[Woman singing] Cindy Blackman Santana: Energy works.

Electricity is.

If you stick your finger in a socket, you're gonna feel the electricity because electricity just is, but it depends on what you do with that electricity, so the energy is there.

Love is there.

It's how we want to direct that energy, how we want to focus that energy.

[Men chanting] Have you ever wondered what it would be like to live in a spiritual community... [Chanting continues] doing spiritual work full time, maybe sometimes with every breath?

Welcome to "Global Spirit."

I'm Cindy Blackman Santana.

Carlos Santana: Cindy and I have lived at one time or another in our lives in a spiritual community where we are focused on a precise goal with a teacher... [Ding] and what I learned is that it takes a lot of courage, strength to surrender your ego to your light, to play this game of self-discovery with yourself.

So let's sit back and join our host Phil Cousineau for another "Global Spirit" program.

[Bell tolls] Cousineau: Since time immemorial, human beings have chosen to live in religious or spiritually based communities.

Today, with the dramatic rise of the religiously unaffiliated, long-standing attitudes towards spiritual communities appear to be changing.

In this "Global Spirit" program, we will visit a community of Zen Buddhist monks in Santa Fe, New Mexico, and a community of youth activists in New York City.

We'll experience how a new and sophisticated generation of new monastics is expanding and enriching the idea of community by combining prayer and contemplation with social action.

Our program guests include Roshi Joan Halifax and Adam Bucko, who are both founding members of communities that bring contemplative practices together with social activism.

We are pleased to invite them to meet for the first time for a truly unique conversation.

Welcome to "Global Spirit's" "The Power of Community."

Welcome to "Global Spirit," Roshi Joan Halifax.

Welcome, Adam Bucko.

I'm really delighted to be able to explore this topic of community with the two of you because you're two exemplars of what's emerging, I feel, in community building today, but I'd like to begin in an--in an unusual way.

I've just come back from France, where I was lecturing at Chartres Cathedral, and I heard an interesting anecdote that children of the church dropouts, they are going in record numbers to monasteries and convents across Europe.

There's a year, sometimes a two-year waiting list to get into these retreat centers.

What do you think is happening?

Well, uh, I think it's interesting that all of those people are going to monasteries.

They're not necessarily going to church, um, and--and I think that there's a distinction.

I know for me, as a young man, you know, I was not interested, uh, in churches or temples, but I was very interested in monasteries because in those monasteries, I was able to meet people who, um--who were interested in what was really going on inside of me, uh, you know, and--and--and those were the only people who were able to diagnose my questions as spiritual questions, and--and--and I think that that's the beauty of monasteries, that, you know, at least for some of those monastics, uh, you know, as a result of being part of that culture, they did experience some level of transformation, and now they are able to relate to this new generation in a completely different way, a way that is not necessarily just about dogmas, just about believing things, but they're able to kind of meet with young people on a heart level, and I think that that-- that makes a difference.

Halifax: Yeah.

I--I-- I totally agree with you.

You know, I look on Upaya as a kind of inter world between the mountain and the street and, uh, between the monastery and, you know, all the rest of the life.

It's a--a place where, um, from my point of view, having a stable practice community which is primarily composed of young people, which is really inspiring.

You know, they-- some of them stay a month.

Some of them stay for years, but being in a place that really cherishes both the contemplative life and also the engaged life, I mean, that's-- I--I think that's something you and I have in common, is, um, this vision of social engagement as practice and the place where we actualize the way in our everyday life.

People have been seeking out human community forever.

Has something changed in our time?

In your experience, are they seeking something different in community, a different depth of community, a different kind of community, maybe one in which they've chosen it rather than it being chosen for them?

What I'm seeing is that young people are not always interested in having conversations about spirituality, um, but they are interested in this one specific question, which is, you know, "What am I gonna do with my life?"

because all of us are asking this question, you know-- "Why am I here?

"What am I gonna do with my life?

"How can, you know, I find meaning and purpose?"

and so what I'm seeing is that, you know, for us, that is the primary question, what is your calling, um, and so we don't start with theology.

Uh, we don't start with a framework.

We don't even start with a practice.

We start with being with each other in such way that we can kind of help each other to be relocated in our truth.

OK.

I think this is a perfect opportunity to actually look at some film footage that our "Global Spirit" team filmed with you in New York City at the HAB project, so let's meet your HAB community now.

Bucko, voice-over: So, you know, HAB community is part of this movement that sometimes is called new monastic movement, and it's really about reclaiming some of those monastic practices that used to be practiced only in monasteries and making them available to the young generation of people who feel deep longings for a life of meaning and purpose.

Woman: Imagining that you're... Bucko, voice-over: What really matters is how to help people touch base with what's really in their heart, with that sense of the divine presence that we all have within ourselves.

[Bell tolls] Bucko: So here we are with everything that we are and have asking you to give us courage.

We gather here knowing that when two or more gather in your name, you are there present.

We believe that you're present here with us tonight.

We are also gathering here following in the footsteps of those who followed your way of compassion, justice, and nonviolence.

We gather here praying that we, too, may become the change we wish to see in the world.

Yeah?

OK, so groups of 3, so first 3 people go.

Next 3 people go and then us.

Bucko, voice-over: So we have this kind of a really beautiful intergenerational community.

We have an elder who's this, you know, wonderful, radical, Catholic activist.

We have a Catholic religious sister who is also a big part of the Occupy movement, and we also have young people, you know?

Bucko: Is everything OK?

Yeah.

We're--we'll be-- we're all right, man, Thank you.

Yeah.

Woman: OK. Hey, is there something I can help you with?

And--and where are you from?

I'm from Long Island, man.

From Long Island?

Bro, bro, I need a sleeping bag and a blanket if you could help me out, one sleeping bag.

I can help you out with a blanket tomorrow.

OK. Good blanket?

OK, so if you're here, yeah, a very good blanket.

Oh, amazing.

OK. Bucko, voice-over: You see, what's interesting about this new generation is that they don't just want to leave everything and-- and go into a monastery, and they don't want to have a job that doesn't reflect their spiritual values.

Somehow they want to build these well-integrated lives where they do work in the world but that work reflects their deepest sense of calling.

What about peanut butter and jelly?

Yeah.

That'll be things that'll save-- This is--because I can't find it anywhere.

Woman, voice-over: A lot of the residents here at Port Authority are permanent, and, um, we do a good job-- Adam does a good job at, like, getting to know them, um, as humans, so important thing, and then when it breaks down, uh, our tax dollars pay for it because people need to eat and there's--they'll check themselves into the emergency room, which is, like thousands of dollars, just to get a sandwich, and I see that every day.

There you go.

Ba--banana, too.

Ohh, banana, too.

Ha ha!

He got a banana.

Gra--oh, un platano.

Otra platano.

Que nececito.

¡Papi!

OK. Que bien.

Gracias.

Woman, voice-over: Beyond any other of my practices that I've done since I started my spiritual path that this has been-- has gotten me just so much closer to God and my own spirituality than anything else.

Hand warmers.

Once it's gets really cold, you can't find them anywhere.

Like, everyone's sold out, so I had gotten a big, uh, box of them months ago, so I just found I had some extras.

Bucko, voice-over: I think there's a lot of people in this new generation, in this young generation feel a profound sense of being called, how their experiences and talents and gifts that-- that they have, how could all of that be used in service of building a world that works for all... Do you want a peanut butter and jelly sandwich?

Bucko, voice-over: and so, to me, you know, this new generation is actually quite wise, and I think that their sense of spirituality is really profound and very, very mature.

You take this $10.

Oh, you're a great one.

Oh, let me salute you.

Woman, voice-over: I know these people.

I don't come here to hand out a sandwich.

That's just the tool.

I come here because only to show my love for a fellow human being, to recognize them as a person, to recognize them in their dignity, in their God-given dignity that is in them, and no police and no force in this country can stop me from loving them, and that's why I'm here.

And what she was talking about is this way of being present, you know, where--where, um, we can be present to them in such way that they will experientially experience their dignity, and, as a result, whatever is evoked in them, you know, evokes something in us, and it's this kind of a dialogical, you know, eye-to-eye relationship of-- of--of us liberating each other, you know, uh, touching, you know connecting with our God-given dignity, with-- with--with who we really are, with our bigness, so to speak.

You know, I like what, um, the Dalai Lama says, that, um there are 84,000 dharma doors, and, uh, your community is--is a very big dharma door through which, um, uh, people can pass and find what they-- who they really are, and, um, when your world, uh, uh, addresses homelessness, you're also pointing to an economic disparity that, um, creates a lot of suffering in our world.

Wonderful comments, Roshi Joan, perfect opportunity for us to now turn to the Upaya community in Santa Fe, New Mexico.

[Men singing] [Bell tolls] Halifax, voice-over: Upaya was founded as a way to bring meditation practice together with social action, a place where, uh, people who are involved in direct service want to open up their life to the contemplative dimension where they can come and practice and learn.

[Singing continues] [Bell tolls] I feel that, um, it is a profound gift to live in a community, uh, such as this where practice is a constant, where precepts are valued and are--are embodied and to live in a place where maitri, or metta-- where loving kindness is important and also where we touch the lives of many.

[Bell tolling] So when we say creations are numberless, um, you know, we're speaking about everything from the point of view of interdependence but also liberating the sense of a separate self, and in the Mahayana stream, we say, bodhisattvas do not seek easy situations... so, in a way, this call to embrace all of life is also a call about the development of character, not hiding out.

This is the nature of our life, always a work in progress.

How does, if you will, art in all of the manifestations of art play into our work as chaplains?

How do we create the field, if you will, of, um, awakening through poetry, painting, music, Shakespeare?

Halifax, voice-over: Our chaplains work with youth, with homeless people, but they also work in the government, and they also work in the military.

Mm-hmm.

They also believe literature and theater and poetry lets us know we're not alone... That--that is-- so I think that also the term that we used to use in my last life when I was radicalized the first time-- and, by the way, I'm looking forward to being reradicalized-- [Laughter] Well, we're-- Ha ha ha!

We're--we're working on it.

Ha ha ha!

You're an easy case.

But we called it overcome by events, and overcome by events is when somebody was just so overwhelmed, everything just started to shut down.

It was either cortisol, lupus firing, or something like that, but, uh, the cognizant, uh, awareness just started to shut down, and I think that we can embrace the fact that, um, life is what it is.

Mm-hmm, so I'm just-- I--I, you know, in terms of your work with people who are addicted, I'm just curious.

It's self-medicating.

That's where people are, and--and a lot of times, it is trauma or abuse in their past, and the way that I try and navigate it is-- is making safe spaces.

Halifax: Wonderful.

Um, when--when you're able to make a safe space for somebody without judgment, everything opens up.

You see the--the--the actual dynamic human being that they are instead of, uh, just what they even self-label themselves as, as an addict or a junkie, but as a dynamic human being with-- with flaws and with-- with, uh, amazing abilities.

[Singing] Halifax, voice-over: So, uh, I feel being in this kind of context sort of sets the nervous system, the heart, uh, for one's whole life.

[Clanging] [People singing] I--I think it's also important to understand that our community is not just here at Upaya.

It's also in Nepal, where we serve in the Nomads Clinic.

It's also in the hospitals, uh, where clinicians who have trained here have served.

The value of actualizing compassion is something that's really important in our community.

You also, in a way, get to let go a lot of your preferential mind and your ego which is creating a kind of narrow way of being in the world... [Ding] and sangha traditionally has referred to the Buddhist community, which includes monks, nuns, laymen, laywomen, but, um, I see, uh, it a little bit differently, that sangha refers to actually all beings, that we're practicing with all beings as an interdependent weave which is all-inclusive.

[Sweeping continues] Roshi Joan, there's the notion of space, is something I'd like to explore with you for a moment.

What are you trying to create with candles, gongs, the silence?

Is there something about sacred space that makes the contemplative life possible?

Hmm.

I think that the use of, um, this kind of paraphernalia-- um, candles, uh, gongs.

uh, images, and so forth-- um, points to qualities within the human psyche that we're actually evoking, uh, through the medium of practice.

When people walk into the zendo at Upaya, um, it's--it's not as if they're walking into a space, um, that hasn't been consecrated not only, um, through the process of ritual, but also through-- through the process and the practice of silence.

There's, um, a kind of gravity in that space which is immediately palpable.

When people open the temple doors to enter, um, you can, you know, feel that sense of crossing the threshold of, uh, our everyday awareness into a space, um, that has, uh, greater luminosity, creative freedom, and yet I--I, you know-- You shouldn't be attached to a space.

If I go to Nepal or if I'm sitting in a hospital room or if I'm sitting inside of a--a maximum-security prison, that also, in terms of how I approach-- or an airport, where I'll be shortly-- you know, there's something inside of me that, um, it is, uh, invited by myself to understand that this also is where I'm practicing.

I can't have just, you know, one space and that's where I practice and--and everything else doesn't count.

It's really to understand that, you know, the opportunity for practice is every space that you enter.

Speaking of sacred spaces, let's transition now to another video segment from the Reciprocity Foundation in New York City, where we'll watch a group of homeless youth gathering together for a sacred meal.

Bucko, voice-over: So the Reciprocity Foundation serves homeless youth, uh, from all the boroughs, uh, around New York City.

You know, most of them come from the streets.

Uh, most of the kids, uh, that you see here are living in homeless shelters.

Most of those kids have gone through really horrible situations-- you know, suffering, heartbreaks, abuse, sex work.

I mean, you name it.

A lot of the kids who come here identify as LGBT... You could survive without water for days.

I've been doing meditation.

Bucko, voice-over: and when you look at the statistics in New York City, the official number is that about 40%, uh, of all the homeless kids in New York City are LGBT...

I'm grateful for the chance to live in my truth.

I'm grateful the the chance to define myself, and I'm grateful for the chance to, like, shape my own future.

Mm mm.

Mm.

Bucko, voice-over: and so they come here because this space feels like a family to them.

I come here sometimes to hang out.

This is some good food.

Peace.

Um, I'm grateful for Thursdays off from work and, um-- and the space, being able to come here.

Bucko, voice-over: They come here and immediately, they feel that there's enough space here to bring their stories, to bring their heartbreaks, to bring whatever it is that they're dealing with here and that somehow, we can receive it, and--and help them to work through all of those things before, uh, they become part of the New York City street life, you know?

So many stories I've heard over the years where, you know, a--a kid basically, uh, you know, decides to, um, claim their truth, decides to basically tell their parents, you know, "This is who I am, uh, you know, in the depth of my being," a--and then, you know, a lot of those, especially religious parents, uh, just kick them out, hoping that somehow that's gonna "fix them," so to speak.

You know, so many people who, uh, you know, proclaim to be good Christians or good Jews or good Muslims or good Hindus are basically kicking their kids out on the street just because their kid is gay.

I mean, that just breaks my heart, you know?

[Bell tolling] Bucko: So let us all just maybe close our eyes for a moment and take a couple of deep breaths.

As we're, like, finally arriving here, you know, some of our thoughts might still be somewhere else, so let's just become aware of what's going on in our minds, in our hearts right now and slowly... bring ourselves into this room... becoming aware of all the people around us and also becoming aware of our intention, you know, why did we come here today, so just for a moment, become aware of that reason that brought you here today.

Bucko, voice-over: We use a lot of holistic methodologies to--to--to help them heal from their trauma because pretty much everyone who comes here, you know, has been traumatized and hurt, and then once they feel OK, we connect them to leaders from the industry of their choice, and the goal is to really support them so step by step, they can find who they are, discover their talents, heal from their trauma, and then move into a profession that they really love.

When you meet young people who tell you, "I want to have your job," do you encourage them... Yeah.

and what's--I mean, what's your advice?

Like, if that's what you want, what should they do?

Well, if you're good at something, it's like, why not do what you're good at?

Like, sometimes people want to say, "Oh, I want to do this," but you're really good at this.

It's like, why don't you-- What would be great is if you could, like, ma--uh, marry your--your passion, your dreams, and your talents.

Then you're like-- this way, you're like Kanye West or something, but, like-- So I know I wanted to be a designer... Paco: Mm-hmm.

um, but I moved away from home because, although my family supported my career decisions, I felt like my family was not gonna be as supportive with my transition, so I knew that, being from Maryland, I never saw anyone like me.

♪ Some people need to scoop it to the left ♪ ♪ Scoop it to the left... ♪ Bucko, voice-over: They know basically that--that the world that they were born into, the system that they were born into is not offering them much, so they're trying to find out, you know, what kind of world they want to live in, what kind of values they want to see, and then figure out their own unique way of making contribution to that world.

They were broken by life, and it's unfortunate, but at the same time, because of that experience, that experience enabled them to see differently, so, you know, they have this vision.

They have this creativity.

They have this compassion, uh, that our world needs.

Bucko: All right.

Adam, it's heart-rending to learn that many of the kids who are coming to your foundation have been thrown out of their home by their parents.

It also brings up another point-- the relationship between home and community.

When we're going to a community, are we going home again?

Well, certainly, uh, many of the kids who come to our center, uh, say to us that our center is the only home they've ever had, uh, and, you know, a few years ago, we were kicked out of the space, um, in-- in New York City.

Uh, as you, uh, can imagine, uh, not very many landlords in New York City are happy to have homeless kids coming into their buildings, so we were kicked out, you know, got a two-week notice and were, essentially, a homeless organization serving homeless kids, and there was one kid who, you know, first of all, you know, when he heard about it, he said, like, "What do you mean?

This is the only home I have," and then he said, "but I want to help you pack up," and I remember we were-- you know, we spent a few days packing up and--and--and--and getting ready for our move, and he came in, and after 10 minutes, he had to leave.

It was too painful for him to-- to--to--to go through that process with us, you know, so the goal for the Reciprocity Foundation was to create, um, a family that our kids never had, so to speak, you know?

Can you give us a-- a sense of the-- the--the tone and timbre of the spiritual questions that they have?

What are they asking when they come?

It--it's interesting because one of the-- So some years ago, we had a student who, um, ended up on "America's Next Top Model," and was the first transgender, uh, model on the show, um, and so after that, a lot of kids who saw that show, you know, uh, they would start coming to--to our center saying, you know, "I came because maybe you can help me to become famous," uh, and, you know, I think that that's actually a spiritual statement, you know?

It's so easy, in a sense, for us to dismiss it and say, "Well, "you know, kids today, all they care about is, you know, being on TV," but when you deconstruct that statement, when you get to the bottom of that statement, what they are actually saying is that, "I want a life of meaning, purpose, and significance."

It's just that the only theology that they have is a reality-TV theology, and so within that framework, that's what "I want to be famous," you know, that's what it means, essentially.

You know, they come into our--our--our space, and, you know, uh, there's this wisdom.

Yes.

There is wisdom.

There is courage.

There are all of those things, and there is also tremendous brokenness, et cetera, but when I look at my life, I do have to say that most of the stuff that I know about prayer, most of the stuff that I know about spiritual life I actually learned from sitting with them.

It's not really even clear who's helping whom, you know?

It's just about, uh, being in that state of receptivity, bearing witness, and then there's always this forest that just kind of emerges and does the work of healing on both them and me and everyone else in the space.

At least that's my experience with it.

You community is, quote, "nonresidential" in a really, uh, interesting way, so they come into your space... And then at night, they go to shelters.

and then--then they-- they go to shelters.

Yeah.

They go to shelters.

How--I--you know, I--I'm just so, uh-- I find that really hard.

Yeah.

Yeah.

It is very hard.

It is very hard, but, you know, what we've discovered when we--when we-- when we started the Reciprocity Foundation with my friend Taz Tagore is that-- because oftentimes, you know, when kids are in our program, they lose housing, you know, sometimes once, sometimes two times, sometimes 3 times-- the--the structural difficulties are huge because there isn't affordable housing, you know, uh, uh, uh, anymore, so it's a very tricky situation, and it is heartbreaking.

I, uh, think that's very important, though, to hold that truth, you know, um, the--the truth of suffering, the truth that-- You know, the Bodhisattva vows, you know, the first one is, creations are numberless; I vow to save them, and it's like, "Whoa, uh, excuse me?"

and but you live holding that paradox.

Let--let's explore one other area of, uh, curious difficulty, to coin a phrase right now, and that's the influence of technology on community.

For a lot of young people, the very word "community" has nothing to do with shelters and Upayas and monasteries.

It has to do with Facebook, with social media.

It becomes an-- an umbrella for virtual friendship, virtual mentorship, so I'd like to ask both of you how technology is impacting, influencing the people who are coming to you for community.

Is it an issue that they may have different associations with community than you do?

I also see and experience both sides, you know.

Like, in our space, um, where homeless kids come in, my co-founder Taz instituted this practice which she calls a phone shrine, so when everybody comes in, you know, they put their phone on the little shrine because at--at some-- I mean, it was very difficult to, uh-- you know, to--to create any kind of intimacy because everyone, you know, was, like, introducing extra persons through their devices during our, um, uh, classes, so we had to find a balance, uh, but, you know, one of the wonderful, uh, uses of technology that I saw was during Occupy Wall Street where-- where a lot of kids, I mean, from all across-- even homeless kids that I know, you know, moved into Zuccotti Park.

It was, in a way, amazing that, you know, they used technology to mobilize people, to organize people, but then the final component of it was in person, and--and--and that commun-- that--that--that-- that--that kind of, you know, experiential community where they moved into the park, you know, created small circles, you know, figured out how to communicate with each other in such way that wisdom could parti--could come through everyone participating, that changed their lives.

Andrew Harvey has coined the phrase "sacred activism" to talk about this kind of work.

Does that feel appropriate?

Uh, I think, uh, for--for me, it does.

I mean, Andrew has been a friend and a mentor, and so I like the phrase "sacred activism," you know, because I think that that phrase, uh, uh, as I understand it, you know, kind of is about combining, uh, practice-- you know, contemplative practice-- with action, uh, in the world.

Roshi Joan, would engaged Buddhism be the corollary?

Yeah.

I think the corollary is what we call engaged Buddhism.

Buddha was an engaged Buddhist.

He was someone who, uh, needless to say, addressed the caste system, and he lateralized.

He equalized, um, his monastics in-- in a--a way that was a direct challenge to the system-- the caste system of India of his time, but also what is fascinating is, he worked with the prevailing political forces, as well.

I think that's a really important role, and the Buddha, you know, had that role.

I think this is the role you play, and I--I endeavor to do a little of that myself.

I think you are.

Let's turn now to the next video sequence, shot in your Upaya community.

[Birds chirping] People: Earth, Water, Fire, Air, and Space combine to make this food.

Numberless beings gave their lives and labors that we may eat.

May we be nourished that we may nourish life.

Halifax, voice-over: So the gift of community is a boundless gift.

It's not always an easy one, but, as I say, no mud, no lotus.

No mud, no lotus.

We're here, really, to, um, experience the full catastrophe, the whole life where you're an extended family and you're serving many people and practicing with many people who are coming through the walls of this very permeable community.

Man: I think there was something else I had to do.

Different man: No!

Halifax, voice-over: Like any family that's living together, We have to serve food 3 times a day.

People have to eat.

It's the place where a lot of conflict can arise because the meals have to be served on time.

Um, a lot of values are expressed because we want to use local produce.

When people come here, they eat really nutritious food, and everything that is not eaten by our residents or guests goes to the homeless shelter.

What I feel is the importance all of the time of how do we actualize the way in our everyday life, so this is not just a Saturday practice or a Sunday practice, but how do we serve, practice, and help others through what we do, and the kitchen is a powerful place to see that.

[Ding] [Ding] [Ding] Meditation practice is a powerful means for training the mind, uh, and the body.

It is a way for us to develop deep concentration.

It's a way for us to cultivate, uh, mental qualities that are characterized by love, compassion, joy, equanimity, but the experience of stillness and silence is so essential in our practice here at Upaya because we're endeavoring to cultivate these qualities as our primary mental experience and letting go of the secretion of thoughts, the kind of under mutter which characterizes our lives, uh, in general, and so to develop a quality of mind that is steady, inclusive, nonjudgmental, discerning, reflective, able to be sustained as presence over a long period of time, and that's characterized by love and compassion.

Now, testing that mind in terms of its capacity to actualize these qualities, one of the best vehicles is community... [Bell tolls] because, uh, it's like you're having a primary relationship not just with one person, but with a whole group of people where you become more visible to each other and where the actual practice of meditation is the opportunity for you to come to know yourself and to know others in an uncommon way.

[Knocking] Roshi Joan, uh, one particular line leapt out at me from this wonderful sequence.

"Meditation is the opportunity for you "to come to know yourself and to know others in an uncommon way."

Is this the heart of Buddhist practice?

You know, I--I wouldn't deign to say what the heart of Buddhist practice is, but, um, it is the heart of my practice... how to, um, through stillness and silence become familiar with my own mind and heart.

Suzuki Roshi called it beginner's mind, and Vimalakirti, you know, a thousand, 2,500 years before called--you know, characterized this a kind of--a tolerance for the inconceivable, and Glassman Roshi talks about it in terms of not knowing, so, you know, all the stuff that Adam and I and that you are talking about in a certain way is just words.

I mean, basically, uh, the practice is about undoing all of those, uh, conceptual complexities so we can experience each other in an unmediated way, and we can only do that when we have a kind of inner transparency, when we're transparent to our own mental and-- and emotional and physical processes, so this is what contemplative practice, you know, stopping does for you.

The gong, the presence of the gong was so powerful to me, and it--it elicited one memory that I think there was a time in old Christian Europe where there was a bit of a--a Buddhist influence there because the tradition of the canonical hours.

Every 3 hours, the bells in a village would ring, and the notion was to bring your attention back.

If you had a prayer book, you would read a prayer from the prayer book.

If you had a moment, you might genuflect, or you might walk into a church every 3 hours, even through the course of a night.

That's a beautiful tradition.

Is sound itself a way for us to move from ordinary, or chronos, time into kairos time, sacred time?

Halifax: Yeah.

You know, as someone, um, like you, Adam, who sits in the middle of noisy New York, um, the timeless moment is also there, and I-- you know, I fee-- I felt it inside of the prison.

You know, I'd hear the clank of the doors, and I would, you know, as, uh, Aitken Roshi used to say, you know, there are so many doors.

There are-- Every door is a dharma door, so even the--the sound of those cells shutting, um, that also was a dharma door, and it, you know-- I--I practiced with Thich Nhat Hanh, um, as--as you know.

I met him in the mid Sixties in New York and was really, um, inspired by his example of the integration of the contemplative and social action.

Cousineau: Being a lover of words, I am struck by the notion that "sacred" and "sacrifice" are essentially the same word.

There's nothing sacred without a sacrifice, nothing sacrificed that doesn't have a potential for something sacred.

When one enters a spiritual community, things are sacrificed.

What is the biggest challenge for someone entering a community in the 21st century?

I think that's a really, um, rich question.

Uh, you know, somebody who, um, made a lot of mistakes, uh, what looked like a sacrifice to give up a certain kind of life, uh, people who, you know, opt for, uh, big houses and cars and so on and so forth, so what looks like sacrifice to some people just looks to me like a relief, but the other side of the equation is that, um, I feel it's really not good to idealize, uh, living in a community.

It, uh, requires, uh, uh, staying the course.

It requires a lot of self-honesty.

It requires good boundaries.

It requires living preceptually because you're held at a much higher level of accountability.

Now, I think, um, this kind of intimacy that, uh, you and I, Adam, have, uh, opted for is an extraordinary gift, but it's a pain, too.

That's been my experience.

It is very hard.

Uh, uh, you know, my--my training in community living and also, uh, in--in serving, uh, the poor happened in India, where I lived at a Christian ashram that was located outside of Delhi in the slums, and it was this village of broken people rescued from the streets.

I mean, people were brought in every day with TB, with, uh, HIV, with maggots in their bodies, you know, street kids who have been beaten up, you know, and it was probably the hardest thing that I've ever done, but yet on some level, it--it made sense.

I felt like that was the right place, uh, for me to be, uh, so it's almost like it wasn't really a choice that I could make.

At the same time, I mean-- You got renounced, Yeah.

Yeah, exactly, you know?

and, you know, like, people nowadays use the word "happiness" for spirituality or for--and I have a little bit of a problem... Well, I'm glad to hear that.

you know, because-- I don't know-- happiness is not the name of my spirituality, you know?

It's been really hard.

And then another thing is--is that, um, living in a community of, uh, individuals who are, quote, "on the path" means that you're in deep doo-doo.

I mean, it means that, you know, people-- You know, someone once said to me, "Oh, well, people who come into these kind of communities must be, you know, basically kind of messed up," and I said, "Well, there is a big difference," and they said, "Well, what's that?"

I said, "Well, the thing about people who come "into practice communities, they recognize their suffering.

Everybody else doesn't," and so that distinction is really important, and my contention is that nobody would enter Adam's community or my community without actually having a moment where they see, "Oh, you know what?

"I don't want to buy into the system "that I was conditioned into.

"I see that there is something else, "and I'm gonna step out of, uh, the rat race.

"I'm gonna step out of the sort of pressure "to, uh, you know, get married, have kids, "have a job, have a house, have real estate "and to live intentionally with a set of values "that have to do with a world that I actually would like to see, uh, globalized."

I'd like--like to explore now the role of the personal journey of the founder of the community and how that can work for and against a community.

I think that's a really important question, um ,and it's a-- it's an interesting question to ask of Adam and me, um, because we're both founders.

Uh, I--I can say, um, that I--I didn't intend to start anything.

It was more that I assented to what was arising... A break from the sun.

Halifax, voice-over: and also, I--I feel a kind of natural aversion toward things authoritarian, so that, combined with being a woman, put me in a kind of funny position, and a person who is in the position that I've been in, you know, you have a lot of responsibility because your ethical behavior or unethical behavior influences the character of the community, and also, you have to have really big duck feathers because you'll be the recipient of projections, both positive and negative... ...for it--for it to be meaningful.

and having been through two founder's crises, you know, I've had a chance to look at the role of the founder, uh, from the point of view of my experience but also from the point of view of the sort of classical founder, and part of our--our job as founders is to completely, um, upend things, to, um, turn things on the head, to be, uh, this sort of, um, creative, generative, uh, presence which is, um, characteristic for people like us.

Yes.

You know I don't have as much, uh, ex--experience as--as you do, and I really, really appreciate learning from you.

When we started the Reciprocity Foundation with my co-founder Taz Tagore, we made a very conscious decision to do co-leadership to be able to help each other and hold each other accountable, and that's also when my journey with psychotherapy started, you know?

I realized that I'm not gonna be able to do co-leadership unless I go to psychotherapy and unless I deepen my practice, and so the combination of co-leadership and psychotherapy completely kind of, uh, restructured my spirituality.

It became much, you know, less about detachment--which, really, in my mind, meant disengagement-- uh, and more about integration, and that's been, you know, the journey that I've been on, and I think one big component of that whole journey, for example, with homeless kids was, you know, in our sector of, you know, social service providers, one of the first rules is that when you mentor someone, you can't do self-disclosure, and so early on, we chose to actually share our own difficulties to be vulnerable with our students and et cetera, and I feel that that has helped us to go through our process in a way that is transparent and in a way where we can publicly acknowledge our own mistakes, our own games that we get caught in.

Self-disclosure depends, in a certain way, on how--how deeply you've looked into your own situation.

You got to work your edge, or it's just narcissism... Yeah.

Yeah.

and, um, also, uh, your capacity to see the suffering around you really is contingent upon the kind of work you've done to access your own suffering, and I think a lot of people in leadership positions are very nontransparent.

They're very identified with their role.

They're defended um, behind those identities, and they're operating out of a lot of fear.

When do we know that it's preferable to go into solitude?

When do we know when it's necessary to join a community?

You know, in terms of my work and everything else, what I have learned is that, uh, I can't really do my work, uh, unless I--I do a few days a month in silence, uh, and away from the city, uh, you know, uh, u-- usually at a monastery.

Uh, f--for me, that's a requirement in addition to my daily practice.

Otherwise, you know, it--it just doesn't work.

Halifax: Solitude is a really powerful medium for, in--you know, in a general sense, downregulating yourself and not being so external.

Community is really powerful medium for understanding the interconnectedness of all things.

I know that, um, my prescription does not apply to everybody.

Mm-hmm.

I need, at my age, more solitude than I did when I was younger.

You both have your fingers on the pulse of emerging community.

Are we in a period of entering a new form of spirituality because of more alternatives, more information, uh, rising technology, or is there nothing new under the sun?

In terms of this question of new spirituality, I do think that something is emerging, you know?

Uh, a lot of young people are no longer, uh, drawn to joining one particular tradition, and I think it's very easy to dismiss that as, you know, lack of commitment and et cetera, but I wonder if--if maybe there's a slightly new way of--of--of-- of--of--of--of doing our traditions, you know, a slightly new way of what commitment means, uh, that--that--that is kind of slowly taking shape.

Any reflections, Roshi Joan?

You know, it's difficult for me to say that something new is emerging that is different than what, uh, emerged one second ago.

You know, this-- it's new.

I mean, this moment is really new.

Um, what, for me, is fascinating is to look at the history of Buddhism and see as Buddhism has moved to different parts of the world, it synchrotized with the values and the conditions of the cultures in which it's found itself, and so, um, the Buddhism that we practice in the West has, of course, at the core of it the teachings of the Buddha and also the Mahayana teachings and the Vajrayana teachings, but Buddhism has encountered democracy.

It's encountered feminism.

It's con--encountered psychology, and, um, its expression is really different in our era.

Any thoughts about the future of community?

Are young people giving us a vision of the future that we didn't have before in your experience?

Bucko: Well, I mean, first of all, I think, uh, when I look at this concept of a community, a lot of young people are forced to live in communities simply because they can no longer afford to live by themselves, you know, and that's really huge, and I think it needs to be acknowledged.

So young people are forced into communities, a--a--a--and then sometimes, you know, um, as a result of that, because community living is so difficult, they are forced to adopt certain practices that help them to figure out how to live together, how to talk to each other, how to be present to each other, how respect each other, and et cetera.

You know, I think Adam's community is a really powerful example of the potential for community to heal the sense of alienation that is touching young people all over the world.

I think that crisis brings opportunity, and, um, the crisis is both in terms of the psyche, but it's also at a global level, and I think the greatest medium is what, you know, Thich Nhat Hanh pointed to when he said the future Buddha will be the sangha, and I feel that, um, you know, our capacity to really sit in circle, to, um, embrace differences, not just to tolerate differences, and not to seek consensus, but to, you know, really appreciate requisite diversity because that's the only thing that is gonna create robustness, vitality in the world today.

Yeah.

Beautiful.

It's been an honor to have this wonderful exchange with you about a very important topic, the power of community, and hear this, uh, little voice of my Irish grandmother talking about the-- one of the central human dilemma is to resolve how we can be alone together.

Mm-hmm.

Mm-hmm.

It's an old Irish phrase, and I think to two of you have just shed some light on that for the rest of us, so thank you, Roshi Joan.

Thank you, Adam Bucko, for illuminating this very important subject for the rest of us.

Thank you.

Beautiful.

I am Carlos Santana, and I hope you connected and return to this series "Global Spirit."

Thank you.