RESOURCES

By JOAN GLACY

If someone had told me a year ago that I’m not who I think I am, I wouldn't have believed it. That’s all changed.

Part One: Just The Facts

At first, I’m cautious. “Become a detective. Observe yourself, just the facts.” “List all the things you think of as yours.” “Try not using the words ‘I,’ ‘me,’ and ‘mine'.” These are curious instructions.

Yet, I trust and dive in. Slowly, gradually, unexpectedly, recognizable patterns begin to emerge, familiar feeling tones, and wornout stories that wrap around me like a heavy coat, comfortable but constraining. What is all this?

Holding these mental habits up to the light, it becomes possible to see. My mental habits cloud the viewing of my mental habits, yet with careful attention and reflection…with noticing, reflecting…slowly, gradually…a new view emerges, one that allows judgement-free interest in what “she” does and why “she” does it.

Part Two: This New Existence

Acting teachers say that once you learn what actors do, you’ll never watch TV the same way again. This is like that: The curtain is pulled back. The laboratory that is the meditation cushion now extends to all of life.

There seems to be two of me, the one who squabbles with her husband, and the one who wonders, “Why does she squabble with her husband?”

Expanding my daily meditation practice to an hour seems a natural response to what’s happening, and generous writers extend guiding hands along the way: It’s Up To You by Dongzen Kongtrul Rinpoche offers a new coat to wear, woven with warm, loving encouragement. No Self, No Problem by Chris Niebauer gives scientific grounding for what’s happening. In the company of these writers and others, fellow students, and mentors, with Teacher Fred leading the way, the fruit of this new existence begins to ripen.

Part Three + Retreat: We Are Verbs, Not Nouns

For millenia, deeply wise and spiritual beings have considered the mind. Their great gift to us is a road map for understanding what it is to be a human being. Freedom is here, we just need to know how to find it.

(Continued from Mindfulness Matters)

Daring to seek, the answer appears: The self is as impermanent and empty as anything else. Having prepared the mind this past year to receive the truth of its own emptiness, it is possible during the sweet sanctuary of retreat, to experience this at-first jarring, ultimately liberating reality. Exhilaration arises, having possibly glimpsed the insight that leads to the other shore.

Epilogue: This Present Moment

Exhilaration is fleeting. Three days after retreat, we squabble. This is familiar terrain, but also different. Might even this be met with presence, awareness, understanding and gratitude?

Analyzing how this present moment comes to be this present moment doesn’t necessarily illuminate how to be in this present moment, but it points the way. It points to grounded presence and open-hearted awareness, kindness and compassion, familiar yet new.

Who is writing?

A mind, a mystery,

Without a “you” or “me,”

At home in equanimity.

Joan Glacy, a member of FCM's Naples Sangha, lives in Marco Island with her husband. About two years ago, she sought a local meditation group, never imagining the treasures that awaited her just up the road in Naples. Before retirement, Joan was a psychiatrist, a medical researcher, an actor and a pizza tour guide. After retirement, she is (aware that she is) a verb.

By PEGGY WALLACE

I have a history of walking in others' footsteps, and it tends to be a very meaningful practice for me. It awakens a deeply felt connection to all living beings and brings compassion to life for me. Indeed, I’ve had some of my most meaningful experiences walking in the footsteps of others.

When I visited the Anne Frank house in Amsterdam, you could move aside the false bookcase and climb the very stairs that she took to her family’s hiding place. I stood in those rooms, breathed the air, felt the fear, joy, sadness and anxiety that colored Anne’s days. It was a very profound experience of connection and compassion for me. 

The beach at Normandy in northern France where the famous World War II invasion took place, remains as it was, with barbed wire on the cliffs and bomb craters scattered in the earth. Not many people visit there. So it has a haunted feel, a place where again I could feel the pain, fear, anxiety and sadness that arose there, connecting me once again with heartfelt compassion to a very human experience.  

So when I happened upon the Eleven Directions brochure in FCM’s Friendship Hall last year, the trip “In The Footsteps of The Buddha” jumped out at me, as did the heading “Journeys That Transform.” Was that even possible? Transformation on a tour trip to India? Only one way to find out. Go with four members of the Tampa FCM community (Misti Oxford-Pickeral, Libby Dunn, Tracy Fischer and myself) and Naples FCM member June Hemberger.  We joined other practitioners to set out for India a year later as a “traveling Sangha” of 20 pilgrims led by Dharma teacher Shantum Seth.

Most of the sites we visited were in the middle of bustling cities or towns. The congestion, noise and pollution surrounded us as we approached Deer Park in Sarnath, where the Buddha gave his first teachings. But as we entered the gates, all of that evaporated. A peaceful calm enveloped me with birds chirping, the sky looking bluer, my senses came alive. I stripped off my shoes, and strode barefoot on the same grounds as the Buddha, 2600 years ago. The power of walking in those footsteps was palpable.  

This felt deep connection with the Buddha happened again and again—at Jetavana Grove where (continued from Mindfulness Matters) the Buddha spent many rainy season retreats, at Lumbini where the Buddha was born, at Kushinagar where the Buddha died, atop Vulture Peak at sunset. In all these places and more I sensed the Buddha’s presence. I felt as though I had a deeper understanding of the teachings and was truly hearing the Dharma with new ears.  

Then came Bodh Gaya, the place of Siddhartha’s awakening, which felt like an entirely different universe. There’s nothing calm or quiet about Bodh Gaya, even as you approach the Bodhi tree. Bodh Gaya is crowded, the air filled with chanting, incense and an electrified presence. It was difficult even to take in the sheer number of marigolds, candles, robe-clad monks and barefoot pilgrims. Everyone there seemed to be looking for the same thing--the Buddha’s presence within themselves.

Our little Sangha slowly, mindfully made our way to the Bodhi tree outside the monumental Mahabodhi Temple, where we sat under the Bodhi tree as a Sangha meditating on Siddhartha’s awakening. As I sat there breathing, feeling the chanting move through me, meditating on the Buddha’s awakening, I felt as though something in me opened. Suddenly there was a pristine clarity in my thoughts, a knowing more tangible than ever before. “This is it,” I thought. “This is the life I want—to serve others to the greatest extent possible with this gift of a life I’ve been given.”

Tears flowed as any doubt about my path left me, and I felt clear, sure, determined. I started a mantra that day, asking myself, “Who am I helping?” whenever my thoughts strayed, or I found myself wandering into an unskillful mindset. Because if my goal is to be helpful to all living beings, there is no time to waste.

Did I have my own awakening sitting under the Bodhi tree? I’m not sure. But something inside me definitely transformed that day, and I haven’t been the same since. Perhaps, as Fred so often says, I finally have it “in my bones.” Whatever it is, the realization was worth the price of admission a million times over.

Peggy Wallace lives in Seminole Heights with her husband Daniel and two pet dogs. She’s been a member of FCM for nearly five years, serves as treasurer on the FCM Board of Directors, leads Community Care, mentors new members, offers selfless service in the kitchen, leads morning meditation, and is an aspirant in the Order of Interbeing.

By BRANDY KIDD

Of all the many Dharma-related conversations I have with folks inside and outside the sangha, the conversations about solitary retreats are the ones met with the most curiosity and awe (mostly by those who haven’t gone on a solitary retreat). A lot of questions ensue: 

Q: Is it true that you don’t talk at all during the entire retreat??

A:  Only with the teacher during the daily interview.

Follow-up Q: How do you DO that??

A: What started out scary turns out to be surprisingly wonderful.

Q: Is it true that you have no phones, no computers, no books, no journals?

A:  Only the text that the teacher suggests or that you request to work on.

Follow-up Q: How do you DO that??

A:  What started out intimidating turns out to be quite lovely.

These questions highlight the acclimatization most all of us have experienced to constant stimulation and interaction via texts, social media, emails, podcasts and books available instantly and always to us. That going without for a few days actually sparks trepidation in so many people’s minds is quite understandable.  

And if I’m being honest, when I began attending solitary retreats a dozen years ago, I felt the same way. Back then I was in the heart of parenting younger kids, working full time, and busy with sangha life. The idea and the practice of letting it all go was disconcerting. I couldn’t fathom what I would do with that much silence, that much space, that much “idle” time. It certainly highlighted how very attached I was to my worldly life. Accordingly, I began with very short solitary retreats: the three-night minimum.  

And at first, there were challenges. The places where I still had emotional healing to do would show up on retreat. I would feel anxiety. I would feel lonely. The Inner Critic would show up on retreat with me, absolutely uninvited. Fred’s support was key in helping me move through those experiences, as afflictive habit energies and schemas began to dissipate over time. It wasn’t always peaceful, that’s for sure.

In recent years, I have begun to look forward to these retreats more and more. But the challenge now is to not just “bliss out,” but rather to stay in that state of open, spacious, awake awareness that is our true nature (to be the Host more than a very “chill” Guest). It feels so good to be able to take a break from the discursive mind, but that’s not the path. In fact, it’s just the beginning. As Patrul Rinpoche warns: “stillness, bliss, and clarity: disrupt them again and again.” 

The main thing I’ve learned is to show up with zero attachments to how I want the retreat to unfold. My only aim need be to stay open, awake, aware, and compassionate to whatever arises, both within the four two-hour meditation sessions, and during the breaks in between, while enjoying a meal or a walk in the gardens. And also: to be brave; to be diligent, knowing that the more I practice, the more I can help my self and others.  

In this way, how to show up on solitary retreat is very much how I aspire to show up everyday in life (and also at death), “with no difference between meditation and post-meditation, no division between sessions and breaks. BUT (caps are mine), until stability is attained, it is vital to meditate, away from all distractions and busyness, (p)racticing in proper meditation sessions” (another bow to Patrul Rinpoche).

In other words: it’s vital to retreat. 

Brandy Kidd, who is currently serving as leader of the FCM Naples sangha, is an ordained member of the Order of Interbeing who also works as a psychotherapist in Naples and who loves being mom to two adult kiddos and a sweet, attention-seeking hound dog.

In his Dharma talk on November 16, 2025, our teacher Fred reminded us that our emotional suffering arises in our minds, nowhere else, which leads us to ask ourselves: What is the cause? What's underneath the restlessness, the need for stimulation, the complaints about the job, the distress about the world, the unease about relationships, the emotional afflictions? What's causing all this to arise?

For many of us, our minds are not used to going in this inner direction. We are used to pointing the finger outside ourselves. If you can find the inner cause and eradicate or lessen the cause, ending our suffering becomes easier. Thich Nhat Hanh actually said we don't need any "thing" to be happy. The potential for happiness already is present in our minds. We just have to learn to mine our own treasure.

Fred shared that the cause of our suffering comes from our strong identification with an ego that thinks the world and the people in it should be different than they are. A lot of our emotional suffering in life is self created, yet we believe the cause is "out there". If you think it's out there, then the solution is to work hard to control others and external events. The problem with that is that the world won't cooperate with us. It is operating from its own causes and conditions. 

After giving time for reflection, in Q&A with those attending in person and online, Fred summarized: "The collective thought of the sangha is the cause is because I want things (and myself) to be other than they are. At its root is our wrong perceptions about reality. We don’t see how things really are. If we can let go of our distorted thinking about life and work with it as it is, it will be much easier to intelligently respond to it.

"Could it be this simple? Actually, it is that simple. So, why don’t we all do it? Just accept the world, people and myself as they are. I'm not talking about condoning or not condoning the way things are. I'm talking about accepting reality.

By JONI MASSE

My first encounter with FCM was to attend a retreat on patience. After searching the web for a Buddhist teacher, I chose to pursue this weekend event, knowing I was deeply in need of guidance on how to develop a keener practice of patience coupled with the practice I already had for over 30 years.

I sought wisdom so I could also be kinder, more loving, and less attached to  an

outcome over which I had no control – the aging process, sickness, and ultimately death.

My husband’s health was clearly declining and since he and I do not always see eye to eye on health-related issues, I believed patience would be an asset to benefit our journey together as we moved through this period of our lives. The retreat gave me far more than I hoped for, and since then, patience has often lent its hand in my quest for equanimity, embodying loving kindness. 

Why would I need extra patience, you might ask. After 30 years of being in relationship, I’d come to accept how different our habits could be, and there had been many times I had found patience accompanied by compassion helped ease suffering in my mind. I anticipated diving deeper as I watched my husband continue to battle his smoking addiction while his lungs clearly were saying, “stop.” He also did not trust Western medicine; he had not seen a doctor in over 40 years. 

After an acute episode of breathing difficulty and a short stay in the hospital with a diagnosis of high blood pressure and severe COPD, he began to realize the benefits of Western medicine. That was one month following my retreat. 

Patience came in handy as his habits are often in conflict with mine. He likes to put things off till later, and I like to get them done asap. A year after his first hospitalization he found his body in extreme pain along with some acute bleeding. This was about eight months ago, when I was in the middle of the Intensive “Deconstructing the Myth of Self.” We sat up together one entire night while he was passing large clots when he peed and was in such pain he could not walk, but he chose not to go to the emergency room. We were both scared.

Practicing mindfulness, loving kindness, and extreme patience got me through that hellish night. In the morning, he agreed to go to the ER and two months later he was going through surgery for bladder cancer. 

Now we are four months out since his surgery. He has not smoked since, and he is committed to better health. I am committed to supporting him through the journey, as he experienced setbacks and had another hospitalization. We are growing as a couple while we find solace in our spiritual commitments and our commitment toward a healthier relationship.

A practice as simple as experiencing my own imperfection at cleaning a rug at FCM has helped me during this time. I am experiencing equanimity from my continued practice of meditation and studying the Dharma, in addition to the recent choice of my giving time to selfless service on Tuesdays with the cleaning crew.

The Dharma and patience led me to the Tuesday mornings. I make it to the center to meditate and offer my service. I feel joyful and grateful. I feel love. I feel at home. When I mindfully clean, I am given moments of insight into my practice: dropping the story, the attachments, the ego, the desires, and simply feeling the lessons, giving me peace.

I remember at the patience retreat Fred speaking about the traffic. Since I live an hour away from the center, traffic has been a deterrent for me. Now on Tuesday mornings, driving an hour each way with traffic I also encounter numerous moments to practice patience. I now look forward to pausing at red lights, traffic jams and delays.

I move more slowly. Cleaning gives me moments of non-self and patience as I deliberately attempt to get each speck of dirt off the rug, witnessing my attachment to such a desire, and the state of grace I feel when I let it all go. The sense of fellowship I receive from the sisters at the center is very heartwarming and comforting, as well, and feeds my spirit.

Offering to serve in whatever capacity I am needed sheds a bit attachment of ego as well. And I practice patience…as I know my Ego and Self have always leaned a bit toward being an overachiever and loves efficiency and “getting a lot done in a short period of time”, but this is not what selfless service is about. So, I get to LET GO of the Self who has a habit of doing things fast and furious while ignoring other insights.

What began in a retreat for developing patience, wanting to be recognized by the community for my years of “accomplished” spiritual lifestyle, seeking like-minded beings to support me in my journey, has evolved to cleaning specks of dirt off a rug, and feeling grateful for the experience to serve others.

So when you enter the hall, know that I have cleaned with loving kindness in my heart and if you see a speck of dirt, realize that too was a gift for my spiritual development. 

Joni Masse of Tarpon Springs began her conscious spiritual practice about 35 years ago, when she became a yoga teacher and lived in an intentional Yoga community. That led her to study Buddhism at a Buddhist inspired college, Naropa University in Boulder CO and to follow Pema Chodron and her many books and online courses. Finding a center like FCM in the spring of 2024 has given her a sangha and a live teacher, and she is deeply grateful.

By BILL Mac MILLEN

I recently attended Fred’s in-person offering of four “pop-up” teachings on the Heart Sutra, one of the most widely read andbeloved of the Buddhist sutras, and one we regularly chant at FCM during Sunday Sangha. As one of Fred’s senior students, and an FCM Dharma Instructor, the series was especially meaningful for me in a variety of ways.  

First, I deeply appreciated the opportunity to be physically present in the Meditation Hall with a realized teacher who is also my teacher, to hear Fred’s insights and wisdom firsthand just like Shariputra got to listen to Avolokita in the sutra.

Aware of all the consistent effort and sacrifices Fred has made over his life to come to realization—not just to study these deep teachings intellectually, but also to embody them in daily life and tirelessly transmit them to anyone with an interest—I found all four pop-ups tremendously inspiring. Simply listening to Fred transmit the Heart Sutra encourages me to keep deepening my own realization.

And I’m not new to the Heart Sutra. I’ve been chanting it for 12 years, have heard many teachings on emptiness (the primary focus of this sutra), read many books and commentaries on the sutra and emptiness, and done my own reflections and meditations on the subject. But Fred’s teaching is so personal, so down-to-earth, filled with clarifying examples (like asking if “wetness” is separate from water) and clear, that I was able to hear his transmission with a degree of freshness that allowed new insights and understandings to arise. 

For example, I already knew the history of the sutra and was aware of ongoing academic interest in debating its origin. But listening to Fred, my own preoccupation with the source of the sutra’s words disappeared behind the thought, “What does it matter?” If a proven cure for a disease afflicting me were found, would I decline to take the medicine until I knew the source of that cure, and all the details around how and when the cure had been developed?

This thought inspired me to recognize the opportunity before me to let go of distractions and simply “take the cure” for suffering that the Heart Sutra offers. It also energized a renewed sense of urgency within me to do so, to wake up to the cure now. This urgency arose in connection with my ongoing appreciation of the truth of impermanence—specifically in relationship to this aging body and its daily reminders that my journey here is time limited, that there’s literally “no time to lose.”

I’ve long found the application of Buddhist teachings on emptiness both invigorating and challenging. Still the question remained, “How can I apply the teachings in practical ways to end my own suffering and benefit others?” Hearing Fred’s explanations and insights over the four weeks of pop-up teachings on the Heart Sutra deepened my understanding of both the truth of emptiness and the implications of that truth for my own practice. It re-energized my ongoing aspiration to wake up.  

Finally, I found listening to the chanting of the gatha at the end of the sutra profoundly moving. Many voices joined the solo leader in chanting with increasing energy:   “Gate, gate, paragate, parasamgate, bodhi svaha” (“Gone, gone, gone beyond, gone to the other shore, awake, rejoice”). I saw Fred’s smile as we listened to the chanting, and heard again his tireless encouragement that awakening to the nature of my mind (reaching ‘the other shore’) is entirely possible for all humans, including me. 

I left the final pop-up with a renewed sense of faith in the teachings, my teacher, and my own ability to realize the teachings. The seeming conundrum of how to both live a worldly life and enhance the experience by realizing the truth of emptiness now seems much more “doable.”

Walking away after the final night’s talk, I felt a deep sense of gratitude for the teachings, my teacher Fred, and our FCM community.

Bill Mac Millen has been a student of Fred and a member of FCM since 2013. Currently, he is the Center Care Leader shepherding maintenance and beautification of our grounds and facilities and a regular contributor in leading workshops and retreats. 

By CAROL MEYER

Ever wonder how FCM does all? How we offer such rich Dharma programs, maintain our beautiful facilities and campus, nurture and sustain loving community, keep everyone informed, and continue to grow? How we do it all as a sangha of over 350 members relying almost entirely on selfless service, with only three paid staff (Dharma Teacher Fred, Caretaker David Braasch, and Office Manager Liz Stepp)? 

The short answer? Hundreds of members and friends willingly offer selfless service, and we have a quiet non-hierarchical organizational structure consisting of two governing bodies: the Board of Directors and the Leadership Council.   

The Board of Directors was established in the FCM Bylaws when FCM was incorporated in 1986 as a Florida not-for-profit and tax-exempt 501(c)(3) religious organization for the purpose of furthering the practice of Buddhism. The Board currently consists of four officers and four directors serving staggered terms. The Dharma Teacher serves as an ex-officio member of the Board. Follow this link if you want to see who is currently serving on our FCM Board. 

The Board meets at least five times per calendar year, uses consensus decision-making and assumes all of the traditional fiduciary roles of the boards of non- profit organizations, including the following.

1. Elects new directors and directors who serve as officers of the corporation: Board chair, Board chair-elect, secretary and treasurer

2. Ensures that FCM remains true to its stated vision, mission and core values

3. Engages in strategic (“big picture”) planning to set broad policy and objectives, and ensures FCM remains focused on realizing stated short and longer-term goals and priorities

4. Oversees FCM finances, including: preparation and approval of the annual budget, prudent collection and expenditure of operating funds and initiation of capital campaigns

5. Establishes committees, effective management structures, and priorities to help FCM realize its mission, vision and strategic plans 

6. Participates in key staffing decisions, including recruitment and engagement of members to offer selfless service as directors, officers, and program leaders

Want to know what our FCM Board is focusing on now?  Here are the current 2025 priorities adopted by our FCM Board at its 2024 annual Board retreat last December.

1. Continue building a community that nourishes personal connections and relationships in all FCM activities and through the implementation of “family groups.”  (3-year priority)

2. Elevate and strengthen FCM’s culture of selfless service as a path of practice and by supporting the development and appointment of a Selfless Service Coordinator.

3. Continue to develop the infrastructure to create a permanent digital marketing group.

4. Increase FCM's partnerships and interactions with local non-profit organizations having missions and values similar to FCM’s.

5. Encourage the leadership to promote a wider awareness and utilization of the FCM Sangha Harmony Guide within FCM and proactively encourage leadership training to address situations of disharmony or conflict. 

While the Board focuses on “big picture,” the Leadership Council and its area leaders focus on daily operations and doing all that we want and need to do together. The Leadership Council, which includes Fred at the center of it all, meets weekly to ensure communication flows among all areas, challenges are met, and the sangha flows like a river with all areas working together in harmony.  Here are our current area leaders and members of the Leadership Council.

• Our teacher Fred serves as our spiritual guide, providing leadership and support, and ensuring that we remain focused on realizing FCM's mission, values and goals.
  
• Dharma Programs Leader Angie Parrish oversees all Dharma programs, including Sunday sangha, meditation, workshops and classes, Intensives, Days of Mindfulness, retreats, online courses and recordings and more.
  
• Communications Leader Carol Green oversees communications (including Mindfulness Matters).
  
• Community Care Leader Peggy Wallace oversees programs that support and nurture our community and membership, such as Sangha Building/Membership, Sangha Care and Support, Social Activities, Death & Dying, and Spiritual Friends groups.
  
• Facilities Leader Bill Mac Millen and Caretaker David Braasch are in charge of the safety and maintenance of FCM’s Tampa Practice Center, including grounds and gardens, buildings and facilities, kitchen, housekeeping, selfless service and our residential caretaking program.
  
• Operations Leader Lydia Anderson, along with our Office Manager Liz Stepp, are responsible for financial reporting, risk management and compliance.
  

Want to know even more about how FCM works?  Follow this link to the Organization page in the About section of our website, and check out the role of the Order of Interbeing and Council of Elders in our amazingly wonderful sangha! 

Carol Meyer of Asheville, NC, has been a member of FCM for 13  years and currently is leader of FCM's Order of Interbeing.

By PEGGY WALLACE

My brother was 13 years my senior. I didn’t really grow up with him around. He was off to college before I could even make sense of his existence.

But for him, I was like his first child. He had memories of our early years together, he as a teenager and me as a toddler, that simply don’t exist for me in any real way. He loved me fiercely, always.

When I was myself a teenager, we developed a bond so strong, other members of our family couldn’t fathom it. He was present in my life in a way that no other adult was. He mattered to me in a way that simply didn't apply to other people. When he suddenly died in 2009, it left a gaping hole in my world. The pain of losing him is something that remains with me, just under the surface.

One of the many things we bonded over was music. He was a musician in his spare time, playing guitar and piano, writing and recording songs, playing on the street corners in his downtown Boston neighborhood just for fun. I loved music, and because I adored him, this was our bonding place.

We could spend hours listening to music, each taking a turn at picking out songs from his vast music library. Back when music was made on vinyl and there were stores that sold things called "records", we could spend an entire afternoon combing through the options, making our selections, and then going home to have a listening party. He taught me about rhythm, tone, pitch, harmony, and cadence. I learned to identify the different musical instruments simply by sound. There literally are not many songs (particularly the classics) that aren’t tied to my memory of him in some way.

And so, in 2009, music stopped for me, or rather, I stopped the music. It was painful, especially in the early days following his death, to listen to songs we enjoyed together.

And so, very soon after his passing, I started telling myself stories about music: You can’t enjoy music anymore. If you listen to that, it will bring back painful memories. Music isn’t special anymore. It’s not going to sound as good, now that he’s gone. And on and on, the stories went. Until I decided that music would no longer be a part of my life. I tuned into talk radio and called it a day. I had decided that I was no longer a music fan. Too painful. Too hard. 

Fast forward 15 years and I’m at the FCM Widsom Retreat. It’s a few days into the retreat when, close to the end of the evening, Fred instructs us all to lay down in the Meditation Hall. Get comfortable, he says, because we’re going to listen to music.

Panic. Stories. I don’t listen to music, and certainly not in public, because I’m likely to cry. I was stiff, and tense, and worried. And I heard the stories start to play in my head.

And then Fred said, seemingly directly to me, “Just relax”.  So this time, I decided to try something different. This time I thought, What might happen if I don’t tell those stories and just listen? Could I let music just be music?  Could it be joyful again? Could I enjoy the beauty of it again? Wouldn’t it be wonderful if that was possible?

Because I had long ago made the decision to invent and tell myself my stories about music, I also had to make the decision to put the stories down, if only for a moment, just to see what would happen.

As I lay there in the Meditation Hall, staring out the window at the dark night, heat lightning lit up the sky, and the music began to play. Oh, God, acoustic guitar. My brother's first, most loved instrument. For a moment, my heart ached and I started to entertain an old story, but I was able to let it go, telling myself, “I don’t have to tell a story about this, I can just listen”.

And then, the magic happened. The music was stunning, clear, melodic. As I let go of my stories, gorgeous tempos and melodies flowed over me like old friends coming home again. Tears rolled down my cheeks, and I was stuck by the serene peace the music brought to me. It was one of the more powerful moments of my life.

I did a lot of thinking in the wake of that experience. I realized very acutely that the stories I had invented, perpetuated, and told over and over again had walled me off. I was missing out on the joy of music and it was all my own doing. What else was I holding myself back from? In what other ways was I limiting my life experience because of these stories? And why did I invent them in the first place? Well, that’s another discussion entirely but if I had to sum it up, I could: Fear.

And so I began examining my own mind, and looking for the stories in my everyday life (they are not hard to find). I began deconstructing these stories that I once thought kept me safe. Each time one began to play, I stopped and examined it. Was it true? Did I need to keep telling it? Was it really helping me, or was it depriving me from being fully open and engaged with my life? What is this story keeping me from?

And that process continues today. And slowly, in the untelling of my once-cherished stories, I am reclaiming my life and giving it back to myself, uncovering joy along the way. 

Peggy Wallace of Tampa has been a member of FCM since 2021. She is a member of the Board of Directors, leader of Community Care on the Leadership Council and a member of the Order of Interbeing.

By RAJ GOYAL

Arriving at the Florida Community of Mindfulness always feels like returning to a sanctuary. The stillness of the Zen garden, the gentle trickle of water and the nourishing silence of the sangha have a way of loosening knots I didn’t even realize I’d been carrying. In this space, the mind softens, and the heart quietly opens.

For the past six months, I had been working through Part One and into Part Two of the Deconstructing the Myth of Self Intensive, taking deliberate steps to observe the structure of self. I came eager to go deeper in the August retreat, but a week before the retreat, my mother had a TIA. In an instant, I was swept back into the identity of “responsible son.” The sense of “me” became sharper, heavier.

Through reflection—and my parents’ loving encouragement—I realized they had the resources to manage without me. That recognition allowed me to arrive fully.

The drive to the center became my first practice. With each mile, my thoughts slowed, my breath deepened. By the time I stepped onto the grounds, gratitude filled me—gratitude for my wife and family, who had given me the space to be here, and for the chance to turn inward without distraction.

Early in the retreat, I noticed subtle triggers from daily life. My aspiration was to look beyond the content of these triggers and examine the architecture of self. Turning toward my “mistrust” schema in inner child work brought waves of sadness, suspicion and insecurity.

Betsy Arizu, the retreat leader, with her steady presence and compassionate guidance, created a path for exploring these wounds safely. Her process was so clear and impactful. In the embrace of the sangha, I could question long-held stories, gently offering my inner child new evidence that these old truths were not absolute. New, healthier beliefs began to take root.

There were moments of resistance, especially when memories cut close to the bone. At times, missing my family pulled me away from the present moment. When that happened, I walked slowly through the Zen garden, letting breath and step become one. Guided meditations with Misti Oxford-Pickeral and Bill Mac Millen brought me back to the work at hand. Misti’s almost angelic voice in the morning chanting set the tone for each day with clarity and intention.

One of the most powerful moments came during deep sharing after the inner child sessions. I felt raw yet held. The community’s presence gave strength to the tender perspectives I was forming. It was as if we were not only loosening the knots within ourselves but gently untangling each other’s as well.

In those moments, I felt what it means to take true refuge—in the Buddha, Dharma, and Sangha—rather than in the delusive, conditioned self.

Since returning home, I’ve deepened my daily meditation, aspirations and intentions. My journey with the book Emotional Alchemy continues, now with a sharper focus on the schemas that construct the self. As Zen Master Dōgen wrote, “To study Buddhism is to study the self; to study the self is to forget the self.”

Raj Goyal began his practice in 2017, starting with yoga and moving toward longer meditations. He found FCM about two or three years ago and has embraced its community ever since. He live in Odessa, FL, with his wife and their three daughters (ages 5, 13 and 15). This year is dedicated to deep self-work for his own growth and for his family.

By KARUNA REIFF

Since becoming a mother, I had hoped to take my family one day to a family retreat at a Plum Village monastery.  As a child myself, I had wholeheartedly enjoyed attending several Plum Village family retreats in the U.S., as well as a few summer family retreats in Plum Village, France. Those experiences were always bright, happy spots in my childhood where my connection with Buddhism and Buddhist communities started to grow.

My dream came true this summer when I went with my husband and our two children (ages 10 and 13) to the Family Retreat at Blue Cliff Monastery. The monastery sits on 80 peaceful acres of woodland in the rural Catskill region of Pine Bush, NY-- a lovely change from busy Tampa Bay! Blue Cliff is home to a thriving community of monks, nuns, and lay practitioners who share the art of mindful living with thousands of adults and children every year. 

Karuna and Newton Reiff relax among the Buddha statues at Blue Cliff Monastery.

In the photo above, Karuna hugs her daughter, Metta, in front of the Blue Cliff meditation hall.

We attended a four-day retreat primarily led by the monks and nuns. It seemed part mindfulness retreat (not much silence, though!) and part summer camp. The adults' program included some meditation, a Dharma sharing group, work meditation, and talks/panels on topics such as the Five Mindfulness Trainings, transforming suffering, and Beginning Anew. 

Meanwhile, the children were immersed in their own activities, which often included games like soccer, tag and volleyball.

Miraculously, our 13- year-old son, who typically likes to do his own thing, happily spent almost all day every day with the Teen Program without any complaints. Our 10-year-old daughter joined the children’s program for her age group where she enjoyed playing outside almost all day and learning about things like the Two Promises and Beginning Anew.  

The accommodations were varied and a surprise (at least for us) until we arrived. We were very comfortable in an RV while other families stayed in dorms or camped. Delicious vegan meals were served buffet-style three times daily with enough variety for everyone to be satisfied.  

What stood out the most for me was how quickly all members of my family felt comfortable and happy.

The children instantly sensed Blue Cliff was a safe place where they could wander about and feel free. As parents, my husband and I quickly relaxed our guard as we felt the kindness of the community and knew our children were engaged in wholesome, nurturing activities. 

The retreat watered and planted seeds in the four of us around kindness and living more harmoniously with others. Being with so many other families (250 total people) engaging in this wholesome way of being encouraged us in our practice. And, of course, it was nice to have someone other than me sharing this wonderful path with our family. 

While most of the families that we met live in other parts of the country, connections were made and hopes of meeting again during future summer retreats were expressed. We also had the good fortune of attending with another FCM family, the Sedhains, which made the experience even more special. 

We hope to return for another family retreat at Blue Cliff and hope this article will encourage other FCM families to consider a family retreat at one of the Plum Village monasteries here in the United States. Blue Cliff (NY), Magnolia Grove (in MS)  and Deer Park (CA) monasteries all hold annual family retreats. It’s a great way to vacation together!    

Karuna Reiff lives in St Petersburg where she works as a hospice social worker.  She helps to facilitate the Family Program at FCM.