Lately I am right up against my nonsense. All the limitations, the bad little habits, my tight spots and weak spots and the silly things I say.

My goodness, it's wonderful.

I mean, I used to be tortured by my imperfections. In fact, my first some-odd years of meditation practice were a great, big, ultra-exhausting, never-ending self-improvement project. I thought that if I just got concentrated enough, or insightful enough, or practiced enough metta, or found the perfect teacher, then, finally, I wouldn't be such a clamorous dolt.

But over the last decade my views have changed. These days, as I am confronted hourly by my dharmic shortcomings, I feel . . . well, kind of delighted.

So what's changed? Maybe three things.

1. Joseph's teaching

Joseph Goldstein often says that it's a whole lot better to see your bad habits than to not see your bad habits.

And I agree. I find that when I see greed and anger and stupidity arising in this funny little mind, then I have more room to play. I can make decisions. I can act or not act. Or if I act dumbly, I can repair quickly.

Obviously, if I'm not seeing the poisons, none of that is possible. And so I've come to appreciate those moments when I am really up against my own B.S. Because at least I can do something about it.

2. Basic Goodness

Also, Mingyur Rinpoche's words on basic goodness have touched me. After receiving some of those teachings a couple years ago, I had a moment in retreat, standing alone in a meadow in the mountains, when I saw just how precious we all are, how beautiful, how hilarious, how worthy of love. And ever since then I've felt a sense of sweetness that runs like a thread through my days.

(Which doesn't mean I don't get pissed. I do get pissed. It just means I find us all pretty adorable and worthy most of the time.)

3. It Works Better to Relax 

Finally, it just works better to relax. I find that cultivating a mind of friendly acceptance, a sort of preemptive stance of kindness, of welcoming, makes for better, more transformative dharma practice.

What I am left with is . . . THIS. This aliveness. This moment. This miracle that is consciousness running through a physical form.

And so I have released a lot of my ideas of what a Buddhist practitioner looks like, or acts like,  or talks like.

More and more, I have come to trust the process. These are the waves. They are the ocean. Sometimes I know that, other times I don't.

But I'm not going to wait for some sky-high enlightenment to be thrilled and exalted. I'm thrilled out of my skull right now on this Thursday afternoon in August, right in the middle of it all, and I can't wait to see what happens next.

Sending you many good wishes,
Craig