Learn & Explore
Where 2,500 years of Buddhist wisdom meets the rigor of modern psychology. Deepen your understanding. Transform your practice.
At Stanford in the late nineties, my clinical psychology cohort worshipped at the altar of John Bowlby. In the windowless seminar rooms of the psychology department, attachment theory was our gravitational center.
The wooden corridors of Shokoku-ji are polished to a mirror finish by centuries of cotton socks. I grew up sweeping those boards.
The smell of robusta beans roasting in the alleyway below my window near Truc Bach lake always catches in the back of my throat, pulling me out of sleep. It is monsoon season in Hanoi.
The air in Ladakh is thin enough that you must learn to walk with a certain kind of physical humility. At 3,800 meters above sea level, the sky is not a light canopy.
I sit across from people every day who are simply exhausted by the heavy lifting of maintaining a personality. They come into my office in Boulder—a town that sometimes feels like a high-altitude theme park for self-actualization—carrying the immense.
The gray linoleum of my clinic floor was surprisingly cold against my right cheek. That is the single detail I remember most clearly from the Tuesday afternoon my body finally refused to participate in my life.
Knowledge is the first step. A conversation is the second.
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