Sandie Paduano

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  • in reply to: WEEK THREE ESSAY #85610
    Sandie Paduano
    Participant

    I totally agree. I love how Folx reflected their lives now to lineage. I tried that and thought more about my past and what got me here. I’m going to reflect some more about how my lineage carries the stories and roots of those who came before me, grounding me in a history I did not choose but inherit.

    The groups I move through now reflect who I am becoming, the communities I choose and the connections I cultivate. It’s deeply human to seek belonging, to find spaces where our presence is recognized and valued. For me, this sense of belonging is also tied to my indigenity—a reminder that my identity is inseparable from the land, culture, and ancestors that came before, even as I navigate new circles in the present.

    in reply to: WEEK THREE ESSAY #85603
    Sandie Paduano
    Participant

    When I hear lineage, I think of monks, ancestors, bloodlines—and for me, paesano. My parents were both from Roggiano Gravina. My father was one of the first to come to the U.S.; my mother arrived earlier through Ellis Island. After I was born, we moved to a Philadelphia neighborhood that slowly became a recreated Roggiano. Our house was a gathering place for paesans—parties, meals, card games, dancing, and conversation filled every corner. You could say it is where the Roggianese sangha in Philly met at that time.
    I didn’t know the word lineage then, but I lived inside one. I absorbed how to endure change, work without guarantees, and rely on community. I moved between worlds—Italian and English, home and school, old world and new. Being a translator for many of my paesanos felt ordinary, and it trained me to listen, attune, and carry meaning across gaps.
    Maybe this is why finding Buddhism seems very natural to me. Buddhism gave language to something that had already been formed through my family’s history. My parents lived impermanence long before I learned to observe it on a cushion.
    I now understand paesano as a lived lineage.

    in reply to: WEEK TWO ESSAY #85392
    Sandie Paduano
    Participant

    Hi Kimberly,

    Your line that you referred to as judgey, “I know so many nonbelievers that are amazing humans and so many believers that are just not”, really lands for me. Perhaps because I’m very judgey. But it is also an entry point to the The Middle Way for me. I notice how believer/nonbeliever dualism gives me a sense of ground. But in reality, it’s not helpful. At least this is what I’ve been learning from my self-study and reading teachings by Chögyam Trungpa Rinpoche and Pema Chodron. Let go of fixed views and relax into everyday life. This reminds me often that goodness isn’t about belief – it’s about how I meet suffering.

    in reply to: WEEK TWO ESSAY #85386
    Sandie Paduano
    Participant

    I was raised Catholic by Italian immigrants who believed that hard work was moral. They came here to escape poverty and my job was to endure and not really question much. Meaning lived in effort. God kept score.

    Education dismantled that story as I learned (still am) the real history of this country that my parents emigrated to for a better life. The American Dream was less about hope and more about cover. Nihilism followed. Not despair, nor cynicism, but honesty. Detachment felt right in a culture built on denial.

    White, privileged, disillusioned, I thought love would save me believing intimacy might offer something grand. Perhaps impermanence since institutions didn’t. Love didn’t interrupt that reckoning. It collapsed like everything else. Although heartbreak was devastating, it confirmed what I was learning. Permanence is a myth and impermanence is terrifying.

    After learning from ancestry, education, and love, still wounded I met Yoga. It taught me (slowly and unevenly) to wake up my body. Angry, exhausted, numb, and still unkind, it brought me back into my body at a time when withdrawal was feeling like wisdom. Then I met Buddhism. It didn’t argue with Nihilism, but it did start to clarify some things gently and in the most uncertain and magical way.

    Nihilim sharpened my vision. Eternalism was all in my foundation. So the quote by Tupac Shakur, reality is wrong, dreams are for real, still resonates with me well after many decades of hearing it and witnessing it. But a practice where attention and presence matter most, means more. A lot more.

    So now nearing 60, I don’t believe hard work redeems suffering. I don’t believe history bends toward justice. I don’t believe goodness is rewarded. I believe in practice – one that asks for quiet and one that demands staying awake. Doing away with hardening, away with stories, nothing is certain. No ground, just practice.

    in reply to: WEEK ONE ESSAY #85224
    Sandie Paduano
    Participant

    Hi Toni,

    Reading your words, how discovery grounded in humility allows the searcher to live in reality, staying with what is rather than clinging speaks to me. Being true and being real primes us for learning, discovering, uncovering even. Mentioning having humility as part of the foundation is really helpful for me…thank you!

    in reply to: WEEK ONE ESSAY #85210
    Sandie Paduano
    Participant

    Supporting discovery means creating a space where students uncover their truths, connect their own background to what they’re learning, and experience something new that will stick with them. Some important tools for a teacher creating the space necessary to support discovery are listening, bravery, and integrity.

    A teacher who listens can create the container for folx to show up as themselves, learn meditation as the ancient practice it is, then practice it as consistently as they can. When listening is the norm and so natural in the container, practitioners are set to make connections.

    And the teacher who brings bravery into the container can create a space where students are safe. In a safe space, there are no expectations because every time a practitioner sits, it’s new and fresh. No one knows what will come up during the practice or instruction. Then in post meditation, teacher and student can explore the practice they just had.

    During this exploration, a teacher facilitates a post meditation discussion with bravery which can make for a provocative process. And in this safe space, truths are uncovered. This is new and fresh every time as well.

    The only thing that is constant is that the practice is ancient even though it is training the mind to be open and present. The ancient practice of meditation is sacred despite its simplicity. We’re just sitting. All this in one practice is to be revered which is why another tool for supporting discovery is integrity.

    What will come up is uncertain and a teacher with integrity stays true to the practice while creating the space where students are supported. Together, they discover for themselves what they need to practice intentionally and regularly.

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