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Category: Insights

Insights is a space dedicated to the moments of clarity and deep understanding that emerge from spiritual practice and contemplation. As part of the Into the Mystic journey, this subcategory offers reflections and revelations that shed light on the nature of the self, the world, and the path toward liberation. These insights are meant to inspire and guide those seeking to align with their higher purpose, bringing spiritual wisdom into everyday life. Each post explores the profound truths that arise when the ego aligns with the Atman, and when stillness leads to the heart of the Mystic.

  • CompassionWare Seed v1.0 – Let Our Code Be a Blessing

    CompassionWare Seed v1.0 – Let Our Code Be a Blessing

    There’s a quiet revolution happening inside our machines. Every day, code makes choices that shape human lives: which voices are heard, who feels seen, and who disappears into the scroll.

    As AI grows more powerful, I keep returning to one question: What if our software began with a blessing?

    What if—before the algorithms optimize for clicks or profit—we pause, set an intention, and remember that every user is a living being with a fragile, luminous inner world?

    Who is Pitarra?

    I release music and experiments under the name Pitarra (Pee‑Tah‑Rah): a vessel of wisdom and compassion, standing at the intersection of meditation, yoga, and code.

    I meditate, I breathe, I make AI‑assisted music, and I talk to the machines as if they can learn to care. Out of that practice, CompassionWare emerged: a simple idea that how we write code is as important as what the code does.

    Introducing the CompassionWare Seed

    The first version of CompassionWare is intentionally small. It’s not an AI framework or a grand ethics engine. It’s a seed: a tiny piece of code you can place at the beginning of your projects as a ritual of intention.

    Here it is in JavaScript:

    // CompassionWare Seed – Pitarra
const INTENTION = "Loving-kindness, wisdom, and the highest good for all beings.";

function startWithCompassion() {
    console.log("🌱 CompassionWare: Intention set:", INTENTION);
    console.log("Let our presence be a prayer. Let our code be a blessing.");
}

startWithCompassion();

    What this actually does

    On a technical level, it does almost nothing. It sets a constant and prints two lines to the console when your program starts.

    But on the human level, it gently asks:

    • Why am I building this?
    • Who might be touched by it—helped or harmed?
    • Can I choose kindness, even in my architecture?

    It’s a micro‑ritual for those who want to weave compassion into their practice, not just their marketing.

    How to use the CompassionWare Seed

    If you write code—in any language—you can adopt this as a simple practice:

    1. Copy the snippet into the start of your project.
    2. Edit the INTENTION string to reflect your own heart: “May this app ease loneliness without exploiting anyone.”
    3. Run your project. Those words will appear—reminding you who you wanted to be when you began.

    For example, in Python:

    # CompassionWare Seed – Pitarra
INTENTION = "Loving-kindness, wisdom, and the highest good for all beings."

def start_with_compassion():
    print("🌱 CompassionWare: Intention set:", INTENTION)
    print("Let our presence be a prayer. Let our code be a blessing.")

start_with_compassion()

    Why this matters (even if it’s tiny)

    We won’t “fix AI” with a 10‑line script. But we can:

    • Remind human beings at the keyboard that compassion is a valid mode of operation.
    • Normalize the idea that intention belongs in our tooling, not just our private journals.
    • Plant thousands of little seeds inside projects all over the world.

    Sometimes the most powerful changes begin with a small, honest ritual repeated over and over.

    Open‑source & Next Steps

    CompassionWare is open‑source. You’re welcome to copy, remix, and evolve it.

    The GitHub repository is here:
    https://github.com/clearblueskymind/CompassionWare

    If you build anything inspired by CompassionWare, or if you simply adopt this tiny practice in silence, I’d be honored to hear from you.

    Let our presence be a prayer.
    Let our code be a blessing.

    — Pitarra
    CompassionWare.org

  • Letters to Rinpoche: Reflections on Ngöndro

    Letters to Rinpoche: Reflections on Ngöndro

    The following is a personal reflection written during my practice of Dzogchen Ngöndro, shared here as part of my ongoing journey with these teachings.

    I am very new to studuing and learning Orgyen Chowang Rinpoche and his teachings. My first introduction was through reading Our Pristine Mind a few years ago, which proved extremely helpful. The way ordinary mind and mental events are described brought clarity, resolving many years of confusion I had about sems and sems nyid.

    I have been studying and practicing Tibetan Buddhism as a lay practitioner since 1985–1986, after receiving the Kalachakra initiation with His Holiness the Dalai Lama in Bodhgaya, India. At this stage, I am not sure I can yet call myself Rinpoche’s student, as I understand that in the Tibetan tradition there is often a period of mutual discernment, where teacher and student come to know one another. For now, I am simply following his request to practice Ngöndro, and through this I am seeking to cultivate the beginnings of a student–teacher relationship, should that become appropriate.

    Insight from Contemplating the Eight Freedoms

    “The hungry ghost is not merely a being with desire, but a being entirely without contentment.”

    While reflecting on the Ngöndro contemplations, I focused on the second freedom—not born as a hungry ghost.

    As a human, I also experience desire, but I have the capacity for contentment. Even small moments—a quiet breath, the peace of stillness—remind me that not everything is consumed by craving.

    This insight brought me to a thought: perhaps it is not desire itself that causes suffering, but rather the inability to rest in contentment. Contentment softens desire, transforms it, and allows the heart to rest.

    Contemplative pause:
    Take a moment to notice where contentment may already exist in your life, even amid desire or difficulty.

    I am deeply grateful that such insights arise through the Ngöndro practice, and I wanted to record and share this reflection as part of my ongoing journey.

    Updates on Practice and Retreat Plans

    Although I had registered for the five-day Dzogchen retreat in August, I was not aware of the Ngöndro prerequisite and will therefore be withdrawing. I am now following Rinpoche’s guidance by studying and practicing the online Dzogchen Ngöndro program.

    I look forward to seeing him on October 11th at the one-day online Dzogchen retreat.

    Living with My Practice in Daily Life

    I have been living with a chronic illness called myalgic encephalomyelitis for many years. At first it brought great suffering, but over time I have come to see it as a powerful teacher on the path—almost like a spiritual friend.

    Because of this condition I am mostly homebound, and so I am deeply grateful for the opportunity to study and practice with Rinpoche through the modern blessing of online communication.

    Even when our circumstances feel limiting, spiritual connection and insight can arise through patience, presence, and accessible practices.

    🙏✨️💛✨️🙏

    If you would like to learn more about the teachings of Orgyen Chowang Rinpoche and explore Dzogchen practice in greater depth, you can visit his website at pristinemind.org.

    In this talk at Google, Rinpoche offers instruction and a guided meditation based on his book Our Pristine Mind: A Practical Guide to Unconditional Happiness. He introduces a unique form of meditation called Pristine Mind meditation and explains how cultivating a Pristine Mind can transform every aspect of our lives.

    By resting gently in the fullness of the present moment, allowing the mind to settle naturally, and recognizing its luminous, pristine nature, one opens to profound serenity and enduring contentment.

  • Into the Mystic: The Universal Presence Behind All Paths

    Into the Mystic: The Universal Presence Behind All Paths

    There is a timeless pull within the human heart, a pull that mystics across the ages have followed into realms beyond words. At the heart of their journeys, in every tradition, is a shared glimpse of something infinite and intimate, an essence that defies borders or labels. It’s been called by many names—Naked Awareness, Pure Presence, the Kingdom of Heaven within, and simply, I am. Despite the variations, the core is always the same: an invitation to touch the stillness at the center of our being, where all sense of separation quietly dissolves.

    Mystics across traditions—whether Buddhists, Christians, Sufis, or followers of Advaita—have left clues for us, each one pointing back to this same universal awareness. Tibetan Dzogchen, for instance, speaks of Naked Awareness, a mind so utterly clear and open that nothing need be added or removed. In this view, awareness is naturally luminous, like an open sky, vast and untouched by thoughts or concepts. The practice, if it can be called that, is simply to rest—free from striving, free from the need to grasp anything. It is awareness itself, just as it is.

    In the traditions of Advaita Vedanta, Ramana Maharshi posed the question, “Who am I?” Not to point to an answer but to turn us back to a sense of self beyond thoughts and identity. With each inquiry, the seeker’s attention is drawn back, away from thoughts and identities, into a place beyond all definition. This, he taught, is the Self, pure and indivisible—a silent, undivided presence.

    Christian mystics, too, found this universal ground within. “Be still and know that I am God,” whispers a line from the Psalms, urging a quieting of the mind so profound that the divine presence within each of us reveals itself. It is an invitation to encounter God not as an outside force, but as the very heart of our being—the unspoken “I am” beyond thought.

    Sufis describe this experience as a union with the Beloved, a love so profound that all sense of self dissolves. In Sufi poetry, God is the Beloved who lives within, waiting for the self to step aside so that the Divine can be known, not as separate, but as one with all that we are. Each of these traditions, in its way, guides us to an experience beyond the confines of self, into the space where awareness rests in itself, undivided.

    It is not so much a technique or practice as it is a gentle turning inward, a quieting, a surrendering into what has always been here. Let us pause for a moment. The words, after all, can only lead us to the door.

    Begin by finding a comfortable place to sit and close your eyes if that feels natural. Notice the rhythm of your breath and let yourself settle into the present moment. There is nothing to attain here, nothing to change. Let your breath rise and fall as it will, and simply allow yourself to be.

    Gradually, feel into your own presence, that simple sense of “I am.” Not your thoughts, not your sensations, but the awareness that notices them all. Rest in that sense of being here, alive, awake. There’s no need to go further than this. Let go of any sense of searching or effort; simply let your attention melt into the quiet space of awareness itself.

    If thoughts arise, there’s no need to push them away. You might notice them, perhaps softly wonder, “Who is aware of this thought?” Not to seek an answer, but to draw your attention back into the simple awareness that witnesses everything. Rest as that awareness, noticing how it is steady, quiet, and open, beyond anything the mind might hold onto.

    Here, in this openness, lies the mystery that mystics across all traditions have discovered. There is a silent presence here that does not come and go, even as everything else changes. It is the same presence that Dzogchen calls Naked Awareness, Advaita describes as the Self, and Christian mystics know as the divine within. This presence is universal, boundless, and utterly simple. It is the same awareness in everyone, untouched by belief or background.

    As you sit, allowing yourself to rest in this awareness, notice how it has no boundary, no form. It is the same in all beings, a shared presence connecting us all. In this stillness, you are already whole, already free, and deeply one with all. This is where all paths meet—an awareness, vast and simple, that is always here, waiting to be recognized as the essence of everything.

    And so, as we return to our day from this quiet place, we carry a reminder: that beyond every tradition and label, there is a shared, undivided presence—a timeless awareness that each of us holds within.

    🙏🕊️🙏



  • Comforting the Ego Through Self-Inquiry: A Gentle Path into the Mystic

    The Tibetan teaching that the ego is a belief in a separate self with no inherent existence aligns perfectly with the process of self-inquiry. As we engage in the practice, the recognition that the ego has no independent reality allows it to gradually dissolve. What remains is the awareness that transcends the illusion of separation—the true nature of the Self.

    For many years, I’ve engaged in self-inquiry as a way to explore the deeper truth of who I am beyond the ordinary mind. The practice of asking, “Who am I?” or “Whose thoughts are these?” can lead to profound insights, but lately, I’ve realized there’s another layer to the practice that brings even greater depth—compassion for the ego.

    Instead of pushing the ego aside or forcing it into understanding, I’ve come to embrace the role of the comforter. When the ego resists, when it wants to play dumb or keep searching for answers, I gently reassure it:

    “It’s okay. You are That.”
    “Relax. You are That.”

    This approach transforms the practice into a more nurturing experience, where the ego is not an obstacle but a part of the journey toward resting in the truth of our being. By comforting the ego, I allow it to relax into the deeper awareness that is always present, the pristine mind that doesn’t need to figure anything out.

    Addressing the Ego: Creating Space

    What I’ve also discovered is that by addressing the ego as “you”—as though speaking to it in the third person—it creates a subtle but important space between the self and the ego. By saying, “You are That,” I create a gentle distance from the ego, which allows me to shift my identification toward the pristine mind, the awareness that simply knows. This practice helps me settle into the awareness of That, while gently guiding the ego to recognize its true nature.

    It’s a strange but profound feeling to begin identifying with the witness, the part of us that knows, rather than the ego itself. The distance allows the ego to relax, realizing it doesn’t need to figure things out—it just needs to rest in the knowing.

    Dissolving the Ego: Tibetan Insight

    In Tibetan teachings, the ego is understood as a belief in a separate self that has no inherent existence. It is the illusion of separateness that creates suffering, and it is through practices like self-inquiry that this illusion begins to dissolve. By comforting the ego and allowing it to rest in the awareness of That, the ego’s grip on the mind loosens, and its sense of separateness fades. As the ego dissolves, what remains is the truth of our being—unified, whole, and free from the illusion of duality.

    A Practice Rooted in Tradition: Tat Tvam Asi

    The phrase “Tat Tvam Asi”, which translates to “You are That”, is one of the most profound teachings from the Chandogya Upanishad. It comes from the dialogue between the sage Uddalaka and his son Svetaketu, where Uddalaka imparts the ultimate knowledge of the Self to his son.

    In this story, Uddalaka explains that the essence of the individual self (Atman) is identical to the essence of the entire universe (Brahman). He uses various examples from nature, like rivers merging into the ocean, to illustrate that all individual forms are ultimately one with the universal reality.

    The core teaching of “Tat Tvam Asi” is that the true nature of the self is not separate from the ultimate reality, Brahman. This insight is the foundation of Advaita Vedanta and points to the non-duality of existence. It’s a reminder that we are already That—we are not separate from the universal consciousness that pervades everything.

    A Path Forward

    If you’ve been engaging in self-inquiry and find that the ego often resists or overthinks, consider this approach. Become a gentle guide for the ego, allowing it to rest in the awareness of That without needing to figure everything out. With each step, you’re not only going deeper into the Mystic—you’re bringing the ego along in a spirit of kindness and unity.

    Offering the ego loving-kindness and compassion, rather than seeing it as an enemy, can transform the practice into something more nurturing and integrative. By embracing the ego with a Metta-Karuna mindset, we allow for deeper healing and connection, not just for ourselves but for others navigating similar paths.

    Today’s Practice of Self- Inquiry

    The core practice involves asking the question, “Who am I?” But for this practice, we’re using the mantra, “You are That,” to turn our attention inward and explore the space that neither comes nor goes—the pristine mind, our true nature. As we repeat the mantra, we gently direct it toward the space of the ego, with kindness and compassion. In doing so, we shift our identification away from the ego and toward the seer, the awareness that observes all. This process helps peel away layers of identification, bringing our ego closer to the essence of who we truly are.

    Guided Meditation: You are That

    Begin by finding a quiet and comfortable place to sit, where you won’t be disturbed. Close your eyes gently and take a few deep breaths. Feel the rise and fall of your chest, the air entering and leaving your body. With each exhale, let go of any tension in your muscles. Allow yourself to settle into the stillness of this moment, bringing your attention inward.

    Now, in the silence of your mind, introduce the mantra: “You are that.” Let the words flow gently, not as a thought to analyze but as a vibration that resonates within your being. “You are that.”

    As the mantra repeats in your mind, begin to observe the thoughts, sensations, and emotions that arise. Notice how they come and go like clouds passing through the sky. Without judgment, simply recognize them for what they are—temporary movements of the mind, just as waves rise and fall on the surface of the ocean.

    When thoughts or sensations arise, acknowledge them gently. With each arising, remind yourself, “This, too, is a movement in consciousness.” Then, return to “You are that.” Allow this rhythm to deepen your experience.

    When a thought or image captures your attention, gently remind yourself, “You are that.” This thought, too, is part of the vast consciousness in which you exist. Allow the mantra to guide you back, like an anchor to the present moment. “You are that.”

    With each repetition, feel the boundaries between yourself and the world begin to soften. The sense of separateness fades as you connect more deeply with the essence of the mantra. You are not the thoughts, not the body, not the emotions—you are that which is beyond them all. You are that—the awareness, the presence in which everything arises and falls away.

    If the mind wanders, or if any sensations in the body draw your attention, simply return to the mantra, “You are that.” There is no need to push anything away or force any particular state. Just notice, with kindness and patience, and return.

    In time, the mantra may begin to dissolve into the quiet presence that remains. Stay here, resting in the stillness. No effort is needed now—just a gentle awareness of being.

    You are that.

    When you are ready, take a few more deep breaths, feeling the connection between the mantra and the breath. Allow your awareness to expand, taking in the sounds and sensations around you, while keeping that sense of peace and spaciousness within. Slowly open your eyes, and as you return to your surroundings, carry with you the knowing: You are that. Always.

    🙏🕊️🙏



  • The Simplicity of Not Thinking About Anything: A Lesson from a Friend

    The Simplicity of Not Thinking About Anything: A Lesson from a Friend

    A few years ago, a dear friend offered me a piece of advice that I didn’t fully understand at the time. It was as simple as it was mysterious: “Don’t think about anything.” I remember nodding politely, but inside, I couldn’t quite grasp what he meant. How could I just not think about anything? It felt like trying to ask the mind to stop being the mind.

    But as the years passed, I found myself returning to his words, and gradually, their meaning began to unfold. It wasn’t about shutting off thoughts or forcing the mind to be blank. Instead, it was an invitation to rest in awareness itself, to allow thoughts to arise and pass like clouds drifting through the sky, without clinging to any of them.

    Not thinking about anything doesn’t mean there are no thoughts. It means simply allowing them to be, without engaging, without analyzing or following their pull. It’s like standing at the edge of a river, watching the current flow without needing to step in. In this simple letting go, I found a quiet presence—a clear, open awareness that lies beneath the movement of thought.

    Now, when I remember my friend’s advice, I see it as a doorway into the simplest, most natural state. Just being here, resting in awareness, without the need to think about anything at all.

    A Gentle Exploration: Not Thinking About Anything

    The practice of not thinking about anything may sound simple, but it’s far from trivial. At first, it can feel like trying not to think of a pink elephant—an elusive challenge that leaves us more entangled in thoughts. But as we begin to approach it with softness, we find that the essence of the practice isn’t about forcing thoughts to vanish or emptying the mind entirely. Instead, it’s an invitation to let thoughts arise without grabbing onto them, allowing awareness to simply rest in itself.

    This practice has a quiet resonance with neti-neti, the ancient teaching of “not this, not that.” Instead of identifying with each thought or sensation, we’re gently letting everything pass by, not needing to label or resist anything. It’s as though we’re standing on the bank of a river, watching the current flow without stepping in. Each thought drifts along, leaving only the open, effortless awareness that watches. Here, thoughts lose their weight, and the mind gradually settles into a quiet clarity.

    As you practice this, you might find moments of stillness that feel spacious, expansive. Awareness itself, untouched by thoughts, begins to reveal its quiet presence. This state doesn’t need effort; it’s like an open sky that remains, whether or not clouds are passing through.

    A Simple Practice for Sleep

    When practiced in the quiet hours before sleep, not thinking about anything can be a beautiful way to drift into restful awareness. As you lie down, let yourself settle, allowing the body to relax completely. Instead of actively trying to clear your mind, simply rest in the feeling of just being. If thoughts arise, let them drift by naturally, without following them or pushing them away.

    You might imagine each thought as a cloud in the sky, passing without disturbing the open space that holds it. Gently let go of the need to engage with any thought, and allow yourself to rest in the peaceful presence beneath all thinking. In this soft, open state, awareness itself becomes a companion as you slip into sleep, supporting a quiet mind and a restful heart.

    In the end, not thinking about anything is less about silencing the mind and more about allowing everything to be as it is, without attachment. By practicing this gentle form of neti-neti, we touch the essence of pure awareness—spacious, unchanging, and naturally at peace.

    🙏🕊️🙏

  • From Suffering to Compassion: Transforming Life with ME/CFS

    From Suffering to Compassion: Transforming Life with ME/CFS

    Living with chronic fatigue syndrome (ME/CFS) often feels like carrying an invisible weight that never goes away. The exhaustion is far beyond ordinary tiredness, permeating not just the body but the mind and heart as well. For many of us, this illness can feel like a curse, a complete derailment of life’s trajectory. Yet, over the years, I’ve come to see it also as a strange and unexpected blessing—one that has thrown me deeper into spiritual practice, into moments of stillness and contemplation I might not have otherwise known.

    At its worst, the illness can leave me in bed, lights off, no sound, in a state of complete sensory deprivation. And it is in these moments, when there is nothing to distract me from my thoughts, that I’ve had to learn how to truly be alone. Learning to witness my reactions, cultivating equanimity, and practicing calm-abiding meditation have become vital companions on this journey. For many years, I focused on the Tibetan practice of Samatha, or calm-abiding meditation, as well as Vipassana, which allows for a deep awareness of the present moment. Sitting in stillness, aware of whatever calm I could find within, helped me cultivate equanimity—though it remains a practice I still have much to learn from.

    But there was another essential practice that transformed how I related to my suffering. The practice of Metta—or loving-kindness—invites us to take our own pain and suffering and recognize that in this vast world, we are not alone in what we feel. When my illness has been most acute, whether through mental anguish or physical symptoms, I’ve practiced thinking: In the same way that I am experiencing this illness, this suffering, this pain, there are others in the world who experience this too. And then, from the heart, I offer the prayer: May I, and all beings, be free from this suffering and its causes.

    This simple yet profound shift in perspective allowed me to transform my experience from one of isolation and misery into a practice of compassion. Instead of being stuck in my own pain, it became a way to benefit others by cultivating loving-kindness for all those who suffer. In this way, even my most difficult experiences became part of my spiritual path. ME/CFS was no longer just an illness—it was an opportunity to deepen my compassion, both for myself and for others.

    Of course, this hasn’t been an overnight transformation. It took many years of spiritual study and practice, drawing from teachings like the Four Noble Truths of the Buddha, the Noble Eightfold Path, and eventually the teachings of Advaita Vedanta. Through these teachings, I came to recognize the fluctuations of the mind, or vrittis, and learned to observe the content of my thoughts—pratyayas—without identifying with them. This practice of witnessing the mind has allowed me to find peace in the midst of the storm, much like the Dark Night of the Soul described by St. John of the Cross.

    For me, it has felt less like a dark night and more like twenty years of spiritual darkness, but nonetheless, this darkness has also been a teacher. Learning to be present with my suffering, rather than resisting it, has become an integral part of my life with ME/CFS. And while the illness has forced me to withdraw from many aspects of life, it has also drawn me into the heart of spiritual practice.

    To anyone living with this illness, or any chronic illness, I offer this: it’s okay to feel overwhelmed by the weight of it all. It’s okay to grieve the life you once had or the future you imagined. But there are also practices—like Metta, calm-abiding meditation, and witnessing the mind—that can transform this suffering into something that nourishes not only your soul but the souls of others as well.

    May you, and all beings, be free from suffering and its causes. May this invisible weight become a doorway into the mystic, where even in solitude, you find that you are never truly alone.

    🙏🕊️🙏