“Happy Interdependence! May all beings breathing together in the web of life live with mutual care. May they honor and support inner and outer freedom for all.” – Jack Kornfield
Dear ones,
WSHIEW!…. We Americans have passed through our 250th birthday with fireworks and barbecue, mixed displays of patriotism and politics, World Cup gains and losses, lots of heat, some disappointments, and plenty of love.
In America we are taught to honor glorious independence, to honor the individual, the lone cowboy, the brilliant inventor, the up-from-your-bootstraps success. And of course, every young child needs to become independent.
But the cowboy’s saddle and boots derive from thousands of years of leather tanners, and the child’s independence comes from those who teach them, and all our lives depend on bees and earthworms, and we must thank the trees that breathe with us and the dancing interconnected biosphere of our home. And marvel at the complex crazy creative web of human societies around us. And honor the communities and sanghas that for 2,600 years have held the Dharma for us.
We are independent and interdependent. Let us celebrate individuality. No two humans are alike!
And let us celebrate and honor and tend and care for and wonder at the mysterious interdependent fabric of life that birthed us and holds us now. Interdependence is life.
You could call all of this love.
It is what we are.
Blessings,
Jack
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And… here below are my beloved Trudy’s reflections for this independence week as well… connected teachings and practices for you to enjoy:
This Very Place
250 Years of America
By Trudy Goodman
Washing the breakfast dishes, wiping the kitchen counter clean, I miss my mom so much. I watched her keep house for years. She brought care and respect to the repetitive activities that made up much of her life, and she had a good life; not without heartbreak and loss, but full of love. Every counter I wipe down connects me to her. Every word I write, to my dad. And behind them both, all the ancestors whose struggles and ordinary days made my life possible.
This is my first letter to you in a while. We just returned after two months of traveling and teaching in Europe. One stop was the Oslo Freedom Forum, where I sat with activists and dissidents who stand up for freedom in spite of the dangers, opposing dictatorships and authoritarian governments. (You can watch the session with Elissa Epel and me here.) Their stories stayed with me long after I returned home, to the kitchen, my family, and the simple freedoms of an ordinary day.
Then, this holiday. A perfect summer day on the Truckee River with our sweet seven-year-old grandson, my stepdaughter, and our son-in-law. A family picnic. Honest conversations about everything. Wading together to a tiny island. Looking for little fish, holding hands with my grandson on the slippery rocks.
This is what freedom looks like when you have it.
Coming home, I feel both the fragility and the preciousness of the life we share here. Our country has never been perfect, and there is much that calls for our attention and care. Yet I don’t want to lose sight of what is also true: the delight of gathering with friends and family, listening deeply, speaking our minds, following our own true paths, and caring for one another. These ordinary freedoms are woven into the promise of this country. Much of the world reminds us, they are not ordinary at all.
So this morning I washed the breakfast dishes. I wiped the counter clean, just as my mother did thousands of times before me. The same hands, the same movements, the same ordinary devotion passed from one life to another.
May we cherish this very place. May we protect the freedoms that allow us to live these simple days. And may we never forget what we love.
Love,
Trudy
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More Wisdom and a Practice From Trudy:
Sharing Wisdom
“Nirvana is right here, before our eyes,
This very place is the Lotus Land,
This very body, the Buddha.”
— Hakuin Zenji, Song of Zazen
We do not have to travel across the globe or wait for the world to mend itself, to touch the “Lotus Land” of true peace. When things feel overwhelming, dharma practice invites us back to this body, this breath, this very place. Not to turn away from what’s difficult, but to meet it with an open heart.
Whether we are sitting beside a rushing river or wiping a kitchen counter, the sacred isn’t somewhere else. It is right here, before our eyes.
Practice: The Sanctuary of the Ordinary
- Arrive home. The next time you find yourself doing a mundane task, washing a plate, folding a towel, wiping a counter, feel your hands. Let your full attention rest in what you’re doing.
- Remember those who accompany you. As your hands move, remember the generations who did these same tasks before you. They, too, lived through uncertain times. Their lives, with their joys and sorrows, made yours possible. And those whose courage, kindness, or love touched your life become part of you. Let them keep you company. You may discover that you’re less alone than you imagine.
- Choose where to place your attention. Without turning away from suffering, notice what is also here: beauty, kindness, laughter, the ordinary gifts of being alive. Joy is not an escape from reality. It helps sustain us as we face it.
- Protect what you love. Look around your neighborhood, your family, your community. Notice the goodness that is easy to overlook. If you can speak freely and care for the people you love without fear, these are precious freedoms. May we each do what we can to protect them.
And may we meet the world with clear awareness, loving compassion, and care for what is right in front of us.
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*To stay up to date with Trudy’s retreats, events, and to sign up for her newsletter, please visit her website TrudyGoodman.com
*For more from Jack, please check out his online courses, bestselling books, and sign up for his newsletter at JackKornfield.com
