Desert you are dry
Flowers struggle but blooming
Walking in beauty
The Integration of Zazen and Ritual: Reconsidering Dōgen’s “Just Sitting”
Introduction
A common interpretation of the Zen master Dōgen (1200–1253) is that he advocated a minimalist form of Buddhism centered exclusively on shikantaza, or “just sitting.” This reading often relies on a famous passage in the Bendōwa that appears to dismiss traditional Buddhist rituals. However, contemporary scholarship—especially the work of T. Griffith Foulk, Carl Bielefeldt, and William Bodiford—has challenged this anti-ritual interpretation. When Dōgen’s broader corpus is considered, especially the Eihei Shingi and Tenzo Kyōkun, it becomes clear that Dōgen did not merely tolerate ritual as a secondary feature of monastic life. He positively taught ritual, prescribed it in detail, and treated it as an essential component of Buddhist training. Rather than functioning as optional devotional exercises, chanting, bowing, offerings, liturgy, communal etiquette, and monastic forms constitute embodied expressions of what Dōgen understood as the unity of practice and realization (shushō ittō). Properly understood, zazen and ritual are not competing approaches but inseparable dimensions of a single Buddhist path.
The “Just Sitting” Directives
The primary evidence for the minimalist interpretation is found in Dōgen’s early writings, most notably the Bendōwa (1231). In this text, Dōgen writes: “You need not burn incense, make prostrations, recite the Buddha’s name, practice repentance, or read sutras. Just wholeheartedly sit, and thus drop off body and mind” (Dōgen, 2010, p. 11). Similarly, in the meditation manual Fukanzazengi (1227), he emphasizes the self-sufficiency of zazen: “The zazen I speak of is not learning meditation. It is simply the dharma gate of joyful ease, the practice-realization of complete enlightenment” (Dōgen, 2002, p. 30). Read in isolation, such passages can appear to reject ritual and devotional forms in favor of seated meditation alone. Yet that conclusion becomes difficult to maintain when these statements are read alongside Dōgen’s later monastic regulations and ritual instructions.
Ritual as Essential Practice in the Eihei Shingi
Dōgen’s own institutional activity as the founder of Eihei-ji contradicts any literal anti-ritual reading of the Bendōwa passage. In the Eihei Shingi, his comprehensive monastic code, Dōgen gives detailed instructions governing ceremonies, offerings, prostrations, chanting, monastic etiquette, and communal observances. As T. Griffith Foulk (2004) observes, “The specific rituals that seem to be disavowed in the Bendōwa passage are all prescribed for Zen monks, often in great detail, in Dōgen’s other writings. In Kuyo shobutsu, Dōgen recommends the practice of offering incense and making worshipful prostrations before Buddha images… In Chiji shingi he stipulates that the [monks] should burn incense and make prostrations (shoko raihai) and recite the buddhas’ names” (p. 239). Foulk’s observation demonstrates that the Bendōwa passage cannot reasonably be interpreted as Dōgen’s rejection of ritual. Such an interpretation is contradicted by Dōgen’s own later writings, in which he repeatedly mandates incense offerings, prostrations, chanting, formal ceremonies, and communal liturgy. The apparent contradiction is resolved once the Bendōwa is read as rejecting ritual performed as a substitute for awakening rather than ritual understood as the embodied enactment of awakening. In this light, the ritual world of Eihei-ji was not marginal to Dōgen’s teaching but one of its clearest historical realizations.
Practice Beyond the Cushion: The Tenzo Kyōkun
Dōgen’s view of ritual becomes even clearer in Tenzo Kyōkun (Instructions for the Cook, 1237), where he expands the meaning of practice beyond formal meditation to include every movement of daily life. He writes, “Handle even a single leaf of green in such a way that it manifests the body of the Buddha” (Dōgen, 1996, p. 37). He further warns against dividing activities into “spiritual” and “mundane”: “Do not think that because this is ordinary work it is not the Buddha Dharma. … You should transform the self in the midst of working with the ladle” (Dōgen, 1996, p. 38). These instructions show that for Dōgen, awakened practice is not confined to the meditation hall. Cooking, serving, cleaning, and attending to communal responsibilities are all concrete forms of Buddhist realization. By the same logic, prostration, chanting, and ceremonial observance are not secondary additions to zazen. They are equally modes through which the practitioner enacts the Buddha Way with the body.
Embodied Practice in The Essential Dogen
This embodied understanding of practice is also illuminated in Tanahashi and Levitt’s presentation of Dōgen. They write that bowing is an act through which one expresses respect for the Buddha, the Dharma, the Sangha, and the practice place itself, thereby sanctifying the space of training (Tanahashi & Levitt, 2013, p. 16). They further emphasize that bowing is not merely symbolic but a full expression of practice in bodily form: “To bow all the way to the floor and to bow standing are awesome presence in motion and stillness” (Tanahashi & Levitt, 2013, p. 17). Read in this way, bowing is not separate from zazen but another mode in which Dōgen’s understanding of practice-realization becomes visible. The body in prostration and the body in seated meditation both enact the same awakened discipline, differing in form but not in underlying significance. Tanahashi and Levitt also broaden Dōgen’s understanding of practice beyond the meditation hall, emphasizing that “mindfulness and a respectful heart in each moment are applied equally in meditation and other daily activities including work, interaction with others, and cleansing one’s body” (Tanahashi & Levitt, 2013, p. 19). They explain that this way of living allows practitioners to “clearly see, understand, and value what is right before us as none other than the wholeness of life itself” (p. 19). In this framing, even ordinary objects and actions participate in awakening: “even our eating bowls are the body and mind of buddha ancestors” (p. 19). Rather than treating ritual and daily labor as secondary to zazen, this interpretation presents them as part of the same continuous field of practice-realization.
The Continuing Sōtō Understanding of Ritual and Everyday Practice
Modern Sōtō teachers have continued to interpret Dōgen’s teaching as an integration of zazen, ritual, and everyday activity rather than as an exclusive emphasis on seated meditation alone. Their writings reinforce the understanding that ritual functions not as an alternative to awakening but as one of its indispensable embodied expressions. Dainin Katagiri Roshi consistently taught that Zen practice must be lived through the body rather than understood merely as an intellectual doctrine. In Returning to Silence, he explains that authentic Zen practice is realized in the activities of everyday life, where ordinary actions become expressions of Buddha-nature (Katagiri, 1988). Within this framework, bowing, chanting, ceremonial practice, work, and daily responsibilities are not viewed as religious ornamentation but as opportunities to embody the Buddha Way. This interpretation closely parallels Dōgen’s insistence that cooking, cleaning, eating, and communal responsibilities are themselves forms of practice-realization. Kosho Uchiyama Roshi offers a complementary perspective. As one of the most influential twentieth-century Sōtō teachers, Uchiyama strongly emphasized zazen as the indispensable heart of Zen practice. Following his teacher Kōdō Sawaki, he described zazen as “good for nothing,” meaning that it is practiced without striving for personal gain or attaining special experiences (Uchiyama et al., 2004). Yet Uchiyama did not reject ritual or everyday forms of practice. Rather, he understood careful attention to ordinary activities as inseparable from zazen itself. His teaching demonstrates that even among teachers who strongly emphasize “just sitting,” the realization of Zen naturally extends into daily conduct, relationships, work, and mindful care for one’s environment.
What Scholars Say
Scholars increasingly argue that the tension between “just sitting” and ritual is resolved once Dōgen’s doctrine of practice-realization is taken seriously. Carl Bielefeldt (2004) argues that Dōgen’s famous statements about “just sitting” should not be interpreted as abolishing traditional Buddhist practices; rather, zazen itself is the supreme ritual and the rest of monastic life extends the sacred space of the meditation hall (p. 205). This reading helps clarify why Dōgen could elevate zazen without dismissing other practices. Zazen is central, but it does not stand apart from monastic forms. Instead, ritual, etiquette, chanting, bowing, and work all become extensions of the same awakened discipline. Shohaku Okumura (2012) similarly explains that communal forms protect the practitioner from turning Zen into a private, ego-centered project: “If we only practice zazen and ignore the forms of the sangha, we easily fall into the trap of ‘my practice’ or ‘my enlightenment.’ Ritual and communal forms are the ways we drop the small self and move in harmony with others” (p. 84). Taken together, these scholars support the conclusion that Dōgen did not merely allow ritual to coexist with zazen. He taught ritual as essential because awakening, for him, must take concrete form in the body, in the monastery, and in the rhythms of communal life.
Conclusion
The evidence presented here suggests that ritual is not peripheral to Dōgen’s Buddhism but constitutive of it. Zazen remains the heart of practice, yet Dōgen consistently taught that awakening must be embodied through ritual, communal discipline, work, etiquette, and liturgy. The Eihei Shingi is therefore not an appendix to Dōgen’s teaching but one of its fullest expressions. To separate “just sitting” from the ritual life Dōgen established at Eihei-ji is to divide practices that Dōgen himself understood as inseparable manifestations of practice-realization. The strongest reading of the evidence is therefore not merely that Dōgen did not reject ritual, but that he actively taught it, institutionalized it, and regarded it as an essential part of Buddhist training.
References
Bielefeldt, C. (2004). Just sitting? Dōgen’s take on zazen, sutra reading, and other conventional Buddhist practices. In S. Heine & D. S. Wright (Eds.), The Zen canon: Understanding the classic texts (pp. 197–219). Oxford University Press.
Dōgen. (1996). Dōgen’s pure standards for the Zen community: A translation of Eihei Shingi (T. D. Leighton & S. Okumura, Trans.). State University of New York Press.
Dōgen. (2002). Fukanzazengi. In K. Tanahashi (Ed.), Moon in a dewdrop: Writings of Zen Master Dōgen. North Point Press.
Dōgen. (2010). Treasury of the true dharma eye: Zen essays by Dōgen (K. Tanahashi, Ed. & Trans.). Shambhala Publications.
Foulk, T. G. (2004). Dōgen. In R. E. Buswell Jr. (Ed.), Encyclopedia of Buddhism (Vol. 1, pp. 238–240). Macmillan Reference USA.
Katagiri, D. (1988). Returning to silence: Zen practice in daily life. Shambhala Publications.
Okumura, S. (2012). Living by vow: A practical introduction to eight essential Zen chants and texts. Wisdom Publications.
Tanahashi, K. (Ed.). (1985). Moon in a dewdrop: Writings of Zen Master Dōgen. North Point Press.
Tanahashi, K., & Levitt, P. (Eds. & Trans.). (2013). The essential Dogen: Writings of the great Zen master. Shambhala Publications.
Uchiyama, K., Wright, T., Warner, J., & Okumura, S. (2004). Opening the hand of thought: Foundations of Zen Buddhist practice (Rev. ed.). Wisdom Publications.
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The Sin of War, The Cost of Silence
War, at its core, is organized killing. Across ethical traditions, the deliberate taking of human life, particularly at scale, raises profound moral concerns. Within Catholic social teaching, the sanctity of life is foundational: every person bears inherent dignity that cannot be overridden by expedience or power. The just war tradition, developed to constrain violence, sets strict criteria, last resort, proportionality, discrimination between combatants and noncombatants. Modern warfare, with its capacity for mass civilian harm, increasingly fails these tests. When violence becomes indiscriminate or disproportionate, it is not merely tragic; it is morally disordered.
Similarly, Buddhist ethics, grounded in the First Precept, to refrain from taking life, frames killing as a source of suffering (dukkha) that reverberates through individuals and societies. The teachings emphasize interdependence: harm inflicted on others ultimately harms oneself and the broader web of life. War, especially when fueled by anger, fear, or delusion, represents a profound breach of this ethical commitment. It conditions further violence and obscures the clarity required for compassionate action.
Against this backdrop, rhetoric that threatens the destruction of an entire people or civilization must be evaluated with moral seriousness. Statements attributed to Donald Trump suggesting such annihilation are ethically indefensible under both traditions. Catholic teaching would reject them as violations of human dignity and the moral limits on force; Buddhist teaching would see them as arising from and reinforcing unwholesome mental states, with grave karmic consequences.
Moral responsibility does not end with leaders. Ethical traditions consistently hold that those who endorse, enable, or remain willfully indifferent to grave wrongdoing share in its consequences. To support rhetoric or policies that normalize mass harm is to participate, however indirectly, in the erosion of moral boundaries that protect life.
A consistent ethical stance, therefore, requires more than opposing violence in the abstract. It calls for clear discernment, moral courage, and a refusal to legitimize threats against entire populations. In both Catholic and Buddhist frameworks, the measure is the same: actions and words must align with the preservation of life, the reduction of suffering, and the recognition of our shared humanity.
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Acknowledging Racism Where It Exists
Bearing Witness and Doing Good
I’ve been thinking about bearing witness and doing good. This last month I’ve been thinking of it in terms of my practice and the state of our country. Part of the current state of our country is clearly rooted in racism. Racism is not just a matter of people with obviously hateful attitudes. It is also the quieter decisions, the excuses, and the systems that treat some people as less worthy of safety, dignity, and belonging. There are multiple definitions of racism, but I find this one to be helpful and clear.
Racism is a system of advantage and oppression based on race, maintained through policies, practices, and cultural norms that reinforce racial hierarchies, whether or not individuals consciously intend to be racist.
When we talk about racism, we are not only talking about slurs and insults. We are also talking about how society is built, who is seen as fully human, and whose suffering is ignored or explained away. Today we see this when American citizens are racially profiled and it is called “immigration enforcement.” When someone is stopped because they are brown, or Black, or have a certain last name, that is not neutral law enforcement, that is racism being justified with legal language. We also see it in dehumanizing images, such as posting pictures of Barack and Michelle Obama’s heads on ape bodies. This is not just “bad taste” or “edgy humor.” It echoes a long and brutal history of comparing Black people to animals, in order to justify slavery, segregation, and violence. It is clearly racist, and it is morally outrageous.
If a person cannot see that, or refuses to admit it, the issue is not subtlety. It is a refusal to recognize the humanity of others. And when a platform says, “someone else posted it,” but will not apologize, moderate, or hold anyone accountable, that is not neutrality, it is participation. If we care about ethics and morality, if we care about spiritual practice, then we have to care about this.
A Brief and Honest History of Racism in the United States
This history is painful but naming it clearly is part of honoring those who have suffered, and it helps us not repeat the same patterns in new forms.
Slavery and Its Legacy
- African slavery in the United States was formally present from the early 1600s
- Enslaved Africans were recorded in Virginia as early as 1619
- Slavery became legally and economically central in the colonies, and later the United States
- The Thirteenth Amendment, adopted in 1865, formally abolished slavery, except as punishment for a crime
- Racist systems then continued through convict leasing, sharecropping, and discriminatory laws
Slavery was not just about unpaid labor. It was a system that required the idea that Black people were less than human. That same logic still shows up today in dehumanizing images and in policies that treat Black communities as disposable.
Violence against Black People and Black Churches
After the Civil War, white supremacist terror was used to keep Black people “in their place.”
- The Ku Klux Klan and similar groups used lynching, threats, and public violence to create fear
- Black churches, which have long been centers of spiritual life, organizing, and community, were attacked and burned
- This violence continued into the twentieth and twenty first centuries
Examples include the 1963 bombing of the 16th Street Baptist Church in Birmingham, Alabama, where four Black girls were killed. More recently, in 2015, a white supremacist murdered nine Black worshippers at Emanuel African Methodist Episcopal Church in Charleston, South Carolina. Many other Black churches have been burned or vandalized, before and since.
These are not random acts. They are attacks on the bodies, spirits, and gathering places of Black people.
Racism against Jewish People in the United States
Anti-Jewish hatred, or antisemitism, has also been part of United States history. Jewish people have faced:
- Employment and housing discrimination
- Restrictions at universities and clubs
- Stereotyping and scapegoating in media and politics
In recent years, the 2018 mass shooting at the Tree of Life Synagogue in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, was one of the deadliest attacks on Jewish people in United States history. The shooter was motivated by antisemitic conspiracy theories. There have been many other attacks and threats against synagogues, Jewish schools, and community centers.
Antisemitism is deeply connected to racism and other forms of hatred. All of these systems share a logic that says some groups are dangerous, less human, or a threat to “real” Americans.
Immigration, Racial Profiling, and Who Is Seen as “American”
Racism also shows up when immigration policy is used as a shield for discrimination.
- Chinese immigrants faced the Chinese Exclusion Act of 1882, which explicitly targeted one ethnic group
- Japanese Americans were forced into internment camps during World War Two
- Latino, Muslim, Arab, and South Asian communities have been heavily surveilled, profiled, and detained, especially after September 11, 2001
When American citizens are stopped, questioned, or detained because they “look foreign,” what is really happening is racial profiling. Calling that “immigration enforcement” does not erase the racism behind it.
When Platforms and Leaders Fail to Acknowledge Racism
When racist content appears on a website, a social media feed, or a public platform, there is a basic moral responsibility:
- Acknowledge that it is racist
- Apologize for the harm caused
- Remove it and, if appropriate, fire or discipline the person responsible
- Commit to better supervision and moderation going forward
If someone refuses to do even that much, they are not just “uninformed,” they are choosing not to see. And if we find ourselves making excuses for clearly racist acts, it may be time to honestly examine our own hearts.
Goodness and Bearing Witness
Buddhism is often associated with inner peace, meditation, and personal transformation. That is important, but so are core teachings about action.
- See reality clearly
- Avoid causing harm
- Develop compassion and wisdom
Seeing Clearly: Ignorance and Awakening
The root of suffering is ignorance or delusion.
“All tremble at violence, all fear death. Comparing others with oneself, one should neither kill nor cause to kill.”
— Dhammapada, verse 129
Racism depends on a failure to “compare others with oneself.” It relies on the idea that “they” do not feel as deeply as “we” do, that “they” are less worthy of protection. When we deny racism where it clearly exists, we are participating in ignorance, not wisdom.
Doing Good and Avoiding Harm
Buddhist ethics, or sila, are not just about our private minds. They are about what we say and do in the world.
“Avoid all evil, cultivate the good, and cleanse your own mind, this is the teaching of the Buddhas.”
— Dhammapada, verse 183
Avoiding evil does not only mean refusing to personally insult or harm others. It also means not supporting systems or images that dehumanize people. Cultivating good includes speaking up, creating safer spaces, and standing with those who are targeted. “Cleansing your own mind” includes looking honestly at any racism, bias, or indifference that lives in us, and working to transform it.
Bearing Witness
I took vows as a Buddhist Priest which express a commitment to work for the liberation of all beings, not just oneself. One common formulation is:
“Beings are numberless, I vow to save them.
Delusions are inexhaustible, I vow to end them.
Dharma gates are boundless, I vow to enter them.
The Buddha way is unsurpassable, I vow to realize it.”
If beings are numberless, and we vow to serve them all, there is no room to quietly accept that some people are treated as less than human because of their race, ethnicity, or religion. If delusions are inexhaustible, then racism and the denial of racism are exactly the kinds of delusions we are called to confront.
Zen teacher Bernie Glassman, who worked deeply in social justice and interfaith peacemaking, spoke about bearing witness as a core spiritual practice. He described three tenets: not knowing, bearing witness, and loving action.
“To bear witness is to plunge into the unknown and then to let the universe itself reveal the healing action that needs to be taken.”
— Bernie Glassman, see the Zen Peacemakers’ explanation of the Three Tenets at Zen Peacemakers
Bearing witness to racism means we do not turn away. We allow ourselves to truly see the suffering caused by racism, without immediately trying to minimize it, explain it away, or rush past it. From that honest seeing, compassionate action can arise.
Truths
When we put history, ethics, and spiritual practice together, some core truths become clear:
- Racism causes suffering
Individuals, families, and whole communities carry trauma from generations of slavery, discrimination, violence, and dehumanization - Seeing racism is the beginning of healing
Refusing to acknowledge it keeps the wound open - Naming racism is a moral and spiritual act
Silence and “neutrality” in the face of obvious harm are forms of participation - Bearing witness is part of Buddhist and most Christian practice
We are asked to see suffering clearly, to stand with those who are harmed, and to let compassion guide our actions - Choosing to stop harm is doing good
Apologizing, changing policies, holding people accountable, and examining our own hearts are all expressions of right action
My Perspective
From my perspective, if you cannot see the racism in racially profiling American citizens under the name of “immigration enforcement,” or in posting the Obamas’ heads on ape bodies, then the work is not out there, it is inside. It is time to pause, to reflect deeply, and to ask what you might be unwilling to see.
If something racist appears on a platform you run, and your response is to deny, deflect, or shrug, that is not spiritual maturity, and it is not ethical leadership. A sincere response would be to say, “This is wrong, it is racist, it causes harm, and I am sorry it happened here.” Then, to take real steps to prevent it from happening again. My practice does not ask me to be perfect. It asks me to be honest, to cultivate compassion, and to keep turning toward what is real, even when it is uncomfortable. Racism is real. The suffering it causes is real. Our responsibility to bear witness and to do good is also real. If we are willing to see, to listen, and to act, then our spiritual practice can become part of healing, rather than part of the problem.
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Bearing Witness: Health Professionals’ Role in Immigration Detention
I read the recent reporting on Some Public Health Service officers deployed in detention centers suffer ‘moral distress with a mixture of recognition and concern. I spent three years working inside that system, first as a Health Services Administrator at an immigration detention facility, and later as Chief of Field Operations overseeing all health services across the United States of America. I also served as a commissioned officer in the U.S. Public Health Service because I believed, and still believe, in its mission to serve the poor, the underserved, and the most vulnerable.
During my tenure, advocacy groups often criticized those of us working within immigration detention. They assumed that participation itself implied indifference or harm. That assumption does not reflect the reality I witnessed daily. Many Public Health Service officers worked under extraordinarily difficult circumstances with a clear ethical commitment to patient care. We were not policy-makers; we were clinicians and public health professionals trying to reduce suffering where it already existed.
Concrete practices mattered. We implemented telemedicine systems in 1998 to ensure access to specialty care. This included mental health services. We did this long before such models became routine elsewhere. Individuals received comprehensive history and physical examinations within seven days of arrival. This care is often more thorough than what many Americans receive in the community today. When people were released, we worked to connect them with community organizations, ensure continuity of medications, and reduce the risk of care disruption.
That commitment extended beyond U.S. borders. I participated in a deployment to Guatemala during a mass migration event involving individuals from China. Even with limited resources, we conducted full physical examinations. We performed tuberculosis screenings and provided treatment to those in need. The human cost of migration was unmistakable. It was one of the saddest times in my PHS career and the one when I felt least able to help. I still remember riding on a bus to the airport. I watched the Guatemalan countryside pass by. A woman quietly remarked that she wished these people could escape to China. Her statement captured both despair and moral complexity.
Bearing Witness and Doing Good
I am also a Buddhist priest, and my understanding of this work is shaped by the Buddhist commitments to Bearing Witness and Doing Good. Bearing witness requires entering places of suffering without turning away, without denial, and without premature judgment. Doing good is not abstract moral purity; it is the daily, imperfect act of alleviating suffering where one stands.
A teaching that has deeply informed my understanding of care partnership comes from Chodō, who spoke of Jizō Bodhisattva, the bodhisattva who vows to enter the hell realms and not abandon those trapped there. Jizō does not wait for the world to be just before offering care. He does not ask who is deserving. He goes where suffering is greatest and remains present. For me, immigration detention often functioned as a kind of hell realm, not because of the individuals working within it, but because of the profound isolation, fear, and loss experienced by those confined there.
Much of our work was precisely this: staying present, providing care, and refusing abandonment in a place many preferred not to see. That, to me, is care partnership, not rescue, not endorsement of the system, but accompaniment within it.
If we are serious about justice and human dignity, we must be able to hold two truths at once: that immigration detention raises profound moral concerns, and that compassionate, competent health professionals inside those facilities have worked, often quietly and imperfectly, to bear witness and do good in the midst of suffering.
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DHS: A Cautionary Tale of Security and Civil Liberties
In the aftermath of the September 11, 2001 terrorist attacks, the United States Congress undertook the most significant reorganization of the federal government since World War II. The centerpiece of this effort was the creation of the Department of Homeland Security, established by the Homeland Security Act of 2002. The stated goal was coordination: to break down information silos, improve intelligence sharing, and prevent future attacks. The structural outcome, however, was the consolidation of extraordinary powers—many previously constrained by distinct missions, oversight mechanisms, and legal cultures—into a single department oriented toward “security” rather than civil governance. When I was initially reading the legislation and the subsequent Presidental Decision Directives and then the Homeland Security Presidential Directives I found it alarming. What would this look like in 20 years? Now we know.
Key Legislation
- Homeland Security Act of 2002, Pub. L. 107-296
- USA PATRIOT Act, Pub. L. 107-56
- U.S. Government Accountability Office (GAO) reports on DHS oversight and management
- American Civil Liberties Union (ACLU) analyses of DHS authorities and civil liberties
- Congressional Research Service (CRS) reports on DHS structure and mission evolution
At the time, civil liberties advocates, legal scholars, and some legislators warned that this consolidation carried long-term risks. Those warnings centered not on immediate authoritarianism, but on institutional drift: how emergency powers, once normalized, tend to expand in scope, migrate inward, and persist long after the precipitating crisis has passed.
The Legal Architecture
The Homeland Security Act of 2002 (HSA) merged 22 separate agencies into DHS, including the Immigration and Naturalization Service, U.S. Customs Service, Border Patrol, Transportation Security Administration (TSA), and the Federal Emergency Management Agency (FEMA). Many of these agencies had historically distinct purposes ranging from disaster response to customs revenue collection, and operated under different oversight regimes.
The HSA granted DHS broad authority to:
- Prevent terrorist attacks within the United States
- Reduce vulnerability to terrorism
- Minimize damage from attacks that occur
- Coordinate domestic intelligence and enforcement activities
Crucially, the statute emphasized prevention and risk management, concepts that inherently encourage anticipatory action rather than reactive law enforcement. This orientation lowers traditional thresholds for intervention and shifts legal culture away from post-hoc accountability.
Parallel to the HSA, Congress passed the USA PATRIOT Act, which dramatically expanded surveillance authorities, information sharing, and investigative powers. While the PATRIOT Act did not create DHS, it provided the legal environment in which DHS would operate: one that privileged secrecy, speed, and preemption over transparency and due process.
Structural Problems Embedded in Design
Several features of DHS are structurally problematic from a civil-liberties perspective:
- Mission Creep
DHS was created to prevent terrorism, but its remit has steadily expanded into routine immigration enforcement, domestic policing, protest surveillance, and data aggregation unrelated to terrorism. Agencies such as ICE and CBP now perform functions that resemble a national internal security force rather than border-specific enforcement bodies. - Weak and Fragmented Oversight
DHS reports to more congressional committees than any other federal department, diffusing responsibility and diluting accountability. This fragmentation makes sustained oversight difficult and allows controversial practices to persist without coordinated legislative correction. - Fusion of Intelligence and Policing
DHS integrates intelligence analysis with operational enforcement. Historically, U.S. governance maintained clearer separation between intelligence gathering (foreign-focused) and domestic law enforcement to avoid political policing. DHS blurs this boundary, particularly through fusion centers and information-sharing networks with state and local police. - Emergency Powers as Normal Governance
Authorities justified as temporary responses to extraordinary threats have become routine tools. Surveillance, watchlists, administrative detention, and expansive border enforcement have been normalized rather than sunsetted.
The Twenty-Year Arc
Predictions made in the early 2000s did not suggest an immediate loss of democracy, but rather a slow recalibration of norms. Two decades later, several outcomes align with those concerns:
- Militarization of Civil Enforcement: DHS agencies routinely employ military-grade equipment, tactics, and command structures in civilian contexts.
- Reduced Due Process Protections: Immigration enforcement under DHS operates largely outside traditional constitutional safeguards afforded in criminal law.
- Domestic Deployment: DHS personnel have been deployed for crowd control and protest response, raising concerns about federalized policing detached from local accountability.
- Data-Driven Governance: Risk scoring, watchlists, and algorithmic suspicion operate with limited transparency and minimal avenues for redress.
None of these developments required a single authoritarian decision. They emerged through cumulative statutory interpretation, administrative rulemaking, and political incentives that favor security maximalism.
Why the “Slippery Slope” Argument Matters
The post-9/11 restructuring reveals a classic institutional dynamic. When fear justifies consolidation. Consolidation reduces friction. As a result, power tends to gravitate towards coercive capacity rather than restraint. The concern is not that DHS was designed to be authoritarian, but that its structure makes rights-restrictive outcomes more likely over time, especially during periods of political stress.
Democratic erosion, when it occurs, rarely announces itself. It arrives through normalized exceptions, administrative convenience, and the gradual redefinition of who counts as deserving full rights.
The creation of DHS represents a pivotal moment in U.S. governance. It reflects how emergencies reshape institutions—and how those institutions, once reshaped, outlast the emergency. Understanding the Homeland Security Act of 2002 not as a singular overreach but as a foundational reorientation helps explain why concerns raised twenty years ago remain salient today. The challenge now is not retrospective blame, but deliberate re-examination of whether the balance between security and liberty has drifted too far, and whether meaningful structural correction is still possible.
For those curious about the warning and analysis at the time here is some suggested reading:
- David Cole, Where Liberty Lies: Civil Society and Individual Rights After 9/11 – A law review article analyzing constitutional and civil-liberties implications of post-9/11 law and policy, including DHS and related statutes.
- D.W. Sutherland, Homeland Security and Civil Liberties – Published legal scholarship focusing on the tension between homeland security initiatives and individual rights, with constitutional framing and interpretation.
- Dara Kay Cohen, Mariano-Florentino Cuéllar & Barry R. Weingast, Homeland Security and the Political Design of Legal Mandates – A widely cited Stanford Law Review piece (167+ citations) on how bureaucratic design following 9/11 reshaped legal authority and regulatory outcomes.
- C Perrow, The Disaster after 9/11: The Department of Homeland … – A scholarly audit of structural choices in homeland security reforms, including organizational design and power centralization.
- S Warwick, Will the Academy Survive 9/11? Scholarship, Security, and … – A 2005 academic paper linking legislative responses (including the PATRIOT Act and homeland security law) to impacts on academic freedom, surveillance norms, and civil liberties.
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Transforming Anger Through Mindfulness and Compassion
I suspect most people have experienced anger. Most recognize it as an undesirable emotion. At least they used to. In the last few years it seems as if rage and anger are being encouraged as desirable qualities. Most of my life I was content not to act on anger. As I’ve gotten older, I have hopefully grown wiser. I have learned to think about anger when I feel it. I hope to understand it. Then, I work to let go of the anger as part of my practice.
In Buddhist teaching, anger is not treated as a moral failure. Instead, it is viewed as a mental state. This state can be understood, examined, and transformed. It is considered one of the three unwholesome roots. Greed and delusion are the others. These roots give rise to suffering for oneself and others.
"I vow to abstain from the harboring of hatred, malice, or ill will."
What is the nature of anger? Anger arises when experience clashes with expectation: when things do not go as hoped, desired, or believed to be “fair.” Buddhism frames this not as an external problem caused by others. Instead, it sees anger as an internal reaction shaped by attachment and misunderstanding. Anger is impermanent, conditioned, and dependent on causes. Because it is conditioned, it can change.
Zen master Eihei Dōgen emphasized careful attention to mind states as they arise. In Shōbōgenzō, he writes that practice requires intimate awareness of cause and effect. It includes those mental states that appear small or passing. Yet, they carry far-reaching consequences. Anger, when left unexamined, becomes one such cause with enduring effects. The effects can spread beyond the immediate moment and have far reaching impact that are unseen.
The Buddha consistently taught that anger harms the one who carries it most. It clouds perception, narrows judgment, and fuels actions that often lead to regret. The Dhammapada famously observes that hatred is never ended by hatred. It is only ended by non-hatred or compassion. This is an empirical claim grounded in human experience rather than moral exhortation.
A parallel teaching appears in Jewish scripture. In Deuteronomy 28:47–48, the text warns that when one serves out of distress and inner turmoil rather than clarity and purpose, the result is bondage rather than freedom. Rabbinic tradition interprets unchecked anger and hatred as forms of inner enslavement. A person is no longer acting freely. They are ruled by destructive emotions. Thus, the person is enslaved by anger.
Rather than suppressing anger or acting it out, Buddhism emphasizes that mindful awareness is the appropriate response. When anger arises, practitioners are encouraged to notice it directly: its physical sensations, emotional tone, and accompanying thoughts. Naming it, “anger is present,” creates a small but meaningful distance between the feeling and the self. This space allows wisdom to replace the reactive nature of anger.
Loving-kindness (metta) and compassion are presented as direct treatments for anger. Importantly, these practices begin with oneself. Recognizing one’s own suffering reduces the tendency to project blame outward. From this foundation, compassion can extend to others, including those who may have triggered the anger. This does not mean excusing harm; it means responding without hatred.
Buddhist teachings on anger are basically pragmatic. Anger is not condemned, but it is not indulged either. Dōgen taught that freedom lies in seeing clearly how suffering is created moment by moment and choosing not to perpetuate it. Jewish ethical teaching similarly holds that mastery over anger is essential to human dignity and moral freedom.
Across traditions, anger is understood not simply as an emotion, but as a condition that, if left unchecked, binds the individual. Awareness, discipline, and compassion are crucial tools. These tools help one return to freedom internally and ethically. They do so without denying the realities that provoke anger in the first place.
Some practice approaches may include:
- Pause and Sit with the Body
When anger arises, stop before responding. Notice where it manifests physically—tightness in the jaw, heat in the chest, contraction in the abdomen. In Soto Zen, returning to the body anchors the mind and interrupts escalation. This is not analysis; it is direct observation. - Name the State Precisely
- Silently acknowledge: “Anger is present.” Avoid narratives such as “I am angry because…” Naming the state without ownership creates space between awareness and reaction. This aligns with non-identification rather than suppression.
- Cultivate Loving-Kindness After Clarity Returns
Once the feeling of anger has softened, extend simple wishes of well-being to yourself first. Then, if possible, extend them to others involved. This is a practice of repair, not excuse. - Commit to Non-Transmission
A practical vow: “I will not pass this anger on.” Even when anger is justified, one can choose not to perpetuate it through words or actions. This is freedom expressed in conduct.
I always remind myself to return to the breath and not the story. Allowing attention to rest on breathing as it is. I do not attempt to calm anger away. I simply stay with inhalation and exhalation until the intensity naturally shifts. In Soto Zen, stability precedes insight. The practice has been helpful to me.
In Soto Zen practice, freedom is not defined by the absence of anger. It is defined by the capacity to meet anger without being compelled by it. Dōgen taught that each moment of mind is a time of cause and effect. Even small, unexamined reactions can shape far-reaching consequences. When anger arises and is met with awareness, restraint, and compassion, the chain of suffering is interrupted rather than extended. This is not passivity or denial; it is disciplined clarity. Across Buddhist and other religious ethical traditions alike, mastery of anger is seen as a practice of dignity. It restores moral agency by allowing individuals to act from wisdom rather than impulse. It helps individuals choose freedom even when provoked.
I wrote this blog post. I was still considering whether to post it on Facebook by Luang Phor Jaran Thitathammo https://www.facebook.com/share/p/1Ah2QMPsXK/. This is a person I would like to share a cup of tea with. I would love to have a long conversation or maybe just sit together.
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Vows in a Time of Violence
The last few days have been filled with pain and violence:
the shootings at Brown University, the attack in Australia on people celebrating Hanukkah, the murder of our soldiers in Syria, the murder of Rob Rhiner, and the ongoing deaths and injuries from gun violence across the United States including 13,956 deaths and 31,803 injuries this year.
When I see face suffering, I turn to the my vows not as a way to escape the world, but as a way to stay present with it and with those who are suffering.
From the Three Refuges I remember:
- I take refuge in the Buddha – in the possibility of awakening of all beings, including those caught in hatred and fear.
- I take refuge in the Dharma – in teachings that show another way besides violence and revenge.
- I take refuge in the Sangha – in community, knowing we can hold grief together and act together.
From the Three Pure Precepts, I remember:
- I vow to abstain from the unwholesome – from words and actions that add more fear, hatred, or division.
- I vow to do the wholesome – to comfort the wounded, listen deeply, and stand with those who are targeted.
- I vow to benefit all beings – including victims, families, first responders, and even those who cause harm, recognizing that all are caught in webs of causes and conditions.
From the Ten Great Precepts, I remember especially:
- I vow to abstain from the willful taking of life.
- I vow to abstain from indulging in harmful intoxicants, including the intoxication of rage and “us versus them” thinking.
- I vow to abstain from speaking ill of others and from telling lies, knowing that careless words can fuel the climate in which violence grows.
- I vow to abstain from harboring hatred, malice, or ill will, even as I work to prevent harm.
Holding these vows, I mourn every life lost and every body and spirit wounded by violence and hate. I refuse to let these deaths become numbers or headlines that quickly fade. Each person is a whole world.
May we use our grief as a vow:
- to look honestly at the conditions that allow such violence to flourish,
- to support wise and compassionate policies that protect life,
- and to cultivate in our own hearts the peace we wish to see in our communities.
May those who have died be at peace.
May those who are wounded find healing.
May those who mourn be held in love.
May we who remain renew our commitment: not to turn away, and not to add to the violence in thought, word, or deed.
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From Violence to Peace: A Personal Journey
Today, I brought ten guns, once part of my family’s life, to the Albuquerque Crime Lab for safe disposal. The officers I met were kind, respectful, and professional. I am grateful to know these weapons will never harm another being. Instead, they will be transformed, perhaps into art. They might become something entirely new and useful.
Acts of violence leave deep, lasting trauma. For those directly harmed, the pain may last a lifetime; for those who lose loved ones, the grief never fully fades. Mine has not. While most gun owners are responsible, circumstances can change in an instant. A moment of lost control, careless handling, or theft can lead to irreparable tragedy.
We need reasonable solutions to reduce violence. These include policies that protect the public and offer compassionate services for victims. We need environments of safety and love as well as education that nurtures emotional resilience. True prevention is not just about rules. It’s about fostering the ability to face strong emotions. This helps ensure individuals do not harm themselves or others.
Soto Zen offers a simple yet profound precept: “I vow not to kill.” Dōgen Zenji might suggest we go further and cherish all life.
“To study the Buddha Way is to study the self. To study the self is to forget the self. To forget the self is to be enlightened by all beings.” –Dogen
When we see ourselves reflected in all beings, the thought of harm becomes unthinkable. Our practice is to live in a way that protects life, human and non-human, through wisdom, compassion, and mindful action.
The guns are gone now. In their absence, I feel a quiet space. A space where violence does not have the last word. My hope is that we each find our own way to lay down the tools of harm and take up the tools of care, healing, and peace. Laying down guns is important to me. I have seen the devastation they can bring, not only in the moment of violence but in the long shadows that follow. I know what it is to live with that grief, and I will always make time for anyone who has experienced violence and needs a safe place to talk. My door and my heart will remain open, because healing begins when we are heard without judgment and held in compassion.
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Family Guns, Memories, and a Culture of Violence
My grandmother kept a shotgun on the back porch. It was not a weapon of war, nor a tool of intimidation. It was a farmer’s tool, loaded with rock salt to drive away predators from her pigs and chickens. That old shotgun, now rusted and unsafe, sits with me today. It is more relic than firearm, a reminder of a life tied to the land and the rhythms of rural survival.
On August 5, 2025, my oldest brother died. In his house, I found ten guns. There was one shotgun and six rifles. One rifle looked like it was meant for shooting from a distance and was complete with a scope. There were also three handguns. I handled them the way you handle something both dangerous and heavy with meaning. I had my husband check each one to ensure it was unloaded. Then, I left each open so it was clear it was unloaded. After that, I drove them across the country in the trunk of our car.
After a quiet drive across the country, I laid them out on my garage floor. I considered keeping them, perhaps even melting them down into a single piece of steel I could hold as a symbolic gesture against violence. But that, I realized, would be attachment, clinging to the form of something I had already chosen to release. Instead, I made arrangements to turn them in to the Albuquerque crime lab which will destroy them and give the scrape metal to local artist to repurpose into something beautiful. “Do not chase after the past, do not seek the future. The past is gone; the future has not yet come.” —Bhaddekaratta Sutta (MN 131) in the Pali Canon
Guns have been part of my family’s story for generations. But they are not part of my identity. I do not hunt. I do not shoot. I do not find comfort or pride in owning them. For me, their presence is a reminder of a broader American story, one of a culture where firearms are more than tools; they are symbols, sometimes of independence, sometimes of fear, sometimes of dominance.
We live in a country where gun ownership is often woven into ideas of personal freedom, family tradition, and self-reliance. Yet alongside those values exists an undeniable truth: our nation’s relationship with guns feeds cycles of violence. We revere the object and avoid the harder questions about why we feel we need them, about the cost in human lives, and about the other ways safety could be achieved.
I hold my grandmother’s shotgun and my brother’s rifles not as weapons, but as artifacts. They are pieces of history, both personal and cultural. But I also hold a conviction that the worth of a life is greater than the worth of any gun. We must evaluate the values that prioritize the gun over the person. If we do not, we will keep living in a culture that quietly accepts violence as the price of tradition.
Everyone fears punishment; everyone holds their life dear. Putting oneself in another’s place, one should not beat or kill others. Him I call a brahmin who has put aside weapons and renounced violence toward all creatures. He neither kills nor helps others to kill. —Dhammapada, Chapter 10 and Chapter 26
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Remembering My Brother, Calvin A. Proffitt III
The summer before I started first grade, my first clear memory of my oldest brother Calvin was watching him leave for the Navy. My mother cried; my father beamed with pride. It was the era of the Vietnam War, though Calvin never went to Vietnam and instead served in the Mediterranean. I became the lucky recipient of dolls from the countries he visited. His leaving marked the beginning of a quiet admiration I carried for him all my life.
“All conditioned things are impermanent—when one sees this with wisdom, one turns away from suffering.” — Dhammapada, verse 277
Calvin gave me experiences I’ll never forget – my first motorcycle ride, taking me to my first concert, to see Steve Martin live, and into the laughter of shared adventures of the disco era. My college friends loved him for his warmth and generosity – he always picked up the bill when we went out. They knew that time with him meant good company, free drinks and food, and a generous heart.
He had quirks that made us smile—standing in his underwear while Mom hemmed his pants, certain she’d finish faster that way. He was that at ease, that sure of his place in the family.
He loved deeply, especially his stepdaughters and the grandchildren they brought into his life. As guardian to three of the grandchildren, he cared for them until just weeks before he passed. Perhaps he sensed the end and didn’t want them to see it. He told them to stay with their mother “until school starts,” hoping to have the air conditioner fixed for their return. Even then, his thoughts were for their comfort.
After his death, I walked through his home and saw pieces of him, orderly tax returns, a habit from our mother including the habit of never throwing any of them out. You don’t need to keep a lifetime of tax returns. But the sketchbooks once filled with his beautiful pencil drawings were gone. The guns, mostly our father’s, were neglected. The house was in disrepair, and the estate paperwork unfinished. Yet what remained most vividly was not the state of his possessions, but the memories of the man he was.
I remember the striking young man with wavy blond hair, blue eyes, and a strong frame. I grieve that his wife had moved out last year and that he died alone. My heart aches for his grandchildren, who lost both their home and the one person who loved them without condition. When they came for school clothes and supplies he had already set aside, I wished I could give them the security and love he gave so freely. I wish I could fix the house for them and give them the keys. I walked through my parents’ home one last time, cherished the sight of my mother’s china, and locked the door behind me. It was a sad goodbye to my parents’ home and my last brother.
I wish I had called him one more time.
Rest well, Calvin. I carry your memory with love.
Cicadas still sing
Death on a hot summer night
No end—not no love
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Is UNM Prepared for Campus Emergencies? A Critical Review
Today the Albuquerque Journal reported, “UNM exploring why 14-year-old was on campus, says it plans to upgrade emergency alert system.” But this response barely scratches the surface of the deep safety issues facing our campus.
The problem is not just communication. It’s the pervasive lack of prevention and physical protection. Many campus buildings lack panic buttons, secure hiding spaces, and structural safety features. Many offices in newer buildings are encased in glass. Suite entrances also feature glass, leaving no place to shelter during an active shooter situation. Desks offer no concealment, and there are too few emergency call boxes to rely on. Meanwhile, the campus is poorly lit, and police presence seems minimal; I can go weeks without seeing an officer.
These issues are compounded by the reality that the campus is wide open. Almost anyone can walk into nearly any building. Ironically, the administration building requires badge access, while the rest of us remain exposed. Training resident assistants in dorms and police won’t change the fact that by the time help arrives, the harm is often already done.
The widely promoted “Run, Hide, Fight” strategy for active shooter situations assumes that individuals have access to concealed, secure areas where they can safely hide if escape is not possible. However, on much of the UNM campus, particularly in newer or renovated buildings, this guidance becomes nearly impossible to follow. Glass-fronted offices and open-layout suites provide no visual barriers or physical protection. Hiding behind a desk in a glass room offers no concealmenant. An assailant can see directly inside. Even interior office doors are often glass-paneled, and few spaces can be locked quickly. Without opaque walls, secure locks, and protected shelter areas, the “hide” piece of “Run, Hide, Fight” becomes a dangerous illusion. Occupants are left fully exposed and vulnerable while waiting for help that may arrive too late. In a recent incident, campus police were called multiple times before anyone answered. There was never an alert sent out.
Beyond campus borders, safety continues to deteriorate. Central Avenue has become a corridor of unchecked violence. Murder and crime rates are rising, and the city has failed to address them. And yet, no physical barriers, no controlled entry points, and no substantive improvements have been made to protect those who study and work here.
Consider these alarming facts:
- In 2023, UNM’s Clery Report documented 609 Clery‑reportable crimes, roughly 12.5 incidents per 1,000 students, placing UNM among the highest overall crime rates for four‑year universities in the U.S., according to Dailylobo.com and SafeHome.org. Violent crime alone at UNM occurred at a rate of 5.19 per 1,000 students, also among the highest in the nation, according to SafeHome.org.
- Bernalillo County’s violent crime rate hovered around 1,266 incidents per 100,000 residents in 2022—more than triple the national average (~381)—and while it dipped slightly from its 2021 peak, it remains persistently high KOAT+2New Mexico Legislature+2abqraw.com+2.
- In 2024, the Albuquerque metro area averaged about 11 homicides per month, with over 100 shooting deaths reported in the year abqraw.com.
Despite these statistics and the city’s well‑publicized crime emergency declaration in April 2025 and deployment of National Guard assistance, the UNM alert system remains slower than Albuquerque Police alerts. This delay leaves campus community members relying on dated systems after violence has occurred.
We deserve better than alerts. We deserve secure spaces, not glass facades.
We deserve prevention, controlled access, rapid response, and infrastructure that keeps people alive, not upgrades that arrive after tragedy.
Some suggestions for safety
- Secure building access to all dorms and student housing, including a desk where IDs are checked, and only students have access.
- Enhance visibility and surveillance by increasing campus police presence and installing cameras at the entrances of all buildings.
- Install panic buttons in dorms, classrooms, and reception areas.
- Improve campus lighting and install more call boxes.
- Enhance the communication alert system by synchronizing it with APD, which seems to be faster and more timely.
- Conduct realistic safety drills specific to areas of campus. There is no need to teach “hide” when that isn’t possible in glass offices.
- Consider having APD be the first call and not campus police for violent crime.
These actions do not require new legislation or major infrastructure projects. They depend on administrative will, cross-departmental coordination, and community pressure. Immediate steps should prioritize deterrence and rapid communication, which are the core principles of physical security.
**Albuquerque Journal – a 14-year-old is not a man. He was a child.
*Views are my own as a private citizen who thinks we must address violence.
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When Violence Is Too Close to Home
Yesterday, violence came too close to home.
Yesterday, I posted my story of gun violence, and a few hours later, I deleted it. I didn’t want to talk about myself then, but rather the people today. Now, I would like to speak as a private citizen who also happens to be a faculty member. As I read the story in the Albuquerque Journal this morning, I was not pleased with the university’s response. This is the second murder of a student on campus in the five years I’ve been here, and nothing seems to have changed. It has been 23 years since my twin brother was murdered, and nothing has changed. It is time for each of us to be the change we want to see.
Honestly, every time I think I’ve put the past behind me, something brings it back. Not every one of the 16,576 deaths by gun did, but the ones that are too close to home. The recent loss of a student to gun violence in UNM housing has stirred a deep ache in me. My heart is heavy with sadness for the student’s family, friends, and classmates. I remember the pain I felt when I lost my twin brother to gun violence, and I can only imagine the grief they are living through now. If their journey is anything like mine, this pain will linger in ways that are hard to explain and even harder to forget.
Years ago, I received a phone call at 3:00 a.m., the kind that changes everything. My twin brother was dead, shot multiple times in my parents’ living room right in front of my mother. The days that followed were filled with grief, confusion, and questions that have never fully been answered. What I remember most is the silence that followed: from systems that failed, from people who didn’t know what to say, and from a society that had no real answer for what had happened.
I don’t share this story to pass judgment or to point fingers. I share it because I know what it is to live with the aftermath of violence, and I know how deeply it can fracture families and communities. In my case, the presence of guns in the home was a fact of life. But the real danger wasn’t the tool; it was the untreated trauma, the lack of mental health care, the denial, and the silence. My family didn’t talk about the violence; they made excuses for it. And eventually, it took a life.
What happened at UNM is not just a tragic incident; it’s a call to action. If we genuinely care about safety, we have to address the root causes of violence. This includes investing in mental health support, creating environments where young people can speak openly about their experiences, and fostering a culture where seeking help is met with compassion, not shame. If we are not going to limit access to guns, then we must provide education to every young person on gun safety and why you never pick up one in anger.
To the students, staff, and faculty affected by this loss, I see you. I know the kind of pain that can take hold after something like this. If your experience is anything like mine, it will come in waves, sometimes soft, sometimes unbearable. Please know you are not alone. As a human being, a Soto Zen priest, and a faculty member, my door will always be open to you. Whether you need to talk, sit in silence, or simply be with someone who understands that healing is not a linear process, I am here.
Let us work together to create a world where safety is not something we hope for, but rather something we build together. Not by condemnation, but through compassion, courage, and care for one another.
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Uncaptured Light
In the midst of the tourists’ clamor, amid stalls of food and hurried feet the sacred still stands — silent, unmoving, ageless.
I entered as a idle woman walking, drawn by the voice of a single chant, wafting like incense into the cool morning. At Tokoyetushidu, at Seranji, at Yata Dera, and at Kashu Honnoji, the temples welcomed all who had ears to hear.
Some gazed only through the lens, forgetting no picture can frame the true breath of the sacred. The halls where no photograph is allowed — they hold their beauty deeper still, beyond what can be captured in two dimensions.
These precious shrines, hidden in plain sight, your stones remember each prayer, your gardens embrace each silent bow.
Let our hearts become the camera, our breath the ink, our soul the page.
Memories written in reverence outlast any image, for what is sacred cannot be taken — only received.
Thus I walk on, carrying within me the unseen light.
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A Pilgrim’s Journey Through Kyoto’s Ancient Temples
Thus have I walked.
In the quiet morning, beneath the cover of Kyoto’s clouds,
I set my feet upon the stone path of the ancients.
Temples stood in stillness, watching centuries unfold.
And I, a loyal pilgrim, climbed the hill with breathless wonder.
At the gate of Kennin-ji, I bowed in silence.
The gardens spoke in stillness—gravel, blossoms, and stone.
In the Hall of Nenge-do, the law was not spoken—
Yet in every paint stroke, rising from the Buddha, the Dharma whispered.
Above the Buddha, two dragons rose,
coiling through clouds and space—
not with sound, but with spirit.
No scroll, no ink, no voice—only the heart receiving the heart.
Among flowers and stone,
In the hush of painted sky and weathered wood,
I too smiled,
Not for knowing,
But for being.
And though my hips ached and time weighed on my shoulders,
I was not the oldest in Kyoto.
The stones were older. The wind was wiser.
And yet, in that moment, I belonged.
So may the Dharma be carried—
not by word, but by presence;
not by voice, but by smile;
not by time, but by heart.
Gassho.
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Eiheiji: Finding Breath and Gratitude in Stillness
In the still, cool morning,
Bells and birds call together.
Footsteps echo through cedar and stone—
Liberating is the Way.
Sitting with monks in shared breath,
Voices rising in harmonious chant,
The Dharma flows like the mountain streams,
Unseen, yet resounding— ever present.
This heart bows in deep gratitude,
For each chant, each step, each drift of incense.
One visit, ten thousand gates—
I will always return to this moment.
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The Hidden Costs of Punitive Tariffs on Families
Who among us wants to be poorer? Who does not recognize the suffering that tariffs cause? The resurgence of punitive tariffs—imposed under the guise of economic protection—is, in practice, a regressive tax on working families and small businesses. These tariffs increase the cost of essential goods, destabilize international relationships, and disproportionately harm those with the fewest resources. They are, in every economic sense, self-defeating.
And yet, as we witness this policy—both economically misguided and morally troubling—it is easy to reach for anger, to arm ourselves with outrage, and to divide the world into allies and enemies.
A quote I return to in such moments reminds me:
“Day by day we all meet events that seem to be most unfair, and we feel that the only way we fight is with our minds. We arm ourselves with our anger and our opinions, our self-righteousness, as though we were putting on a bulletproof vest. And we think this is the way to live our life. All that we accomplish is to increase the separation, to escalate the anger, and to make ourselves and everyone else miserable.”
It is one thing to condemn injustice; it is another to let that condemnation harden our hearts and turn on our neighbors. Even as we call out damaging policies, and recognize moral failures in leadership, we must resist the reflex to meet aggression with aggression, contempt with contempt. The real work is to stand firm in truth and justice while staying soft toward one another.
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Interbeing: Connections and Compassion in Zen
I had a conversation with my teacher that was prompted by an AI discussion and then a question I asked AI in response to the discussion. Oddly, the response from the human, not the AI, left me thinking about relationships. In Soto Zen, we often speak of the importance of the teacher-student relationship. It is not merely a hierarchical connection or a formal structure—it is a living, mutual inquiry. The teacher serves not only as an authority in the conventional sense, but as a mirror and a companion on the path. Through this relationship, the student learns to see clearly, both inwardly and outwardly. Sometimes, seeing can be challenging.
But the significance of the relationship in Soto Zen extends beyond the zendo, beyond the Sangha, and beyond formal roles. Every interaction we have is a field of practice. Every person we meet offers a chance to express presence, compassion, and wisdom (something I sometimes feel I lack). We are not separate from one another; our lives are interpenetrated and moment by moment.
To care for a relationship with one’s teacher is to practice intimacy with truth. To care for relationships with others is to practice intimacy with life. Whether in silence or speech, in ease or difficulty, each relationship reveals the nature of interbeing. My teacher is a part of me, as are my friends and my colleagues, and even the random person I meet while listening to music.
To study the self is to forget the self. To forget the self is to be actualized by the ten thousand things. — Dogen Zeng
Relationships are part of those ten thousand things. We do not lose ourselves by attending to them with care and honesty. We find our true nature reflected in the eyes of others. So, let us not seek enlightenment apart from our relationships. Let us meet one another fully, with sincerity, humility, and compassion. In that meeting, the Way unfolds.
I hope I honor my teacher, my mentors, my colleagues, and my Sangha.
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The Stone Woman’s Child: Reimagining Health and Environment Through Zen Wisdom
The Problem of Suffering or Dukkha in Existence
Suffering or Dukkha is an inherent part of our existence. I want to focus on the wisdom of Dōgen to explore the problem of suffering in the context of public health, environmental hazards, and health equity. If we recognize that public health and environmental crises stem from ignorance of interconnectedness, then it is easy to understand that suffering arises when we see ourselves as separate from the world around us, leading to exploitation, environmental degradation, and health inequities.
The climate crisis, pollution, and disparities in healthcare are symptoms of this fundamental misunderstanding that we are not separate from our environment. As a society, we suffer because we fail to recognize the interdependence with the natural world, and thus we are experiencing environmental destruction, pandemics, and inequalities.
The Rise or Cause of Suffering or Samudaya: is Disconnection and Ignorance
Dōgen, in Sansuikyō (“Mountains and Waters Sutra”) teaches that nature and human life are not separate. He writes, “Mountains and waters right now are the realization of the way of ancient buddhas. Both of them abiding in their Dharma state achieve the ultimate merits. Because of the inseparability of life and death before the Emptiness Eon, they live actively at each moment. Because they have been the self since before phenomena arose, they interpenetrate.” (Mountains and Waters Scripture/(Scriptural) Teaching) Yet, modern society treats nature as an exploitable resource. This dualistic view has led to suffering. We neglect the reality that by harming the environment and sentient beings in it we are harming ourselves.
What progressive insight can we gain? We can begin by understanding that our ethical responsibility extends beyond ourselves to all beings. This is what is meant in the Buddha’s teaching that craving and nescience and selfishness perpetuate our suffering. Ignorance obscures the direct experience of nirvana; there is no vantage point from which one can witness the Dharma world before the phenomenal world arises. Ignorance does not give us eyes to see or ears to hear. But, we should hear and understand that climate change is in part due to human actions, as are many of our environmental hazards, such as open uranium mines in New Mexico, plastic everywhere, and air pollution. Much of this comes from our own greed, not seeing the big picture, and not caring about the well-being of our neighbors. Thus, we need to confront the rise or cause (samudaya) of suffering.
The Bring About the Cessation of Suffering or Nirodha: we need a Profound Perspective and Ethical Action
Understanding interconnectedness is the key to alleviating suffering. Dōgen in the Genjokoan Realizing the Universal Truth states, “To learn the Awakened Way is to learn the self. To learn the self is to forget the self. To forget the self is to be verified by all dharmas.” (Genjokoan, “Realizing the Universal Truth”) This means that our liberation comes through recognizing that we are part of a vast, intricately interdependent network of all that is. Public health, environmental justice, and social equity are not separate concerns. They are on the bodhisattva path to save all beings. Addressing health inequities and environmental hazards expresses our profound wisdom and compassion.
The third noble truth is that suffering can end when the causes are removed. What are the root cause of the suffering that we now face. We can begin by identifying concrete steps to address suffering through sustainable living, policy advocacy, and equitable healthcare. How many of our attachments and delusions can we let go of by embracing sustainable and ethical practices. There are actions that can be taken such as carbon offsets every time we take a flight, solar panels for houses, environmentally friendly appliances, and not buying water in a plastic bottle.
The Way to Solve the Causes of Suffering: is The Path of Prognosis (Paññā/Prajñā)
Dōgen’s teachings illustrate the Four Noble Truths, offering a path of prognosis/ (prajñā) that leads from insight to action. What are Magga (not MAGA like politics, but Magga meaning the path to liberation from suffering).
The actions that sometimes sound easy may prove difficult but taking a stand against censorship and speaking the truth about environmental and health crises is one application of the Eightfold Path – it expresses both right speech and right action. As Rosan teaches, “A pinhole will collapse the great dam in time.” Small injustices, when ignored, grow into systemic failures. If they are left unchecked, they will impact our collective karma.
What would courage and integrity in action look like? In Dogen’s Mountain and Waters Scripture-Teaching it was written
“The green mountains are always walking; a stone woman gives birth to a child at night.”
(Mountain and Waters Scripture-Teaching, 3)
Maybe the best solution is to recognize our current situation is a rapidly moving environment. Looking beyond conventional distinction and rigid dualities, we see the interdependence between the environment and health. If we think change is impossible in given conditions, there is always what is beyond our expectations. To address suffering, we must integrate contemplation with right action. As practitioners, we act with courage and integrity, resisting pressures to self-censor when the truth must be spoken. We must see the non-dualistic nature of the world and engage fully, not letting ourselves be trapped. Public health and environmental justice are not political choices, but moral imperatives grounded in the Dharma. May we, like the mountains and waters, express the Buddha way through wisdom, compassion, and fearless engagement in the world. May wisdom and insight emerge like the stone woman giving birth, against the common-sense view that we are giving birth to all kinds of things: good and bad, right and wrong!
Even though it is delusional to think everything is not connected, separations are illusions. Silence may express a big truth but to teach, at least sometimes, “you have to say something”. As Kataguri Roshi believed you can’t sit in silence all the time or from fear of getting it wrong.
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The Cost of Silence: Betraying Free Speech
Last week, I experienced censorship of my work, but it was more alarming how easily people gave up their free speech rights. Many were silent out of legitimate fear, but the scary part was those trying to bully others into complying with the loss of their right to free speech. Free speech is not just a constitutional right—it is the foundation of the free society most of us have enjoyed our entire lives. I say most because we know that not all Americans have or have had equal rights. Without free speech, truth is silenced, dissent is criminalized, and fear replaces open discourse. The ability to speak, question, and challenge authority is what prevents oppression from taking root.
Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances. –First Amendment of the Constitution
History offers us dire warnings about what happens when people fail to stand up for free expression. During World War II, entire societies became complicit in the silencing, persecution, and extermination of their fellow citizens. Ordinary people, who may not have been inherently evil, allowed fear, obedience, or ideology to dictate their actions. They turned in their neighbors, not always out of hatred, but often out of submission to authority, social pressure, or a wish to avoid personal risk.
Yesterday, I was told that one reason for not allowing some speech is that people were reporting the content on their fellow employees—content on a private page, not representing themselves as speaking for their employer, and on off-duty time. We all too quickly forget the history lessons and think they could not happen to us, but they have. There are too many examples of limiting free speech to list, but just a few are:
- Nazi Germany: Book burnings and the suppression of what was perceived as inappropriate art and literature. These cultural policies aimed to eradicate Jewish, leftist, and other dissenting voices.
- United States: During the McCarthy era, there was significant censorship and blacklisting related to alleged communist sympathies, and people were pressured to report on their friends to save themselves, leading to an era of fear.
- Social Media: Platforms were pressured to moderate content, leading to debates about censorship versus free speech, especially as it relates to hate speech, misinformation, and political influence.
The same moral failure exists today in those who refuse to stand up for free speech. When people stay silent in the face of censorship—whether by governments, corporations, or social movements—they become modern-day collaborators in oppression. The excuses may differ, but the outcome is the same: ideas are suppressed, individuals are punished for dissent, and society inches toward authoritarianism.
This impingement on freedom of speech does have limits we should all know – we can’t make real threats of harm or incite violence, slander, yell fire in a crowded theatre, etc. Right to free speech doesn’t mean parents cannot limit what is said in their house or employers cannot restrict what is said in the workplace. However, the threats to freedom of speech that have been weaponized by this administration started years ago and in a quieter way. We saw pressure not to allow people with certain ideologies to speak on college campuses, people who wanted to censor words that could be used in professional journals because they were not politically correct enough, and pressure not to publicly disagree with anything related to policies about DEI without being labeled a racist. In fact, the APA Style Manual has long been seen by some as ideological police in writing.
True freedom demands courage. It requires us to defend even speech we dislike, stand against those who seek to silence others, and reject the creeping normalization of censorship. If we do not, we risk becoming the enablers of oppression, just as those who betrayed their neighbors in history’s darkest moments did.
If we believe in a free society, we must act like it. That means speaking up, even when it’s uncomfortable. Because the moment we let fear dictate our words, we become what we claim to oppose.
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Defending Scientific Integrity Against Executive Orders
On February 13, 2025, my colleagues and I received a call from the Executive Director of the Commissioned Officers Association of the USPHS that confirmed our worst fears about the impact of political interference in science, academic freedom, and integrity. After submitting our presentation for peer review, it was accepted: “Addressing Environmental Health Threats in Academia: Leadership in Research, Professional Collaboration and Community Engagement” to the 58th Annual USPHS Scientific & Training Symposium; a week later, we were informed that we must censor our work or withdraw it. The directive was clear: words such as “health equity,” “climate change,” and “environmental hazards” were now forbidden due to recently issued Executive Orders from the Trump administration.
We refused to comply. Our presentation was accepted as is. We made clear we would not voluntarily withdraw the presentation or self-censor. If they wanted to withdraw the acceptance, they needed to say why and do so in writing. Asking us to self-censor by removing discussion of climate change, environmental hazards, and impacts on equity in health care was not acceptable. We stood by our research, our integrity, and the principle that science should not be dictated by political whims.
Shortly thereafter, we received official confirmation that our work had been deemed “not permissible” under Executive Order 14148, which revokes climate-related initiatives, and Executive Order 14151, which terminates all diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI) programs, including those related to environmental justice.
- EO 14148 states that its Purpose and Policy includes “Climate extremism has exploded inflation and overburdened businesses with regulation” and revokes numerous EOs dealing with climate crises, change, and risk.
- EO 14151’s Purpose and Policy deals with all “diversity, equity, and inclusion [DEI]” programs and directs agencies and departments to terminate all “equity” actions, initiatives, or programs including those that deal with “environmental justice” activities and Federal grantees receiving Federal funding on DEI, DEIA, or “environmental justice” programs.
The message was blunt: these topics, essential to public health and scientific progress, were now unmentionable at a federally co-sponsored symposium.
We Are Not Climate Extremists
We are not climate extremists, nor is our topic about diversity, equity, and inclusion. Our proposal focuses on the well-documented and measurable impacts of environmental health threats on communities, research challenges, and leadership in public health. The core of our presentation is leadership development, research collaboration, and professional engagement—issues directly relevant to public health professionals. The proposal does not advocate for any political ideology. Instead, it seeks to equip attendees with evidence-based strategies to address environmental health threats, a topic firmly rooted in science and public health practice. Any rational person reviewing this proposal would find no legitimate reason for objection. The subject matter—natural disasters, environmental hazards, and community engagement—aligns with public health priorities and emergency preparedness, making its exclusion a stark example of unwarranted censorship rather than a genuine policy concern.
I had to wonder if the leadership of Commission Officers Association (COA), Office of the Assistant Secretary of Health (OASH), and Office of the Surgeon Genderal (OSG) not undersood that health equity simply means everyone has a fair and just opportunity to attain their highest level of health. Health equity is not, and has never been about taking from one to give to another. It is about improving health care for all.
Why would any rational human with an intact moral compass oppose health equity? Are you honoring the uniform you wear or wore if you will not stand up for health equity for those in rural areas, the poor, people with disabilities, the elderly, or any number of other people that have difficulty with access?
A Dangerous Precedent
Executive orders can be instruments of good governance and expedient policy implementation when used responsibly. However, when wielded to suppress knowledge and dictate what science can and cannot address, they become tools of censorship. The repercussions of these directives will extend far beyond a single conference; they set a dangerous precedent for academic inquiry, public discourse, and the dissemination of knowledge. They will promote ignorance.
This is not just about our presentation. It is about a growing trend of silencing scientific inquiry that does not align with political ideology and it did not begin with this administration, but it has been weaponized by this administration to incite fear. It is about the erosion of intellectual independence in federally affiliated institutions. It is about the chilling effect this creates on researchers, educators, and practitioners who now must choose between compromising their integrity or being excluded from critical platforms.
A Failure of Leadership
I am deeply disappointed in the COA, OASH, and to OSG and the individual in leadership positions in those organizations. These organizations should be on the front lines defending scientific integrity and evidence-based policy, not surrendering to political pressure as should the people in them that wanted to lead. The COA is supposed to be dedicated to advocating for the interests of the U.S. Public Health Service (USPHS) Commissioned Corps officers. Its mission is supposed to be to protect and enhance the public health and safety of the United States by supporting and advancing the interests of the Commissioned Corps and its officers. If they do not have the courage to stand up for science now, how can we trust any future Surgeon General’s reports or guidance from OASH? How can the public have confidence in the integrity of any health-related recommendations coming from these institutions? How will officers have confidence in the COA?
Science is not partisan, and public health is not a political tool. If these institutions abandon their duty to defend objective, evidence-based research, they will fail not only the scientific community and the USPHS officers but also the public they are supposed to serve.
Science Cannot Be Gagged
Refusing to acknowledge environmental hazards, climate change, or health equity does not make these issues disappear. Instead, it endangers communities, undermines scientific progress, and weakens the foundation of evidence-based policy. Ignoring over 200 closed uranium mines in New Mexico does not make them disappear. Suppressing research will not prevent their consequences—it will only ensure that we are less prepared to address climate-associated disasters and their health impacts.
Scientific integrity must not be contingent upon political convenience, academic freedom must not be subject to the shifting tides of executive power, and the pursuit of truth must not be constrained by any ideology.
I will not self-censor. I will not erase reality to appease policies that deny it. Science serves the public good, not political agendas, and I will continue to uphold my responsibility to research, educate, and advocate for evidence-based solutions.
If we remain silent in the face of such restrictions, we become complicit in the erosion of the very freedoms that sustain scientific discovery and democratic discourse.
I refuse to be silent.
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How Catholic Charities Elevates Compassion in Crisis
I had the profound honor of working with Catholic Charities, USA, during my time as the Director of the Office of Human Services Emergency Preparedness and Response at the Administration for Children and Families. CCUSA exemplifies charity and efficiency, setting a standard for how compassion can drive action. My time with them was transformative—not only in learning the intricacies of disaster response but in rediscovering the essence of humanity and the depth of my own compassion.
When we responded to Hurricanes Gustav and Ike in Louisiana, CCUSA’s generosity extended far beyond logistical support. They invited me to stay at their retreat house, offering me a room once used by the Sisters, full access to their kitchen, and the sacred stillness of the Bishop’s chapel. They encouraged me to spend as much time as I needed there, creating a space where I could reflect deeply and connect with something greater than myself. Their kindness and faith left an indelible mark on my heart and spirit.
Through their example, I came to realize that my focus on government processes had obscured the very humanity those systems were meant to serve. CCUSA reminded me that addressing suffering is not about policy alone—it is about people. Their unwavering mission to uplift others taught me to see the world with new eyes and an open heart.
God bless Catholic Charities, USA, and the vital work they do. They embody the spirit of compassion, and to attack them is to misunderstand the very essence of service and humanity. They changed my life, and for that, I will forever be grateful. Through their work with us a national disaster case management program was created to help the poor and underserved in the darkest of times.
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Embracing Stillness: New Year Reflections
As the clock struck midnight, I sat silently at Upaya Zen Center, immersed in zazen. There was no countdown, no fireworks, just the gentle rhythm of my breath and the profound stillness of sitting together in the community. As 2024 ends, I shared in the tradition called the Bells of New Year’s Eve. The bells mark the transition into the new year with the ringing of the temple bell 108 times. Each bell is rung and allowed to resonate until the sound fades away. In Buddhist teachings, the number 108 represents the delusions and desires that cloud our minds and lead to suffering. Each chime of the bell is a symbolic act of releasing these burdens, cleansing the heart and mind, and preparing to greet the new year with clarity and compassion.
The sound of the bell oddly adds to the stillness of the night, creating a space for reflection and mindfulness. As the final bell echoes into the new year, it’s a reminder of impermanence and renewal—an invitation to step into the future with a fresh perspective, an open heart, and a commitment to peace. Whether heard in person, online, or in spirit, the Bells of New Year’s Eve offer a moment of profound stillness and hope for the year to come. It gives us a moment to remember those who passed this year.
Remembering a Friend
This year, I remembered Jeff Cabbage—a remarkable man whose life was a testament to joy and love. When I graduated with my MSN, his wife Lori, radiant and expecting their first child, was walking across the same stage. Over the years, Jeff and I stayed connected through Facebook and shared a passion for Tennessee Volunteer football. He became a constant reminder of the power of a simple smile, the profound impact of being a devoted father and husband, and the value of hard work.
Though life is impermanent and ALS ravaged his body, it could not touch the strength of his spirit. His life came to an end, but his smile remains etched in my heart, a source of warmth. I ache for Lori, their children, grandchildren, and all who loved him, but I carry his memory forward as a beacon of the love he embodied. I felt an overwhelming sense of peace and hope for 2025 in that quiet moment.
No Resolutions: Only a Promise
The New Year often arrives with resolutions—promises to improve ourselves, our habits, or our lives. This year, I’ve chosen a different path. Rather than resolving to change something internal, I am making a promise: a vow to embody the principles of my life as a Soto Zen priest. I promise to work tirelessly for environmental justice, peace, and compassion.
As I step into this new year, I recommit to living my vows as a Soto Zen priest by embodying the teachings of the Triple Treasures, the Three Collective Pure Precepts, and the Ten Great Precepts. These vows are not mere words; they are a guide for how I aim to walk through life with clarity, compassion, and purpose.
From generation to generation, Buddhas and Ancestors have transmitted the Triple Treasures—Buddha, Dharma, and Sangha. I will honor the Buddha as an embodiment of awakening, follow the Dharma as a path to wisdom, and nurture the Sangha, the community of practice, with care and respect.
The Three Collective Pure Precepts call me to live with a pure heart: to abstain from unwholesome actions, to cultivate wholesome actions, and to dedicate myself to the benefit of all beings. These precepts remind me that every choice I make—large or small—can contribute to a more compassionate world.
The Ten Great Precepts provide the structure for this practice. They guide me to abstain from actions that cause harm—whether through taking life, stealing, dishonesty, or ill-will—and to nurture qualities that bring healing, generosity, and understanding. These vows challenge me daily to step beyond self-interest and live in alignment with my deepest intentions.
Keeping these vows means living with humility, mindfulness, and a commitment to serve. It means showing up for others, even when it’s difficult. It means striving to see the Buddha-nature in all beings and working to create peace, justice, and compassion wherever I can.
This is my promise—to carry these vows into every moment of my life to honor the teachings, my community, and the world we share.
This promise is not new, but the new year offers a moment to recommit. The world’s challenges—climate change, violence, inequality—can feel overwhelming. But I believe in the transformative power of small, deliberate actions. I often read posts from my rural hometown in Tennessee and see neighbors helping neighbors. I don’t see the hate-filled posts of anonymous people. Sitting in Zazen reminds me that every moment is an opportunity to choose peace, cultivate compassion, treat everyone as a small-town neighbor, and live in harmony with all beings.
Invitation to Sit
As we enter this new year, I extend an invitation: sit with me. You don’t need to have experience with Zen practice or meditation or prayer or profess any religion. You only need the willingness to pause, breathe, and be present. Together, we can create a ripple of stillness and clarity that extends far beyond ourselves.
May this year be one of peace. May compassion spread like sunlight, touching everything in its path. And may we, together, nurture the world with our thoughts, words, and actions.
Happy New Year.
Let us sit together at https://www.youtube.com/@MissouriZenCenterMitras/streams, or email me, and I can send you a Zoom link.
