dharmapunx NYC

It’s easy to become transfixed by the events, memories, fears and hopes that make up the plot of our autobiographical movies ("The story my life" starring Me). Caught up in our dramas, its easy to envision ourselves as heroic, while others—work colleagues for example—can be viewed superficially, as either helping hands or villains (ie. useful or in the way). The more we live in such a fantasy, the easier it is to believe that those we experience as inconvenient or annoying are motivated by emotions and aspirations that are dissimilar and lesser than our own. Perhaps someone cuts us off in traffic, blocks a subway door, elbows past us on the street: How quickly they can be perceived as reprehensible, born with indelibly evil qualities; the possibility they were having a singularly bad day, or simply unaware of our presence, is rarely considered. Our self-centered stories lend our experiences the weight and importance of something profound, unique  and special. Unfortunately