Mindfulness Matters


From 25-27 February 2011, I will be giving a weekend workshop at the Barre Center for Buddhist Studies. I am honored to be among the teaching faculty of this august and important organization, dedicated to making the dharma available. In their own words:

The Barre Center for Buddhist Studies is a non-profit educational organization dedicated to exploring Buddhist thought and practice as a living tradition, faithful to its origins, yet adaptable to the current world. The center provides a bridge between study and practice, between scholarly understanding and meditative insight. It encourages engagement with the tradition in a spirit of genuine inquiry. Located on 90 acres of wooded land in rural, central Massachusetts, just a half mile from the Insight Meditation Society, BCBS provides a peaceful and contemplative setting for the study and investigation of the Buddha’s teachings. The secluded campus consists of a 240 year-old farmhouse, a dharma hall, and three cottages which taken together provide space for a 5,000 volume library, classroom, meditation hall, student housing, dining, and offices. The study center offers a variety of courses, workshops, retreats, and self-study programs to further research, study, and practice. Our programming is rooted in the classical Buddhist tradition of the earliest teachings and practices, but calls for dialogue with other schools of Buddhism and with other academic fields. All courses support both silent meditation practice and conscious investigation of the teachings. Contact Information: 149 Lockwood Road · Barre, Massachusetts 01005 • ?(978) 355-2347 office • (978) 355-2798 fax

The Buddhist scholar Stephen Batchelor noted that “the Buddha had a great sensitivity to the power of metaphor.” In my workshop, I will follow in the footsteps of the Buddha himself by teaching mindfulness through metaphors. My workshop is entitled: Metaphors, Meaning, and Change: Finding Our Way to Mindfulness.

The fee for this workshop, including meals and accommodations is set at a reasonable $198 and carries 12 CE credits for some mental health professionals. You may register here.

I invite you to come to this special place, a place that feels like my spiritual
home, to spend a weekend contemplating and practicing the dharma through metaphors for mindfulness. I’ll be drawing on the wisdom in my book, Wild Chickens and Petty Tyrants: 108 Metaphors for Mindfulness and the more recent, The Everything Buddhism Book

With blessings and gratitude,



I was very happy to be interviewed by Elisha Goldstein, co-author of the Mindfulness-Based Stress Reduction Workbook on his blog Mindfulness and Psychotherapy.

When it comes to trying to understand almost anything, I have found metaphors to be extremely useful. In mindfulness we use them all the time, we say, “Paying attention to your thoughts is like lying down on a field of grass looking at the clouds go on by or like lying down by a riverbed see the variety of debris come and go.” I am very pleased to bring you Arnie Kozak, PhD, who is a master at using metaphors to help us understand mindfulness. 

Elisha: What are your Top 5 Metaphors that you have found most helpful for mindfulness?

Arnie: To pick only five out of the 108 in the book is hard! And there are many more that I’ve developed since the publication of the book. My favorite metaphors are probably the ones I use the most, and they are the most practical.

Continue reading it here:


It’s Stress Reduction Sunday. Read my weekly post in the Connecticut Watchdog. Here is my CT Watchdog posts from last week:

In the beginning we were reptiles with one mandate — survival. This is still who we are at our core. The reptilian brain embraces the four f’s: fight, flight, feeding, and fornicate. However, millions of years of evolution have made us into mammals. Reptiles lay eggs and move on. Young, if they are to survive must do so on their own.

Mammals care for their young and human offspring have the longest period of vulnerable immaturity of any species. This changed us, and along with many other factors grew our brain into the what it is now — the most complex thing in the known universe.


Vermont has mountains and snow, lots of snow. Despite their diminutive stature relative to the Rockies or the Alps, we still have a lot of vertical feet. This day I was dropping down the 2680 vertical feet at Smugglers Notch. 
Sartre, along with others such as Kierkegaard, Jaspers, Heidegger, Binswanger, Camus, articulated a philosophical view of life focused on the very fact of our existence — hence “existentialism”
The four foundational ideas in existential philosophy are finitude, autonomy, responsibility, and authenticity.
Finitude recognizes that we are finite, that we are going to die and that typically we’re not too happy about this prospect. We might find ourselves in denial of our own own eventual death and thereby limit our capacity to live fully in this moment. The saying goes, “we refuse the loan of life for fear of paying the debt of death.”
Snowboarding (or skiing) brings us to the edge of this finitude. Traveling at high velocity down the steep face of a mountain at high speed is dangerous. Traveling so through the woods is, perhaps, even more dangerous.  Unlike playing a video game, falling or hitting a tree has real world consequences. The thrill of riding excites every cell in the body and let’s you know that you are, indeed, alive. It’s also cold and we have an elemental connection with nature. Sometimes when the snow is not flying and the sun makes a cameo appearance, the views are breathtaking.  
Autonomy recognizes and invites us to be free — free from the arbitrary influences of others and culture, free to be our own individual selves and to pursue our unique values, desires, and visions. It takes work to be autonomous, to break ourselves free from what Nietzsche called the “herd” mentality. It’s just as hard for us today to figure out who we are and what we want when we are inundated with commercial messages and cultural images (the average American watches over 30 hours of television per week!; imagine if all, or even some, of that time was spent meditating!). 
Snowboarding is freedom. We have autonomy to make our way down the mountain as we choose amongst the various options of the trails or making our way through the woods. Of course, there are limits to this freedom. The laws of physics provide some constraints. We can’t ride uphill and we can go between trees that will not permit passage. 
Responsibility according to the existentialists is, as the term implies, taking responsibility for our words and actions. We don’t seek to lay blame on others or circumstances. We recognize that we are the creators of meaning and that if we want to live an authentic life, it’s up to us to do so. 
Snowboarding embraces responsibility. We are the authors of our actions. We are the agents of movement. No one else can make the turns for us. 
Authenticity is about living in accord with what is true for us. It’s being responsive to our own values and knowing what these are beyond what other people and the culture tell us they should be. Authenticity is the courage to say what needs to be said, to be silent when silence is wisdom. 
Snowboarding encourages authenticity. It is very real and comes forth out of our agency. Each turn stems forth from an action that is directed by our intentionality. It’s also joyful in the unique way that gravity sports can be. We are on that edge of reality, with injury and death stalking close by. 
I tell a story in Wild Chickens about a day on Jay Peak in 2000. I was riding through some steep woods, mindful, engaged, and skillfully joyful. My mind was fully with the experience of the deep snow and the dancing turns around the trees. When the hill flattened out and the gravity challenge diminished, my mind started to wander into an imaginary conversation. I lost my mindfulness and control, insinuating my board between some saplings and injuring my knee in the process. At that moment I had lost my authenticity and vested my responsibility from my direct action to the whims of fantasy. 
There is, perhaps, no greater feeling of freedom, joy, and fun than being on a snowboard on a deep powder day in the cozy and fierce mountains of my Vermont home. We get used to cutting through ice and hard-pack snow we call boilerplate. It’s an exceptional bliss to have this opportunity of deep receptive snow.
We can all find that exceptional activity that brings us into natural mindfulness and its attending blissfulness. Of course, with practice any and every ordinary moment can connect us to this bliss as well.
If Jean-Paul Sartre had had a snowboard, he might have been a Buddha. For brief moments the other day, I was Buddha too, when I wasn’t being an excited kid whooping it up!