I made a thing…

IMG_4964It’s a book! If you’ve enjoyed any of my blog posts here, I hope you’ll check it out.  It’s framed as a book for educators and youth workers, but it’s also relevant to parents, meditators, and anyone who cares about touching into natural human goodness and working for a more compassionate world.

Available to order HERE

Or you can request it at your local bookstore!  (that would be awesome)

Community, updates, and inspiration also @teachingwithbravery on Facebook

Teaching With Bravery

I haven’t posted much here for the last couple of years because I’ve been working on a book.  The book is written and ready and now I’m working on the publication process.  I need some support on this part.  Please have a look at my GoFundMe page here.

The book is about the inner path of teaching and working with children and youth as the first step to envisioning a transformative approach to education.  I hope you’ll read it when it comes out and give it to all the teachers you know.  If you want to help make it happen, donate or share my campaign with friends.  Thanks so much!  unnamed-1.jpg

in defence of peace, love, and anger

unnamed“Justice is what love looks like in public.”–Cornell West

Let’s begin from the assumption that we love the world.  Obviously, we have mixed feelings and views of all kinds, but deep down, under our fears, cynicism, disappointment, and so on, we care deeply for life and this earth.

Like children, we long to touch and honour and live up to this world’s beauty.  Like loving parents, we feel torn by the wounds that are inflicted on our world–on its people, on its forests and oceans, on its air and animals.

Loving the world is  like having a wound that won’t heal.   We are caught between our feeling of love, which is openness and acceptance, and our longing for justice, which defiantly declares “this is not acceptable.”  We churn within the energy that dwells in that confluence of heart and mind, love and anger, yes and no. Should we embrace peace and love or resistance and righteousness?  Should we love our enemies or punch them in the face?

In the Shambhala tradition, the practice of the heart is to develop boundless compassion.  We practice compassion almost as a martial art, utilizing the energy of inner emotions and outer challenges to deepen and open our hearts more.

The purpose of training in compassion is not just that compassion is so nice, and it’s better to be nice than to be mean, and love and rainbows, and so on.  We are not training in love because we are afraid of the harm and aggression that we see in the world and would rather pretend that we live in a softer world.  Rather, it is because we see the suffering of the world so clearly, we know that we need a bigger heart and a bigger mind to hold it.  The only way we can hold it without being crushed by it is to open up so much that we actually relax our boundaries.  Releasing our boundaries we are free of rejection, therefore we have acceptance, and we return to a natural state of peace.  Peace means we have resolved our inner fears and so we are not conflicted.  Thus we are powerful.

Often in today’s world, peace is written off as submission or as non-engagement.  Indeed, if we think the only alternative to violence is giving up, and we call that peace, then peace is a weak path.  But peace is not ignoring; peace is awake.  Gandhi and King did not teach peace as submission, but as truth-force.  For peace to be potent, it must be embodied, thus it is unified with a person’s natural love for the world.  When these come together there is tremendous dignity, which is not ignorant or weak, but awesome.

Peace is generally thought of as the opposite of anger, but these two natural dimensions of our humanness have one thing in common, which is clarity.

When we witness willful ignorance of harm to our eco-system by politicians, brutality toward innocent black men by police, incitements to violence by white supremacist presidents, tribal genocide instigated by Buddhists, sexual assault by countless men against countless women and trans people, and on and on, we feel clear: these harmful acts must stop.  They must leave this earth.  This clarity can arise in us like a wave of ferocious power.  It may not be what we think of as peaceful, but that is only because we think peace lacks energy and intensity.  This energy of natural clarity responding to harm could be called compassion or it could be called anger.

Here are some reasons we usually don’t work with this energy in a creative or healthy way:

Our untrained mind’s habit perverts everything into ego.

We fear our own power.

Aggression and blame allow us to avoid being implicated.

It feels like sadness.

We have been socialized to be ashamed of anger.

We think anger is not compassionate.

We get off on rage.

We think compassion is weak.

We want to be peaceful.

We don’t want to feel.

For all these reasons, anger is difficult to work with, and is traditionally seen as a negative emotion.  Indeed, when the natural energy of clarity/anger arises in a mind conflicted by fear and confusion, it becomes aggression, a deeply harmful energy that damages us and others, and really has no redeeming qualities whatsoever.  Therefore, working with anger is considered dangerous.

An easy conclusion would be to opt for compassion and steer clear of anger.  However, as I have tried to show, genuine compassion and genuine anger often arise as one response within us.  To divide our experience is also aggression.  Can we learn to honour our anger and its fierce clarion call to justice without abandoning compassion?

Since we live in a time when compassion is so deeply needed, it seems imperative that we understand it and feel totally confident in it.  Since we live in a time that is so rife with injustice, it feels imperative that we understand our anger and unleash its creative potential.  Since we don’t have time to waste, we need to resolve our inner conflict.

A practice for holding to genuineness, and not cascading off into aggression or ignoring, is to stay true to our sadness. Sadness is not depression but a quality of pure humanness– tender, alive and true. It dwells within us, at the heart of our feelings, beneath our layers of thoughts, like pure water within the earth. If we are willing, we can touch our sadness in the midst of the arising of anger, or any feeling. It’s like a touchstone of genuineness. It doesn’t play in the realm of evaluation, blame, or pride. It binds us to our hearts.  That’s where our power lives.  It may not be what we thought, but if we’re willing to feel it, we could offer something really unusual to the world– real compassion, real anger, real humanity.

About a Poem: The Hill of Hua Tzu

Night Mountain, Yeachin Tsai

Wang: The birds fly away

into infinite space:

Over the whole mountain

returns the splendour of autumn.

Ascending and descending

Hua-tzu hill,

I feel

unbounded bewilderment and lamentation.


P’ei: The sun sets,

The wind rises among the pines.

Returning home,

there is a little dew upon the grass.

The reflection of the clouds

falls into the tracks of my shoes,

The blue of the mountains

touches my clothes.


Vital contemplations course through the simple words of Hua-Tzu Hill, spoken as poetic dialogue between the two friends, Wang and P’ei. To taste the kindness in these words is to enjoy fresh tea in the company of immortals.   Wang Wei was a poet, painter and statesman of T’ang dynasty China, and P’ei Ti was his friend, a younger man, also a poet and student of the classics. A sparse discourse in poems and letters survives them, revealing a subtle appreciation of nature as well as an investigation of reality that is somehow both intense and effortless.

Wang’s opening is modest and profound. Not wasting time with small talk, he gestures directly to the heart of things: “The birds fly away into infinite space.” When we look with honest eyes, each perception, each thought, each moment, each life, vanishes without a trace. Peering deeply within, looking intently without—all that we perceive is already gone. As Chögyam Trungpa Rinpoche wrote, “Good, bad, happy, sad—all thoughts vanish into emptiness like the imprint of a bird in the sky.” It is, perhaps, so lonely. Infinite space gives us nothing to hang onto, nowhere to find our home.

Nevertheless, we see and feel. This empty world is beautiful, full of energy and color, like the overwhelming “splendour of autumn.” And yet, touching this co-emergent truth, empty and luminous, does not simply bring us ease and joy. We have been nurturing our story of self for so long, grasping after the slippery narrative of ordinary life’s loves and hates, losses and gains. Finding ourselves here, at the sword edge of wisdom, we feel like a gutted fish. We walk up and down the hill of daily life. We wake up and get dressed, we go to work, we eat, we go to sleep, yet there is no center, no fringe—only ghastly nothingness that devours everything. In this life to be ignorant is to suffer, to awaken is to be alone. Beautiful yet terrifying, flowing from an empty heart—unbounded bewilderment and lamentation.   How trusting of Wang to share these feelings.

Now P’ei walks a perilous path. His gentle friend is not challenging him. Yet only a genuine master, or a true human being, could answer Wang’s words. Like Vimalakirti, Wang has already invoked the very nature of wisdom-emptiness and wisdom-luminosity. He can’t be pushed or pulled, yet we must go further. How to climb higher from the top of a 100-foot pole? P’ei brings him lovingly back down to earth. Leaving behind even the scent of philosophy, he expresses now: the sun setting, the wind among the pines, this walk home, the dew upon the grass. We can search the earth for sublime teachings, but we only come home in the ordinary magic of now. In this very illusion, in this very life, in this very moment, there is an undeniable goodness. This goodness is just so—beyond words. It disrupts concepts, flowing into the space of true perception. It is ephemeral as the reflection of the clouds, yet right here, in our footprints. When we touch that goodness, or allow ourselves to be touched, we feel our totality and inseparability, like the gentle caress of the blue mountains.


Poem translation by C.J. Chen and Michael Bullock

Painting: “Night Mountain,” acrylic on silk. 2006 by Yeachin Tsai. ©Yeachin Tsai.



4 Principles of Basic Goodness


1. Everyone Has Basic Goodness

Everyone has basic goodness; therefore everyone is worthy of respect. Everyone has a place, and everyone has a voice. We are complete as we are and we deserve to rediscover our full humanity, to honor and express our intelligence, our gentleness, and our openness.

2. Kindness is Strength

Sometimes we think that aggression makes us powerful, but aggressive actions, harsh words, judgment, and gossip weaken us and harm others. Negative actions come from insecurity. Kindness flows from having relaxation and trust in oneself.  Being kind to ourselves is how we learn and grow; showing kindness to others makes society beautiful and strong.

3. Fear is a Stepping-stone

Fear is an aspect of life that we all share, but ignoring our fears makes them bigger. Hiding makes us small and unhappy. With trust and gentleness we can smile at fear and step through it. We can go beyond our fear. We can take one step after another into a bigger, more colourful world.

4. Bravery is Being Who You Are

Knowing that our body and mind are true and good allows us to be genuine. We can simply be, fully and gloriously, as we are. This bravery gives us the inspiration to meet life’s challenges. Our whole life is a path of learning. We can travel it with purpose, confidence, and compassion.

earth is touching


Fire is warm and cozy, like a purring Tiger.

Fire is bright and dangerous, like a growling Tiger.

Feeling the sunshine, flowers and smiles blossom.

Tigers blossom with smiles of black and orange.

We are Tigers.  Our prickly fur alive and awake as a crackling fire.  Ki Ki So So!


The mountains and valleys are the playground of leaping Lions.

Jumping is fun, but what if we could never come back down to earth?

The earth is so kind to hold us all, so that we can walk and dance and leap.

It takes care of all of us with rocky power and beauty,

Allowing us to be Snow Lions, wearing the clouds as a scarf.  Ki Ki So So!


The mighty Garuda is the wind, always moving, everywhere and nowhere.

Air is a tiny gasp of breath.  Air is a giant tsunami.  Air flows through your flute making music.

Air is home to the birds, and their king is the Garuda.

We are the Garudas, masters of the sky.  Our wings open, open, open.  Ki Ki So So!


A drop of rain lands on your tongue and you taste a cloud.  A teardrop falls and you taste the ocean.

Water is big and small, alive and crafty, magical and mysterious, just like the Turquoise Dragon.

When the Dragon roars, thunder shakes the sky.

When the Dragon sleeps, winter is here.  In the summer the mountain lakes are full of Dragon treasure.

We are Dragons, magical and beautiful, growing and changing like rivers, icicles, and clouds. Ki Ki So So!