The Wheel and the Middle Path

This past Sunday I went to the meditation and dharma talk at LP Chalee Hermitage. It had been several weeks since my last visit. Ajarn Bryan talked about the Five Remembrances that the Buddha taught.

• We are subject to grow old. Yet I still worry about wrinkles and gray hair.

• We are subject to sickness. And I already deal with health issues.

• We are subject to death. I still do not know whether I fear it or not.

• We are subject to part from everything we love. Yet I continue to cling to the people I love most.

• We are subject to karma. I believe in karma deeply.

Knowing these truths is the easy part. Accepting them? That’s still the work in progress for me.

I wrote about these Five Remembrances in my very first blog on September 1, 2025. Three months have passed and I have to admit that I am still struggling no matter what I try. At the end of the dharma talk I told Ajarn Bryan that I read, reflect, and write every day, yet I feel like I am chasing my own tail. I cannot find an exit. How do I find a way out so I can be free from suffering, or at least walk with more balance?

There are no simple answers. What I received from Ajarn Bryan was an invitation to revisit the pain again and again. Vulnerability! Each time I sit with it, I try not to get lost in it. Reflect, but do not drown. Step back when I can.

This is not easy for me. Once I get pulled into it I often feel suffocated. I feel the heaviness that coils in my chest, as if my heart and mind are being tugged in opposite directions. To calm myself I breathe and separate the heaviness until it loosens. When I find the tension I tell myself it is alright to feel it. It can stay for a moment, and I can still keep breathing. I am safe.

Later that afternoon I was talking with a friend who said, “The wheel has turned.” I told her that if we use that analogy, then I believe we can also turn the wheel in another direction. The wheel is still controlled by a driver. That thought came back to me today. The pain and the suffering feel like the wheel, and I am the one steering it. I could steer myself into a crash or into injury or into more suffering. Or I could try to guide the wheel toward the middle path. Stop when it hurts. Keep going when it feels safe.

The guilt and shame that eat me alive still rise up. There is an old recurring ache there, one that curls into the quiet moments. I believe I should be able to help, but the truth is I have no control over the situation. I feel ashamed because part of me thinks I failed, even though another part of me knows I didn’t choose that path.

All of this brings me back to the Five Remembrances. I am slowly learning to let go. My karma is not my punishment. My karma is my teacher. It asks me to learn when to release responsibility for the emotional choices of others. It asks me to learn how to care for myself, how not to abandon myself, how to honor boundaries, how to understand attachment and release, and how to trust again. Little by little, moment by moment, breath by breath.

My kid gave me a birthday card recently, and part of it said, “I know that you will continue to be resilient, strong, and true to yourself. ”

Reading those words reminded me that even in the midst of pain, something good in me has not been lost.

Maybe that is the real exit I have been searching for. Not a door that suddenly opens, but a slow turning of the wheel back toward me. A steady breath. A softer grip. A willingness to stay with what hurts without letting it drive me off the road. If I can keep steering with awareness instead of fear, maybe little by little, then the middle path will start to feel possible.

Not perfect, not immediate, but possible.

Dharma Wheel