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  • Cultivating the Witness: A Gentle Approach to Living with Myalgic Encephalomyelitis: The Body as a Landscape of Storm and Stillness 🙏

    Cultivating the Witness: A Gentle Approach to Living with Myalgic Encephalomyelitis: The Body as a Landscape of Storm and Stillness 🙏

    To live with myalgic encephalomyelitis is to carry a body that moves like weather—one moment heavy with fog, another scattered by electric storms. The limbs, once steady, now whisper of exhaustion; the nervous system hums and flickers like distant lightning. And yet, within all of this, there is a quiet place—one untouched by fatigue, by pain, by the ever-changing tides of illness. This is the witness, the silent presence that watches, feels, but does not struggle.

    The Power of Witnessing Consciousness

    When the body is weary, and the world presses in with its demands, the mind often follows—entangled in frustration, longing, grief. Yet, there is another way to meet this experience. Instead of battling exhaustion, we can turn toward it, gently, with curiosity. Instead of resisting discomfort, we can learn to hold it, like cradling a trembling bird in our hands.

    Witnessing is not about escaping pain but about changing our relationship to it. It is the art of standing at the edge of the storm and seeing not just the thunder, but the vast sky that holds it.

    A Simple Self-Contemplation Practice

    1. Grounding in the Present
      Find a quiet moment. You don’t need perfect stillness—only a willingness to pause. Notice your body, the way it rests against the surface beneath you. Feel the breath, moving in, moving out, like waves against the shore.
    2. Observing Without Resistance
      Turn your attention inward. What is present? Fatigue like heavy earth? A nervous system like sparking wires? A mind that spins, restless and longing? Whatever it is, let it be here. Do not push it away or name it as the enemy. Simply notice.
    3. Holding with Compassion
      Imagine that each sensation is a visitor—arriving, staying for a time, and eventually leaving. What happens if you do not chase them away? What if, instead, you offer a quiet seat at your table?

    Even pain, even exhaustion, when met with this gentle witnessing, begins to soften. Not disappear, but shift—like wind through the trees, no longer trapped, no longer feared.

    How This Practice Supports ME/CFS Symptoms

    This is not a cure, nor a promise of relief, but a way of being with what is. When we meet our experience with openness:

    The nervous system settles; the fight against the body lessens.

    The mind uncoils from frustration and rests in the simple act of seeing.

    The emotional burden lightens, as we stop identifying with suffering and begin to witness it instead.

    Closing Thoughts: The Sky Holds It All

    If today your body feels like a storm, know that you are not only the storm—you are also the sky that holds it. The witness that watches, the stillness beneath the waves.

    And on days when you cannot sit in silence, when exhaustion presses too hard, let even that be witnessed with kindness. The practice is not in perfect stillness, but in the quiet turning toward whatever is here, again and again.

    Rest when you must, breathe when you can, and know that you are not alone.

    🙏🕊🙏

  • The Sky Within

    The Sky Within

    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.

    🙏🕊🙏

  • Kapalabhati Pranayama: The Shining Forehead Breath

    Kapalabhati Pranayama: The Shining Forehead Breath

    Dear Friend,

    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:

    1. 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.
    2. Breathe to Center Yourself: Take 5–7 slow, deep breaths. Let these breaths settle your thoughts and prepare you for the journey ahead.
    3. 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.
    4. 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.
    5. 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 Simple Practice Could Transform Life with ME/CFS—Feel Free to Ask Questions or Share Your Thoughts! 👍

    This Simple Practice Could Transform Life with ME/CFS—Feel Free to Ask Questions or Share Your Thoughts! 👍

    Resting in the Stillness of Witness Consciousness:

    To rest in Witness Consciousness is to embrace the stillness that exists beneath the surface of all thoughts, sensations, and emotions. It is the quiet awareness that watches without judgment, attachment, or resistance. Begin by settling into a comfortable position and turning your attention inward. Notice the thoughts or feelings that arise, but instead of engaging with them, observe them as you would clouds passing through a vast, open sky. With each breath, allow yourself to sink deeper into the stillness that holds everything. In this state of spacious awareness, you can release striving and simply be, knowing that your true self—the witness—is always present, whole, and at peace. Rest here, in the gentle embrace of the present moment, where the burdens of the mind are lifted, and the essence of stillness is revealed.

    Living with chronic fatigue syndrome (ME/CFS) brings immense challenges, not only to the body but also to the mind. The limitations imposed by this debilitating illness—constant fatigue, pain, and reduced capacity—can lead to frustration, grief, and a restless mind struggling to accept a life that feels constrained. In such a reality, the practice of meditation and cultivating witness consciousness becomes a refuge. By training the mind to rest in stillness and observe thoughts, emotions, and sensations without attachment, we can find a sense of inner peace amidst the turbulence. Witness consciousness helps us step back from our suffering, creating a space where we can gently acknowledge our experiences without being consumed by them. This compassionate awareness offers not only relief but also a pathway to greater resilience, even in the face of profound physical challenges.

    For centuries, human beings have grappled with the challenges of their minds. In simpler times, free of today’s overwhelming distractions, people focused on surviving through work, relationships, and health. Yet, even then, the teachings of the Buddha recognized the mind as the source of both suffering and liberation, offering practices to cultivate awareness and find peace amidst life’s trials.

    Today, the challenges of the mind remain, but they are compounded by endless distractions—technology, entertainment, and the allure of constant stimulation. These temporary escapes may numb the restless mind, but they do not heal its core discontent. The wisdom of meditation and mindfulness remains vital, offering a path back to inner stillness, even as the modern world pulls us in countless directions. Whether in the quiet of ancient times or the noise of today, the path of presence and witness consciousness offers clarity, resilience, and peace to those who walk it.

    Conclusion: An Invitation to Explore Witness Consciousness

    Witness Consciousness offers a refuge for anyone seeking peace amidst the challenges of living with chronic fatigue syndrome (ME/CFS). By embracing this practice, we learn to release the grip of mental and emotional struggles, finding a stillness that can transform our relationship with illness and limitations. This journey of cultivating awareness and resting in the present moment is not only a path to inner peace but a way to reconnect with the profound resilience and wisdom already within us.

    I invite you to share your experiences or questions as you explore this practice. Whether you are new to meditation or looking to deepen your journey, your insights and reflections are invaluable. Let’s create a space of shared learning and support, where we can grow together in this practice of stillness and presence.

    Please feel free to share and let others know if you find this practice of cultivating a Witness Consciousness of benefit to your experience of living with ME/CFS.

    🙏🕊🙏

  • 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.

    🙏🕊️🙏



  • In misunderstanding, there’s an opportunity for growth, and in drama, a chance for peace.

    In misunderstanding, there’s an opportunity for growth, and in drama, a chance for peace.

    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.

    🙏🕊🙏

  • Into the Mystic: Curiosity as the Pathway to Pure Awareness

    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.

    🙏🕊️🙏



  • The Mysterious Force of Grace 🕊

    The Mysterious Force of Grace 🕊

    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.

    🙏🕊🙏

  • The Art of Perfection: Nothing to Add, Nothing to Take Away

    The Art of Perfection: Nothing to Add, Nothing to Take Away

    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.

    🙏🕊🙏

  • Into the Mystic: Embracing Impermanence, Resting in Awareness

    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.

    🙏🕊️🙏



  • Allowing presence to arise on its own.

    Allowing presence to arise on its own.

    …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.

    🙏🕊🙏

  • Into the Mystic: The Wave and the Water – Finding Peace in Aimlessness

    In his gentle and profound way, Thich Nhat Hanh reminds us that we are already what we seek to become. Like a wave searching for water, we often find ourselves running in circles, seeking stability and peace, when in fact we are already made of the very essence we are searching for.

    In the previous post, we reflected on the words, “Be still and know that I am God,” and on the teachings that the Kingdom of God is within us, not something to be sought outside. Thich Nhat Hanh offers a similar invitation to stillness, a reminder that we need not search beyond this moment to touch the Divine. His teachings on apranihita—aimlessness—invite us to stop running after something outside of ourselves. The Buddha is not somewhere far away, hidden behind our efforts; the Buddha is within us, right here, right now. We don’t need to become something else or achieve some great transformation to touch the truth of our being. We only need to stop, to recognize that what we are seeking is already present in us.

    This echoes the Christian mystic path as well, where we are called to enter the stillness, to trust in the unfolding of the Divine presence within. St. John of the Cross speaks of surrendering into the Divine presence that is always here, guiding us without the need for striving. The great mystics remind us that the more we seek, the further we may feel from the truth. Yet when we stop seeking, when we allow ourselves to simply be, we find that the Kingdom of God is already here, waiting for us in the stillness of our own hearts.

    Thich Nhat Hanh’s teachings give form to this same truth. He uses the image of a wave to help us understand that we are not separate from what we seek. Just as the wave is made of water, we too are made of the very essence we long to touch. The wave doesn’t need to run after the water; it is already water. The black cloud doesn’t need to become a white cloud; it only needs light to shine on it, revealing what was always there. In the same way, we don’t need to become something else to experience peace. We need only to stop, to rest in the awareness of who we already are.

    As both Sri Nisargadatta Maharaj and Papaji have taught, the very act of searching can take us further from what we seek. Papaji even wrote a book titled Call Off the Search, emphasizing that the more we search, the more we reinforce the illusion that the truth is somewhere else. This persistent search keeps us from realizing the truth that is already right here, right now. By continuing to look outside of ourselves, we create a sense of distance, when in reality there is no distance at all—only the stillness of the present moment, where what we seek has always been.

    “You are already what you want to become,” Thich Nhat Hanh says. Yet we spend much of our lives not believing this truth, searching for happiness, fulfillment, and wisdom outside of ourselves. Whether it’s the Kingdom of God, Buddha-nature, or enlightenment, we chase after these ideas as though they are separate from us. But all of the great teachers—whether it be Jesus, the Buddha, or St. John of the Cross—urge us to look within. They tell us that when we stop running after what we already are, we can finally rest in the truth that has always been there.

    This is what Thich Nhat Hanh calls aimlessness. The practice of aimlessness is to no longer place something in front of you to chase after. It is to recognize that everything you are searching for is already here. By stopping the search, by becoming still, we can touch the wonders of life that are already present in this moment.

    In one of his talks, Thich Nhat Hanh describes this stillness beautifully: “The Kingdom of God, the Pure Land of the Buddha, is available in the here and now.” He reminds us that happiness is found in the simple things—a rose, the fresh air, a loving smile. Like the wave that need not search for water, we need only to stop and recognize the treasures already around us, treasures that we so often miss because we are running in circles.

    Thich Nhat Hanh teaches that walking meditation can be a wonderful way to practice this stopping, this resting in the here and now. Each step is not taken with a sense of rushing to arrive somewhere, but with the awareness that we are already where we need to be. With each step, we arrive fully in the present moment, touching the peace, the beauty, and the wonder that is always available. It is a practice that brings us back to the present, back to ourselves, and back to the truth that there is nothing to attain.

    “You don’t need to become a Buddha,” Thich Nhat Hanh says, “You are already a Buddha.” You don’t need to search for the Divine; the Divine is already within you. It is only when we stop running that we can finally touch this truth. Like the black cloud that becomes a white cloud when the light shines upon it, we are transformed by the simple act of recognition. In the stillness of aimlessness, we realize that there is no distance between us and what we seek.

    As we continue our contemplative journey, may we learn to embrace the wisdom of aimlessness. May we stop chasing after what is already here, within us. And in that stopping, may we find the peace, the joy, and the freedom that comes from recognizing that we have always been enough.

    🙏🕊️🙏