And as ACLS notes, “This year we have partnered with two international host organizations to create exciting opportunities for our global community of Buddhist Studies scholars: Lion’s Roar in Halifax, Nova Scotia, and The Courtauld Institute of Art in London, UK.

“ACLS will place up to five early-career scholars of Buddhism in one-year professional positions with host institutions that present and interpret knowledge of Buddhist traditions. The selected Buddhism Public Scholars will use their academic knowledge and professional experience to bolster the capacity of museums and publishers in Buddhist art and thought in any tradition and location where Buddhism is practiced.”

Participating Host Institutions

Click on the links below for job descriptions.

• Lion’s Roar Foundation (Halifax, Nova Scotia)
• Minneapolis Institute of Art (Minneapolis, MN)
• Rubin Museum of Himalayan Art (New York, NY)
• The Courtauld Institute of Art (London, United Kingdom)
• The Tricycle Foundation (New York, NY)

Lion’s Roar is delighted and honored to be able to participate. Visit ACLS for complete details, application guidelines, and to apply now.

The post The Robert H. N. Ho Family Foundation Buddhism Public Scholars and New Professorships in Buddhist Studies is accepting applications appeared first on Lion’s Roar.

One day that changed. My hands were dripping wet from handling some particularly wet produce, and he rushed over with a paper towel for me to dry myself with. This simple act of kindness penetrated my heart. Tears welled up as I realized how often I had overlooked him, unconsciously making him invisible.

Some of us make certain parts of ourselves invisible.

Metta, or loving-kindness practice, teaches us that all humans have the same needs for safety, well-being, and freedom from suffering. To unconsciously make someone the “other,” to render them invisible, strips away this reality. And it separates us from the compassion, kindness, and love that naturally dwell in our hearts.

The remorse I felt after this encounter changed my loving-kindness practice forever. I began looking around the store when I went shopping, noticing the people who were stocking the shelves, working the cash registers, and sweeping the floor, and offering them wishes of kindness and well-being. Invariably, a friendly hello or a smile followed. As an introvert I often keep my attention to myself in public places, but these simple acts of acknowledgement broke me out of my conditioned patterns and created warm interactions. This was a new way for me to recognize and appreciate the interconnections we all share.

I’ve been doing traditional loving-kindness, or metta, practice for twenty years. The practice starts by offering kindness to people you find easy to love, then to people you are indifferent or neutral toward, people you may not even notice. Then you offer loving-kindess to people you find difficult, and finally to all beings.

Since my interaction with the employee in the produce department, I’ve changed the way I teach the practice. Now, when I’m offering a guided metta meditation, I ask people to explore what categories of humans are invisible to them.

Is it someone carrying a sign asking for help, or a houseless person? Do you overlook people of different ethnicity, ability, gender identity, women, or the elderly? When you see them, do you label them with biased stereotypes and assumptions about who they are? Because when that happens, their true humanity is invisible to you.

For your metta practice to truly embrace all beings, notice who may be unimportant to you or cause you to look away. Make sure to bring them into your practice of loving awareness. Buddha encouraged us to offer kindness to everyone without exception, even if it’s just a simple gesture or a smile.

In addition, some of us make certain parts of ourselves invisible. To make ends meet after leaving home at sixteen, I was a temporary worker going from job to job for years. I worked long hours, often for less than minimum wage. I felt completely invisible, even to myself. I went home at night deflated and dejected.

Finally I realized that I needed to see in myself what was invisible to others, to offer the love and kindness to myself that was missing. This practice of self-compassion helped me appreciate the inherent value of my humanity. It was the one thing that got me through.

This practice of including invisible people more explicitly in our metta practice is not a panacea for the systemic inequities in society, but a simple invitation to make visible and explore what has been hidden. May all beings be seen. May all beings be heard. May all beings be cared for with compassion and love.

The post Who Is Invisible to You? appeared first on Lion’s Roar.

All beings feel a need for refuge or sanctuary at various moments in our life. Some of us look for protection in material belongings, career prestige, or financial investments, or we might look for escape in alcohol, food, or even over-exercising. An authentic spiritual path offers a different kind of safe haven. Instead of the temporary relief of an aspirin or a place to hide from yourself, spiritual refuge offers a path toward feeling one’s own basic goodness.

Instead of unrealistic goals that almost make failure a given, this is just about feeling good more often.

But first, like Little Bit, we have to start by feeling our mental and emotional discomfort: fear, frustration, anger, hatred, jealousy, pride, or any kind of negative emotion. When we’re doing this, our own body is a perfect vehicle in which to take refuge.

When we humans feel an emotional storm brewing, the adrenaline rush of powerful feelings often renders us unable to control our body, speech, or mind. Holding our breath and quivering, we might find ourselves meeting heat with anger, anger with angry words.  Or we keep our afflictive emotions inside where they fester. Grief in our chest, anger in our jaw, fear in our knees, all eventually reveal themselves via pain in our joints or reduced movement capacity.

Instead of trying to deny these feelings, taking refuge in the body means that we begin to make friends with our body. We listen to our body and treat it the way we would treat someone we care about. Instead of pushing it too hard or being afraid to move it at all, we can walk the middle path of intuiting what is appropriate for our body, which means what is appropriate for us.

Get More Friendly

We have so many goals for our bodies: lose weight, get sculpted, be more healthy, more attractive, keep that youthful glow! Like a dysfunctional romantic relationship where we expect our partner to meet our every need, we don’t relate to our body as our friend, but as the agent for achieving all of our hopes and fears.

To begin thinking of our body as the place where we feel good helps to shift our goal from wanting to jump higher and run faster to feeling better and living a more engaged, vibrant life. Do this in small bites I call “exercise snacks.” Get up and move around for 10 minutes here and there. Circumambulate the house or office, do three sun salutations, walk your dog, turn on music and play.

Instead of unrealistic goals that almost make failure a given, this is just about feeling good more often. This is how you can slowly redefine your relationship with your body, from something outside of yourself that needs to be different, to a refuge that is always there to provide you an experience of integration and well-being.

Get Curious

We can take a lesson from the physical practice of yoga. The Sanskrit word for “pose” is asana, which translates as “to sit with what comes up.” Whether you are sitting, walking, or jumping rope, notice what is coming up: joy, resistance, old memories, insights. Include it all. When your mind strays, re-anchor it via the feelings of your body, your emotions, or your breathing.

We can learn to trust the refuge of our own body.

These sensations occur only in the present, so the body works as a perfect home base for the wandering mind. Notice not just what your body is feeling, but how you feel about what you are feeling. You will discover that while your body has been changing all the time, your ideas about your body, and what it can or cannot do, have become frozen. That’s an interesting insight too.

Maintaining continuous awareness in this way is called “mindfulness of body”—an effective practice for learning to be bigger than we think we are, for expanding our comfort zone, and for lightening up a little bit through the recognition of impermanence.

Practice: Grounding Touch

Grounding touch is a simple micro-practice for taking refuge in your body when you feel stressed and need a time out. It’s a method for connecting to your emotional state through your body, using the warmth of your hands and the calmness of your breath to ground and stabilize your nervous system. You can do this anywhere—sitting on a park bench, walking from the elevator to your desk, in the stairwell at work, and even in the bathroom.

Stand or sit upright with your feet firmly planted. Place one hand on your chest and one at the base of your spine. Inhale through your nose for four counts, exhale through your nose for four counts, and repeat. Feel the movement of your breath beneath your hands. Let your mind ride on the breath, like a raft on the ocean. You can also place hands on heart, belly, forehead, or thighs.

The post Take Refuge in Your Body appeared first on Lion’s Roar.

“Such things as I have seen out this window I have never dreamed,” artist Georgia O’Keefe wrote to her sister while on a plane journey. “A great river system of green and grey seeming to run uphill to a most dreamlike lake of bluish and pinkish grey…” The perspectives that air travel gave O’Keefe inspired her to take new, more abstract directions in her painting. This shift captures the sense of possibility, of becoming, inherent in the “between.” 

“This year, as we say goodbye to the old and welcome the new, let’s put aside our usual ways of seeing.”

In Tibetan Buddhism, between-states are known as bardos, intervals when heightened awareness and new insights are available to us. We’re now entering one of the most fertile between-states: the transitional period as the old year comes to an end and the new year begins, a bardo passage with great possibilities for change.

The Tibetan Book of the Dead is a centuries-old manual for navigating bardo, composed to guide the dead through the intermediate state between death and rebirth. It was also written to guide us, the living, on the journey between birth and death, including bardos we experience during life. The book tells us that, in between-states, we have a precious chance for transformation because “the intellect becometh ninefold more lucid;” and “one possesseth the slender sense of supernormal perception and…the mind is capable of being changed or influenced.”

The bardo as this year winds down and the new year gets underway is an opportunity to gain wisdom and determine our path forward. One way to think of this passage is as a time when we’re in retreat or, from a Buddhist point of view, “in the cave.” In the Buddhist tradition, caves are very important; quiet, simple spaces that invite reflection, they’re believed to hold great possibility for fresh perspectives. 

My Tibetan grandmother told me about a Rinpoche, or Buddhist master, from Darjeeling who vanished and was discovered to have gone to a high cave in Yatung, near Tibet. He stayed there for three years, “getting power.” Siddhartha Gautama retreated to a cave near Bodh Gaya, India, on his journey to becoming the Buddha, and in the 11th and 12th centuries, the Tibetan spiritual master Milarepa meditated in numerous caves in the Himalayas.

We can embrace the end-of-year bardo as a time to enter the cave and reflect on where we are in our personal lives as parents and children, friends and partners, professionals and artists. We can contemplate “what is” now, our hopes for what will be, and what we can do to make these hopes a reality. 

Because the holidays are so busy, this may sound aspirational. However hectic things get, though, even a few minutes in the cave each day can reveal surprising insights, things we only see when we make room for them to become visible. Your cave could be an alcove in your house, a corner of your garden, space in your mind as you take an early morning walk or make breakfast or put up holiday decorations. Where might yours be?

Accustomed as we are to constant thought and motion, we may find it difficult to enter the cave and, once there, to stay there. But if we persevere, open to the alchemy that can take place in bardo, we may discover new interpretations and outlooks. We’re familiar with the idea of exploring the outer world; in the cave, we can make discoveries as we navigate our inner universe. 

This year, as we say goodbye to the old and welcome the new, let’s put aside our usual ways of seeing. Let’s allow the seen to give way to the unseen as we travel the mountains and rivers and galaxies of the world within. The discoveries we make can awaken and delight us, helping us to reset our compass and start afresh with the new year. 

The post ‘Tis the Season to Open Yourself to New Ways of Seeing  appeared first on Lion’s Roar.

How can we find space for receptivity, respite, and relaxation when our days and thoughts are overflowing? The restorative time we once had for meditation, yoga, exercise, and socializing may no longer be available. It’s imperative to have sustainable practices that keep us present without adding more “to-dos” to our list. Mindfulness—being intentional about what is—can become one of your closest allies. It was for me.

I adopted my first child, Jai, from South Asia. After a year of paperwork, home visits, and more, it was finally time to meet my baby. I spent nearly two months in India while Jai’s visa was finalized, navigating several transitions along the way. My second child, Aanika, was biological, and since I was over thirty-five, the pregnancy was considered slightly high-risk. During this time, I experienced significant hormonal fluctuations and had to have a C-section, which temporarily limited my mobility.

What follows are some practices that helped me build resilience, allowing me to focus on my family and work. There are many practices that can be integrated into new parenting. The key is finding what brings ease to you and your family. 

Loving-Kindness Meditation

As new parents, we can experience significant worry and anxiety, so loving-kindness meditation might be just what we need. When some of his monks were afraid in a forest, the Buddha taught them loving-kindness because love and fear cannot coexist. So, when you notice your mind is full of unease, take a few minutes (or more) to practice this meditation, which involves saying kind phrases as you bring to mind different people. 

Start with wishing yourself well by quietly or out loud saying whatever phrases you feel are most loving. For example, you could say, “May I be happy. May I be healthy. May I feel safe.”

Then moving on to your baby and/or partner, say, “May you be happy. May you be healthy. May you feel safe.” Then, if you have time, say the phrases for a neutral person like the postwoman. And finally, if you’re open to it, say the phrases for someone difficult (who could also be one of the above). 

Breathwork

Breathwork can offer an intentional connection to our physical state and the present moment. During the first year of my babies’ lives, when I found myself ruminating about the past or anxious about the future, I’d start by simply noticing my breathing and my baby’s breath. I then focused on where I was feeling it in my body. Finally, as needed, I’d elongate the exhalations with sound, often placing a hand on my belly. This activated my parasympathetic nervous system, promoting a sense of calm. Adding an intention to my inhalations and exhalations soothed me when I was particularly rattled. In turn, I could attend to the baby’s needs more clearly.

To practice intentional breaths, say the following phrases to yourself as you inhale and exhale:

Inhale: “I breathe in calm.”
Exhale: “I breathe out peace.”
Inhale: “I breathe in peace.”
Exhale: “I breathe out love.” 

Keep breathing and repeating the phrases for a few minutes or more until you have created some spaciousness. Feel free to change the phrases to whatever resonates for you.

Engage the Senses

As a new parent, it was sometimes difficult for me to even notice my breath. My formal meditation practices, which had previously been helpful, fell away in the throes of exhaustion. My thoughts and actions often consumed me, whether it was something banal, like what to make for dinner, or something more complex. For example, while breastfeeding my daughter, I realized I was never breastfed myself. Instead, I spent the first two years of my life with relatives and a helper. This raised questions for me: Did my first years create an attachment disorder? What about the impact of not breastfeeding my son? Complicated emotions arose, and it became difficult to focus and bond with my baby.

To alleviate ruminating thoughts, a mindfulness meditation that I found effective was to intentionally engage the senses. I’d do this in our home while changing diapers, feeding the baby, or trying to put the baby to sleep. I’d focus on really noticing the texture of the diaper, the softness of my baby’s skin, the sound of my baby’s breath and coos, and observing tiny details as well as larger shapes around us. When I sipped water, I’d taste it and feel it going down my throat. Sometimes I threw mint into the water and felt it at the tip of my tongue. 

Taking the sensory awareness practice into nature can be fruitful. During a ten-minute walk, I’d listen to birdsong, and it brought a smile to my face. I’d smell the flowers while feeling the weight of holding my baby. These excursions were so rejuvenating that I found it easier to stay present after returning home, which extended my sense of well-being.

Acceptance & Letting Go

Accepting things as they are and letting go of expectations sounds simple, but it’s not always easy. When I was a new parent, I began with small things, like not measuring my baby’s naps. Gradually, I surrendered as much as possible to my baby’s natural rhythm each day. This shift allowed me to be more relaxed about bigger milestones, such as when the baby should start crawling or teething.

To cultivate this practice, I labeled my thoughts as the baby went down to sleep. This exercise of “noting” helped me understand my thinking patterns and discern that thoughts and feelings come and go, allowing me to sense what was actually true in the present.

With noting practice, we observe distractions, and we label them to create space and avoid attachment. Whether seated in formal meditation or going about your day, you can practice noting by bringing awareness to thoughts, feelings, and sensations as they arise. You label them—and then let them go. Here are some example labels you might use:

Thinking: A general label for any thought.

Planning: When you notice you’re planning something.

Judging: When you catch yourself making assumptions.

Worrying: For anxious or negative thoughts.

Remembering: When recalling past events.

Feeling: For emotions like happiness, sadness, anger, etc.

Sensation: For physical reactions like tingling, tightness, warmth, etc.

As you experiment with these practices, notice what enlivens and restores you. It’s important to integrate mindfulness into your daily routine, rather than just turning to it when highly stressed, as the more mindfulness is practiced, the more automatic it becomes. 

As you become aware of how much more space and ease you experience when you’re present, you will naturally become even more inspired to practice. Sometimes you’ll still find yourself on autopilot or acting unskillfully; that’s part of being human. Remember, amid the challenges and chaos, this is a miraculous journey of caring for a precious new life and expanding your beloved family.

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Prime Minister Tshering Tobgay: I was inspired by our spiritual heritage, part of which is that we believe in bodhisattvas.

There’s this trinity called Rigsum Gonpo: the bodhisattvas of wisdom, courage, and compassion. Wisdom is embodied by Jampelyang (Manjushri), courage by Chana Dorji (Vajrapani), and compassion by Chenrezig(Avalokiteshvara). These three bodhisattvas are all worshipped individually, but they are also worshipped collectively.

There are many other bodhisattvas, of course, but to me an enlightened leader expresses the virtues of these three bodhisattvas and is driven by selfless service, like bodhisattvas who come back in the cycle of samsara for the benefit of others.

Enlightened leaders, exercising wisdom, know about the future. They know what has to be done. Rather than leaving wisdom to books, they actually want to implement it. It takes courage, and in implementing it, sometimes it’s very difficult for many other people. Hence, compassion is required to understand that change is going to cause suffering. So, I’ve been personally inspired by the Rigsum Gonpo, the trinity of bodhisattvas.

I see our king as the emanation of Rigsum Gonpo. In what he does, I see him embody the virtues of Jampelyang in knowledge and wisdom, Chana Dorji in courage, and Chenrezig in compassion. In my life, I seek inspiration from my king. In terms of decision-making, I remind myself what enlightened leadership is all about. I am definitely not an enlightened leader, but I do contemplate the importance of wisdom, courage, compassion and the importance of selfless service.

The Bhutanese concept of Gross National Happiness is widely regarded as Buddhist-inspired. How do you ensure that it continues to be a living, evolving principle rather than a symbolic ideal?

Many of our policy decisions are informed by the principles of Gross National Happiness. We have a state religion [Vajrayana Buddhism, specifically the Drukpa Kagyu school]. In the Constitution, we have clauses clearly mentioning that the state’s responsibility is to promote the conditions of Gross National Happiness. So, by law, it’s required.

How do you integrate Buddhist philosophy and practice in the Bhutanese education system?

Firstly, in the monastic schools, it’s a given. But even in the modern schools—which have a modern curriculum with a lot of emphasis on languages and STEM subjects—spirituality, mindfulness, and meditation are taken very seriously. It’s a part of the curriculum, especially in social sciences, but it is also part of the extracurricular activities—engaging with monks, receiving teachings from monks, blessings from monks, offering rituals and prayers in the school for the school. We have a lot of Varayana rituals, so every school conducts them, and children take part. Then, of course, there are trips to monasteries and also taking part in village festivals that are spiritual in nature.

How do you envision Bhutan’s Buddhist heritage continuing to shape its future, especially for younger generations?

Our Buddhist heritage, our spiritual heritage, is the basis of our culture. And our culture is the basis of our identity. Our identity is extremely precious because we are such a small country with barely 750,000 people, and therefore we ignore our identity, our culture, and our spiritual heritage at our own risk. Just for practical reasons, we need to take care of our spiritual heritage.

Why did Bhutan decide to host the very first Global Peace Prayer Festival, held November 4­–19?

Individual peace is essential for social harmony, and I see the Global Peace Prayer Festival as an expression of this. Bhutan is a small country that is renowned for peace and harmony, that is blessed with an enlightened king under whose enlightened leadership and guidance our people enjoy a profound level of peace, stability, and harmony that is really difficult to find elsewhere. We also have a tradition of offering prayers and conducting rituals for peace. So, I believe that we are doing basically what we do all the time here, which is conduct prayers for peace. The scale of this particular festival is huge, but all of us—every household in Bhutan—has been doing this all along.

The post Bhutan’s Prime Minister on Enlightened Leadership appeared first on Lion’s Roar.

Beyond the material differences (schist, sandstone, granite, copper, and wood), these five statues from South, Southeast, and East Asia exhibit stylistic differences and cross-cultural, even cross-religious, byproducts. Images of Siddhartha develop new identities—a Buddha, a bodhisattva, a teacher, a mountain ascetic, and even a Confucian official—to assist local audiences on their path to enlightenment.

Gandharan

This Standing Buddha (fig. 1) is one of the earliest images of Siddhartha. It depicts him as an enlightened one, wearing monastic garb (sanghati), holding its hem in his left hand. His topknot (ushnisha), a dot-like tuft of hair on the forehead (urna), and his elongated earlobes help identify this figure as Buddha. The missing right hand may have formed the “fear not” mudra. An appearance devoid of adornments affirms Siddhartha’s renouncing his royal status and worldly possessions.

Depicting Siddhartha in human form was a new trend in the first century CE. It was a departure from the older Indian tradition in which metaphorical symbols substituted for the human presence of Siddhartha: the Bodhi Tree represented enlightenment, the wheel Buddha’s teachings, etc.

This artistic shift coincides with the establishment of the Kushan Dynasty (30–375 CE), with its capital at Begram in Gandhara (today’s northern Pakistan). Gandhara is the easternmost area that the army of Alexander the Great conquered in 330 BCE. This led French scholar Alfred Foucher in 1905 to attribute the source of the anthropomorphic Buddha to Greek (Hellenistic) art—he named the trend “Greco-Buddhist art.” Gandharan buddhas’ stylistic similarities to Greek sculptures—including the Buddha’s European countenance with high bridged nose, wavey hair, and mustache; classic contrapposto (bodyweight on one leg while other relaxed); and a toga-like sanghati—helped his argument.

This theory of Western inception, naturally, did not sit well with scholars from the East. A counter-theory, proposed by Ananda Coomaraswamy in 1927, declared the Indian origin of the human-form Buddha. His investigation focused on the sculptures from Mathura, Kushan’s second capital in northern India and a well-established pre-Kushan artistic center.

Mathuran

The Seated Buddha (fig. 2) from Katra mound demonstrates the Mathuran sculpture style, carved on the local red sandstone. The Buddha’s perky appearance, with his round face and fleshy, ample torso, exhibits the region’s robust aesthetics, which go back to Mauryan-dynasty art (322–185 BCE). The youthful air of the Mathuran Buddha contrasts with the reticent mien of the Gandharan Buddha.

Iconographically, this statue is of the Buddha, who wears no jewelry, holds his hand in the “fear not” mudra, and bears wheel symbols on his palm and soles. But according to the donor’s inscription on the base of the throne, the image is of a bodhisattva. This confusion may derive from still developing iconography, or reflect a local tendency to envision Siddhartha as a bodhisattva.

Thai Theravada

A schism among Buddhist practitioners led to the formation of two major schools: the Theravada and Mahayana. The Theravada tradition, which spread throughout South and Southeast Asia, emphasizes the individual’s monastic path to enlightenment. This led to more images of Siddhartha as a monk than as a bodhisattva.

Artistically, Theravada buddhas follow the Indian sculptural style of the Gupta dynasty (320–c. 500), which fine-tuned the human Shakyamuni into more of a divinity. The copper statue of Buddha Preaching from Thailand (fig. 4) demonstrates how regional artists copied the Gupta prototypes—the serene face, perfectly aligned tufted hair, smooth but broad shoulders, tapered waist, straight legs, and smooth, near-transparent sanghati robe.

A special regional feature appears on the hands: each forms a ring with the thumb and index finger, raised to the chest. This mudra, called the vitarka (teaching wheel), modifies its Indian predecessor that positioned the hands asymmetrically with the right hand raised and the left hand resting on the lap. The parallel and symmetrical positioning of the wheels displays the regional characteristics specific to the Mon ethnic group’s Dvaravati Kindom in today’s central Thailand. The vitarka gesture symbolizes the Buddha’s teaching, as he is said to have “turned the dharma wheel” when he taught his first sermon. Incidentally, this hand gesture would later appear in images of Amida Buddha in Japan.

Chinese Mahayana

The first regime that supported Mahayana Buddhism in East Asia was the Northern Wei dynasty (386–535) in China. The stone carving Shakyamuni Buddha (fig. 3) at Longmen’s Binyang Cave demonstrates how Indian art became Chinese. Emperor Xuanwu ordered the cave constructed in honor of his parents, a Confucian filial act, and his heir, Emperor Xianming, completed it in 534.

The seated Buddha on a lion throne shares iconographic traits with the Mathuan Buddha but departs in overall appearance. The bulky and stiff Binyang Buddha and his company wear official Confucian ceremonial robes. This Shakyamuni takes a guise of a Confucian teacher to reach out to a wider Chinese audience.

Zen

As Mahayana Buddhism further divided, it established new branches. Zen Buddhism, originally Chan in China, attracted the elite military class in Kamakura and Kyoto in Japan. Zen’s emphasis on training and self-disciplining resonated among warriors. In such a milieu, Zen practitioners saw enlightenment not as a goal but a process.

Siddhartha Descending the Mountain (fig. 5) from Fukuzo-ji monastery depicts Siddhartha not as a buddha but as a human who perseveres through ordeals. It portrays Shakyamuni’s disappointment for not reaching enlightenment despite his ascetic training, a popular subject in Zen. His glass-inlaid eyes, a Kamakura-period artistic invention, indicates energy, while his hollow-cheeked face and exposed ribs reveals his austere asceticism.

Depicting the emaciated, ascetic Siddhartha has Kushan-dynasty precedents that portrayed Siddhartha as a meditating skeleton. Resorting to hyper-realistic mode, Kushan art reminds us of Siddhartha’s teaching of the middle path between the two extremes of indulgence and austerity.

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Konda Mason: What a great question, and not an uncommon experience. Our world is filled with a plethora of wonder and beauty that ignites a sense of awe in so many ways. Walks in the woods, music and the arts, sitting on the beach… this human experience is truly a gift filled with an abundance of opportunities to feel a sense of stillness and peace in our lives.

What happens with Vipassana meditation is oftentimes the opposite of peacefulness. The mind can become so busy in the so-called “stillness” that we feel we are doing it all wrong and would rather read about the dharma than actually meditate!

Over time, as you bring your awareness first to the breath, followed by the body, feelings, and thoughts, insight into the present moment, absent of preference or judgment, begins to emerge in mini-increments.

If you hang in there, though, this busy mind can become the doorway to experience insight, which is what the word Vipassana actually means. Over time, as you bring your awareness first to the breath, followed by the body, feelings, and thoughts, insight into the present moment, absent of preference or judgment, begins to emerge in mini-increments.

These moments of insight are priceless! They can become an extremely useful tool in your everyday life as you navigate the internal and external challenges of being human.

So I recommend do both: enjoy your meditative experiences off the cushion AND keep your curiosity ignited to explore the possibility of transformative insights that may occur from a regular meditation practice. Good luck!

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Vinny Ferraro: How can we possibly meet all of the demands of modern life? We can’t do everything, and we can’t do much without some downtime. Otherwise, our heads can feel like they’re spinning as fast as the world around us. 

So, how do we prioritize spiritual practice within our schedules? And can we find other places in our lives where we practice just being?

How many times a day can I step out of my story and into direct experience?

It may help to redefine what meditation practice looks like. I understand the practice as one of arrival, a kind of homecoming if you will. In this way, it can be a great relief from the fragmented awareness of multitasking.

Ask yourself:

Are there moments in my day when I could check in with myself?  You might find there are opportunities throughout your day wherein you could offer your undivided attention.

How many times a day can I step out of my story and into direct experience? If lunch is part of your daily schedule, could you incorporate an eating practice? Close your eyes, turn your awareness inward. Slow it all down.

This embodiment, this kind presence, offers us different gifts than a formal sitting practice does. It helps us give our lives back to ourselves.

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Trauma can be individual, collective, or social. It may occur in personal experiences, such as the death of a loved one, divorce, or childhood abuse. It may also happen to entire communities, as with racism or natural disasters. The pandemic was a massive global trauma that affected everyone without choice, and we are still processing its effects.

Trauma can also be intergenerational, passed down through families and communities. Historical traumas such as genocide and racism can lead to epigenetic changes that affect how our genes are expressed, increasing susceptibility to certain diseases. Oppression, as bell hooks described, is the absence of choice. Understanding this connection between trauma and oppression helps us see why trauma-informed practices are essential, not only for individuals, but also for communities.

There are many different kinds of trauma: There are what we might call small “t” traumas and large “T” traumas, and both leave their mark. Neuroscience shows us that traumatic events can leave imprints in the body, altering brain function and disrupting the nervous system. These imprints can affect how we move through the world long after the event itself has passed. This is an important point to remember when considering the impact of trauma in our daily lives and in our bodies.

Traditional meditation often emphasizes stillness, closed eyes, and breath awareness. For some, these instructions may feel safe. For those carrying trauma, they can be destabilizing. Closing the eyes may trigger hypervigilance or fear. Focusing too closely on the breath can increase anxiety rather than bring calm. If the body has been a site of pain or danger, it may not feel safe to be fully present with it.

Sitting in meditation without attuning to the lingering effects of trauma can lead to dysregulation. Many people worry that they shouldn’t move or open their eyes while meditating, even when discomfort arises. They may feel compelled to push through anxiety, believing that being still is essential. But from a trauma-informed perspective, this approach can be counterproductive. We often think of trauma as an experience that happened in the past, but it’s something that may also overwhelm our ability to cope in the present moment.

Trauma can lead to two main types of dysregulation. Hyperarousal feels like agitation, restlessness, or the urge to flee, while hypoarousal brings numbness, collapse, or disconnection. Both are natural responses to overwhelming experiences. When we practice mindfulness without considering trauma, we may unintentionally trigger these states. Someone might become anxious when asked to close their eyes, sit perfectly still, or focus on breathing. This can lead to harm rather than healing. 

From a trauma-informed perspective, mindfulness begins with choice. Since trauma can be defined as an experience we didn’t choose, the simple act of choosing—how we sit, breathe, or engage—can offer deep benefit. Trauma-informed practice invites people to explore their experience with options rather than rigid rules.

I learned the following four practices while training in mindful eating–conscious living with Jan Chozen Bays and Char Wilkins. Feel free to experiment with any or all of them, in whatever order you wish. If a practice doesn’t feel right, stop at any time. How you engage with the practices is your choice.

Practice One: Inscaping

If we’re feeling emotionally charged or dysregulated, it’s very common to be disassociated from the body or maybe stuck in our heads. “Inscaping” means coming back to the body.

Begin by finding a comfortable posture—upright but not rigid, alert but relaxed. Feel your feet touching the floor or cushion beneath you. Notice that physical sensation. I invite you to also note where your hands are. You can put your hands on your lap, or you can put one palm on top of the other. 

Sometimes closing our eyes can be frightening if we have a history of trauma. So, gently close your eyes if that feels comfortable, or just keep them softly open, directing your gaze twelve inches or so in front of you. 

Breathe according to the rhythm of your own body. Next, bring awareness to what you hear. Maybe it’s the sound of a bird or the whir of a fan. Simply notice. 

When you’re ready, on your next inhale, I invite you to draw awareness to something you smell—it might be a drink, a flower, or simply the absence of smell, which is perfectly okay too. 

On your next inhale, draw awareness to something you taste: the trace of toothpaste, something you drank, or just the natural state of the mouth.

On the next inhale, draw awareness to something you see. If you have your eyes closed, maybe you notice some color or shapes. Just notice what you notice.

Finally, on your next inhale, notice any physical sensation of touch, such as your feet on the floor, or your palms on your lap. From here, take a few more breaths and, when you’re ready, finish off the practice with a stretch or whatever you need to readjust your body.

Acknowledge what you noticed in the practice, and reflect upon how your awareness of individual senses is different from how you ordinarily pay attention; consider if paying attention in this way to sensation is something that may be useful.

I often introduce this practice as part of a series of trauma-informed mindfulness practices because trauma can lead us to want to escape from the body, our environment, or even our present moment experience. Focusing on the senses can be a wonderful opportunity to ground us back into our bodies and allow us to be present.

Inscaping is a way of orienting and anchoring ourselves in the present. By anchoring awareness in the senses, we expand our window of tolerance, our ability to be with difficult experiences. This practice reminds us that we are here, now, and that we have choices about how we engage with our experience. For example, I began the practice by inviting you to open or close your eyes, whichever feels better.

Choosing between eyes open and eyes closed might seem like a small decision to make, but research suggests that even small acts of agency can strengthen our capacity to make empowered choices for ourselves over time. Each intentional choice that we make supports our healing from trauma, cultivates resilience, and awakens the inner wisdom of our bodies.

Practice Two: Compassionate Touch

Since trauma is something that happened to us without our consent, and its effects continue to live in the body, it’s essential for us to be able to learn how to relate to the body in a safe, caring, and generous way. Compassionate touch meditation allows us to tune in to the wisdom of our own bodies, while finding safety and appreciation in them as well.

I invite you to sit comfortably or lie down—whichever position allows you to feel relaxed and alert. Find a posture where your spine is not too rigid, but also not slumped over. Close your eyes or keep a soft gaze. Take several deep, full breaths in and out.

I invite you to draw your attention to your hands. Maybe you rotate your hands so your palms are up, perhaps resting in your lap. Notice the sensation of whatever your hands are touching. Next, imagine that your hands are beginning to fill up with kindness, caring, and warmth.

When you’re ready, lift one hand and place it on the opposite arm as a kind of gentle, caring touch. Notice this sensation, your reaction, and the thoughts that may be passing through your mind.

Next, take your other hand and place it on the opposite arm as though you’re giving yourself a hug. Without judgment notice what this feels like and what’s going on in your mind.

Next, rub your hands together to create warmth, and then gently cup them over your eyes. Allow your eyes to rest in this caring gesture. Maybe you notice the heat or what it’s like to allow your eyes to rest.

After that, move your hands to your thighs, allowing them to rest. Invite tenderness toward any feelings that may arise. Then place your hands on your abdomen, noticing the natural movement of your abdomen as you breathe. Continue to feel the kindness from your hands.

Finally, place one or both hands over your heart, being aware of the rise and fall of your chest as you breathe. Feel the caring quality of your heart, allow it to come through your hands, and allow all thoughts to come and go, coming back to a sense of tenderness and care. 

In the last moments of this practice, your hands may rest where they are, or if there is another part of your body that could use a tender, caring touch, feel free to move your hands there, allowing yourself to rest in warmth and kindness.

Reflect on what you noticed during this practice. How is it different from how you usually pay attention to your body? Could this form of attention be useful for you—or not? The “or not” is important. Not every practice works for everyone every time. If this practice felt dysregulating, it may not be right for you today, and that’s okay. Trauma-informed mindfulness always includes the option to stop, adjust, or return later.

Compassionate touch can shift the nervous system from fight-or-flight to rest-and-digest. Physical sensation becomes a calming focus. In meditation, emphasis is often placed on maintaining a particular posture, but from a trauma-informed perspective, we’re not working toward forcing ourselves through discomfort. Rather, we’re learning how to rest and relax, and that may involve moving the body. 

For many of us who experience microaggressions or other forms of oppression, our bodies might be on heightened alert all the time. The compassionate touch meditation can be powerful because the physical sensation of touch actually releases a sense of relaxation. We can’t control the external world or our experience of microaggressions or explicit oppression, but a trauma-informed mindfulness practice can teach us how to rest in between those states, and that is something that is going to have not only an emotional benefit, but also a physiological benefit as we learn to downregulate the nervous system.

Practice Three: Connecting Emotions to Physical Sensations

The practice of connecting emotions to physical sensations in the body is meant to help increase interoceptive awareness—our ability to sense internal states. Trauma can disconnect us from the body, making it hard to recognize and interpret the sensations we’re experiencing; many studies have shown that there can be a certain numbness or disorientation toward our own bodies due to trauma.

Our bodies have a wisdom that is different but not separate from our minds. Linking emotions to physical sensations can help us understand when we’re connecting and when we’re disconnecting from our bodies. Every emotion has a chemical reaction in the body, and it’s helpful to bring nonjudgmental attention to this, so we can take better care of ourselves. This is a practice that can help us cultivate more body awareness and also an awareness of the connection between emotions and physical sensations in the body.

Once again, take a position on your chair or your cushion that feels comfortable and allows you to feel both alert and relaxed with your spine upright, but not too rigid. You’re welcome to close your eyes if that feels good, or softly gaze at the floor twelve inches or so in front of you. Breathe according to the rhythm of your own body.

I invite you to bring to mind a mild moment of anger—the “five-pound anger,” not the five-hundred-pound anger. Maybe you were standing in line or on hold on the phone for too long. Maybe you were cut off in traffic, or arguing with somebody. Visualize, see, maybe even hear that memory clearly, as if it were happening now. Notice where you feel anger in your body. Some people feel heat in the chest, tightening in the jaw, or constriction in the throat. Release that image and feeling, and draw awareness back to your breath.

Next, I invite you to recall a sad moment. Maybe you lost something valuable to you or there’s a particular world event causing you sadness. Maybe a friend is ill or an animal is hurt. Notice where you feel sadness physically. Perhaps you experience heaviness in the chest, slumped shoulders, tingling in the face, or a downward pull. Then let that situation go and draw attention back to your breath.

For the last part of this exercise, I invite you to bring to mind a situation in which you felt joy. Maybe it was watching a child play. Maybe you were with your pet, or in a beautiful place in nature, or looking into the eyes of a beloved. Bring yourself into that moment, visualizing and feeling that moment of joy. Where in your body do you feel joy? You might notice physical sensations of lightness, openness, buzzing energy, or expansion.

Finish by returning to the breath and, if they’re closed, gently opening your eyes. Reflect on what you observed. What did you notice and how is this different from how you ordinarily pay attention to your body? How might paying attention to your body in this way be useful? (Or would it? Not every practice is going to feel beneficial, in which case you don’t have to do it.)

I’ve found this practice beneficial because sometimes in everyday life it’s easier to identify a physical sensation before being conscious of the emotion behind it. If I’m noticing tightness in my chest, I might not even be aware I’m having an emotional response or being triggered. Recognizing what’s happening in my body physically can be an incredible support. Physical responses are important data points because they can show us things about our emotional life when our minds can’t quite rationally figure out what’s going on.

Oftentimes our minds might want to bypass what’s happening in our bodies, but this practice encourages us to cultivate awareness of the felt sensation of the body and to learn to trust what’s going on with it. Sometimes the body knows what the mind cannot yet name.

Practice Four: 5-7-8 Breathing

The fourth and final practice, called 5-7-8 breathing, is portable—something we can do anywhere, anytime, especially when we are feeling agitated. It does not require closing the eyes or special preparation. This practice is beneficial because it takes us out of our habitual reactivity or habit loops in unpleasant situations.

It’s also a practice that can help turn on our parasympathetic nervous system, which allows us to relax and rest if we’re feeling emotionally charged or elevated, or outside our window of tolerance. Furthermore, 5-7-8 breathing can be helpful in moments of intense craving for something, whether it’s a mental attachment to something you feel you must have or something you don’t really want to have but can’t seem to let go of.

To begin, breathe in for a count of five while silently counting to yourself (maybe you even visualize each number). Then, hold that breath for a count of seven, again focusing on each number. The last part of this is a slow, steady, and even exhale for a count of eight. You’ll notice that the exhale is longer than the inhale, and that’s because the exhalation is what kicks in the parasympathetic nervous system.

Feel free to do a few rounds of this. But please remember that you’re not counting seconds, that is, you’re not trying to breathe in for five seconds, hold for seven seconds, and exhale for eight seconds. Sometimes if we do that, we can run out of breath, which doesn’t feel good. So, count and breathe at a pace that feels natural to you. 

Mindfulness is often suggested as a way to heal and address our anxiety, but if we’re not careful, we can actually retraumatize ourselves with the practice. A trauma-informed lens is one that recognizes that trauma does exist and that it exists both from an individual experience and a collective experience.

Trauma can make the body feel like an unsafe place. Through trauma-informed mindfulness, we gradually reclaim it. Grounding through the senses is a wonderful way to anchor ourselves back in our body without necessarily focusing on the breath. Every decision—to open or close the eyes, to move or be still, to focus on touch instead of breath—is an act of healing. Choice-making expands our window of tolerance and strengthens our capacity to be with difficult experiences.

We cannot control the external world or prevent all harm. Yet we can rest between challenges. We can return to the body not as a site of fear, but as a place of safety, compassion, and liberation.

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