When Things Fall Apart

This son was extremely precious to them, and the only thing that mattered to his family was that he bring them some financial support and prestige. Then he was thrown from a horse and crippled. It seemed like the end of their lives. Two weeks after that, the army came into the village and took away all the healthy, strong men to fight in the war, and this young man was allowed to stay behind and take care of his family.
Life is like that. We don’t know anything. We call something bad; we call it good. But really we just don’t know.

of the bravest people he knew. When I asked him why, he said because I was a complete coward but went ahead and did things anyhow.
The trick is to keep exploring and not bail out, even when we find out that something is not what we thought. That’s what we’re going to discover again and again and again. Nothing is what we thought. I can say that with great confidence. Emptiness is not what we thought. Neither is mindfulness or fear. Compassion—not what we thought. Love. Buddha nature. Courage. These are code words for things we don’t know in our minds, but any of us could experience them. These are words that point to what life really is when we let things fall apart and let ourselves be nailed to the present moment.

we’re out there nonaggressively working for reform, that, even if our particular issue doesn’t get resolved, we are adding peace to the world.

It’s important to remember, when we’re out there nonaggressively working for reform, that, even if our particular issue doesn’t get resolved, we are adding peace to the world.

Sitting there, standing there, we can allow the space for the usual habitual thing not to happen. Our words and actions might be quite different because we allowed ourselves time to touch and taste and see the situation first.

he feels that moving into the areas of society that he had rejected is the same as working with the parts of himself that he had rejected.

To live is to be willing to die over and over again.

be fully alive, fully human, and completely awake is to be continually thrown out of the nest.

We think that if we just meditated enough or jogged enough or ate perfect food, everything would be perfect. But from the point of view of someone who is awake, that’s death. Seeking security or perfection, rejoicing in feeling confirmed and whole, self-contained and comfortable, is some kind of death. It doesn’t have any fresh air.

As a result of our pain, did we know more about what it is to be human, or did we know less?