal status and releasing people from jail. 

Closely monitored dispensaries are opening and laws reflecting appropriate use of drugs are being made, like no driving or operating heavy machinery while under the influence of drugs, etc. 

So drug use is actually empty. It is what we, society, and the times we live do when we attach the value judgments!

Continued Growth in Understanding Dementia / Alzheimer's and Supporting Those Who Live With It

My comments to Kate after watching her presentation on Dementia in Singapore. 

CLICK HERE TO SEE THE 60 MINUTE PRESENTATION

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Kate,

Just finished watching your Singapore presentation. Magnificent!

Not to ride on your coat tails but in so many ways I feel that we are telling the same story, you from the point of view of one diagnosed with dementia and me from the point of view of loving the person who received the diagnosis. In some ways might I be so bold as to say WE ARE THE YING AND YANG OF DEMENTIA CARE? KINDRED SPIRITS?

In your presentation you talked about so many of the ways that I was able to intuitively support Gregory. 

In some ways I believe that your “attitude” towards the necessary “care giver” better called “care partner” have changed. Also, you have begun to refer to some of the serious changes that occur towards later stage Dementia and allude to how “care” at those later stages can change so dramatically and often times, become necessary even at the risk of loss of autonomy for the person diagnosed.

Since each person is a unique individual; anything we think, say, or propose about supporting those with the diagnosis and those loving those with the diagnosis is almost like a “shot in the dark.”

"A shot in the dark" especially since the day to day expression of the disease can change so dramatically and sometimes so quickly: Sometimes here, sometimes diminished, sometimes returned as of old, sometimes returned but somewhat weaker, eventually gone forever.

Sometimes the interactions are so convoluted that the care partner not only is at a loss to interpret what is going on but also how to interact with and deal with the experience. 

Sometimes the slow "loss" of the person you love so much is life changing and at times disabling to the care giver when no one and nothing can really "help" except maybe faith that things will be better in the morning. 

Sometimes the day to day, minute to minute energy that the care partner must give to supporting and monitoring the person with Dementia is exhausting and affects the carer's health, making the giving even more difficult.

There is NO one right answer and most often people are looking for that ONE “silver bullet, correct” answer. There is the obvious list of how to go about the care partnering (love, respect, understanding, compassion,etc) but no details donot automatically fill in. 

One of my new quotes might be "As in life, as in Dementia … just a little more complicated.” In some ways the Dementia is not the problem, living a good life no matter what shows up is the problem!

The trajectory and progression of Dementia complicates matters more, leaving us feeling so helpless. Since it is a disease that affects the brain; logic, understanding, thinking, processing, cognition, etc --  it complicates things even more -- let alone the effects of the physical, physiological,  and emotional for everyone involved.

The work of changing the world's attitude towards Dementia and how we support those with Dementia is in some ways just beginning and feels almost impossible.

Going from seeing the person and not just the disease, going from care communities to community caring, providing support and techniques to care giving partners, seeing the disease as a diability and providing support to live as well as possible, providing emotional support to all parties affected, educating medical practitioners, etc will get better and will take time ... we just want it now!

Kate, I so look forward to spending some time with you in Chicago. I have so much to learn from you and still have so many questions or maybe just a good hug and sitting together quietly over a glass of wine will be enough! Be well,

Michael

P.S.

Most of what I was able to do for Gregory came directly from my love for him, our respect for each other, the humanity in both of us. People often said I did such an amazing job of being his care partner and my reply is always, “How could I have done any differently? 

For me, what I did is also touched on by the Buddhist principals of The Four Nobel Truths and the Eightfold Path. Spirituality of any type helps us cope. Faith in something helps as well. For Gregory it was not his Catholism and for me not my Judiasm but for both of us Buddhism did provide some peace of mind!

    THE BUDDHA'S FOUR TRUTHS:

• The truth of suffering (Dukkha)
• The truth of the origin of suffering (Samudāya)
• The truth of the cessation of suffering (Nirodha)
• The truth of the path to the cessation of suffering (Magga)

THE BUDDHA'S EIGHTFOLD PATH:

1. The Right View

By right view, Buddha means seeing things in the right perspective. Seeing things as they really are, without any false illusions or pretenses. He wanted his followers to see and to understand the transient nature of worldly ideas and possessions and to understand that they can attain salvation only if they practiced the right karma.

2. The Right Thought

Buddha says that we are what we are because of what we think. What goes on inside our minds (our thought process) determines our course of action. It is, therefore, necessary to follow the path of Right thought or Right Intention. To have the Right Intention or the Right Thought, a person should be aware of his purpose or role in life and is studying the teachings of Buddha.

3. The Right Speech

Buddha asks his followers to speak truth, to avoid slander and malicious gossip and to refrain from abusive language. Harsh words that can cause distress or offend others should also be avoided while also staying clear of mindless idle chatter which lacks any depth.

4. The Right Action

Behaving peacefully and harmoniously; Right action, according to Buddha, lies in adherence to the following guidelines:

- Staying in harmony with fellow human beings
- Behaving peacefully
- Not stealing
- Not killing anyone
- Avoiding overindulgence in sensual pleasure
- Abstaining from sexual misconduct
- Not indulging in fraudulent practices, deceitfulness and robbery

5. The Right Livelihood

By laying down this guideline, Buddha advises his followers to earn their bread and butter righteously, without resorting to illegal and nefarious activities. He does not expect his followers to exploit other human beings or animals or to trade in weapons or intoxicants.

6. The Right Effort

Buddha believed that human nature imposes undue restrictions on the mind at times, causing a person to harbor ill thoughts. So we have to train our mind to think in the right direction if we wish to become better human beings. Once we gain control over our thoughts and replace the unpleasant ones with positive ones, we shall be moving in the right direction.

7. The Right Mindfulness

The Right Mindfulness, together with the Right Concentration, forms the basis of Buddhist meditation. By proposing this, Buddha suggests his followers to focus mentally on their emotions, mental faculties, and capabilities while staying away from worldly desires and other distractions.

It refers to the ability of the mind to see things as they are without being led astray by greed, avarice, anger and ignorance.

8. The Right Concentration

This eighth principle laid down by Buddha is fundamental for proper meditation. Zazen (or, Zen meditation) is the way used in Zen to reach the right concentration or "state of mind". Needless to add, this is the most vital of all the aspects stated in the Noble Eightfold path since, without proper meditation, an individual cannot move on to a higher level of well-being.

Don't Speak of Overcoats or Your Bowels

The old saw says, "You know you are getting old when you begin to talk about the state of your bowels."

As a young, newly employed elementary school teacher, my mother often would ask me, "When are you going to be a grown up and buy yourself an overcoat?"

At a garage sale we ran in Gregory's old architecture studio before we moved out of 2635 Poplar and into the condo in downtown Evanston; a much older customer lowered himself into a chair to rest from his shopping; making loud sighing, groaning, aching sounds as I am sure you have heard before. My friend Roger labeled those "Old Man Noises" and warned against making them ourselves.

It is said that "you are only as old as you think you are" and "old age is only a state of mind." It is said that if you "act old," you are old."

Well here I am, now 73 years old, ... and I am old! Born in 1945 for which you have to scroll down quite a way when filling out your age in an online form, it amazes me how many years there are in that list between when I was born and today!

I have to admit that I am more aware of my bowels, own an over coat, feel the aches and pains of "old man noises," and realize that short of thinking or feeling or acting old, the body has a mind of its own as it slows down, breaks down, lets you down.

When I asked my Podiatrist why my feet were in such bad condition, he replied, "It's like having a car for 73 years and never having changed the tires." I find I need to more carefully navigate climbing stairs.

My skin doctor tells me that dry skin and itching is normal for a person my age, so the lotion bottle has become a permanent fixture on the sink counter. 

At my yearly visits to the eye doctor, she talks about farsightedness (hyperopia) getting better and nearsightedness (myopia) getting worse which is usual as one gets older. My glasses prescription changes each visit. Also I must now keep an eye (so to speak) on my cataracts which are beginning to cloud.

While I usually do not talk about growing older, keeping it privately to myself, it is nice now and then to discuss the symptoms with friends of the same or similar age, just to compare notes to know that you are not alone in your years, and possible to learn something you did not know about living with the process.

One thing that happens as you get older, is that you go unnoticed. People are not attracted to you, are not sizing you up as a sex partner, are not necessarily interested in what you have to say. Even though you have given your best to society during your prime years, you are deemed somewhat useless now. The young do not understand who you are in today's world and you do not understand who they are.

I find myself saying the same words my parents used to say with dismay as well as at times with disgust, "This generation ... I just don't understand them!" Ironically, there are so many more things I now understand about my parents and the changes they went through as they aged, but hopefully I am doing it more gracefully having learned from them how not to get older.

They slowed down as I am. They used to entertain but then did less and less. My father refused to stand in line at a restaurant or movie theater. They did not like to attend functions with large crowds. They preferred eventually to not go out or dive at night. Me too, now!

With one example for me which is similar to those of my parents, let me talk about entertaining. In my prime, Gregory and I used to entertain a lot. Dinner parties, holiday events, helping family and friends celebrate birthdays. When my parents would visit from Florida, I would invite all the family and friends to visit the condo so mom and dad could get to see everyone without having to run all over Chicago for the short time they were here. 

Gregory was born on July 4 so we had open house, immediate world parties featuring appetizers, dinner, beverages, birthday cake and fireworks for 30-50 people. As Gregory's abilities diminished due to his dementia, I would take on the event single handedly. Eventually I asked our housekeeper be at the party to help out.

Now, even with fewer people attending (due to attrition, old age, and death) after a party at the condo I feel like I have been hit by a truck, beaten up in the alley, fallen down a flight of stairs. Instead of having everything cleaned up (even with Halina's help) by the time I head off to bed, I head off leaving the counters and sinks still filled with dirty dishes.

The next day I finish cleaning up but still feel black and blue, bruised, sprained. I'll take two naps instead of the usual one.

Which brings me to the joys of taking midday naps! I find that I "husband" (I love that word husbandry: the care of a household; the control or judicious use of resources : conservation) I husband my time and energy and only allow one major activity a day. If I have an evening engagement or a play to attend, that is all I plan on that day. If I go grocery shopping, after coming home and putting things away, I make no other plans. 

I used to run four or five or six errands at a time, then cook dinner, or go out with friend to dinner and a movie. Now ONE ACTIVITY A DAY and a nap thrown in! Naps are the luxury of the aged, the retired, and at times the wealthy!

People still tell me that I have an amazing amount of energy but if compared to when I was in my fifties, I would say that the amount of energy I have currently is about half of what I had then.

So in this essay, it has felt good to analyze what this thing called aging personally means to me. A little complaining, a little humor, a little enlightenment as I shed more awareness on who I am at this time of my life.

I will say that not a day goes by that I am not grateful (if not acknowledging it out-loud) for the life I live, for family and friends, for Emma and Gigi my cats, for my health, for my financial ability to have a comfortable life.

I miss my life partner, soul mate, best friend, husband Gregory. We were together for 41 years. He lived the last 12 of those with Dementia, most likely Alzheimer's Disease. He died close to three years ago. I miss him terribly and Grief still rears its head now and then when I least expect it, but I have grown and continue my life as a widow. This is also part of aging. We knew that one of us would die first, Gregory beat me to it!

I am aware, as I continue my studies in Buddhism, that "We have a choice. We can spend our whole life suffering because we can’t relax with how things really are, or we can relax and embrace the open-endedness of the human situation, which is fresh, unfixated, unbiased.:" —Pema Chödrön, "The Fundamental Ambiguity of Being Human  

Meanwhile, I embrace my old age, I embrace the fact that I will die. Meanwhile I'll have as much fun as my aging, decrepit body allows (knowing that it will continue to age and get more decrepit!)

Another Bardo

Came across this recently. Another look at Bardo, the in-between place. It has helped me greatly to understand what I have been going through in the grieving process since Gregory's death on October 4, 2015. It is a long article!

The Four Essential Points of Letting Go in the Bardo
lionsroar.com/four-points-for-letting-go-bardo/

About Pema Khandro Rinpoche Pema Khandro Rinpoche is recognized as a tulku in the Nyingma and Kagyu lineages. She is the founder of Ngakpa International and the MahaSiddha Center in Berkeley, California.

It’s when we lose the illusion of control—when we’re most vulnerable and exposed —that we can discover the creative potential of our lives. Pema Khandro Rinpoche explains four essential points for understanding what it means to let go, and what is born when we do.

We are always experiencing successive births and deaths. We feel the death of loved ones most acutely—there is something radical about the change in our reality. We are not given options, there is no room for negotiation, and the situation cannot be rationalized away or covered up by pretense. 

There is a total rupture in our who-I-am-ness, and we are forced to undergo a great and difficult transformation.

In bereavement, we come to appreciate at the deepest, most felt level exactly what it means to die while we are still alive. The Tibetan term bardo, or “intermediate state,” is not just a reference to the afterlife. It also refers more generally to these moments when gaps appear, interrupting the continuity that we otherwise project onto our lives. 

In American culture, we sometimes refer to this as having the rug pulled out from under us, or feeling ungrounded. These interruptions in our normal sense of certainty are what is being referred to by the term bardo. But to be precise, bardo refers to that state in which we have lost our old reality and it is no longer available to us.

Until now, we have been holding on to the idea of an inherent continuity in our lives, creating a false sense of comfort for ourselves on artificial ground. By doing so, we have been missing the very flavor of what we are.

Anyone who has experienced this kind of loss knows what it means to be disrupted, to be entombed between death and rebirth. We often label that a state of shock. In those moments, we lose our grip on the old reality and yet have no sense what a new one might be like. There is no ground, no certainty, and no reference point—there is, in a sense, no rest. 

This has always been the entry point in our lives for religion, because in that radical state of unreality we need profound reasoning—not just logic, but something beyond logic, something that speaks to us in a timeless, nonconceptual way. Milarepa referred to this disruption as a great marvel, singing from his cave, “The precious pot containing my riches becomes my teacher in the very moment it breaks.”

This is the Vajrayana idea behind successive deaths and rebirths, and it is the first essential point to understand: rupture. The more we learn to recognize this sense of disruption, the more willing and able we will be to let go of this notion of an inherent reality and allow that precious pot to slip out of our hands. 

Rupture is taking place all the time, day to day and moment to moment; in fact, as soon as we see our life in terms of these successive deaths and rebirths, we dissolve the very idea of a solid self grasping onto an inherently real life. We start to see how conditional who-I-am-ness really is, how even that does not provide reliable ground upon which to stand.

At times like this, if we can gain freedom from the eternal grasping onto who I am and how things are—our default mode—then we can get to the business of being. Until now, we have been holding on to the idea of an inherent continuity in our lives, creating a false sense of comfort for ourselves on artificial ground. By doing so, we have been missing the very flavor of what we are.

The Contrived Self

The cause of all suffering can be boiled down to grasping onto a fictional, contrived existence. But what does that mean? If we really come to understand, then there is no longer even a container to hold together our normal concepts, to make them coherent. The precious pot shatters, and all our valuables roll away like marbles on a table. Reality as we thought we knew it is disrupted; the game of contriving an ideal self is suddenly irrelevant.

This is shunyata, which gets translated in various ways, most commonly as “emptiness,” but there is no real correlate in our language, no single word or idea that can cover this ground of disrupted reality. Because “emptiness” in English has negative connotations, shunyata is sometimes translated as “voidness,” “open spaciousness,” and even “boundlessness."

Nyingmas such as Longchenpa explained emptiness in positive terms inextricably associated with presence, clarity, and compassion. But in the context of death and birth, shunyata refers to a direct experience of disruption felt at the core of our being, when there is no longer any use manufacturing artificial security.

The bardo teachings are really about recognizing the value of giving up the game, which we play without even giving it a second thought.

We’re not talking about giving up our precious human life here, of course; we’re talking about giving up on this subtle game. We hold pictures of our ideal self in an ideal world. We imagine that if we could only manipulate our circumstances or other people enough, then that ideal self could be achieved, and in the meantime, we try to pretend to have it together. It’s the game we play all the time: we keep postponing our acceptance of this moment in order to pursue reality as we think it should be.

When we suffer disruption, we find we just can’t play that game anymore. The bardo teachings are really about recognizing the value of giving up the game, which we play without even giving it a second thought. But when we are severely ill or in hospice, and we have to cede control over our own bodily functions to strangers, holding it all together is not an option.

There are times like these in our lives—such as facing death or even giving birth—when we are no longer able to manage our outer image, no longer able to suspend ourselves in pursuit of the ideal self. It’s just how it is—we’re only human beings, and in these times of crisis we just don’t have the energy to hold it all together. When things fall apart, we can only be as we are. Pretense and striving fall away, and life becomes starkly simple.

The value of such moments is this: we are shown that the game can be given up and that when it is, the emptiness that we feared, emptiness of the void, is not what is there. What is there is the bare fact of being. Simple presence remains—breathing in and out, waking up and going to sleep. The inevitability of the circumstances at hand is compelling enough that for the moment, our complexity ceases.

Our compulsive manufacturing of contrived existence stops. Perhaps in that ungrounded space, we are not even comforting ourselves, not even telling ourselves everything is okay; we may be too tired to do even that. It’s just total capitulation— we’re forced into non-grasping of inherent reality. The contrived self has been emptied out along with contrived existence and the tiring treadmill of image maintenance that goes along with it. What remains is a new moment spontaneously meeting us again and again.

There is an incredible reality that opens up to us in those gaps if we just do not reject rupture. In fact, if we have some reliable idea of what is happening in that intermediate, groundless space, rupture can become rapture.

Emerging Presence

It is said that the great fourteenth-century terton in the Nyingma lineage, Karma Lingpa, soon after losing his wife and their child within just a few days of each other, extracted a treasure of teachings from the side of a mountain. Because of all the spiritual practice he had done, the disruption he experienced sparked a volcanic eruption of wisdom from which flowed The Self- Emergence of the Peaceful and Wrathful Deities from Enlightened Awareness, known here in the West as The Tibetan Book of the Dead.

If I lose all my possessions, my job, all my money, then what remains of me?

That act of revelation is in itself a key teaching, the idea that death and loss are great teachers if we can just open to the experience of profound disruption. Just like Karma Lingpa, encountering death can open us up to a basic level of being—raw, unmanaged, unmanipulated. That natural condition, that unconditioned state, is what shunyata points to.

What’s underneath all of our experience? If there is no inherent existence to hold on to, then what is ultimate reality? Even the most shallow person yearns to know this point; it’s what we’re always looking for. It’s why we fight with people we love about petty little things— because this unanswered question drives us. 

If we lose that fight, what’s there? What becomes of us? If we lose this relationship, what’s left? Who are we? If I lose all my possessions, my job, all my money, then what remains of me? If we don’t know the answer, then the question becomes a primordial anxiety that forms the background of all we say and do and think.

And so the third principle we can learn about death, birth, and reincarnation is this: the extent to which we know what’s underlying everything—the good, the bad, the beautiful, the ugly, that which we can control, that which we can’t—is the extent to which we can relax. To the extent that we know our presence of awareness as reality, it becomes bearable. 

As we gain intimacy with that ground, we can even have sanity when life is hard, even when knowing that an experience is going to be painful. Think how willing we are to bear that pain for someone we really love. It’s how life begins, after all, with our mother, through love, enduring the pain of childbirth.

Why should we be any less willing to bear the pain of death or loss or change? If we’re in touch with the ground of being, perhaps there may be ease and comfort even in dying. That ground allows us to walk the earth with a clarity that accommodates whatever arises. So when we have to lose, we can lose. And when we have to let go, at times of great loss or when we depart from this body, then something else becomes possible. This is what emerges in the bardo—presence as the ground of being.

What makes death and impermanence so painful is our idea of the strict dichotomy between existence and nonexistence. Knowing something beyond that dualism is paramount. At the moment of death, instead of being caught between the ideas of existence and nonexistence, instead of this crisis of having everything that matters to us taken away all at once, something else can open up entirely; we shift our attention to the nucleus of being, to presence itself, experiencing itself.

But when we are not in crisis, recognizing presence as our nucleus and grounding ourselves in the sense of experience itself is a difficult endeavor. The fact is that we are disassociated from our true nature. We experience it all the time—in little tastes, in the gaps between realms, between all of our many identities and roles, and even between thoughts—but since we don’t even recognize it, we don’t know how to be with it, to rest in it. 

We contract with our wounded sense of self and with frantic efforts to create something more ideal, more secure, more definite. In this way, we experience ourselves over and over as both confusion and wisdom—a treacherous and fantastic situation. We taste the ground here and there but can’t ingest it, which creates a dramatic friction, one that gives rise to all the mental poisons as a means of coping with this chronic cognitive dissonance between open ground and contracted being.

Confusion is the raw material of wisdom.

Without some way of managing this experience, this unsettling discontinuity punctuated by occasional disruptions to the very idea of our being, we never know if we are going to show up in the next moment as a buddha or as a demon. We’re like gods one moment, tasting the fruit of the kingdom, and hungry ghosts the next, not even able to swallow it. How confusing—and how fantastic! This confusion is the raw material of wisdom. Our path is to find presence in each of these experiences. In the case of the bardo, when presence is the only real thing left, if we are searching for security instead, wisdom can be elusive. 

It’s no wonder that religion becomes so poignant during times of crisis; suddenly, presence is all we are. Everything else recedes except what is right in front of us. Recognizing this opens up the potential to experience life with awareness of impermanence and the presence it illuminates. So the first essential point is rupture. 

The second is emptying out the contrived self. And the third is the recognition that our experience is based on dynamic, responsive presence. Our goal as vajra yogins and yoginis is to know that ground, become familiar with it, and learn to relax into the inherent peacefulness of not knowing what comes next. When we do—and to the extent that we do—everything changes. We are no longer slaves to primordial anxiety.

Experiencing a loss can be freeing. When we are free of all our psychological heaviness, the accumulated weight of our usual momentum, we have an opportunity to know the raw presence that remains. To be a Buddhist is to dedicate our lives to abiding in that impermanent, empty, visceral presence. 

We can bear with greater ease those losses that we know we will inevitably face, because we identify with the thread of wakefulness that we meet in all of them. And then perhaps, when death draws near, we can relax with ease into the ground of being as we shed this skin, finally let go of this body, and experience liberation— undefended being in groundless space.

The Play of Experience

Longchenpa described the fourth essential point as “majestic utter sameness—the pure fact of being, where mind and what appears are primordially pure.”

The fourth essential point, put simply, is that the world we produce from loss can be created with a light heart as a state of play. Thinley Norbu Rinpoche wrote, “Fish play in the water. Birds play in the sky. Ordinary beings play on earth. Sublime beings play in display.” 

In the raw, broken-open state, this place where we let go of all games, there is actually a great sense of relief available to us, a knowledge that we don’t have to do that anymore, to be that. When someone dies, don’t we suddenly see how unreal so many things are and how visceral the present space is? There can be a feeling of getting to the heart of things, a juxtaposition of real and unreal. That’s the beauty of not grasping onto an inherent reality. 

If we can find ways to disrupt our own habit of clinging to our continuity story, to just strip it all down—without having to wait to lose a loved one, or get that terminal diagnosis from our doctor, or lie on that gurney —then what we find there in any bare moment is creative, instantaneous playfulness. It is this raw energy that spoke directly to Longchenpa: “All that is has me—universal creativity, pure and total presence—as its root. How things appear is my being. How things arise is my manifestation.”

Impermanence is not just an illuminator of loss. It is an illuminator of newness, the ever-unfolding present moment and its creativity.

Emerging from the bardo, we reenter the flow of life with a new sense of groundlessness: it is clear that “later” is not always a luxury that will be available to us; we are also disconnected from the past. That makes nowness starkly available. The perspective gained in the bardo cuts through petty concerns.

It cuts through delusions so that whatever we contact, we do so with a raw presence, without the denial of impermanence. As long as we remain in this illumined state and still remember that grasping is futile, a new kind of openness becomes available to us. We have lost our delusions; to love and live now is to do so with nothing to lose because, for the time being, what really mattered has already been lost.

The Vajrayana idea of death, birth, and reincarnation is not just a matter of preparing for physical death, or dealing with the loss of our loved ones with rituals and prayers, or having the right attitude in mourning and grief. It is the messenger of our own uncontrived being, delivering us into the basic space of pure being. It shows us what comes after rupture. What may be the most poignant thing about the loss of a loved one is that after they have passed away, life simply keeps going. It just keeps going.

Death is connected to rebirth. The rupture of bardo inevitably leads to whatever is next. If we appreciate these successive deaths and rebirths in our lives, then we can value the bardo for what it is—the pause that makes movement apparent, the silence that makes all sounds more vivid, the end that clarifies what exactly we will now be beginning. Impermanence is not just an illuminator of loss. It is an illuminator of newness, the ever-unfolding present moment and its creativity.

Traditionally, we have three different possibilities for what happens after death. There is the default mode of rebirth with all these accumulated, bulky layers of previous karmic propensities. There is also the kind of reincarnation that great compassionate beings, such as the Dalai Lama and the Karmapa, consciously choose for the highest benefit of sentient beings in this world. 

But then there is something else: this more impersonal, ceaseless creativity that keeps multiplying itself in playful modes of being, like the image from the Avatamsaka Sutra of a radiant buddha oozing buddhas from every pore of his or her being, and from every pore of every one of those buddhas, more buddhas giving way to whole other universes of being. This is true compassion, a total responsiveness to what is here.

That’s the kind of life after death that Vajrayana practitioners rehearse in deity yoga. It is a practice of dying to the contrived self in order to arise in the creative space of momentary presence. It is bursting forward into life, emerging with this pure primordial creativity at play in the shifting fields of empty identities. It’s a kind of regeneration, a total recycling, a complete merging and reemerging.
It is a shifting ground, because compassionate responsiveness is not static; we never step into the same river twice. 

But this doesn’t mean that there is nothing there. It isn’t that there is something there, either—but it’s not nothing. Longchenpa calls it the “self-originating clear light” and says that in this light, “what appears is neither concretized nor latched onto, because what appears never becomes what it seems to be and is intrinsically free.” You see? It is not just another construct. It’s the ground that does not need to be contrived or maintained. It’s experience itself.