Thursday, March 12, 2026

Q&A with Madeleine Henry

  


 

 

Madeleine Henry is the author of the new novel The Last Celebrity. Her other books include Name Not Taken. She lives in New York. 

 

Q: What inspired you to write The Last Celebrity, and how did you create your character Fiona?

 

A: I was fascinated by celebrity culture, specifically by celebrities who seem more hated than loved. Even the darlings of entertainment can still draw intense venom in the comments sections of any E! News or Entertainment Tonight Instagram post. It’s a place of polarity. So, I started thinking about how that hatred might manifest at the extreme.

 

My intention with Fiona Hart was to craft a heroine who’s easy to root for. Fiona is a bestselling author, made famous by her underwater fantasy series, The Redfins.

 

She lost her parents in a car accident as a teen, and this has left her with an enduring internal homelessness. As a result, she views her closest friends as family. She has much deeper relationships with them, and would do absolutely anything for them--even risk her own life, against all odds.

 

Q: What do you think the novel says about today’s celebrity culture?

 

A: No spoilers 😊 I leave all conclusions up to my readers!

 

Q: Was the Nomen group in the novel based on an actual organization?

 

A: No, thankfully! The Nomen are an entirely fictional terrorist group. 

 

As dark and gruesome as they are, though, I did want parts of their mission to resonate and strike a chord. Maybe we do, as a society, care too much about the famous elite. Maybe this obsession really does matter. I wanted the Nomen’s philosophical core to feel true and valid, even if the group’s methods are indefensible.  

 

Q: Did you know how the novel would end before you started writing it, or did you make many changes along the way?

 

A: The short answer is no, I did not know how it would end.

 

That’s because I wrote this novel out of order. First, I wrote several chapters from Fiona’s underwater fantasy series, The Redfins. Then, I wrote more than half of another targeted author’s novel. I kept zooming in at different points, then using all of that work to enrich the story and give it as much realism as I could. 

 

Q: What are you working on now?

 

A: I am always at work on the next book, and hope to share more soon.

 

Q: Anything else we should know?


A: For those who would like to keep up with my work, I share updates on my social media (especially on Instagram, @MadeleineHenryYoga) and website, www.itsMadeleineHenry.com. Thank you so much for learning more about The Last Celebrity!

 

--Interview with Deborah Kalb 

Q&A with Garrett Peck

  

Photo by Casey Addason

 

 

 

Garrett Peck is the author of the new book The Bright Edges of the World: Willa Cather and Her Archbishop. His other books include A Decade of Disruption. He lives in Santa Fe. 

 

Q: What inspired you to write The Bright Edges of the World?

 

A: Hello everyone, readers and Willa Cather fans and Cather fans who are readers. And thank you to Deborah Kalb for hosting me once again. My name is Garrett Peck, and I’m an author, independent historian, and tour guide in Santa Fe. My latest book is The Bright Edges of the World: Willa Cather and Her Archbishop (University of New Mexico Press). 

 

I first encountered Willa Cather in 1998. My mom used to attend a continuing education conference in Santa Fe called Creativity & Madness, and she suggested that we have a trip to the city together. She knew how much I love history, and Southwestern history is especially complicated and rich. She assigned me to read Cather’s Death Comes For the Archbishop before the trip. I was 30 and that was my first encounter with Cather - we didn’t read her in California schools. 

 

I fell in love with Cather’s writing, which so beautifully and sparsely evokes the Southwest, as well as with Santa Fe. I came back to Santa Fe so many times (I lived in the D.C. area for 27 years) that I finally decided I should just live here. So I moved to the City Different in 2021.

 

As I’m a tour guide, I set up a Willa Cather’s Santa Fe walking tour, and now have a book published about how Cather wrote her “best book” (her words), Death Comes for the Archbishop. I focused on Cather’s travels to the Southwest: she came here six times between 1912 and 1926, and that inspired three novels, the last of which was Archbishop. I wrote the book conversationally and it has 80 images. You’re going to want to visit New Mexico after reading this book! 

 

Q: How did you research the book, and what did you learn that especially surprised you?

 

A: I began working on The Bright Edges of the World long before I moved to Santa Fe. Crucial to the story are Cather’s letters, which are snapshots of her travels. She usually wrote on hotel stationery when she traveled, so we can follow her trail. I’ve quoted from hundreds of her letters.

 

And of course I visited all the places she wrote about, including Acoma Pueblo, Albuquerque, Canyon de Chelly, Chimayó, Hopi, Laguna Pueblo, Mesa Verde, Santa Fe, Taos, Taos Pueblo, Winslow, and much more. She really got to know the Southwest quite well, and her evocative descriptions were her own experiences that she transposed onto her fictional archbishop, Jean Marie Latour. 

 

The biggest surprise for me was how well Cather got to know Pueblo culture. New Mexico has 19 Pueblo Indian tribes, and Cather visited most of them, as well as numerous Ancestral Pueblo sites such as Homolovi, Mesa Verde, and Pecos Pueblo. She subtly wrote about Pueblo faith and wove that into the narrative.

 

I didn’t realize how extensive her knowledge was until I started composing the chapter called “Native Faith,” and that had me examine how Cather incorporated Pueblo culture, history, and spirituality. 

 

Here in Santa Fe, you’ll meet Indigenous people every day, as they are our neighbors, and we are theirs. New Mexico’s population is 12 percent Indigenous. I think it’s so important that people see Native peoples as they are - not looking down on them, nor placing them up on a pedestal, but meeting them where they are as human beings. I’m blessed to know so many Native people. 

 

Q: What do you think still fascinates readers about Willa Cather (1873-1947) and her work?

 

A: Like the Greek playwrights, Shakespeare, and Chekhov, Cather remains deeply relevant, even though her most significant body of writing is from a century ago.

 

She examined contemporary issues through the lens of the past, although many people misjudged her as a nostalgist (she insisted that she was not). And she examined questions of human nature: family, friendships, love, midlife crises, mortality, and more. Those are always relevant.

 

In My Ántonia, she wrote about and celebrated immigrants on the Nebraska prairie in 1918. We’re still having this debate about immigration, between those who want to let new people become Americans, and those who want to shut the gates. 

 

A common theme in Cather’s work is to pick up a person or persons and plop them down on the frontier and to see how they adapt. She had to do this as a pioneer child, and that theme resonated with her during her entire writing career.

 

Death Comes for the Archbishop is an unusual Western novel - there are no gunfights, stagecoach robberies, or cattle rustling - but she chose an unusual topic: the friendship between two French Catholic priests working on the frontier of the American Southwest.

 

Friendship of course is an eternal theme. And her prose is just stunning. This is the peak of Cather’s career, and like I said she called it her “best book.” 

 

Q: How was your book’s title chosen, and what does it signify for you?

 

A: The title comes from page 273 of Cather’s novel, and it is one of the most beautiful passages of prose that Cather ever wrote. It is set in the final chapter of the book, “Death Comes for the Archbishop,” which is also the name of the novel.

 

This brilliant chapter has us going into the mind of the dying Archbishop Latour. Latour has decided to remain in New Mexico after his retirement, rather than return to his native France, as he has fallen in love with the desert.

 

Cather wrote: 

 

Beautiful surroundings, the society of learned men, the charm of noble women, the graces of art, could not make up to him for the loss of those light-hearted mornings of the desert, for that wind that made one a boy again. He had noticed that this peculiar quality in the air of new countries vanished after they were tamed by man and made to bear harvests. Parts of Texas and Kansas that he had first known as open range had since been made into rich farming districts, and the air had quite lost that lightness, that dry aromatic odour. The moisture of plowed land, the heaviness of labour and growth and grain-bearing, utterly destroyed it; one could breathe that only on the bright edges of the world, on the great grass plains or the sage-brush desert. (Archbishop, 273) 

 

Death Comes for the Archbishop is a novel set on the frontier. The frontier is disappearing, and Latour is hanging on to see the last of it. As a child, Cather’s family were pioneers in Nebraska, and she saw the prairie grass plowed under so farmers could grow alfalfa, corn, and other crops. Many of the archbishop’s experiences in the novel were her own. 

 

Q: What are you working on now?

 

A: I have a long list of books to write (the Cather book is my ninth). The most immediate is a history of Prohibition in New Mexico, which no one has ever addressed in book form (there are a few scholarly and legal articles out there, but no one has given this epoch the full treatment). The working title is Prohibition in New Mexico: Mayhem and Moonshine in the Land of Enchantment

 

I want to go to Scotland in a couple years and explore the backstory of the first beer brewer in the Washington, D.C., area. His name was Andrew Wales and he came from Edinburgh to Virginia in 1765 at the age of 28.

 

I led a walking tour about him in Old Town Alexandria and wrote a 10,000 word biography of the man in 2015, which may surprise you since he’s an obscure 18th century figure. He had a three-decade commercial relationship with George Washington, selling him ale and barley, and was a Tory (a loyalist) during the War of Independence and helped lead a prison break of British sailors, soldiers, and loyalists.

 

I want to explore the world he came from and where he apprenticed in Edinburgh before he came to Virginia. His life coincided with the Scottish Enlightenment, and I’m thinking of calling the book Enlightened Ale: A Transatlantic Brewing History

 

Q: Anything else we should know?

 

A: I’m taking my Cather book, The Bright Edges of the World: Willa Cather and Her Archbishop, on the road in spring 2026. Besides Santa Fe, I’ll be traveling the country to Albuquerque, Colorado Springs, Crested Butte, Dallas, Denver, Lincoln, Omaha, Provincetown, Red Cloud, Washington, D.C., and more.

 

I hope to see you at one of these author talks and book signings. I’ve got them listed on my website at https://www.garrettpeck.com/new-page. And if you are part of a book group and want to discuss Cather, you can always invite me to join remotely. There’s a Contact me page on my website. I’m happy to meet fellow Cather readers and fans. 

 

--Interview with Deborah Kalb. Here's a previous Q&A with Garrett Peck. 

Q&A with Charlie Scheidt

  


 

 

Charlie Scheidt is the author, with Kat Rohrer, of the new family memoir Inheritance: Love, Loss, and the Legacy of the Holocaust. He is the chairman emeritus of Roland Foods. 

 

Q: Why did you decide to write Inheritance, and why did you choose to collaborate with Kat Rohrer on the book?

 

A: Weeks before passing away in 1988, my mother told me about documents she had saved and hidden in an armoire. It turned out to be an overwhelming trove of nearly a thousand.

 

At the time, I was too preoccupied really to deal with that inheritance—mourning her death, raising a family, running and growing the company my parents had founded. But I was curious and from time to time would look at some of the material. When I did, I saw names I’d never heard, the kernel of stories I didn’t know existed, and endless mysteries. 

 

It wasn’t until 2009, after visiting Frankfurt for the first time, that I decided to organize and really understand the stories and secrets contained in the stash my mother had saved and bequeathed to me. I realized I knew frightfully little about my family history, what my loved ones had gone through, and I needed to know and understand. 

 

But it was too large an undertaking to do alone. I needed help. Soon after returning, I happened to meet Kat Rohrer at a video shoot about the history of the company my parents had founded. That meeting involved pure chance and perfect timing. The beginning was practical. I had a vast number of letters and documents, in no particular order and mostly in German, so I needed someone who also spoke German.

 

Sometime later Kat revealed that she too had been wrestling with a family legacy but from the other side—her grandfather was a “true believer” and had abandoned his family to fight for and support the Third Reich.

 

I appreciated her honesty. She had the burden of her family history; I had the burden of silence about my family history. Neither of us imagined the relationship would deepen to a friendship and last 15 years and counting.   

 

Q: How much of your family history did you know growing up, and how did you research this book?

 

A: I grew up an only child in a German-Jewish refugee family in New York City. My parents, aunt and uncle, and Shabbat dinner guests spoke German to each other. German was my first language.

 

From an early age, I was aware of being a very lucky kid: my father provided well for us, I was growing up in safety, and I was surrounded by a loving and intact family.

 

But there was mystery and silence about one subject—the Holocaust and its impact on the family. I only knew that a bad guy named Hitler hated Jews and killed many, and that my father fled out the back door of his office across some railroad tracks and out of Germany.

 

For my parents and family, silence was both protection and survival. They wanted to move on, live in the present, try to forget all they had witnessed, what and whom they had lost. And they wanted me to feel safe and be able to build a future unburdened by what had happened to them.

 

But the upheaval that led my family to become refugees left deep scars, ones I sensed growing up but did not understand. Silence about the past is its own inheritance—the emotional residue of trauma passed down without explanation. Looking back, I see how deeply that shaped my sense of self, my anxieties, and my connection to my family’s past, present, and future.

 

My family’s story was much richer—and more complicated—than the fragments I occasionally was told. After reading many hundreds of letters and documents, I understand far better the community in which I grew up.

 

The list of surprises is very long. For example, I discovered that many family members among whom I grew up escaped danger just in time, were lucky; others, who I had never even heard of and were very important to my family, were murdered, victims of the Nazi genocide. I knew none of this.

 

Regarding the research for the book, after my mother died, I asked her living relatives to write down and tell their own story and that of their family. This was both to gather information and to try and stay connected to that side of my family.

 

When we embarked on the research, Kat and I started with the many hundreds of documents I inherited. Later research involved online resources, U.S. archives, and overseas archives.

 

In addition to factual surprises, the most emotionally meaningful research was, after years of remote research, going to the towns, cities, and apartments where my family once lived.

 

Those trips and experiences made an enormous difference in my emotional involvement in the family history and in the writing of this book. Having read their letters, it was poignant and impactful to be there and imagine them in that environment.

 

Before going, Kat and I contacted local archives, historical societies, and groups that take care of Jewish cemeteries and found people were very willing to help.

 

Q: The author Kerry Whigham said of the book, “It reminds the reader that every refugee, past and present, is only seeking what we all deserve: love, safety, and a life free from persecution.” What do you think of that assessment?

 

A: This comment is his plea, and mine: that we regard refugees not as “others” and somehow a threat to “us,” but as fellow human beings with similar needs, including “love, safety, and a life free from persecution.”

 

Very few families choose to leave the culture and land of their birth unless forced to do so. Migration and creating a new home in a different language, legal system, and social structure, is very difficult. Refugees, including my family, focus all their energy on building a good future in their new environment for themselves and for future generations.

 

There are today tens of millions of refugees in our world. Inheritance provides first-person accounts of what it means to flee, always be on edge, persecuted, scared. My family members were for many years stateless human beings, deprived of a home, no country willing to give them a passport.

 

I hope reading about their lives as refugees leads more people to empathize with today’s 120 million displaced people, forced to flee their homeland where—like my family—they have often lived for centuries.

 

Q: What impact did it have on you to write the book, and what do you hope readers take away from it?

 

A: My voyage of discovery is my version of something universal: the search to understand where we come from, our roots, and how the past shapes us.

 

Writing the book changed me in ways I didn’t fully anticipate. The process of traveling, researching, reading, and asking difficult questions became a way of confronting a long-standing silence in my family.

 

My parents’ generation had understandable reasons for keeping painful memories buried—they were focused on survival and on building a future. I came to this story later, with the distance, time, and perspective they never had.

 

In uncovering and piecing together what happened, I felt I was doing it not only for myself, but for my children and future generations. I also felt a responsibility to my parents and family to tell their stories honestly and shed light on what happened and can so easily happen again.

 

I hope that readers will recognize in my family’s history the larger patterns of persecution, displacement, and resilience that continue to shape the lives of refugees around the world today—people who, like my family, carry scars but press forward and make great sacrifices in hopes of creating something better for the next generation.

 

Q: What are you working on now?

 

A: I devote much time and effort to refugee support and related issues, and I am actively involved with nearly two dozen NGOs and university programs across the country. 

 

I’ve started thinking about a sequel to Inheritance. In writing the book, there were important episodes and pieces of history that had to be left out simply because they didn’t fit within the scope of one volume. I find myself returning to those stories, and exploring them more fully may be the next chapter of this journey.

 

Kat and I are also working on developing a film based on our travels and the history we uncovered together to write Inheritance. Retracing my family’s path across Europe was an emotional and powerful experience, and we believe the places, the discoveries, conversations, and all the people we met along the way lends itself naturally to the screen.

 

Q: Anything else we should know?

 

A: Many families carry silences, even secrets and lies, and avoid speaking about the past to the next generation. Refugee families such as mine have particular reasons for doing so.

 

But I believe that silence about past displacement, persecution, and trauma is itself a kind of harm, depriving survivors of the freedom to share their experiences and feelings, and leaving the next generation without a clear understanding of the world that had shaped them. Uncovering that past and its impact became the work of Inheritance.

 

I will be speaking on podcasts and at virtual and in-person events related to the publication of Inheritance through May. In the fall, more events are planned around the U.S. as well as in France, Holland, and Germany, where much of Inheritance takes place.

 

I am also happy to engage with book clubs and coordinate on book talks. Please get in touch via my website, www.InheritanceMemoir.com, where you can also sign up for my newsletter and find details for all upcoming events, and via social media on Instagram, Facebook, and LinkedIn.

 

--Interview with Deborah Kalb 

Q&A with Jack Ratliff

  


 

Jack Ratliff is the author of the new memoir Riding the White Bull: The Making of a Navy Seal. He spent four years in the Navy, practiced law in El Paso for 20 years, and taught at the University of Texas Law School for 20 years. He lives in Santa Fe.

 

Q: Why did you decide to write this memoir?

 

A: I didn’t set out to write a “SEAL memoir.” What I wanted to explore was how a person is shaped long before he ever faces real tests of responsibility or danger. The events in this book - college, rodeo riding, firefighting, early naval service, UDT training, were all formative. They taught me how judgment is earned, how fear is managed, and how responsibility settles into a person over time.

 

I wrote the book because too many stories of service focus on the end result and skip the making. This is a book about becoming, about the mistakes, the risks, and the moments that quietly shape who you are long before anyone is watching.

 

Q: How was the book’s title chosen, and what does it signify for you?

 

A: The title comes from a literal experience - riding a white Brahma bull in a rodeo, but it also became a metaphor I couldn’t shake. When you climb onto something powerful, unpredictable, and dangerous, you’re forced to commit fully. You can’t hedge. You can’t fake it. You either stay present or you pay the price.

 

For me, “riding the white bull” came to represent moments in life when you choose to face risk head-on rather than step away. Those moments aren’t always dramatic, but they define your character. The title captures that idea better than anything else I could think of.

 

Q: Did you rely mostly on your own memories to write the book, or did you need to do any additional research?

 

A: The book is rooted primarily in my own memory. The events stayed vivid because many of them involved real risk, real fear, and real consequence, those experiences tend to imprint themselves.

 

That said, I did verify timelines, locations, and details where needed, especially around naval service. But this is not a reconstructed history; it’s a personal account. I wanted to preserve how things felt at the time, not reinterpret them through hindsight or modern assumptions.  


Q: What impact did it have on you to write the book, and what do you hope readers take away from it?

 

A: Writing the book forced me to slow down and look honestly at choices I made decades ago - some good, some reckless, some simply human. It reminded me how thin the line often is between confidence and foolishness, courage and stubbornness.

 

What I hope readers take away is an appreciation for how character is formed over time, often quietly and imperfectly. You don’t become steady by avoiding risk; you become steady by meeting it, learning from it, and carrying those lessons forward.

 

Q: What are you working on now?

 

A: At this stage of my life, I’m less interested in producing another book and more interested in conversation talking with readers, veterans, students, and anyone curious about how experience shapes judgment.

 

If I write again, it will likely continue exploring responsibility, leadership, and decision-making, but always through lived experience rather than abstraction.

 

Q: Anything else we should know?

 

A: This book isn’t about heroics, and it isn’t about nostalgia. It’s about accountability to yourself and to others. The men I admired most in my life weren’t flawless or loud; they were steady, thoughtful, and willing to carry responsibility when it mattered.

 

If Riding the White Bull resonates, I think it’s because many people recognize those moments in their own lives the ones where you either step forward or step aside. This book is about choosing to step forward, even when the outcome isn’t guaranteed

 

--Interview with Deborah Kalb

Q&A with Ronald E. Purser

  



 


Ronald E. Purser is the author of the new book Mind Space: Discovering Meditation Without the Meditator. His other books include McMindfulness. He is the Lam Larsen Distinguished Research Professor of Management at San Francisco State University. 

 

Q: What inspired you to write Mind Space?

 

A: After the publication my previous book, McMindfulness, people have continued to ask, “Alright, you’ve pointed out the problems with how meditation has been marketed. What alternatives do you propose?” That was an unsettling question to face, since critique, by itself, does nothing to cure anyone’s suffering.

 

However, there was more than merely a demand for stress reduction behind the question. There was a deep-seated hunger—a yearning for connection with something tangible, expansive, that gives a sense of purpose to the existence of humanity. People are not simply burnt out; they are deprived of meaning, alienated from their own depth, severed from those areas that allow the human condition to be rich and alive.

 

Tarthang Tulku, a Tibetan Buddhist teacher and writer, described this years ago: “We suffer,” he said, “from a fundamental lack of space in which to live, of time to utilize it, and of knowledge to appreciate it.”

 

This is not a problem of stress; this is a deeply spiritual issue.

 

What we need is not another method to cope with the world, but rather, a true expansion of the ways in which we experience reality, and thus, recover the openness, aliveness, and meaning that are our birthright as humans. When I realized this, I was brought back to a book that had shaped my life for decades quietly.

 

As a college student in the early 1980s, I discovered Tarthang Tulku’s unusual and challenging book, Time, Space and Knowledge: A New Vision of Reality (aka “TSK”). It was unlike any other book I had ever experienced--neither Buddhist philosophy nor psychology nor metaphysics but an original investigation into the nature of reality.

 

Tarthang Tulku presented TSK as a “gift to the West,” an entirely new form of inquiry and practice, which was written in a style which spoke to scientists, philosophers, and seekers in general. Adamant that this was not Buddhism in disguise, this teaching could be approached without a need for faith, conversion, or any kind of cultural translation.

 

I found TSK fascinating and enrolled in a one-year intensive program at the Nyingma Institute in Berkeley. We studied the book line by line; practiced its exercises; and spent extended periods of time in retreat. That process quietly redirected the course of my entire life.

 

However, I was young, and as with so many seekers during that period I followed the larger arc of exploration -- sitting in Zen halls, dabbling in other Buddhist traditions, and eventually becoming an ordained Korean Zen teacher.

 

Those traditions offered a great deal of depth. However, a major limitation began to emerge over time: the very format of goal-directed practice contains a subtle contradiction.

 

Once we take a sit down to meditate in order to obtain something – whether it be calm, clarity or even liberation -- we place a seeker at the center who is working towards achieving a result that will always exist in a future that does not ultimately arrive.

 

The effort required to achieve a specific goal will reinforce the dualistic separation it aims to cure. I found myself repeatedly observing that the intentional effort put forth in meditation will often act as a barrier to the openness that is sought. The persistent striving for what exists right now will only drive it farther away.

 

However, after some time passed, a new development occurred. I was given the opportunity to begin teaching TSK at Dharma College. It was at that point that the vision became clear. In 2022, Tarthang Tulku wrote to us with an essay encouraging us to write new commentaries to make this vision available to a greater audience. That was the impetus I needed.

 

Mind Space is my attempt to make that vision breathe — not as a scholarly commentary but as a direct invitation. It doesn’t ask you to adopt a new practice or philosophy. It asks something stranger and simpler: to stop overlooking what has never actually been absent. The ease, the openness, the sense of sufficiency we keep chasing — it turns out they were never elsewhere to begin with.

 

Q: The book’s subtitle is “Discovering Meditation Without the Meditator.” Can you say more about that?

 

A: Yes, the subtitle really captures the heart of what the book is pointing toward. Most meditation still harbors a subtle subject-object duality: there is always someone here doing the meditating—watching the breath, monitoring thoughts, evaluating progress.

 

Even when we manage a moment of calm, an inner manager sneaks in to claim it: “Yes, you’re doing it right!” Or it berates: “You’re distracted!” Either way, a self remains at the center. 

 

Mind Space is about looking at the structure of meditation when the meditation is simply awareness aware of itself - without any “one” being aware. Then the effort required to meditate falls away, leaving us with a simplicity and naturalness, an uncontrived intimacy with whatever is.

 

This is actually similar to how young children relate to the world prior to learning to separate themselves from their experiences. As such, there is no separation between life and awareness. This is meditation without a meditator--not a technique to be mastered, but a recognition and embodied understanding that openness is immediately available and unconditional.

 

Q: Why do you think it’s difficult for some people to meditate?

 

A: I am convinced that the biggest problem we face in meditation is the way we are instructed to do it. We sit to “be still,” to “stop our minds,” to “see things clearly.” That creates a big fight right away between parts of our minds, making meditation into an inner civil war.

 

What is also not so apparent is that the inner manager that directs our actions (the one pushing, judging, evaluating whether we succeed or fail) is exactly what we are trying to free ourselves of.

 

Another reason we have such a hard time with meditation is because we consider our thoughts to be intruders. The most typical direction is “still the mind,” as if the act of thinking is a flaw that can be overcome.

 

But our thoughts are natural manifestations of the energy of awareness -- just as waves arise out of the ocean. There is no need to banish them any more than there would be to eradicate the clouds from the sky.

 

And the whole idea that awareness has somehow been “obstructed” by the presence of thought is a great confusion. Awareness has never been obstructed; it’s more like the sun behind clouds, from the ground the sun appears to be hidden, but the sun itself has never ceased to shine. We confuse the limitations of our vantage point with the totality of the view.


But the biggest problem is this: each time we make an effort to meditate, we reinforce the dualism that limits us. As soon as we tell ourselves “I should relax” or “I need to stop thinking, I need to stop being distracted, I need to pay attention,” we create a self-centered “doer” that will produce a result.

 

However, the “doer” is not the source of liberation; it is the product of the same narrowing that we are attempting to eliminate. The harder we try to meditate, the more tangled we become. It’s just as if we tried to lift ourselves off the ground by our own bootstraps.

 

As soon as we give up fighting against our thoughts and find the space in which to allow them to arise, everything changes. You’re no longer caught in the content of experience; you are feeling the context -- the vast, living field from which everything arises and disappears by itself.

 

When we allow our thoughts to settle into their own space, they resolve themselves naturally. Where once we called distraction, now we call it revelation -- awareness showing us its own natural power and vitality.

  

That is why I call it “meditation without the meditator.” It is not a matter of giving up on meditation or simply being inactive and doing nothing. Rather, it is about understanding that awareness does not need a supervisor. It does not need a manager.

 

What seems to be a problem or challenge to us during meditation is really just a recognition issue. The openness and freedom that we seek has always been present, but that calls for a counterintuitive approach--one that is not based on striving, effort, and seeking.

 

Q: What do you hope readers take away from the book?

 

A: My greatest expectation for readers is that as they read this book, they will realize you do not have to wait for a “later” realization or accomplishment to find what you are looking for. The freedom, the openness, the clarity that you are seeking is available now -- right in front of you, closer than your breath. This freedom has been present in your life all along.

In addition, my hope is that the book helps readers understand that meditation does not need to be limited to a cushion or formal discipline. When awareness is no longer treated as a “project,” it can dissolve into the natural world of living. The open space that appears while walking the dog, or doing the dishes, or pausing in a difficult conversation, is available at every moment.

On an even larger scale, I hope Mind Space helps readers begin to question many of the basic (and often unconscious) assumptions about modernity, including the constant push to produce, the feeling of never having enough time, and the assumption that we are separate from the world that surrounds us.

 

These are not simply individual problems. They are symptoms of a deeper blindness. The view offered by Mind Space may provide a way of seeing that can not only heal individuals, but also our relationships with one another, and with the planet.

 

Q: What are you working on now?

 

A: Mind Space is actually the first volume in a trilogy based on Tarthang Tulku’s Time, Space, and Knowledge vision, exploring the theme of Space. I’m already working on the next two volumes, which will turn to Time and Knowledge. Each builds on what came before, but they can also stand alone.

 

Next fall, I will be teaching courses on Mind Space at Dharma College in Berkeley, California. It’s been wonderful to see a new generation of students discovering this vision. In many ways, it feels like this teaching is coming alive again for our time.

 

Q: Anything else we should know?

 

A: I will be speaking on a panel at the Bay Area Book Festival in Berkeley on May 31. If you’d like to stay connected, you can visit my website for updates on events, courses, and the upcoming volumes (https://ronpurser.com/).

 

 I’m also active on social media and always happy to hear from readers who want to share their own experiences with the vision.

 

Lastly, I want to say that writing this book was an act of gratitude. Tarthang Tulku gave us an incredible gift with the Time, Space, and Knowledge vision, and it’s been quietly transforming lives for nearly 50 years. My hope is that Mind Space helps carry that gift forward to a new generation.

 

--Interview with Deborah Kalb 

Q&A with M. Pekin

  


 

 

M. Pekin is the author of the new book Breaking Democracy's Chains: Freeing and Fortifying Democracy Against Hidden Capture. He is also an entrepreneur. 

 

Q: What inspired you to write Breaking Democracy’s Chains?

 

A: Studying political economy and participating in the political process led me to question whether democracies in the UK and the USA genuinely reflect the public will.

 

The Iraq War was a turning point: seeing a left Labour government in the UK align with a right-wing Republican administration in the USA, while millions protested against the war only to be ignored, exposed how artificial the left-right divide had become and how major decisions were made without accountability.

 

Since then, observing mass surveillance, bank bailouts followed by austerity for ordinary people, and seemingly endless wars has convinced me that the core problem lies with party-based democracy itself.

 

Q: How was the book’s title chosen, and what does it signify for you?

 

A: The title emerged after the book was written. I argue that democracy itself is not broken, but has been captured by a ruling elite and presented to the public as freedom and popular will, while in reality it is tightly managed through party structures that limit genuine choice and accountability.

 

"Breaking Democracy’s Chains" reflects the central argument of the book: that democracy has been constrained and cannot function as it is meant to unless those constraints are confronted and removed.

 

Q: Does your book apply to all democracies or to some in particular?

 

A: The book speaks to a global condition, not a single country. Its examples are drawn from many different political systems, ranging from established Western democracies such as the United States and the United Kingdom to externally influenced and less developed states such as Venezuela and Ukraine.

 

Any system that relies on political parties competing in periodic elections is vulnerable to capture, whether by domestic elites or through external influence. The argument is that these systems require an upgrade to a no-party model of democracy in order to restore genuine representation and accountability.

 

Q: What do you hope readers take away from the book?

 

A: I hope readers come to see that what is presented to us as democracy is not the real thing. The book argues that only citizens can upgrade democracy through their own actions by withdrawing legitimacy from party politics, choosing not to vote for any party, and instead voting for independent candidates who are not bound to party identities or political labels.

 

Q: What are you working on now?

 

A: I’m expanding the ideas in the book into more practical and institutional thinking, particularly around no-party democratic models. This includes exploring how governance, accountability, and representation could function without traditional party structures. I’m also engaging more in public discussion around these themes.

 

Q: Anything else we should know?

 

A: This book is not a manifesto or a call for revolution. It argues that political parties are neither necessary for democracy to function nor effective representatives of the public, despite what they claim. The book examines who really holds power, how decisions are made, and whose interests parties ultimately serve.

 

If the book unsettles readers, that is intentional, because meaningful change can only occur when people unite around shared principles rather than demonising and blaming one another.

 

--Interview with Deborah Kalb 

March 12

 


 

ON THIS DAY IN HISTORY
March 12, 1922: Jack Kerouac born.