Summary of Already Free by Bruce Tift
Chapter 1: The Developmental View
Summary: This chapter introduces the developmental view, which is the foundation of Western psychotherapy. It posits that our early childhood experiences – especially within our family – lead us to develop coping strategies or patterns that protect us when we are young. These strategies are intelligent and helpful in childhood (for instance, distancing ourselves from feelings that caused pain or being “good” to avoid conflict), but as we grow up they become unconscious habits that no longer serve us and can even cause suffering. The author illustrates this with the story of Darren, a client who always felt “not good enough” in the eyes of his parents. As a boy, Darren learned to avoid criticism by never fully committing to anything – if he never tried his hardest, he could never be a total disappointment. This became his lifelong pattern: in work and relationships he would hold back and then subtly blame others for his lack of success or closeness. In therapy, Darren began to see that this pattern was an old survival strategy operating in his present life. He learned to bring awareness to the anger and hurt he had “disowned” as a child and to take responsibility for his own feelings instead of blaming others. Tift emphasizes that “it’s not actually about the past” – therapy isn’t revisiting childhood for its own sake, but understanding how childhood patterns are being maintained right now. By recognizing these habits and feeling the emotions we once avoided, we essentially “grow up” internally. We can then respond to life in a fresh, authentic way instead of as the wounded child we once were. In short, Chapter 1 shows that improving our well-being often starts with making the unconscious conscious: seeing how our current struggles are rooted in out-of-date strategies and gently working to update them in the present. This sets the stage for personal change – creating a “better story” about ourselves – which Western therapy views as a path to freedom.
Chapter 2: The Fruitional View
Summary: Chapter 2 presents the contrasting fruitional view, drawn from Buddhism. This view holds that the freedom and wholeness we seek are already available in the present, rather than being the result of fixing our past or improving ourselves. The author demonstrates this approach through the story of Ana, a woman who seemingly “has it all” – a loving husband, children, financial security, and spiritual practice – yet feels a persistent emptiness and loss of aliveness. Instead of exploring her childhood or trying to change her circumstances, Tift takes a different tack: he asks Ana to fully experience her current feeling of “deadness.” He invites her to drop her resistance to that empty, routine feeling and even say aloud, “I give myself permission to feel dead, off and on, for the rest of my life,” then observe what sensations and emotions arise. At first Ana is puzzled – why focus on the problem instead of searching for a solution? – but as she leans into her uncomfortable feelings, something remarkable happens. She notices tightness in her stomach, nausea, and panic in her chest, yet realizes these sensations aren’t actually harming her. By simply being present with her “dead” feeling rather than fighting it, Ana begins to feel a sense of relief. In a matter of sessions, she reports that acknowledging her despair has lifted a weight; paradoxically, accepting her numbness makes her feel more alive and light-hearted than before. This illustrates a core principle of the fruitional view: our suffering lessens when we stop treating our present experience as wrong or deficient. Tift explains that from a Buddhist perspective, the main source of our suffering is the belief in a solid, separate self that must be protected or satisfied. We spend our lives swinging between preferring some experiences and rejecting others, which keeps us in a state of dissatisfaction. The fruitional approach encourages us to open unconditionally to whatever we feel right now, even if it’s unpleasant, because nothing needs to change for us to be free – except our perspective. Ana’s case shows that when she stopped seeking an external fix and allowed the truth of the moment, her innate sense of vitality naturally emerged. In summary, Chapter 2 teaches that we are “already free” when we stop fleeing from our experience. By shifting our relationship to our feelings – embracing them rather than avoiding them – we discover a resilient peace of mind that isn’t dependent on always having “good” feelings or perfect life circumstances.
Chapter 3: A Dialogue Between the Developmental and Fruitional Views
Summary: In Chapter 3, Tift explores how the two views – Western developmental psychology and Buddhist fruitional wisdom – can work together in a complementary dialogue. He begins with a personal anecdote from ninth grade, when he first became fascinated by what lies beneath people’s outward behavior (noticing his mother’s defensiveness in an argument). This curiosity eventually led him to practice as a therapist, but only after he found a way to integrate his Buddhist insights with psychology. Rather than choosing one approach over the other, Tift alternates between them “without any hope of resolution,” as one of his teachers advised. He admits there is a creative tension – a “rich friction” – in using two seemingly opposing viewpoints, but each helps illuminate the other’s blind spots. The chapter recaps the essence of both views: The developmental view says we all adopted certain behaviors and beliefs in childhood to cope (often by pushing away parts of ourselves that weren’t accepted). This left us divided inside – a “public” self and a repressed self – which leads to chronic anxiety and self-absorption as adults. Therapy’s goal is to make those unconscious patterns conscious and heal the internal split. The fruitional view, by contrast, starts from the premise that there is actually no split at the deepest level – the sense of being a separate, deficient self is an illusion we maintain through constant effort. Instead of trying to improve the story of “me,” this approach asks us to relax into the present moment and investigate whether we are truly a problem at all. As we do so, the feeling of being a struggling self can begin to dissolve on its own. Tift discusses how he applies both perspectives in therapy. For example, the developmental lens is useful for understanding how a client’s past conditioning is influencing their current reactions (it “articulates patterns that exist over time”), while the fruitional lens is useful for immediate practice, training the client to be present with their experience here and now. Rather than fusing the two into one theory, Tift suggests it’s fruitful to “stand in the middle” – to hold no fixed view and use whichever approach fits the moment. This open-minded stance means not needing a final answer to whether personal history or present awareness is more true; instead, the goal is practical: reduce unnecessary suffering and awaken more freedom. In summary, Chapter 3 shows that the Western path of development (healing and maturing the self) and the Eastern path of fruition (realizing inherent freedom beyond the self) can engage in a productive dialogue. By appreciating the strengths of each – and not rigidly insisting on one “right” way – we can address human problems more holistically. The result is a therapy approach (and a personal practice) that honors psychological growth and spiritual realization, without forcing a strict unity between them.
Chapter 4: Experiencing Anxiety and Struggle
Summary: Chapter 4 delves into anxiety, framing it as a central and unavoidable part of human life. Tift opens with the story of Jerome, a successful lawyer in his forties who feels persistently anxious and unfulfilled. Jerome is conflict-averse: at work he overworks and pleases others to avoid confrontation, and in dating he never expresses disagreements, all in an effort to keep the peace. When Tift asks him to imagine doing the opposite – for example, asserting himself or leaving work on time – Jerome immediately notices a knot of fear and nausea arise, even just in fantasy. This exercise reveals an important insight: Jerome’s self-sabotaging behaviors were designed to avoid the sensations of anxiety. In fact, he realizes that the same uncomfortable feelings (tight chest, rapid heart, queasy stomach) come up whenever he considers standing up for himself, whether at the office, with his parents, or with a romantic partner. Essentially, Jerome has been organizing his whole life around not feeling anxiety – sacrificing his authenticity and needs in order to sidestep that gut-level panic.
Tift uses this case to underscore a broader point: anxiety is natural, and the problem is not that we experience anxiety, but how we relate to it. He notes that our society treats anxiety as something abnormal or shameful, leading us to feel “something is wrong with me” whenever we’re anxious. In truth, everyone experiences anxiety regularly – perhaps in small spikes every day – and it has a valid purpose in our evolution (it’s a built-in alarm system preparing us for possible threats). The chapter distinguishes anxiety vs. fear: fear is reacting to an immediate danger (like swerving to avoid a car accident), whereas anxiety is more of a general readiness for a threat that might happen (for example, worrying about what could go wrong in the future). Anxiety often has no clear object, which can make it even more unsettling.
The key teaching is that we cannot eliminate anxiety from life – “a life without anxiety is not an option,” Tift flatly states – but we can change our attitude toward it. Instead of trying to numb it, fight it, or run away, we can practice accepting and even committing to the feeling of anxiety when it arises. This means staying with the physical sensations and recognizing that, however uncomfortable, they are not actually dangerous in that moment. Tift suggests that this counter-instinctual move – embracing the very feeling we think will destroy us – is “empowering.” If we stop treating anxiety as a personal failing or an enemy, it loses much of its grip over our behavior. Jerome, for example, began to experiment with facing conflict despite his fluttering nerves, and found that each time he survived the experience, his confidence grew. Chapter 4 ultimately reframes anxiety from a pathology to be cured into a natural condition to be worked with. By turning toward our anxious feelings with curiosity and courage, we reduce their ability to “secretly run our life” and free up energy that was once spent avoiding risks. The struggle then becomes a gateway to growth: every time we stay present with anxiety, we erode our habitual fear of it and discover a bit more inner freedom.
Chapter 5: Embodied Awareness
Summary: Building on the previous chapter, Chapter 5 introduces the practice of embodied awareness – learning to stay present in our physical sensations instead of getting lost in our heads. Tift starts by continuing Jerome’s story. Having identified anxiety as Jerome’s core disturbance, their work shifted to training Jerome to “step out of his interpretations and into his immediate experience”. In practice, this meant that whenever Jerome felt that familiar knot of tension, instead of immediately thinking (“This is bad, I have to appease this person” etc.), he would pause and direct his attention to the raw sensations in his body – the tight gut, the trembling, the heat in his chest. By doing so, he could investigate a crucial question: Are these sensations actually harmful? Or is his mind exaggerating their meaning? Jerome discovered that however uncomfortable these feelings were, they were basically neutral in and of themselves – just surges of energy that came and went. None of the bodily sensations truly signaled the emergency his mind assumed; they were not literally injuring him or forcing him to act one way or another. This realization weakened the power that anxiety (and the stories around it) had over him.
Tift generalizes this approach to any intense emotion: whether it’s grief, rage, shame, excitement, or confusion, we can practice bringing attention out of the narrative (“why do I feel this, who caused it, I shouldn’t feel this…”) and directly into the moment-to-moment sensory experience. This is embodied immediacy. When we do this, “we are bringing our attention out of our history and into what is most true in the immediate moment”. In other words, our thoughts about an emotion often carry old baggage – interpretations from our past conditioning – but the raw sensations are happening now and reflect reality more simply. Tift notes research suggesting humans have only a handful of basic, universal emotion-arousal states (like fear, anger, joy), but infinite interpretations of them. For example, a rapid heartbeat and sweaty palms could be labeled “anxiety” in one context or “excitement” in another. The mind’s label and story create the “emotion” as we know it, layering meaning onto the physical sensations. By focusing on the level of pure sensation, we short-circuit this storytelling process. We might find that what we’re experiencing is simply a flutter in the belly or tightness in the throat – feelings that we can tolerate, once we stop judging them.
Tift shares that traditional talk therapy often overlooked this bodily dimension (therapists focused on thoughts and feelings, but rarely asked “What do you feel in your body right now?”). However, body-centered modalities and mindfulness practices show that the body is a direct gateway to reality, because it’s always in the present. Practicing embodied awareness can thus dissolve neurotic suffering – those extra layers of anxiety and rumination – and invite more frequent experiences of open, clear presence. Essentially, our body anchors us to what is, whereas the mind tends to wander in what if’s or what was. Chapter 5 encourages us to use this to our advantage: whenever we feel overwhelmed by a psychological problem, we can come back to breathing, sensing, and observing what’s happening in our body right now. In that grounded state, even intense emotions become workable. We realize at a gut level that feelings are just feelings – they arise, pass through the body, and change – and we don’t need to build an identity or drama around them. This skill of staying embodied is presented as a powerful way to reclaim our sanity and access the “open awareness” that is always already present underneath our mental noise.
Chapter 6: All Relative Experience Is Relational
Summary: Chapter 6 shifts focus to the realm of relationships, examining how our interactions with others bring out both our most vulnerable spots and our greatest opportunities for growth. The title “All Relative Experience Is Relational” means that none of our experiences exist in a vacuum – everything we feel or think arises in relationship to something (to other people, to our environment, or even to polarities like “up” vs. “down”). In personal terms, this chapter zeroes in on intimate relationships and why they can be so provocative and challenging. Tift speaks from experience: he’s been married for nearly forty years, and he frankly admits, “I think it’s accurate to say that I have experienced being disturbed in this relationship every day” of those decades. This isn’t because his marriage is bad – on the contrary, it’s loving and committed. The point is that any close relationship continually triggers each person’s emotional wounds and sensitivities. As Tift humorously notes, his wife can just be “being herself,” not doing anything intentionally, and it will touch a sore spot in him – sparking irritation, hurt, or anger that often trace back to his own unresolved issues, not any wrongdoing by her. For example, he finds he’s especially reactive to signs of dependency or strong emotion (both in himself and others) because he prides himself on being in control and independent. When his wife or children display those “dependent” feelings, it makes him uncomfortable, highlighting something in himself that he historically has avoided (a fear of not being in control, perhaps).
In earlier years, Tift tried to solve this by attempting to eliminate the disturbances – he wished he or his wife would just stop getting triggered. Eventually, he realized this was impossible and, more importantly, not truly beneficial. So he “changed tactics”: instead of striving for a conflict-free, easy relationship, he committed to facing the disturbances that do arise. He began to welcome the uncomfortable feelings his wife or family might spark in him as his feelings – valuable signals of what he needed to work on in himself. This reflects a deep principle from Buddhism that he cites: everything is valid and workable in our experience, so long as we’re willing to meet it with awareness. Rather than seeing his relationship’s ups and downs as problems, he started viewing them as part of the path – the very means by which he could grow more patient, open, and understanding.
The chapter also challenges romanticized cultural beliefs about marriage/partnership. Many of us unconsciously expect our intimate relationships to be a refuge from hardship – a source of constant comfort, pleasure, and validation. We’re surprised or disappointed when living with a loved one brings out anger, anxiety, or boredom. Tift argues that this ideal is misleading for most people. In reality, true intimacy is “disturbing” as well as comforting, because it involves two different individuals continually influencing each other. He even suggests that a healthy relationship is not one with zero conflict, but one with the “right amount of suffering” – meaning enough friction to keep waking both people up, but not so much as to be traumatizing. In other words, relationships are meant to challenge us. They mirror our own blind spots and force us to confront the parts of ourselves we’d rather avoid. If we approach these challenges with the view that the disturbance itself can teach us, then our partner becomes a kind of teacher (albeit inadvertently!). For example, a partner’s criticism might teach us about our pride, or their emotional needs might teach us about our discomfort with dependency. Tift emphasizes personal responsibility in this process: instead of blaming our partner for our feelings (“I’m angry because of you”), we learn to say “I’m angry – and this anger is revealing something in me.” This shift from blame to ownership is crucial; it turns conflict into growth. Chapter 6 thus reframes the purpose of relationships: it’s less about completing each other or living happily-ever-after and more about mutual evolution. Our task is to engage the inevitable conflicts consciously, bringing mindfulness and compassion to them, rather than running away or blaming. By doing so, intimacy becomes one of the most powerful arenas for practicing everything the book has discussed – from staying present with discomfort to letting go of egoic storylines. The “relational” nature of experience guarantees that as we deepen in this practice, we don’t just free ourselves; we also transform how we connect with those we love.
Chapter 7: Relationship as an Evolving Path
Summary: Chapter 7 builds on the relationship insights by outlining a model of four evolving stages that couples (and individuals within relationships) can move through as they grow. Tift calls these the prepersonal, personal, interpersonal,and nonpersonal stages. Each stage represents a shift in how we view ourselves, our partner, and the very nature of intimacy. Importantly, this progression isn’t automatic with time – it requires inner work and increasing tolerance for openness. Below is a breakdown of each stage:
Prepersonal: This initial stage is marked by codependent dynamics and childlike expectations. Each partner is relating from their unresolved childhood self. There’s a sense of being incomplete or incapable on one’s own, so we unconsciously look to the other as either the cause of our problems or the solution to them. In this stage, we might think “I can’t be happy or whole because of you,” or “I need you to fix me/make me feel secure.” Partners often blame each other and feel stuck, as if they have no power to change unhealthy patterns. Tift notes this is like two children in adult bodies trying to have a relationship – each is waiting for the other to behave in the “right” way so they can finally feel okay. There is little personal accountability; instead, there’s an implicit bargain of mutual blame and avoidance (e.g. “I’d be more vulnerable if only you were more caring,” and vice versa). This stage is characterized by high drama, conflict, and an ongoing sense of lack, because neither person has learned to face their own fear or pain yet. Both are secretly hoping the other will do the emotional work for them.
Personal: In the personal stage, one or both partners step into responsibility for themselves. This is a big shift: each begins to see the other not as a savior or enemy, but as a separate adult. Partners at this stage practice not making the other person the cause of or answer to their emotional issues. They start using “I” statements and owning their feelings (e.g. “I feel insecure” instead of “You make me insecure”), and they recognize that their reactions often stem from personal history or sensitivities. Tift describes this stage as cultivating an inner discipline or structure – essentially, learning to soothe oneself, set healthy boundaries, and not dump every emotion onto the partner. Conflict still happens, but now it’s less blame-y. For instance, rather than storming out or attacking, a person might say, “I’m triggered and I need a moment to process what I’m feeling.” This stage is about growing up individually within the relationship. Each person strives to become a whole individual (“stand on their own two feet”) who can then meet the other on equal footing. According to Tift, a couple firmly in the personal stage treats each other as partners, not parent-child or hero-victim. This creates a more solid foundation of mutual respect and trust. However, it can also feel a bit more distant or business-like at times, because both are careful not to regress into old needy patterns. The personal stage is a necessary training ground for deeper intimacy because it establishes that each person is in charge of their own mind and moods.
Interpersonal: Reaching the interpersonal stage means the relationship becomes a truly conscious collaboration. Having developed individual responsibility, the partners can now afford to let down their guard a bit and embrace the dynamic, unknowable nature of the other person. Here, one recognizes that their partner is not a mirror or extension of oneself, but a distinct being with their own inner world. That realization brings a sense of humility and curiosity. Tift describes partners at this stage as seeing each other as “never-fully-understood friend[s]” and embracing the relationship as an opportunity to practice compassion and genuine understanding. In everyday terms, this might look like a couple who actively listens to each other’s perspectives (even if they’re very different), who can disagree respectfully, and who appreciate that conflict can deepen connection rather than threaten it. The relationship now is seen as choice rather than necessity: both people want to be together, but not because they’re afraid to be alone – rather, because the relationship supports their growth and happiness. There’s more flexibilityand play here. Since each person isn’t taking the other’s emotions so personally (thanks to the personal stage work), they can give empathy without ego defensiveness. This stage could be considered true interdependence – relying on each other in healthy ways while still maintaining individuality. Emotions of love and friendship flourish when blame recedes. Couples in the interpersonal stage often report feeling more intimacy and safety, even when tackling tough issues, because there is a foundational trust that “we are on the same team.”
Nonpersonal: The final stage, “nonpersonal,” moves into a kind of spiritual dimension of relationship. Here the experience of being together is rooted in a shared awareness of something larger than either individual ego. Tift says at this stage, “other becomes another manifestation of life and mystery, just as we are ourselves.” In other words, you see your partner not just as John or Jane Doe with a personality and history, but as a unique expression of the universal life force or basic awareness. The relationship is no longer about two separate people negotiating needs; it’s about two expressions of one fundamental reality (life, openness, freedom) engaging with each other. This might sound abstract, but in practice it means there is very little clinging or fear in the relationship. Both partners have a deep trust in life and do not view the relationship in terms of gain or loss. For example, love in the nonpersonal stage is truly unconditional – you care for the other as deeply as yourself, and you’re not subconsciously expecting them to fill a void or validate you. Paradoxically, this allows for an even greater intimacy. Since neither is afraid of abandonment or engulfment (those fears were worked through in earlier stages), both can fully be themselves and encourage the other’s full being. Tift characterizes this stage by a consistency of open awareness: the couple consistently experiences their interactions against the backdrop of spacious, non-egoic mind (sometimes described as a feeling of oneness or flow). Conflicts may still arise, but they’re met almost effortlessly with compassion, humor, and patience, because each person sees the situation without the distortions of pride or insecurity. The relationship becomes a refuge of freedom – not in the sense of avoiding challenges, but in the sense that together the partners maintain an enlightened perspective. They understand deeply that they are already interconnected (and always were), and so the relationship is an ongoing practice of expressing that truth in daily life.
Tift notes that these four stages are sequential and cumulative – you typically need to do the personal responsibility work before you can enjoy the easy compassion of the interpersonal, for instance. He also acknowledges that couples might fluctuate between stages or be in different stages in different areas of life. The goal isn’t to “achieve” the final stage as some badge of honor, but rather to use this framework as a map for where growth is needed. For example, if a couple notices they’re stuck in blame (prepersonal), they know the next step is practicing personal responsibility. If they’re responsible but distant, they might work on deeper sharing and empathy (moving into interpersonal). Chapter 7 essentially casts intimacy as a spiritual path. Just as an individual might progress in meditation or self-awareness through various levels, a couple can evolve the “we” through these stages. By viewing relationship challenges as part of this path, partners are more likely to stay engaged and “wake up” together, rather than see problems as signs of failure. The chapter provides hope that a conscious relationship can lead all the way to a kind of enlightened love – but it takes honesty, work, and a willingness to keep one’s heart open through all the perturbations of life with another human.
Chapter 8: A Good State of Mind, Regardless of Circumstance
Summary: The final chapter discusses what it means to cultivate unconditional well-being – in other words, having a good state of mind no matter what life throws at you. Tift frames this by asking why we pursue therapy or spiritual practice in the first place. Ultimately, it’s because we all “want to experience our lives in the most satisfying way possible.” The question is: how do we do that reliably, given that external circumstances (health, money, relationships, etc.) are always in flux?
Tift explains that there are two basic strategies for seeking happiness. The first is the conventional, condition-based approach: we try to accumulate positive conditions and eliminate negative ones. For instance, we strive for a good job, supportive friends, a loving family, financial security, fun vacations, personal achievements, and so on – believing these will add up to a happy life. This approach also includes psychological efforts to “improve ourselves” by overcoming flaws or healing trauma, under the assumption that we’ll be content later, once those problems are fixed. Western culture and psychotherapy largely operate on this strategy, and it does have value – certainly having supportive conditions and a healthy psyche can make life more pleasant. However, as Tift points out, the limitation of this approach is that life’s conditions are impermanent and not fully controllable. Even if we achieve everything we want, external and internal changes (aging, economy, others’ actions, our own moods) can still bring suffering. Many people reach their goals and still feel a lack of deeper meaning or lasting fulfillment.
This leads to the second strategy, the fruitional or mind-based approach: instead of focusing on what we experience, we focus on how we experience it. In other words, we train an open, appreciative state of mind that can embrace all experiences, whether positive or negative. From this perspective, the quality of our consciousness is more crucial to happiness than the particular events happening around us. For example, it’s possible to feel peaceful and content even in hardship (with the right mindset), or miserable even in luxury (with the wrong mindset). Thus, Chapter 8 argues that it’s practical to cultivate a good state of mind “at all times”, rather than pinning our well-being on circumstances we can’t fully govern. This approach might seem paradoxical – how can being open to “negative” experiences lead to more happiness? – but Tift emphasizes that it’s precisely our openness and non-resistance that create a stable form of happiness called freedom. When we stop dividing life into “things that need to happen for me to be okay” and “things that must not happen,” we find a sense of inner freedom in just experiencing life as it is. That state of profound okayness is not an emotion, but an attitude of equanimity and curiosity.
Tift describes “a good state of mind” as essentially a trained attitude of unconditional appreciation. Some hallmarks of this mindset include embodied presence (being fully here and now), spontaneity, open-heartedness, humor, courage, and equanimity. It’s an almost neutral yet engaged stance: being ready to experience anything that arises with interest and without prejudice. Having this attitude doesn’t mean you won’t encounter pain or that you’ll always be giddy with joy. It means that even when pain, sadness, or fear comes, you meet those feelings as valid parts of life, and you don’t collapse into a story that “something is wrong”. Paradoxically, this welcoming stance often yields a steady undercurrent of well-being, because you’re no longer in a constant fight against reality. Tift gives the example that if our vacation is seen not as “a reward I must enjoy” but simply as another experience, we won’t suffer so much if things go awry – we handle issues practically rather than taking them as cosmic injustices. Likewise, when back to daily life, we won’t deem it dreadful in comparison to vacation, because we’re practicing appreciation of each moment for what it is.
To achieve such unconditional well-being, Tift revisits the idea of self-absorption vs. awareness. Both therapy and Buddhist practice can be seen as methods to dissolve self-absorption, which is the tendency to relate everything to “me” and “my problem”. He notes that therapy typically improves our sense of self (making it healthier and more functional), but unless coupled with a bigger view, it may still leave us with a “better version” of self-absorption. Fruitional practice, on the other hand, aims to directly experience a state beyond the small self – tapping into open awareness where there is no rigid “me” at the center of everything. Tift suggests we need both: integration of our personality and transcendence of our ego. As we bring previously exiled parts of ourselves into awareness (therapy’s domain), we become less anxious and reactive. And as we simultaneously cultivate mindfulness of awareness itself (meditation’s domain), we realize that at the deepest level our basic nature is free, undivided, and not threatened by life’s changes. The culmination of this work is the ability to maintain a good state of mind even while feeling disturbed. Tift boldly states that it’s possible to feel anxiety, grief, or anger and still be completely sane, present, and even “well” in a broader sense at the same time. This runs counter to our culture’s assumption that feeling bad means being bad or broken. But the whole book’s premise – encapsulated in this chapter – is that what happens to us is less important than how we relate to our experience. If we relate with openness, kindness, and curiosity (the qualities of awareness), then we carry our “good weather” with us internally, regardless of the external weather.
