Dearest Friends,

I hope this reflection finds you in a space of greater stability now that the proverbial dust has somewhat settled.

Four weeks ago, when the announcement was made that our beloved Banyan ship had foundered under the weight of its own aspirations, I knew that what the moment called for was commandeering anything that could be used as a flotation device. I also knew that it made no sense to construct a lifeboat with satellite communication systems, smart sensor monitors, self-righting capabilities, free-fall deployment features and hybrid propulsion engines.

I knew all this—and the knowledge didn’t stop my diligent, hardworking and striving little parts from colluding and trying to build a state-of-the-art lifeboat anyway.

Of course, the weeks of stress and anxiety that ensued exacted a toll: weight loss, disordered sleep, bleeding gums, an exasperated partner and one very disgruntled Shih Tzu. The havoc wreaked by the drive to over-engineer was a humbling reminder of how weighty conditioning can be: in my case, nine years of being molded by the Benedictine dictum ora et labora (“pray and work”), followed by fifteen years under the Ignatian mandate Ad majórem Dei glóriam (“for the greater glory of God”)—all resting on the foundational Greek value of aretḗ (excellence).

What it took to loosen the grip of the conditioning was revisiting the image of the raft as it’s been used in the dharma. The Buddha described his teachings as a raft that helps one cross a river from the shore of suffering (saṃsāra) to the far shore of liberation (nibbāna). What’s crucial to the metaphor is the provisional nature of the raft: You leave it behind once you’ve reached the other side. Obsessing about the raft itself beyond its purpose is simply another form of clinging.

So here I am, four weeks later, launching a craft that’s nowhere near seaworthy by the estimation of my perfectionist little parts. But here’s the buoyant thing about conditioning: It, too, is impermanent…and it, too, yields to the sincerity of intention.

SUGGESTED PRACTICE:

Sit quietly and attend to your breath. Let each inhale and exhale soften the body. Recall a situation in your life where you’ve noticed the urge to control, fix or be perfect. Hold these compulsions with awareness and compassion. Then imagine a simple raft floating sturdily on calm water. See yourself resting upon it, being carried by the dharma, by your sangha and by your intention. With each exhale, release the need to try so hard. Feel the buoyancy and trust the sufficiency of your simple raft. Close with the reminder: “Conditioning is impermanent. Intention carries me to the other side.” Allow this truth to settle into your heart.

REFLECTION PROMPTS:

1. What patterns of conditioning drive you to over‑engineer or over‑strive? How do these patterns show up in your life and how do they add to your stress and anxiety?
2. Where in your life can you allow simplicity and sincerity to carry you rather than perfectionism and control?
3. How does remembering impermanence help you release clinging and find steadiness in times of upheaval?