Rest, my mind, like the vast, open sky, Where clouds of thought drift freely by. No need to chase, no need to cling, All dissolves in the spacious knowing.
The light of awareness shines so clear, Its essence untouched by hope or fear. Mountains may rise, rivers may flow, But the sky remains, steady and whole.
Look within—there is nothing to find, Yet the treasures abound in the unbound mind. No path to walk, no goal to see, For you are already infinite and free.
Let the waves of life crash and play, The ocean beneath does not sway. Rest, my being, in your natural state, For in this moment, you hold all fate.
There is a practice in yoga known as Kapalabhati, the “Shining Forehead Breath.” The very name carries with it a sense of poetry and mystery. “Kapala” means forehead, and “Bhati” means light or radiance. Together, they evoke an image of clarity, brightness, and inner illumination. This is no mere exercise but an invitation to cleanse not only the breath but also the mind and spirit, polishing the very space from which insight and intuition arise.
In ancient times, practitioners likened this breath to polishing a mirror so that it might reflect the light of the divine. Each exhalation sweeps away impurities, and each inhalation invites the brilliance of life itself. To engage in this practice is to embark on a journey into your own radiant stillness.
Here is how you may begin:
Find Your Seat: Sit comfortably, with your spine straight and your hands resting gently on your knees. Feel the earth beneath you, steady and supportive.
Breathe to Center Yourself: Take 5–7 slow, deep breaths. Let these breaths settle your thoughts and prepare you for the journey ahead.
Engage the Shining Breath:
Take a full, deep inhale to begin.
Begin a series of sharp, active exhalations through your nose, allowing the inhalations to come naturally and passively.
Focus on the rhythm, like the steady beat of a drum, as your abdominal muscles contract with each exhalation.
Start with 20–30 breaths per round, letting the breath carry you into its natural rhythm.
Pause and Hold: At the end of the round, take a deep inhale. Hold the breath for a moment, feeling the stillness that arises, as if the universe itself has paused with you.
Return to Natural Breathing: Exhale gently and let your breath return to its natural flow. Rest here, simply observing the quiet within.
This is the essence of Kapalabhati. It is not about striving or achieving but about clearing away what obscures the light already present within you.
As you continue to practice, you may notice the effects: a sharper mind, a lighter body, and a heart more attuned to the subtle rhythms of life. The breath becomes not just a function but a bridge—connecting you to the luminous self that watches over all.
In the modern world, where distractions abound and our minds are pulled in countless directions, Kapalabhati offers a sanctuary. It invites you to return to simplicity, to the purity of breath, and to the stillness that holds all things. In this way, it is both a practice for the moment and a gift to carry with you into all moments.
Dedication of Merit
At the conclusion of this practice, let us dedicate whatever merit has arisen for the benefit of all sentient beings:
May whatever merit has been accumulated in this practice flow outward, boundless and unending, for the benefit of all sentient beings.
May all beings be free from suffering and the causes of suffering.
May all beings experience happiness and the causes of happiness.
May all beings awaken to enlightenment and the causes of enlightenment.
May this moment of intention ripple through the universe, bringing peace, harmony, and light to all.
Namo Buddhaya, Namo Dharmaya, Namo Sanghaya.
I leave you with this reflection: Each breath you take is an opportunity to renew, to let go, and to shine. May this practice bring you clarity, lightness, and peace. And may it remind you of the brilliance that has always been yours.
This poem speaks so eloquently of the journey into spaciousness—a letting go of grasping, of needing to figure things out, and instead, simply resting in what is. It mirrors the practice of pristine mind, where we allow each thought and impression (pratyaya) to arise and dissolve without clinging or resistance.
In my reflection on this poem, what resonates deeply is the invitation to stop striving, to stop “clawing the air” for answers or solutions, and to surrender to the vastness within. The line “there is nothing left to figure out” holds a powerful truth, especially for those on a spiritual or healing journey. It’s a reminder that sometimes, all we need to do is release our hold on everything and let the spaciousness carry us, much like the pristine mind, which holds and releases all without attachment.
As we rest in this openness, it’s as if we’re learning “how to relax after all these years,” finding a state of effortless being. This is not a passivity, but an active participation in the dance of awareness, where each breath becomes part of that vast translucence, and each moment is met with gentle curiosity.
The poem’s wisdom echoes in the practice itself—there is nothing to do but rest in this spaciousness. Just as in pristine mind meditation, we find healing in the simple act of being present, embracing each moment without striving. In this space, each difficulty becomes a wave that carries us along to a place of “right seeing,” a deeper way of understanding and relating to life.
This practice, like the poem, is an invitation to embrace the blueness of the open sky, to let Mother Nature “caress you,” and to find satisfaction not in doing, but in surrendering to the spaciousness within. There is nothing to resist, nothing to change. Only the gentle acceptance of what already is.
It’s poignant to think that this poem, Falling Into Your Own Arms At Last, has been present in my life for over twenty years. For all these years, it has quietly waited, a gentle reminder, holding space while I’ve walked my path. Now, as I return to its words, I find myself learning—perhaps for the first time—to rest into the stillness it describes.
This journey into spaciousness, into the invitation to simply be, is a process that unfolds gradually, like layers of patience revealing themselves. It reminds me that learning to let go, to soften into the present moment, isn’t something that can be forced or hurried. There’s grace in returning to something familiar and discovering new depths, new ways to rest into its wisdom.
After all this time, the poem has become more than just words on a wall; it feels like a companion, a guide that has been with me through it all. And now, as I embrace its invitation to relax, to stop “clawing the air” and “decontract and become lofty,” I find a new willingness to surrender to its spaciousness.
This practice of resting in pristine mind, of finding quiet openness within, is an unfolding—a timeless process that doesn’t demand speed or achievement. Here, in the stillness, there is a beauty in simply allowing, in trusting that each breath brings me closer to the essence of this journey.
Falling Into Your Own Arms At Lastby Mari Stein
Dreams and delusions are dashed
The illusory bubble of protection has burst
There is nothing but spaciousness
Space is good
Space is wonderful
It’s just a bit tricky learning how to relax after all these years
Stop clawing the air
Ease your grip
Decontract and become lofty
Let yourself be liberated by the space
Heir to the ethers.
How do you fall effortlessly
And ecstatically
Moment to moment
In this vast translucence
With no north or south
East or west
Up or down?
In or out?
Now the emptiness full of heart called life
Dissolves through the darkness and light
Of the mysterious emptiness called death
Fear, the concealing foe, cannot be held at bay
But can be worn like a life jacket
The transmuting of each difficulty
Becomes the energy,
The wave that carries you along
To those shores of right seeing
With each blink of an eye
And with each breath.
Alas and hurrah
There is nothing left to figure out
Just a leap
Into this circle of infinite compassion
Its color so pale it is invisible
But the eye will still see
The ocean and the sky as deep blue
Embrace the blueness
Even as you gaze through its transparency
Court that moment
Don your best gear
Let Mother Nature caress you
There is no other lover to satisfy you now
Resist nothing.
You cannot, can you?
Much of the inspiration for this reflection and practice comes from Our Pristine Mind by Orgyen Chowang Rinpoche. His teachings have deepened my understanding of resting in clear, effortless awareness. If you feel drawn to explore this path further, I highly recommend his book. I’ll leave a link below for those interested in diving deeper into the practice of pristine mind and discovering the peaceful spaciousness it offers.
“Discover how pristine mind meditation may offer a gentle, restorative state of awareness without the energy costs that often come with post-exertional malaise.”
Living with Chronic Fatigue Syndrome means every action, every exertion, has a cost. For many, even a few minutes of focus or effort can lead to post-exertional malaise—a profound worsening of symptoms that can last for days. But what if there was a way to rest deeply, to allow the mind to settle in a way that doesn’t deplete but actually nourishes? This is where the practice of pristine mind meditation comes in, offering an effortless awareness that exists beyond thought, beyond strain, and without the toll of traditional exertion.
Pristine mind meditation is rooted in the idea of simply being. Rather than trying to clear the mind or enter a specific state, it invites you to rest in pure, unaltered awareness. This isn’t an act of concentration or focus, but a gentle allowing—a way to let thoughts and sensations come and go without attaching or resisting. The experience of resting in the pristine mind is often described as spacious, calm, and effortlessly open. For someone with ME/CFS, this could mean a path to real rest without the demand on physical energy that so often comes with other practices.
Theoretically, because pristine mind meditation is free from physical or mental strain, it offers a way to access peace and stillness without triggering the kind of post-exertional fatigue that can worsen symptoms. It’s an invitation to explore a new way of being with chronic fatigue, where healing is not about doing but about resting in the quiet awareness that’s already within you.
This journey is a gentle experiment, a compassionate practice of meeting yourself exactly as you are. Whether you experience even a few moments of pristine awareness or simply rest in the intention, the practice becomes a way of honoring the body’s limits and nourishing the mind. Take this path slowly, with openness, knowing that each step is its own quiet gift.
If you’re curious, I invite you to join in this exploration, allowing yourself to simply rest in the pristine mind, noticing what it brings without expectation or need for change. This is a practice of ease, not of effort—a resting place for the soul amidst the demands of daily life with Chronic Fatigue Syndrome.
For those interested in going deeper, much of this understanding is inspired by the teachings in Our Pristine Mind by Orgyen Chowang Rinpoche. His book provides a profound exploration of this approach to awareness, offering guidance on accessing the clear, effortless state of the pristine mind. If this resonates with you, I’ll leave a link below to help you find the book and discover more about this gentle, transformative practice.
In the name of honoring my chronic fatigue syndrome, I’m experimenting with a different approach to healing. I’m trying out the idea that it doesn’t have to be complicated or effortful—that maybe simplicity and gentle choices can be enough. By tending to myself in this way, I’m exploring what it means to honor both my needs and my limitations, and I’m finding that this, too, might be a path to healing.
I don’t know all the answers, but I’m noticing that healing isn’t always about pushing or doing more. Sometimes, it’s about making a quiet, deliberate choice to conserve energy, to rest, and to be. This journey toward simplicity and ease feels like a step toward well-being, and I’m curious to see where it leads.
Global Well-Being: The Creation of Healing, Love, and Compassion Every Day and in Every Way—Especially on the New Moon, Around the World.
Hello Everyone! Let’s come together again as a Global Community!
Every New Moon, we have the opportunity to unite in prayer and meditation to create strong waves of vibrational intentionality—focusing on Loving-kindness and compassion. Whether we connect at the same time globally or in planetary waves, the energy we co-create will ripple outward, touching all life with healing and love.
Join us on the New Moon, whenever it appears in your location, to synchronize in a global community of prayer and/or meditation. Together, we can generate waveforms and vibrations of love and compassion that will radiate outward from this day onward and forever. These vibrations will continue to blanket the Earth and all life in a palpable field of love and compassion, benefiting all.
The more love and compassion we consciously generate, the more of it becomes available in our world and universe for others to feel, enjoy, and be nurtured by. Let’s co-create a living, vibrating, pulsing web of love and compassion that surrounds the planet, lifting us all to higher vibrations of healing, love, and compassion for every being.
May we, the Earth, and all life benefit.
May we all be free from suffering, greed, hatred, and delusion, as well as the causes of suffering. May we all have wholesome happiness and its causes. May our prayers and meditations be a cause for global healing and well-being for all now and forever.
Join us in any way that works best for you.
On the New Moon, let’s come together with strong intentions, knowing that others around the world will be doing the same. Choose a time that works for you—whether it’s morning, noon, or evening—and feel the connection with others participating across the globe. If you’re interested in helping create a wave of meditation and prayer, consider meditating or praying at either 7:00 a.m. or 7:00 p.m. in your local time zone. By doing this, we create an ongoing ripple effect of love and compassion, as hour by hour, new groups of people join in, sending vibrations of loving-kindness around the planet. Together, we build a global field of healing energy that envelops the Earth and all its inhabitants. However you choose to participate—whether in synchronized times or your own flow—the collective intention benefits all.
Feel free to express your love and compassion in any form. Be creative. Share poetry, reflections, prayers, or experiences in the comments below, and let’s fill the Earth’s atmosphere and beyond with vibrations of love and compassion. All forms of loving-kindness are welcome here.
Loving-kindness and compassion are universal qualities.
No one person or group owns them. They transcend race, nationality, religion, or background. The more we can nurture and generate these heart qualities, the more we collectively benefit. How beautiful is that?
If you plan to join us, let us know in the comments!
Your presence matters. Sharing your intentions, reflections, or experiences can inspire and motivate others. Together, we’re building a global community of healing and love. Whether you join for 5 minutes or longer, or in synchronized or local time, every contribution is valued.
If you have suggestions for how we can better collaborate on generating global waves of loving-kindness and compassion, please share them below!
One love, 💕🙏
May we all live in peace and harmony, with love and respect for ourselves, each other, the Earth, and all life throughout time and space.
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.
Human life is a continuous dance of clarity and confusion, harmony, and discord. It’s the nature of being human to navigate this ebb and flow, constantly seeking meaning, understanding, and connection. This is why practices like contemplation are so vital—they offer a way to touch something timeless and unchanging amidst the drama of existence. They remind us that even in misunderstanding, there’s an opportunity for growth, and in drama, a chance for peace.
This morning’s contemplative practice felt like stepping into a new realm, where meditation falls away and contemplation unfolds in its place. It was not something I forced or sought after, but rather a quiet surrender into what was already there, waiting to be noticed.
As I lay in stillness, curious pratyayas of sensation and thought began to arise—small flickers of tension in the body, fleeting memories, echoes of past emotions. Yet, there was no need to hold on to them, nor push them away. Instead, curiosity became the guiding force, allowing me to rest gently in the awareness of what is. This curiosity was not the kind that seeks answers, but rather the kind that simply observes without interference—a curiosity that watches, without wanting or resisting.
Namkhai Norbu, in his teachings on Dzogchen, speaks of resting in the natural state, which is not something we attain but something we return to. This state of pure awareness is our birthright, and through practices like sky-gazing, we are reminded of its boundless nature. It is spacious, free of judgment, and untouched by the fluctuations of the mind.
In the stillness of this morning’s practice, I realized how much the mind wants to grasp, to make meaning, or to categorize each sensation or thought that arises. But when we remain in curiosity, those tendencies dissolve. The pratyayas come and go like clouds passing through the sky, and we remain as the observer of it all.
St. John of the Cross describes this process as the soul’s purification—moving through the dark night, not by pushing through it, but by allowing it to unfold naturally. In this unfolding, even the act of surrender becomes effortless. We simply rest in the awareness of being, trusting that the Divine is doing its quiet work in us, without our interference.
This morning’s practice reminded me that contemplation is not something we achieve; it is something we allow. When curiosity is present, we move away from striving for an experience and simply witness what is. And in that witnessing, the doorway to pure awareness opens, effortlessly.
As we continue this contemplative journey, may we lean into the practice of curiosity, allowing it to gently lead us into the spaciousness of pure awareness. In this space, we discover that everything we seek has always been within us, waiting to be uncovered.
We are called to make our best effort, yet there are moments when something greater lifts us beyond our own abilities. Like an eagle, we can only fly to the capacity of our wings, but on occasion, we soar beyond them. Our desire and effort to connect with God open the door for Divine Grace to take us where we can not go on our own. This interplay between effort and grace reminds us that while we are called to give our all, it’s the mysterious force of grace that allows us to go beyond what we thought possible. It’s a humbling and inspiring truth, one that calls us to act, but also to surrender. In this partnership of effort and grace, we glimpse the transformative power of divine love, leading us closer to God’s will.
Western and Eastern philosophies each offer unique perspectives on perfection. The Western view says, “Perfection is when there’s nothing left to add.” In contrast, the Eastern view says, “Perfection is when there’s nothing left to take away.”
Both ideas guide us toward simplicity and balance, but the Eastern approach invites us to strip away all that is unnecessary, leaving only the pure essence of what is.
This perspective is deeply resonant with the practice of sitting at the door of the Cloud of Unknowing. There’s no need to strive, to add meaning, or to make anything happen. The perfection lies in just being—letting go of everything extra until you’re left with the quiet stillness of presence.
This is a reminder that life’s perfection isn’t about accumulation but about letting go. Rest in what remains when there’s nothing left to take away.
As I sit here in my yard, under the shade of tall trees and a sky so vast, I am reminded of the gentle teachings of impermanence. The pratyayas, those rising and falling sensations, memories, and thoughts, have once again surfaced, but they do not hold the weight they once did. Instead, there is a soft awareness that everything is already changing, and that in the grand scheme of time, everything is already gone.
I look over at my RV, which has been a sanctuary for me for so many years. Soon, this land will become something else, transformed into a clubhouse. And yet, in this moment, I am filled with deep appreciation for what has been, for the unconscious and conscious years spent on this blessed earth. The impermanence of it all doesn’t bring sadness, but rather a profound gratitude for having lived through it, both mindfully and unmindfully.
Namkhai Norbu’s sky-gazing practice teaches us to rest in the awareness of what is, without grasping or rejecting. In these moments of contemplation, I’m reminded that sky-gazing isn’t about observing the physical sky but allowing the mind to open into its own natural spaciousness. The practice reflects what is already within—clear, vast, and untouched by the clouds of thought.
As pratyayas of impermanence arise, they are met not with resistance but with curiosity. Curiosity has become my companion on this contemplative path, gently guiding me to rest in awareness without the need for answers or conclusions. There is no longer a push for meaning, only the quiet observation of the present moment unfolding, just as it is.
In this state of being, I can feel both the impermanence of the physical world and the abiding stillness of awareness. It is a paradox, and yet it is also the simplest truth: everything changes, and yet awareness remains the same.
The teachings of St. John of the Cross, Ramana Maharshi, and Namkhai Norbu all point to this truth in their own ways. We move through life, through our spiritual practices, sometimes seeking, sometimes grasping for deeper experiences. But there comes a moment when we simply stop, when we rest in the spaciousness that has always been there. It is not a state we attain; it is a state we remember.
As I continue this practice, I feel a deep gratitude, not just for the present moment, but for all that has been and all that will come. And in this gratitude, the pratyayas seem to soften, leaving behind the quiet awareness that is always there, patiently waiting for us to return.
…a restless wanderer, always searching but never finding. Sitting at the door, however, the ego transforms—no longer lost, but given a purpose. It becomes the guardian of stillness, patiently awaiting what cannot be sought, allowing presence to arise on its own.
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