by Sandra Ladley
“Play matters because people matter. It reminds us of our interdependence and gives us a chance to really see other people. And in turn, to be really and truly seen.” Jill Valet, founder of Playworks
As I write this January 2025 newsletter, the LA fires are burning and people I know are in shock and tragically affected. Blame and attacks run rampant, and, as a fellow Californian, I feel deeply unsettled and am having a hard time sleeping. How could I write an article about play right now? I’m writing this because I feel play is essential for our cooperative well-being, and for finding solutions to living in these times.
Along these lines, the ageism activist Ashton Applewhite and Jane Fonda recently posted a well-researched short video on aging well. In it, they describe how art classes build community and can add seven and a half years to your life. They cite a National Endowment for the Arts study that shows that art classes for adults increase mental engagement and physical activity, build new or stronger relationships, and promote well-being overall. By “art classes” they state they are referring to any playful activity, such as singing, dancing, painting, writing, photographing, or working with clay. It could also be activities like gardening or cooking. There are endless options.
What immediately comes to mind for you as play?
Can you recall when you last felt free or were called to play or follow a natural expressive impulse? When was the last time you scheduled time for classes involving play?
Play is generally defined as something we do that brings us joy, without a necessary result. Scheduling time for play can seem frivolous in times like now, and finding joy can feel very far away, especially when we wake up day and night, afraid to look at the news, wishing the pain and suffering we’re seeing would simply disappear.
Play can be a stabilizing and developmental resource in times like this - it’s not just for kids or artists, or when we feel carefree. There are innumerable stories of people using play to survive hard times, like delighting in observing small daily changes in nature when looking out the window, or making up stories or songs on the spot.
Play can relieve stress, stimulate creative thinking, and cheer us up. It can help us have insights and accomplish more. Research shows we need it to keep our brains flexible, ward off depression, and sharpen social-emotional skills. When we play with others we can be with them in new ways, and we can see and be seen. Sharing seasonal rituals of play can bring meaning to our lives.
Research also shows that how we enter into what is referred to as a “play state” is very personal, and can change over time. Recently I’ve tended toward movement classes, collaging, and cooking as resources, while in the past I turned to painting and singing. I’m not one for competition but for others, competitive games stimulate a play state.
What stimulates a play state for you?
I’ll share again Dr. Stuart Brown’s research on the play state in which he identified eight different “play personalities” based on thousands of interviews, as follows:
1) The Collector – joy in gathering collections
2) The Competitor – joy in playing the game/winning
3) The Creator/Artist – joy in making things
4) The Director – joy in planning and making things happen
5) The Explorer - joy in discovery
6) The Joker – joy in humor and silliness
7) The Kinesthete - joy in movement
8) The Storyteller – joy in imagination
What brings you joy?
What do you think your play personality is? Has it changed? How does it help you?
What play would you like to try out, or do more of?
What holds you back?
I appreciate seeing this list because it reminds me how different we all are in what brings us joy. I see this in ongoing creative play classes where we have time to play in various modalities and share the fruits of our play.
In Karuna Training, we recognize different learning styles and play preferences. We include creative exercises in our curriculum and schedule open playtime in our retreats. These activities are as important as the other parts of our training as they help people integrate their experiences in a way that works for them. In online programs, we use a private channel on the Circle platform for participants to share engagement with the material between classes. Faculty sometimes provide prompts and student responses come in the form of, for example, writing, photos, or music, and we all interact in this way.
A foundational part of Karuna Training is studying and attuning to the self-existing wisdom and play of the five elements for guidance - space, water, earth, fire, and wind. People have been doing this over millennia and across cultures. In times like now we tend to ignore or forget this, and we get stolen away by things like social media and shopping. The elements are screaming for our attention. In Karuna, we use the mandala circle of the five elements as a helpful organization principle and guide for life. Miriam Hall and I will teach a weekly public class Creative Resilience from 11 - 1 pm MT, on Saturdays from March 8th to April 12th, 2025 which will be dedicated to play and sharing that draws on work with the five elements in daily life. <link>
In the upcoming Power of Play Karuna Live session on Saturday, March 1st from 10 - 11 MT, I’ll introduce this topic, we’ll explore it, and we’ll reflect on how we might want to bring play into our lives as a resource going forward. I will also provide information on the upcoming Creative Resilience online course and the Karuna Training certificate program that will commence later this year in May.
I hope to see you on March 1st.
Until then, please take good care and find a little time to play.
Sandra Ladley
By Miriam Hall
Many of us wonder how to begin the New Year on the right foot. One way is to start practices early on in the year and establish habits so we can return to them throughout the months. Many of us are looking for ways to soften but also strengthen our hearts. A great way to do that is to commit to compassion.
But many of us aren’t entirely sure what compassion is, much less find it easy to practice. Common questions around compassion include:
Can I be angry and compassionate at the same time? Does compassion for someone else mean ignoring my own pain or hurt? How do I know if what I am feeling is compassion or codependency? What’s the difference between compassion and empathy? Is compassion fatigue really a thing? If so, how do I deal with it?
Do any of these questions sound familiar to you? If so, you are not alone. It's hard to orient to compassion as a key part of our lives if we don’t really understand it or feel we can’t practice it properly. You're invited to explore this further during our free online event: Karuna Live! Set Your Compassion Compass, held on January 18th. This primer will remind you of your inherent capacity for compassion and help clarify some of what are called the “near enemies” of compassion, which are the ways we confuse it with other, less helpful, states of mind.
One of Karuna Training's strengths lies in the many compassion practices we offer, including Four Immeasurables (aka Maitri/Metta/Loving Kindness), tonglen, four-step/FEEL, "self"-compassion, and compassionate exchange. In this short Karuna Live, get a sense of what different kinds of compassion practice can do for you, and then be led through a guided compassion practice. Come live to ask questions about where you struggle with compassion in your life. Bring a friend, and you can help each other remember to practice what's important to your hearts.
“Suffering is the compost of enlightenment.” These powerful words from Thich Nhat Hanh resonate deeply with Eduardo Duran, a Native American psychologist and spiritual teacher. In his conversation with the Karuna community, Duran weaves a rich tapestry of indigenous wisdom, Buddhist teachings, and the transformative power of ceremony. He challenges us to see suffering not as a burden but as fertile ground for growth, connection, and healing—both personal and collective.
This isn’t just a conversation about philosophy; it’s a call to action. Let’s explore the profound themes that emerged and how they might transform the way we view ourselves, our history, and our world.
At first glance, indigenous traditions and Buddhism might seem worlds apart. But Duran highlights their shared essence—compassion, interconnectedness, and the acceptance of suffering as part of life.
Takeaway: Embrace practices that cultivate compassion and remind you of life’s interconnectedness—like meditation, storytelling, or ceremony.
Duran tells a vivid story from a Sundance ceremony. Tasked with carrying a bison heart, he realized the deeper purpose of the ritual: compassion. It wasn’t about physical endurance; it was about opening the heart.
Pro Tip: Engage in ceremonies or rituals, even simple ones like lighting a candle, that help you honor your struggles and transform them into growth.
Colonization left a deep scar on indigenous communities—what Duran calls the "soul wound." This trauma is not just historical; it lives in the present, passed down through generations.
Actionable Step: Start a simple ritual of gratitude for the land you live on. Learn about its history and offer thanks to the ancestors who came before.
The heart is more than an organ; it’s a symbol of compassion and transformation. Duran draws parallels between the Sundance ceremony and the Tibetan Buddhist concept of the "diamond that cuts through illusion."
Try This: In moments of difficulty, place your hand over your heart and breathe deeply. Imagine compassion radiating outward, first to yourself, then to others.
“Our ancestors are always with us,” Duran reminds us. Engaging with them is not only healing but essential for reconnecting with our roots and sense of purpose.
Next Step: Create a small ancestral altar with items that connect you to your lineage. Use it as a space for reflection and gratitude.
Duran’s conversation challenges us to live more connected, compassionate lives. Whether through honoring ancestors, transforming suffering, or embracing the wisdom of the heart, his teachings offer a roadmap to healing and growth.
But these insights aren’t just for personal development—they’re a call to action for collective healing. By recognizing the deep wounds of colonization and honoring the indigenous wisdom of Turtle Island, we can take meaningful steps toward a more interconnected and harmonious world.
What will you do today to honor your ancestors, your heart, and the land beneath your feet? Start small. Let your actions ripple outward. As Duran’s teacher might say: “Let it go, and let it grow.”
by Melissa Moore
Tibetan Buddhism offers us a language and maps to navigate the multiple states of existence that continually occur between death and rebirth. These states vary in length and texture, but they entirely mirror our attitudes and conduct in everyday life. Just consider your life in the time frame of a single day; we get up usually having morning rituals to help us enter the day with composure, and then we enter the stream of experience, which varies wildly according to where we are, what we are doing, and whom we are interacting with. It's like the water in a river, constantly flowing through the same channel, but never the same water or experience. We notice several heightened moments in the transition flow, called the Bardos of everyday life.
In the upcoming class Embracing the Bardos of Everyday Life, we explore and befriend life's transitions through the contemplative lens of loving-kindness and compassion. In a sense, we are always preparing for our death when we study the Bardos, but we are preparing for death with kindness, openness, and awareness. As a young 24-year-old student at Naropa University (then Naropa Insitute), I was told by one of my esteemed professors, “The entire reason we practice meditation is to prepare for our death.” At the time, I felt insulted to be discussing death; I thought I was too young to be subjected to such tortuous contemplations. My reaction turned out to be my Midwestern cultural conditioning, where death is not a polite topic for everyday conversation.
The study of the Tibetan Book of the Dead brings to awareness how we live our lives now and its relevance to our inevitable death. This teaching heightens our relationship to impermanence and change – our habits of navigating groundlessness, change, and death and illuminates our conditioning around these lifescapes. I’m someone in my late 60s, which brings old age and death much closer into focus. I constantly ask myself if the topic or issue that is irritating me at the moment – will matter at the moment of death. Or if I could simply leave it alone, as I’m continually instructing my dog to do on walks. That is what we are practicing during meditation: to leave alone the torrential stream of distracting thoughts and relate to what we are experiencing in the moment.
Bardos are part of our psychological makeup, but we often miss the bardo-like experience unless we are paranoid or groundless. Like losing our phone or car keys, a suspended moment of panic will wake us to where we are and what we are doing. Learning to navigate these moments of groundlessness is actual preparation for our death.
The Six Bardos include The Natural Bardo of this Life, where we all find ourselves now. The Bardo of Dying occurs when we receive a diagnosis of a fatal illness up until the moment we are dying, which, of course, doesn’t happen to everyone, as we can go instantly. Then there is The Bardo of Dharmata, which occurs once we have entirely passed away, and then The Bardo of Becoming, when we are on our way to being born. The other two crucial bardos we explore are The Bardo of Meditation and The Bardo of Dreaming. Each bardo offers a unique opportunity for complete realization, recognizing our true nature. All of the bardos are significant opportunities to wake up! Thus, learning more about transitions can widen our minds and hearts and increase awareness. Also, first and foremost, we understand that how we live is how we will die; with the help of Pema Chodren’s book, we deeply dive into the bardos in everyday life.
Please join me for seven 2-hour sessions every other week ONLINE. Tuesday evenings beginning January 7 through April 1, 2025, with a final 3-hour Grieving Ritualon Saturday, April 5, 2025.
We are offering 7 CEs for attending the entire course, and each class will be recorded should you need to miss the live session. In between courses, we offer you a channel on the Circle format membership site to discuss your experience with the Bardo with prompts.
By Miriam Hall
For a long time, I saw myself as someone almost composed of grief. Due to a lot of early loss in my family – including (but not limited to) both my parents by the time I was 19 – it felt as if being depressed was part of my destiny. I even found a definition of my name, which means “sea of bitterness” or “sea of sorrow,” which only served to reiterate this self-concept.
But then I received other, Buddhist names like “Lotus Warrior” and even “Joyful Golden Light.” I began to do some more research on my name, which is more common in Jewish and Arabic lineages than in the Protestant white culture in which I was raised, and found it can also mean “wished-for child,” “rebellion,” or “lady of the sea.” I spent much of my thirties crawling out of the shell of my previous self-limiting definitions and into a larger world where I began to see that my experiences were not singular (many of us experience much early loss) and that they didn’t have to define me.
One of the ways we can limit our own experience is by clinging to a realm, which in Tibetan Buddhist teachings is usually described as a series of states or places you pass through after death and before rebirth. However, the realms have also come to stand in for psychological states we get stuck in. Each of the six “realm cycles” have a particular flavor, which I will introduce briefly here, and we will cover more deeply in the Karuna Live event on October 9.
The six realms are the God realm, the Jealous God realm, the Human realm, the Hungry Ghost realm, the Animal realm, and the Hell realm. From the initial description, I know it seems like things start pretty well and go downhill from there (from God to Hell, clearly it’s a decline!) but actually, there are problems with the God realm, even though it’s “on top”. One of the places we can see the God realm at play, personally and socially, is by noticing the behaviors of folks who have way more than their basic needs met. While anyone can cause harm, and anyone can have a rough life, the more we move beyond our basic needs being met, the more likely we are not to pay attention to the suffering of others. Not paying attention costs us dearly – our inability to connect with direct compassion, a sense of isolation in the “ivory tower” of our own experience, and a sense of being better than everyone else, which has to be maintained to stay in the perfect-seeming world we find ourselves in.
The realm I got the most stuck in when I was younger and struggling with so much loss, was the Human realm, which is riddled with longing and yearning but also ripe for the development of compassion. While there certainly were echoes of truth in these experiences – I WAS grieving, I WAS often isolated – I also used internalized patriarchy to keep myself isolated and believed in my own story of isolation so much that I missed opportunities to connect to others. Through decades of meditation and contemplative practice, and learning and teaching contemplative psychology (and therapy), I’ve been able to more easily recognize when I am getting stuck and help myself (or ask for help) to get me out of the small cocoon-like world of a realm, and out into the open air.
One way to think of these realms is as if they are costumes – we don the outfits, masks, and mentality of the realm, and then we see the world that way, and others treat us as if we belong there. We become – and make others into - jokers, devils, animals, and more, without realizing it’s all a projection. It’s a self-fulfilling prophecy that can last seconds or decades, depending on our level of awareness and how much oppression we are facing, much of which is designed to keep us unaware of our own potential and power. Mindfulness and awareness practices can help us see through the layers of trauma and oppression and how they have trapped us in a disguise, so we don’t even recognize our own brilliant nature.
If you are curious to learn more, come to Karuna Live on October 9th or watch for the podcast later in the month. There, we will explore the realms in more depth, seeing where we tend to get stuck and finding the wisdom in these states, along with some tastes of liberation.
By Naoko and Miriam
Buddhism says there are “two truths” to our experience - we are individuals who are socially located with particular backgrounds and identities, and at the same time there is the nature of all phenomena, called non-self or interdependence.
This is what we are referring to as the paradox of identity: on the relative level, we experience the world through separate identities, while on the ultimate level, we are none of these identities. A paradox is when (at least) two issues that appear opposite, coexist. And these two perspectives - ultimate and relative - definitely co-exist. In fact, they are the same teaching.
For Naoko, as an Asian woman, and Miriam, as a white queer woman, both living in the United States, we have experienced our share of identity-based aggression. Buddhist teachings in the West tend to focus on inner transformation over social transformation, and we have both benefited from that work. However, as Reverend angel Kyodo williams Sensei says, “Without inner change there can be no outer change. Without collective change, no change matters.” This focus on inner transformation can cause two problems: 1. Inadvertently blame individuals for the suffering they experience from oppression and 2. Keep individuals and communities unaware of the power of our potential for social change. Individuals are a mirror, a microcosm of what’s out in the world; we carry systemic belief systems inside of us. We can change that impact inside us, but change must be collective to alter the systemic level.
It is true that the two of us, along with all humans, are equal in the eyes of suffering; suffering is a universal experience. However, it is also true that our individually racialized and gendered experiences have affected us deeply, and impact how we receive and interpret dharma teachings. The detrimental impacts of oppression should not be blamed on those being oppressed; rather, we need to do collective work to change oppressive systems. In Karuna Training, we talk about “intrinsic health,” which applies to individuals and all relationships, including institutions. In other words, we can work together to uncover the intrinsic health of society.
The three poisons of clinging to (passion), pushing away (aggression), and dismissing (ignorance) reality are key to suffering. Acknowledging our experience as a valid aspect of reality isn’t clinging; it’s discriminating awareness wisdom. We can both acknowledge that clinging to any identity at any level can cause suffering and, at the same time, recognize that bypassing identity to try to come to some “truer form of emptiness” also causes suffering.
These are just some of the topics we will dive into together during our live event on August 11. Join us for this two-hour introduction to contemplative psychology, through a discussion and practice around the paradoxical two truths of our identities.
By Melissa Moore
“Vulnerability sounds like truth and feels like courage. Truth and courage aren’t always comfortable, but they’re never weakness.” Brene’ Brown
In Karuna Training, we are interested in cultivating a genuine connection with ourselves and wholeheartedly connecting with others. This kind of heartfelt connection requires taking a risk into the vast internal arena of our vulnerability.
Consider all the times we have fretted about how to let another person know what and how we feel. For example, when entering into a new relationship, we may feel insecure about ourselves for various reasons, like we’ve been out of a relationship for some years, or we feel insecure about sexuality, or we just are scared of getting hurt again. Expressing those vulnerabilities openly and honestly to our love interest will reveal important information. If they respond equally openly, then we are usually relieved and happy to go forward in the relationship- and if not, then we wouldn’t have wanted to enter that relationship anyway.
Or what about with people we love and care about the most, like our parents, children, or partners - when we want them to know how we feel and what is happening with us in the face of their behavior? Sometimes, the people we are closest to are the most difficult people with whom to show our vulnerability. However, having led process groups and communication sessions with multiple people, I’ve come to trust that our open expression of vulnerability is almost always reciprocated or held with deep respect. It takes a lot of bravery to open up when we lack trust in another. And that bravery usually pays off, even though it's counter-intuitive to wade into the murky waters of feeling ill at ease.
Sometimes, we feel vulnerable, and we are not even sure why we feel that queasy, shaky sensation inside, but it's helpful to have tools to explore our emotions, especially when they are undefined. That is precisely what we dedicate ourselves to in Karuna Training. We offer methods to stop trying to think our way through emotions and instead ground ourselves in our bodies to explore emotional energy as it arises somatically. It's not always comfortable, but it's a method that makes us more robust and courageous and breeds strength of heart and clarity of mind.
We begin to discover that our vulnerability is the cauldron of our greatest strength. What we are avoiding is falling apart or making a fool of ourselves. However, when we open up to others with genuine feelings, we take responsibility for ourselves, which breeds respect and resonance. Somewhere along the line, we have internalized a message that showing weakness is not okay. And yet, it is our willingness to display our soft spots that connects us to other human beings. All humans have soft spots, which are the grounds of a compassionate and courageous heart, and these soft spots need to be tapped to activate them.
Showing and admitting vulnerability is most difficult for me when I want to be right or be the one who wins, say, in an argument or in holding a particular point of view. Sometimes, when my husband and I have a flash of anger or a strong disagreement, we solidify our boundaries and become very tight and close to being the right one. At some point, for the energy to flow again, one of us has to soften and enter into that sickening feeling of giving in; we could call it forgiveness. Forgiveness is a very vulnerable arena to enter and accomplish. It takes softening toward ourselves first - enough to admit our part in a conflict. I experience that when I embody my feelings and accept my internal vulnerability inside - it is always reciprocated.
Karuna Training has refined a trauma-informed approach, allowing participants to explore vulnerability in a facilitated space of a familiar community aimed toward the same aspirations. The training operates in a cohort model, where we explore our relationships with one another over two years to discover our particular style of vulnerability and how we solidify our egos when we choose not to feel vulnerable. It is a golden opportunity to learn and experiment trusting our vulnerability within the cohort, rather than in our regular lives, so Karuna provides a practice ground. In doing so, we birth a genuine heart of strength, courage, and the ability to find an authentic expression in our acquaintances, relationships, and families. Please join me on Saturday, July 27th, from 9 AM to 11 AM Mountain time for a live, in-person introduction to Karuna's methods for discovering strength within vulnerability. I hope to see you there.
By Sandra Ladley
I hope you’ll join me for an introduction to Karuna Training on the topic of Uncovering Polarization: Cultivating Compassionate Exchange on Wednesday, July 17th, from 6 – 7:30 pm MT. The session will include remarks and discussion on polarization, an introduction to Karuna Training methods for working with intense views and emotions, meditation, and time to share our longings going forward. The link to the event registration is here.
I recently read that the distinguishing feature of our current global predicament is not so much the polarization we’re experiencing but the pandemic of helplessness that we share. Polarization is a naturally occurring phenomenon, how waves of energy and light move and oscillate. It is also an ongoing part of our social psychology. But our history of bloody wars shows that it’s not easy for us to resolve polarization on a human scale.
Over the years, I’ve tried to stay current with events and different views, but now, with the overwhelm of global war, conflicts in the US, systemic injustice, and climate change I can barely microdose the daily news. I feel an ongoing sense of doom and longing for a resolution to so many things. I recall like a mantra, the title of the old Broadway show Stop the World I Want to Get Off!
In planning our classes for Karuna Training, we’ve observed that, after the pandemic, people don’t seem to want to come together in person - or online. Then where can we meet? I see people needing to care for themselves and to numb and escape. I experience this myself. Unfortunately, our entertainment industrial complex has monetized the need for escape and markets a Mobius strip menu of choices, making it hard to find entertainment as solace. At times like this, I recall the title of Pama Chodron’s most famous book, The Wisdom of No Escape, which sometimes helps me to remember to take a few breaths and stay present with my feelings. Recently, I’ve found myself imagining that I’m playing in the dirt like children do, or cleansing myself in the dirt like birds do, looking for a literal earthly ground underneath it all. Can you relate? What can we do for ourselves and others during this time? How can we act on our helplessness? How can we find a shared ground of sanity for the benefit of all and our planet?
Like many, I first experienced polarization and a sense of helplessness in my family home. In my family, I felt like the outsider, the arty wild child plopped into a conservative environment at birth, I was on one pole while the others were on the other pole, and it remains true to this day. I moved away from east to west at age 20 and, in so doing, found kindred spirits and a family of choice. Yet, despite spending most of my adult years in the liberal SF Bay Area, I found myself re-enacting the experience of feeling like an outsider and polarization in my life choices. I chose to work in a conservative setting and I sought spiritual sustenance in a conformist spiritual community. My outsider experience could be described as one of fear that, at any moment, I would express or do something that would make others uncomfortable and that, as a result, I would be judged or shunned. I’ve likely sought these environments because they are familiar to me, a habitual pattern of seeking crumbs of acceptance and love from those who feel different from me. I’m aware of my privilege as a cisgender white-bodied woman and know that many others experience far worse dangers and powerlessness from their perceived differences in an ongoing way. I am humbled and am continually learning. My childhood experience of the fulcrum of polarization has oriented me toward wanting to understand, empathize, and bridge differences. More than just ‘can’t we all just get along’ I keep seeking ground that is inclusive of our diverse views that will benefit all of us and our planet in the long run. This is not a fantasy, though it may be increasingly hard to see. It has happened before in our history. I’m inspired by, for example, how Abraham Lincoln famously created his “team of rivals,” his cabinet of enemies.
We are so hardened up into our fixed views. On one side, a friend recently told me I should cut ties with my family; they’re “fascists.” On the other side, another friend recently dissed me when I tried to describe the meaning and relevance of the term “woke.” It seems nobody wants to get into another person’s shoes anymore or to listen to, understand, or empathize with the other point of view. I remember how I was trained to do this in high school debates. I learned so much from researching and conveying a point of view that was opposed to mine. I am inspired by and hope to join a dear friend who has recently been canvassing door to door. After an initial greeting, she will ask the person she’s talking to “What is most important to you?” She’s found that this can open the door to a compassionate exchange of listening and learning. So many of our toxic divides now are around issues that are a matter of life and death. We have no time to waste being tangled up and manipulated into rigid stances that prevent us from listening, exchanging hearts, and finding solutions to these urgent matters. Not surprisingly, there is a lot of current research and discussion on polarization. Why do we get into polarization? How do we get out of it? What do you think?
In the 90-minute session on July 17th, I will present themes from this research. I will also introduce Karuna Training methods that have practical applications for navigating these horrible times of polarization. These include meditation, embodiment, compassionate exchange, working with intense emotions, and being held in an open-hearted community. The session will also offer an introduction and Q&A on the next Karuna Training cycle. I hope to see you there.
June is Pride Month in the United States and many places. I recently saw a cartoon by Bless the Messy on Instagram which compared what people think Pride Month is (rainbows and parades) versus what Pride Month *actually* is (many things, including but not limited to celebration, protecting trans youth, surviving hard shit, feeling free, and being valid to stay in the closet to feel safe). It’s true that June *can* be a time filled with parades and parties. Personally, as a middle-aged, chronically ill, introverted queer person, I now know that protests and parades, whether celebrating pride or fighting for our rights, are all things I need to do very mindfully, if at all. Most of the time, my life in June is not so different than it is any other month.
That’s not because I no longer care about queer rights or because I’m not into celebrating. I’ve just gotten to know more about what I need as an individual queer person and more about what I can contribute to the causes and conditions of our liberation. In terms of how the larger world celebrates during Pride Month, June can also bring genuine statements of solidarity and (frequently) meaningless corporate sponsorship.
In the early 00s, at a huge pride event in San Francisco, I noticed a beer advertisement featuring a gay couple for the first time. My initial reaction was – how courageous! Then I felt sort of delighted to see part of my identity reflected to me in the pages of a mainstream magazine. But not long after, because I was developing critical analysis, I recognized that becoming a target market isn’t such good news. Over the last couple of decades, such LGBTQIA+-oriented advertising has become a part of most people’s everyday visual and auditory experience despite resistant pockets where homophobia is front and center.
Having our identity as queer folks contested in politics and media so frequently can do a number on our sense of worthiness. Last June, in a Karuna Live offering, my colleague Emma Bunnell and I contemplated the need for women and queer folks to trust our worth, and our value, internally and externally. In our program, we addressed how can we value who we really are, without further oppressing others since a fair number of media in pitching toward gay communities still center predominantly cisgender and white folks?
These are some of the questions driving the upcoming podcas to be released this month: What is pride? Is it a “good” thing or a bad thing? In addition, what is an identity? Should I be proud of a queer identity? When can “too much pride” mean I oppress other queer folks who are more vulnerable than I am? Should I see identity (in a Buddhist way) as a not-solid thing? Should queer folks be more oriented toward liberation than pride? How has the idea of queer pride gotten co-opted by the media and capitalism? Can we find a liberated form of pride? And how do rights fit into all of this?
My sense of what true liberation is has also changed over the decades. In recent years, I have been practicing and studying spiritual abolitionism with Lama Rod Owens and somatic abolitionism with Resmaa Menakem, slowly finding a unified vision of liberation that is both political and spiritual.
As Lama Rod expresses in his recent book The New Saints, queerness itself is fundamentally disruptive and liberatory. In my June podcast, I will explore how dharma weaves into pride, identity, and liberation when it comes to queerness. All folks are welcome to listen – though I will be addressing these issues through a queer lens, we have and will always continue to learn a lot from queer elders, especially queer elders of color, regardless of our identities.
Look out for the episode later this month on the Karuna Training Podcast.
*I am using the term "queer" as an umbrella term, as many folks in my generation (late GenX) prefer it to LGBTQIA+. If you prefer LGBTQIA+, please know you are a part of this discussion, too.
By Melissa Moore
Last night, I dined with a 92-year-old woman and her 98-year-old husband, both still in good health; although she has severe osteoporosis, she is still gardening, throwing pots on a kiln, and he is golfing twice weekly - and only stopped skiing less than five years ago. It's wild how enamored I was of their energy at their age - they had been married for 71 years. The woman joked and said,’ You mean our denial of aging.’ This made me wonder if aging is as much of a mental process as she makes it sound – and if how we hold our age impacts the aging experience.
Colorado is full of healthy 85+-year-old folks all over the slopes, cross-country skiing in the winter, and running and biking up and down mountains at high altitudes all summer. This is the state with the lowest BMI per capita, and the idolization of being active and fit while elderly is a State obsession. It is a common topic at dinner parties. I see it all as further ageism and ableism – yet I’m guilty of the same infatuation and aspiration as I age. Ageism is the degradation of aging, making a natural process something to hide or be ashamed of. Ableism is thinking that everyone has all the capacities to achieve and succeed, especially physically, with enough willpower, not realizing the impact on people with disabilities.
Undoubtedly, there is a skillful means to the aging process that challenges the impact of ageism and ableism. To grow old is good fortune for most - old age is a precious time to review the choices we’ve made in our life, our regrets and our accomplishments, the decisions we felt forced into, and the lifestyles we crafted – all bearing fruit in old age in an air of ‘looking back.’. Sorting through all of it is deemed a necessary exercise. Much like sorting one’s things, who will mess with all the stuff when we are gone?
It's also true that we have learned some things and accrued wisdom in life, which longs to be shared and witnessed in circles of openness. We only sometimes find those opportunities in families or nursing homes across North America. Although there are many open-hearted people and programs for the elderly, we often encounter a warehouse of the elderly, lonely, confused, and frequently feeling they have inadequate help and nobody to talk to.
What would the world look like if we honored and appreciated our elders—as most indigenous cultures have always done? We would honor the fact that a long-viewed perspective is valuable and can only be attained through old age. We have life experience and a historical perspective that can be necessary to understand where we came from, our ancestors, and the lost generations and stories.
What will the world look like as we are forced to return to intergenerational homes due to economics, where the babies are cared for by elder relatives, and the family is operated as a system for all versus just the individual? Today’s food and housing costs are forcing families to try on the time-tested model of intergenerational households; unfortunately, many youth interpret this as a failure instead of the opportunity before them.
In Karuna Training, the cohorts we gather for our training are often multi-generational in age range, with youth and elders mingling. We’ve found a wholesome example of respect for elders' experience in our circles, and when we don’t make a big deal about age but interact as humans in a circle of equality.
As elders, we bring responsibility into any communal space to take our seats and remember our potential contributions. Sometimes, we need to notice our habits of mind and speech, and together, we support one another in opening up. Here are a few ideas that we could practice:
We need to learn to express gratitude for life's long view. History always swings wild in a lifetime, as do inventions and so-called progress, which always look different from the lens of old age than it does to the youth. We can learn to express our gratitude to have witnessed such history, whether we understand it or not.
We must skillfully work with life’s regrets and acknowledge our lessons learned with humility rather than self-blame. The old’ if we knew then, what we know now’ meme applies here, and we can adapt that meme with humor and humility, looking back with compassion and understanding for our life experiences, painful or joyful, all part of the soup of life.
We should review our narratives with a healthy dose of a ‘not-knowing mind.’ We could review our narratives in life—what is right and wrong, political, cultural, religious, or otherwise influenced—with curiosity and let go of knowing all the answers. Especially if we desire to have a conversation, we can be curious about what and why others think what they do!
To release what was, embrace what is. Old age requires us to release past identities and capacities that separate us from what we know. This loss can bring complaints and suffering, thus reinforcing our cultural conditioning of old habits. We could begin to open our minds to the wonders in front of us now, which may mean procuring a source for the wonder, when possible, strolls in nature or sitting on one’s front stoop as Spring dawns. When we only see doom and gloom, it may be an indication to raise our gaze to the present moment and allow the elements of wind, water, air, and sun to do their magic.
These are not prescriptions by any means, but they support reflection on elegant ways to age gracefully and to aspire to be as open and in awe of the world as possible.
Please tune into our Podcast, to listen to an invigorated conversation with four Karuna-infused wise women who will discuss the details and skillful means of aging elegantly.