Present Still

Not long ago, I was listening to a dharma talk by the Korean Buddhist monk  Ven. Beopsang when one line stopped me cold. "Why have I been trying so hard to hold on to things I can't change?" Something in my chest tightened.  And the more I sat with it, the more I realized — most of us are doing exactly this, every day. We try to change other people.  We try to change outcomes.  We try to undo what's already done.  But almost nothing actually shifts, and what we're left with is exhaustion. If something is weighing on you right now, try pausing and asking yourself: "Is this actually something I can change?" You might be surprised how much lighter things start to feel just from sitting with that question. Photo by the author We're Not Tired From Trying Too Hard — We're Fighting the Wrong Battle Most people assume burnout comes from working too much. But maybe what's really wearing us out is the relentless attempt to change what was never ours to...

"I want to know."  "I want to learn."  "I want to understand."  "I want to become even a little better." Before I truly studied the Four Iddhipada (the paths to spiritual success), I always thought chanda simply meant passion or raw enthusiasm.  I used to associate it with fierce determination and intense, consuming energy. However, while reflecting on vimamsa —the fourth factor of the Iddhipada—I discovered that chanda wasn't what I had imagined at all.  It is much closer to what we might call a wholesome desire, or a pure aspiration. Photo by the author Instead of an overwhelming, burning passion, chanda feels like a gentle, natural wish from the heart: The wish to know.  The wish to learn.  The wish to understand.  The wish to grow, even if just a little. This realization brought to mind a dharma talk by Venerable Wonbin , who once noted that desire and greed are fundamentally different . True desire means wanting something and willingly...

There are days when your body is here, but your mind is somewhere else.  While studying the Four Iddhipāda , I came across something that surprised me.  I had always assumed that the third factor, “mind,” referred to mindfulness itself. Photo by the author But looking into it more carefully, I realized the Buddha was pointing to citta — the mind actually settling where it is .  That made me wonder if what matters isn’t how long we spend doing something, but how much of ourselves is truly there while we’re doing it. So these days, I sometimes end the day with a simple question: “Was my mind really there today?” If you’d like to explore this further, you may enjoy my longer piece: [Working Hard but Nothing Changes? The Buddha’s Four Conditions for Success] In it, I explore the Four Iddhipāda in more detail and reflect on how chanda, viriya, citta, and vīmaṁsā work together as the foundations of meaningful change. You may also enjoy: [Why Doesn't Happiness Last? The...

You've worked hard. You've slept less, moved more, pushed harder than the people around you.  And yet, when you look back, not much has actually changed since a year ago. Why does this happen?  Why does life refuse to shift, no matter how much effort you pour into it?  Maybe you're feeling that frustration right now. Here's something you can try today.  The next time you sit down to do something, ask yourself just one question:  "Why do I actually want to do this?"  Nothing elaborate. Just that one question. We'll get into why it matters as we go. Photo by the author Working Hard Isn't the Same as Working Right Most people reach for the same fix: try harder. Wake up earlier, write longer to-do lists, grit your teeth and push through.  Strangely, this approach tends to work for a few days, then everything slides back to where it started. Why does that happen?  Because working hard and working in the right direction are two completely different thin...

Something good happens, and yet happiness never seems to stick around.  You finally reach a goal you'd been chasing, buy something you wanted, settle into a stable relationship—and still, before long, some new anxiety or emptiness creeps back in. Then a thought arrives, almost out of nowhere:  Should I really be satisfied with this? What should I aim for next? But why can't I just rest here—why do I always need to be doing something? Am I just too greedy? If you're sitting with some unexplained sense of lack or restlessness right now, try not to force it away. Just notice it . And take a moment to look back.  Was the happiness you've felt before ever permanent? That sweetness, that thrill—didn't it fade without a trace before long? Looking back, even the happiness we wanted so badly passed quickly. Sometimes we're so afraid of losing it that we can't even fully enjoy it while it's here—we spend the happy moment worrying about its end. Many people blame t...