Philosophy

“A great way to deepen your spiritual life is to take a deep dive into a tradition other than your own—especially if you have a competent guide, and Rabbi Rami is an extraordinary guide. Not into Zen? Not a Jew? Not a problem. Anyone on any path will benefit enormously from this profoundly illuminating book.” —Philip Goldberg, author of American Veda: From Emerson and the Beatles to Yoga and Meditation, How Indian Spirituality Changed the West

With reference to Shunryu Suzuki Roshi’s classic Zen Mind, Beginner’s Mind, Rami Shapiro begins with beginner’s mind as “empty, free of the habits of the expert, ready to accept, to doubt, and open to all the possibilities. It is the kind of mind which can see things as they are, which step by step and in a flash can realize the original nature of everything.” Then, Rami ponders beginner’s mind in the child of the Passover Haggadah “who knows not how to ask.” The parents of this child are told to open (patach) the child to the art of questioning. Asking questions is key to Jewish mind.

The questioning perennial beginner is central to both Zen and Jewish, Rami demonstrates: a daring, iconoclastic, often humorous mind devoted to shattering the words, texts, isms, and ideologies on which expert mind—closed to inquiry—depends.

Zen Mind / Jewish Mind is not a scholarly study of anything, let alone Zen or Judaism, and despite all the footnotes, the book rests solely on Shapiro’s fifty-plus years of playing in the garden of Judaism, Zen, and advaita/nonduality. Chapters include “Dharma Eye, God’s I” (1), “Koan and Midrash” (4), and “The Yoga of Conversation” (7).

“A wise, inspiring, and beautiful book offering potent medicine for our times.” —Miranda Macpherson, author of The Way of Grace: The Transforming Power of Ego Relaxation 

“Karma” is in our vocabulary, but do we really know what it means?

The word is everywhere—not just in alternative spirituality, and among Hindus and Buddhists, but in news reports, ads, sitcoms, sports columns, and the everyday conversations of people who wouldn’t know the Upanishads from Us Magazine. Stephen Colbert invokes the term on TV and Taylor Swift summons it in song.

This book chronicles the origin and evolution of karmic theory and describes how the concept came to the West. It explains exactly what karma means—and, crucially, what it doesn’t mean—then shows how to apply karmically sound ethical principles to relationships, life decisions, health, death, and all aspects of self-development. “We’re always planting karmic seeds,” writes Philip Goldberg. Our task is to “choose the right seeds and plant them skillfully, in the right way, at the right time, under the right conditions.”

Karma is a profoundly useful idea, and Karmic Relief is a profoundly useful book. It offers a blueprint for building a fulfilling life and a way to reconcile some of life’s most vexing conundrums.

“A wise, inspiring, and beautiful book offering potent medicine for our times.” —Miranda Macpherson, author of The Way of Grace: The Transforming Power of Ego Relaxation 

“Karma” is in our vocabulary, but do we really know what it means?

The word is everywhere—not just in alternative spirituality, and among Hindus and Buddhists, but in news reports, ads, sitcoms, sports columns, and the everyday conversations of people who wouldn’t know the Upanishads from Us Magazine. Stephen Colbert invokes the term on TV and Taylor Swift summons it in song.

This book chronicles the origin and evolution of karmic theory and describes how the concept came to the West. It explains exactly what karma means—and, crucially, what it doesn’t mean—then shows how to apply karmically sound ethical principles to relationships, life decisions, health, death, and all aspects of self-development. “We’re always planting karmic seeds,” writes Philip Goldberg. Our task is to “choose the right seeds and plant them skillfully, in the right way, at the right time, under the right conditions.”

Karma is a profoundly useful idea, and Karmic Relief is a profoundly useful book. It offers a blueprint for building a fulfilling life and a way to reconcile some of life’s most vexing conundrums.

“A great way to deepen your spiritual life is to take a deep dive into a tradition other than your own—especially if you have a competent guide, and Rabbi Rami is an extraordinary guide. Not into Zen? Not a Jew? Not a problem. Anyone on any path will benefit enormously from this profoundly illuminating book.” —Philip Goldberg, author of American Veda: From Emerson and the Beatles to Yoga and Meditation, How Indian Spirituality Changed the West

With reference to Shunryu Suzuki Roshi’s classic Zen Mind, Beginner’s Mind, Rami Shapiro begins with beginner’s mind as “empty, free of the habits of the expert, ready to accept, to doubt, and open to all the possibilities. It is the kind of mind which can see things as they are, which step by step and in a flash can realize the original nature of everything.” Then, Rami ponders beginner’s mind in the child of the Passover Haggadah “who knows not how to ask.” The parents of this child are told to open (patach) the child to the art of questioning. Asking questions is key to Jewish mind.

The questioning perennial beginner is central to both Zen and Jewish, Rami demonstrates: a daring, iconoclastic, often humorous mind devoted to shattering the words, texts, isms, and ideologies on which expert mind—closed to inquiry—depends.

Zen Mind / Jewish Mind is not a scholarly study of anything, let alone Zen or Judaism, and despite all the footnotes, the book rests solely on Shapiro’s fifty-plus years of playing in the garden of Judaism, Zen, and advaita/nonduality. Chapters include “Dharma Eye, God’s I” (1), “Koan and Midrash” (4), and “The Yoga of Conversation” (7).

A memoir about how solitude can deepen a life.

In his twenties, writer and activist Michael McGregor traveled to the remote Greek island of Patmos to spend two months alone. It was 1985, before cellphones or the internet, when even a phone call home was costly. Those days transformed his understanding of himself, his God, and his purpose—and in this book he offers, for others, how finding a place of solitude can change a life.

McGregor had spent three years writing about the world’s poorest people and five months traveling when he chose, at 27, to live for two months in total solitude, 6,000 miles from home. He went primarily to write a novel, but from the moment he stepped onto the ferry to begin the 11-hour ride to Patmos, he knew his time would be meaningful. As he settled into a routine that included hours of writing each day, walks through fierce wind in the evenings, and nights that brought on dreams, memories, and unexpected spiritual encounters, he soon realized that solitude can be difficult and even dangerous but also awe-inspiring and life-altering.

McGregor immerses the reader in particulars of the simple life he lived for two winter months on an island where he knew no one. He reflects on authors and spiritual teachers before showing the ways in which his returns to solitude in subsequent decades reflected or altered his earlier experiences of being alone.

In the book’s final section, McGregor returns to Patmos during the same January dates he visited four decades earlier. He attempts to replicate his earlier experience. His reflections on the changes in his life, the island world, and his understanding of both God and solitude add another dimension to this multifaceted book.

The power of solitude to deepen a life.

In his twenties, Michael N. McGregor traveled to the remote Greek island of Patmos to spend two winter months alone, 6,000 miles from home. It was a time before cellphones and the internet, when even a phone call was costly. Although he expected his solitude to be meaningful, he wasn’t prepared for how it would change him.

Before his island days, McGregor had spent years reporting on the world’s poor and months on the road. As he settled into days of rigorous writing, evening walks through fierce wind, and nights full of memories, dreams and spiritual encounters, he learned that solitude can be difficult and even dangerous, but also awe-inspiring and life-altering.

When he returned to his active life, McGregor sought solitude wherever he could—in nature, in libraries, in silent spaces—before returning to Patmos forty years later to repeat his youthful experiment.