It is essential—on any path of awakening, healing, or growth—to seek out your teachers. Books and teachings from the great minds of the past can open our eyes and stir our hearts, but there is something uniquely powerful about learning in real-time from someone who is walking the path now. The closer we come to the presence of a living teacher, the deeper the transmission. Wisdom is not merely spoken—it is embodied. It moves through tone, gesture, silence, and presence. It is not only what is said, but how it is lived.
We live in a time when true teachers may seem rare—not because they no longer exist, but because we often don’t know how to recognize them. A real teacher does not promise certainty or perfection; they offer a compassionate path. They teach by example. Their life is the teaching.
Over the years of writing this work, I’ve had the profound fortune of learning from living mentors—elders whose lives carry the weight of experience and the grace of humility.
My father, David, now 84, has been one of my foundational teachers. His guidance didn’t always arrive through lectures or formal instruction—it was present in the quiet strength of his being, in the way he navigated life’s complexities, in the values he lived without having to name them.
Fred Bisci, whom I met in 2010 when he was 79, is now 95 and still thriving. His clarity, energy, and unwavering commitment to truth continue to inspire and challenge me.
And Richard Moss, now 78, has opened doors in me that I didn’t know existed—particularly around the idea of surrender. Through our ongoing conversations—once or twice a month over Zoom—he’s helped me explore presence in a way no technique or philosophy ever had.
One teaching from Richard left a lasting imprint on me. It wasn’t delivered as doctrine, but offered gently in a moment of shared stillness. I want to share it here—not just as a concept, but as a doorway to your own direct experience:
According to Dr. Richard Moss, author of The Mandala of Being and Inside-Out Healing, the mind operates in four primary “positions” when it is not anchored in the present moment. These positions shape our thoughts, emotions, and perceptions—often without our conscious awareness:
- ME Position – All stories, thoughts, and beliefs about oneself. These may be grandiose or self-deprecating, but both are constructs that filter reality.
- YOU Position – All judgments, narratives, or beliefs about others—whether people, systems, or even abstract concepts like God, money, or love. These often hold the strongest emotional charge.
- PAST Position – All reflections, memories, or beliefs about what has already occurred, inevitably colored by interpretation as either good or bad.
- FUTURE Position – All projections and expectations, tied to either hope or fear, that pull us away from what is.
Imagine these as points on a clock:
- 12 o’clock represents the future
- 6 o’clock the past
- 3 o’clock our projections onto others
- 9 o’clock our stories about ourselves
- And at the very center of the clock lies the NOW—a state of pure presence, where conceptual thought falls away, and we experience life directly.
In this center, the boundaries between inner and outer dissolve. This, as Jung might describe, is the emergence of the true Self.
To explore this further, I recommend the opening chapters of Inside-Out Healing, where Richard offers this model as a profound tool for returning to presence. It’s not a technique—it’s a way of seeing.
And in that center space of presence, when we begin to observe the swirl of thought and story, a simple practice arises: “And This Too.”
Not as denial, but as recognition. It is the quiet noticing that says:
Yes, this is happening. Yes, this story is here. And this too…
This phrase becomes a way to soften around the mental noise and return to stillness. It’s not about fixing or escaping—it’s about allowing, and in allowing, finding freedom.
While the influence of great teachers and mentors can be transformative, it’s important to understand that the path of growth doesn’t always lead us to formal spiritual figures. Sometimes, our greatest teachers arrive in unexpected forms—through sponsors in recovery, trusted friends, or fellow seekers walking beside us. Especially in twelve-step recovery, these people become mirrors, guiding lights, and anchors of accountability and care.
The principles of mentorship are the same. Whether through a teacher like Richard, a parent like my father, or a sponsor in a recovery room—what matters most is presence, honesty, and the willingness to share hard-earned wisdom. Sometimes the person across from you in a circle, with nothing but a cup of coffee and a lifetime of scars, becomes the most profound teacher you will ever meet.
The path reveals who you need. And when it does, listen. Watch. Be teachable.