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One of our most popular episodes of all time is our interview with artist and musician Laurie Anderson. Today, we’re sharing a new, unedited version with almost a half hour of additional material.

For anyone unfamiliar with Laurie’s work, many people, including me, consider her one of our planet’s greatest living artists. Her work spans spoken word and performance, top-charting albums and music videos, digital art, film, virtual reality, and the invention of ingenious instruments like the tape bow violin and the talking stick.

Laurie’s won a Grammy Award and many other honors, and she continues to be a huge inspiration for new generations of artists and musicians all over the world. She’s also a longtime student of Buddhism and meditation. In our interview, she talks about her personal path with Buddhism, her long relationship with Lou Reed, and how she coped with his death.

She shares insights on how to approach art with a beginner’s mind, and how to stay present with suffering without letting it overwhelm you.

Scott Snibbe: So Laurie, thank you so much for joining us as a guest on A Skeptic’s Path to Enlightenment. I really appreciate you taking time out of your busy schedule to talk.

Laurie Anderson: What a great title. How did you come up with that?

Scott Snibbe: Well, a lot of my friends are skeptics, and many of them were curious about enlightenment, so it just seemed natural. Over the years, I was their only Buddhist friend, so they would ask me questions. But I didn’t have great answers, because I had a more religious, traditional education in Buddhism. I wanted to make this podcast to help people have a more secular path into it.

Laurie Anderson: That’s a very good motivation, because when you really have to explain something to people who are super skeptical, it can be quite amazing. I just remember doing a lot of touring in Europe in the seventies. I was in a lot of different festivals, and afterward, we’d have dinner and talk.

And my European friends would ask, “How could you live in a country like the United States?”—that kind of question. It really makes you think about what that means. My answer to that was an eight-hour presentation about the United States! There’s something really interesting and challenging about talking to people who say, “How could you think that?” Because you have to start from almost nothing, right?

How Laurie Anderson discovered Buddhism

Scott Snibbe: Yeah, absolutely. Well, I’m curious to hear about your journey with Buddhism. I bet for some of your friends, you’re the only Buddhist they know. Could you talk a little bit about how you discovered Buddhism, and what role it plays in your life?

Laurie Anderson: It was originally about attention: paying attention and being able to focus. And it was thanks to a friend of mine, Bob Leckey, who I was working with. He had (and still has) this really wonderful ability to quietly focus on things, to see how they work. And I asked him, “How are you doing this?”

I really love asking people what seem like dumb questions. A couple of years ago, I asked Philip Glass, “You must have so much stress. How do you deal with stress?” And he said, “I acknowledge it.” That’s such a wonderful way to look at it, not pushing it away, just acknowledging it, and going on.

Anyway, Bob told me he’d been having trouble concentrating. So he went to Barre, Massachusetts, to the Insight Meditation Society headquarters, and did a ten-day silent retreat. He said that after the retreat, all his scattered thoughts had calmed down, and he was able to focus. His mind was, as he put it, like a beam. He could kind of move it here or there, look at things steadily for a long time.

And I thought, Whoa, I’d like a mind like a beam! So I went there myself: Insight Meditation Society in Western Massachusetts. This was in ’77, I think maybe their second or third year. It was very early in their programming, and they were pretty hardcore at the time. You’d get up at four, meditate, have your only meal of the day, then a bell would ring and you’d do walking meditation, then sitting, then some water, and then more practice. So it was many, many hours a day.

When I got there, they asked, “Why are you here?” And I said, “I’m here to get a mind like a beam.” And they said, “Oh no, no, this is a path of pain.” And I said, “No, I’m talking about a beam!” So we had this very ridiculous conversation, ping-ponging back and forth between pain and beam, pain and beam.

And finally, after a couple of days, I realized it really was about pain. They said, “You’re here because you’re in pain.” And I said, “No, no, no, that’s not why I’m here.” But I realized… that was why I was there. And it was a very unique way of looking at pain. The idea is that when something happens to you (and you don’t just scream and freak out) you put it somewhere. And unlike in psychoanalysis, where you retrieve it through language and stories, here you let your body tell you things.

As I learned more about the practice, I came to really trust that method. Because your body doesn’t lie. It has a mind of its own. It remembers things, and it stores them. Like, when you feel anger, sometimes your jaw clenches. When you feel loss, maybe it’s in your heart. Anger can be in your liver. You are a kind of library of emotion.

Your body doesn’t lie. It has a mind of its own. It remembers things, and it stores them… You are a kind of library of emotion.

The idea with this practice is to find those things, not necessarily through thought, but through sitting. It’s painful to sit for 18 hours a day. Your left arm feels like it’s going to fall off. And when it does, you focus on that left arm, and you might find emotions in there. That was the beginning of it for me.

At the end of that particular 10-day period, one of the things I noticed was that I had incredible peripheral vision. I was doing a lot of sculpture at the time, and I was very excited by the idea that I could feel space around me: above me, behind me. It was a total thrill. It wasn’t the kind of space that comes from eye vision, like “I see that in front of me, I want it.” Not the vision of desire. It was a vision of experience, of being in space.

And as a sculptor, that was a huge thrill, to understand space in an entirely new way, without putting yourself at the center of it. That was enough to hook me: understanding that I was in an ocean of sound, an ocean of air, and that I had a lot more freedom than I thought.

It began to be about much more than just pain or attention. But I have to say, I’m pretty casual about it. If someone asks, “Are you a Buddhist?” I say, “Yeah.” But to me, that’s like saying, “I’m an artist.” In fact, it’s exactly the same thing, because it requires the same thing, which is pay attention.

If someone asks, “Are you a Buddhist?” I say, “Yeah.” But to me, that’s like saying, “I’m an artist.” In fact, it’s exactly the same thing, because it requires the same thing, which is pay attention.

That’s really the only rule, if there is a rule. Let’s call it a suggestion. That’s the only thing you have to do: pay attention. There’s nobody in charge. There’s nobody judging you. And that is the ultimate thrill for an artist: there’s no one at the top. There’s nobody saying, “You did a good job,” or “You didn’t.” You are the Buddha, ultimately.

You are the Buddha, ultimately.

And who wants that responsibility? Kinda nobody. Or, if you see it that way, it can be extremely intimidating. Like, I’m in charge? Who put me in charge? This is a big mistake! But when you realize it, it gives you a kind of freedom beyond your wildest dreams. It’s exhilarating.

Over the years, the practice has changed for me in so many ways. There are just so many different approaches, different ways to understand it. And honestly, in the last couple of weeks, I feel like I’m back at square one. Although I don’t even know what square one is, what does that mean, really?

Anyway, what I meant to say is: I feel like I’ve returned to the first thing you hear in Buddhism. The very first thing that’s presented to you as a truth, not necessarily to believe, but to experience for yourself. Because that’s the thing: don’t believe what anyone tells you. You look at it yourself.

Don’t believe what anyone tells you. You look at it yourself.

And the very first one of those truths is, Life is suffering. And especially in the last couple of weeks, I’ve had this almost unbelievable opportunity to experience that, to experience despair. To really experience utter despair. Not to push it away, or try to analyze why it’s there, or think, “What can we do about it?” or, “Oh my gosh, this is worse than last time.” No. Just to let it be an experience.

And I’m really happy and grateful to have this practice that allows me to do that. Not just to say, “Oh, this is a geopolitical situation,” but to actually feel it, in as many ways and from as many directions as possible. Because it is coming from every direction. And what an opportunity to sit with that very first step: Life is suffering.

Of course, you go on from there. Then what? It pushes you into an investigation, of that truth, of our situation. Because it’s easier, sometimes, to let go of that first truth and say, “It’s not so bad. I’m having a good time. I’m learning a lot. It’s a wonderful time to be alive.” And all of those things are true. But that basic truth, that life is suffering, is opening up for us in a way that’s incredibly powerful right now.

Laurie’s Tibetan Buddhist teacher, Mingyur Rinpoche

Scott Snibbe: Yeah, it’s so painful. I agree. It’s so, so painful. But with the mind techniques we’ve learned from our teachers, you don’t have to push it away, and you don’t need to go into intellectual analysis. It can become a kind of food for your practice, and for your action, too. It’s not just something to do in your mind.

I know you’re about to do a benefit for Ukraine. So you’re not just sitting on the cushion, you’re helping however you can, right?

Laurie Anderson: I do. I try to, yes.

Scott Snibbe: Can you talk a little bit about your teacher? I know you became a student of Mingyur Rinpoche and Tibetan Buddhism. You started out with Insight Meditation, can you talk about what you learned in that tradition?

Laurie Anderson: Well, I think my first attraction to Mingyur Rinpoche was his happiness. He’s someone who’s absolutely full of joy. And the kind of bliss that’s impossible to mistake for anything else. I remember thinking, What is this about? He’s also very frank, very simple. I find myself quoting him endlessly because he’s so articulate, and he’s great with epigrams.

One of my favorite things he said is: “Try to practice how to feel sad without actually being sad.” I find that to be extremely profound. There are countless sad things in the world, it’s full of sadness, everywhere you look. And if you pretend that stuff isn’t there, you’re an absolute idiot. It is there.

“Try to practice how to feel sad without actually being sad.”

Mingyur Rinpoche

But the important part is: Don’t become sad. You can see the sadness, but don’t become it. That’s a really profound distinction, because of course we often get so wrapped up in ourselves that we become what we see. And yes, that’s a kind of empathy, but in many ways, it’s not a helpful one.

Don’t become sad. You can see the sadness, but don’t become it.

Do not become sad. That’s his message. Life is joy. Everything is joy. You may not see it that way, but… the study of impermanence, I think, is what helps people come to that conclusion of joy. If you’re stuck and going, “Joy? What are you talking about? The world is miserable!”—well, where does joy come in?

Life is joy. Everything is joy.

Speaking for myself, I’m able to make that leap because of one concept: impermanence. As an artist, I also study time—how it moves through music and images. The teaching of impermanence, that everything is constantly changing, was also a central tenet for many of the artists I loved—John Cage being the main one. He based his entire practice on that idea.

And when you really let that sink in, when you realize there’s nothing to hold onto, at first it can feel like a disaster. “Nothing I can hold onto? Nothing at all?” Yeah. Nothing. But when that sinks in, and you start to feel it on a few different levels, it gives you this sense of wild happiness. Freedom. The ability to stop living your life as a series of predicted steps. It gives you the ability to improvise.

For me, in music, it gave me a whole new way to think about what note should follow the next. It helped me stop living a life I thought I should live. Or really, that someone else thought up for me. I guess it’s helped me take responsibility, for myself. And also in relation to others. When you think about what it means to be accepted by other people, how you create those relationships and all the things you think are necessary for that acceptance, you realize you’re doing a kind of violence to yourself.

So you learn self-sufficiency. You stop thinking, “What is so-and-so thinking about me?” And it helped me as an artist too. It’s been over ten years now since I’ve read a single thing about myself. And it’s improved my life enormously. I don’t know if I’m considered an absolute idiot or not—and I realized: I actually really don’t care. Because it was getting in the way of how I see things. I didn’t want to be someone who was looking at myself and my work from a distance. I wanted to do what felt interesting and compelling to me.

It’s been over ten years now since I’ve read a single thing about myself. And it’s improved my life enormously.

So in that sense, the practice has really helped. And then, in the last couple of years, I think, like everybody else on the planet, or maybe not everyone, but most of us, we got a chance to experience solitude. And that’s been… a kind of Buddhist-making machine, you know? Worldwide. Everyone kind of went, “Oh… what would it be like not to be on that merry-go-round I was always on?”—without even thinking about it. Just thinking, “I have to be on it because everyone’s on it, and we all better stay on it forever.”

And then people said, “I’m not even going back to work. Work wasn’t interesting. It was awful. I didn’t have time for myself. I didn’t have time to take a walk.” So this slowdown, I’m sure it changed many people’s lives. But now, at this moment, I don’t know if you’re feeling this, but I am feeling this intense pressure of: “Okay, we’re back to normal. Let’s go!” It’s like hyperdrive. I get more email now than I ever have in my life. Everyone’s back to business.

And I’m trying to really drag my feet on every project. Just slow it all down. I’m working on a very complicated project in Denmark right now, and the guy I’m working with is recovering from COVID. He’s got a bit of a fog, but he’s really appreciative of it. I said, “Why are we jumping back into action?” And he suggested, “Let’s think of this more like gardening.”

And I thought—bingo! Let’s think of it as gardening. That’s how we’re going forward with that. And it’s just been… enormously wonderful to think about how to really learn from experience.

Death as adventure

Scott Snibbe: And find a gentler way to reengage with everything. You mentioned impermanence, and when we talk about that, we often think about death, which is something you’ve been exploring in your art. You made these beautiful versions of the Tibetan Buddhist teachings on the stages we go through when we die: the bardo. And you released an album called Songs of the Bardo with Tenzin Choegyal and Jesse Paris Smith.

Can you talk a little about what these teachings on the dying process mean to you, and the impact they’ve had on your life? You’ve given a lot of your creative attention to them recently. The result is really beautiful, I love it.

Laurie Anderson: I think it’s partly about looking at something that’s usually surrounded by fear. And that’s one of my motivations. That kind of fear, it’s like catnip. No, it’s like crack for me. Fear? Something really scary? Okay, let’s look at that. What’s scary about it?

And when you actually go into the teachings of the bardo, the 49-day period that Buddhists believe happens after death, as your consciousness evolves into another, maybe life form, or another—well, something happens. Let’s not get too specific.

I found those teachings really amazing. Not just because they’re about death, but because they made me realize: this is the bardo too. This conversation right now. What’s happening in a minute. What happened a minute ago. The most extreme part is what happens at death, but in a way, it’s also the easiest place to see it.

But once you really start thinking about what the bardo is, you realize that you’re already in it. Surprise.

But once you really start thinking about what the bardo is, you realize that you’re already in it.

Scott Snibbe: One of my teachers, Lama Zopa, once said, “You think you’re going to visit a dying person in the hospital—but actually, you’re both dying.”

Laurie Anderson: Exactly.

Scott Snibbe: We’re all in that continual process.

Laurie Anderson: Yeah, in one step or another, we are. And we’re also in the incredible process of being reborn, as well as dying. So it’s this kind of tipping back and forth. I feel like when I can understand it best, I can actually feel the way my consciousness might absorb these transitions, birth, death, and I feel kind of mind-blown by it. Because they’re so huge.

And I guess that’s also what I feel about the war, when life and death become more vivid for everyone. So many people are being violently blown into that space, that awareness. It’s a time to really stop and think, Whoa. What is that? It’s a very mysterious thing.

And even though I’ve always been interested in things like birth and death, just being with those experiences, my husband dying was a very profound experience for me. And it made me really… happy, in many ways. Because I was able to see someone do that so well. So naturally, and with such enthusiasm.

That was a profound moment for me, to witness that. To see that there’s a way to approach these enormous transitions, like death, with that kind of clarity and grace.

Scott Snibbe: Thank you for sharing that. I really appreciate it. I had a friend, a nun, who died too early, but she also died very well, in that same way you described. As an example to the rest of us, how to make that transition meaningful, beautiful, and even joyful. I think for a lot of people, it’s hard to imagine that could be true.

Laurie Anderson: But apparently, I think it might be one of the most exciting things that can happen to you. One of those moments where you just go, Whoa. No matter what you believe, that is a big thing. To lose your body. A very big thing. And then you ask: what do you think might be left?

Scott Snibbe: It was quite surprising for me, when I first started studying with the Dalai Lama, to hear him say that he rehearses his death six times a day. And he’s actually excited for when that time comes. That was such a shock, to see that approach to death in Tibetan Buddhism. That it’s a kind of adventure.

Laurie Anderson: And I think it depends on what you want. It’s very important to want to have an adventure. To want to see something other than what you’ve been told. To want to experience it yourself. To feel that energy, to look at it. That’s really something. And sometimes, it’s hard to muster that kind of energy, because our culture is very anti-that. It’s all about pushing things away, euphemisms, denial.

But I also find that it brings out a kind of heroism in people. I’ve been watching Zelensky, and honestly, he sounds like Gandhi to me in many ways. What was it he just said? He’s in his bunker, the Russians are saying, “We’re definitely going to kill you. You’re the number one target.” And someone asks him, “How are you feeling?”

And he says, “My life today is wonderful. Because I believe that I’m needed.” He said, “That’s the most important sense of life—that you’re needed. That you’re not just an emptiness that breathes and walks and eats something.”

I was like, wait, who wrote that? That sounds like Allen Ginsberg or Gandhi. An emptiness that breathes and walks and eats something. And of course, I thought, Okay, is this guy a Buddhist? Emptiness! That just stunned me. That line.

Here’s the president of a country, he has the microphone. He has the opportunity to say whatever he wants. He could talk about freedom in his country, loyalty, oppression… But what he says is something incredibly personal. “My life today is wonderful.” Who says that? “My life is wonderful—because I am needed.”

That’s really something to say. That’s someone who’s gotten beyond certain borders, who’s really talking to people. He’s not just spouting off about freedom or oppression. And I also love watching those old clips of him, like on Dancing with the Stars in 2006. He had some amazing outfits.

Scott Snibbe: Oh yeah, I saw him doing the Single Ladies music video yesterday, an old clip. That was amazing.

Laurie Anderson: He’s incredible. A very joyful person, who also deeply understands what’s going on. And he’s helping people. That’s the other thing, in terms of what Buddhism can offer, it’s not just about relief from your own pain. It’s the sense that everything you do is dedicated to all beings.

Not just humans, all sentient beings. And honestly, I just like to say all beings because we don’t really know what in nature has awareness and what doesn’t. That line keeps expanding. Suddenly, we’re realizing the mycelium networks, they know what’s going on. It’s a big, interconnected web of awareness. And sometimes, humans are the least aware part of that network.

But we’ll count ourselves on the awareness scale… even if we get a little robotic about things. What I appreciate most about learning Buddhist principles is the incredible freedom it gives you. You realize that you’re nobody’s slave. You might be your own slave, but you can fix that.

What I appreciate most about learning Buddhist principles is the incredible freedom it gives you. You realize that you’re nobody’s slave.

Storytelling, language, and authority

Scott Snibbe: That’s wonderful. I wanted to ask—earlier you talked about impermanence, and the death meditation. These are what we’d call analytical meditations, the kind where you fill your mind with something. There’s also mindfulness meditation, where you clear the mind or observe what’s passing through. But in analytical meditation, you deliberately put stories in your mind. You walk through a narrative.

And for you, someone who’s one of the greatest storytellers I know, I wonder if you could talk about that relationship between storytelling and analytical meditation. The stories you tell yourself in meditation versus the stories you tell others. How does that work for you?

Laurie Anderson: I really try to stop that story machine.

Scott Snibbe: Oh good!

Laurie Anderson: I really do. And what helps me is stopping the language. That’s what I love about anapana—the breath practice, using the body. Because I can tell a million stories, make a million different points, but the body’s not having it. It’s just like, “Yeah, okay, tell your stories. But here’s how I feel.”

That’s why I think it was a big mistake for the Catholic Church to translate the liturgy out of Latin. Once people could understand the words, they started thinking: What’s the story here? What does that word mean? Instead of letting the mantra—or the Latin chant—take you somewhere. Free your mind. That’s what music does too. It frees you from meaning, and moves you into a more tangible world—a state where you feel things and understand them without putting them into words.

I’m always trying to put things into words. And so much cannot be put into words. And words often can’t be put into things. They’re like two separate universes. But I think one of the things you can learn, at least for me, is that stories help me try to understand what I’m doing… but they get in the way when I’m trying to do it.

I’m always trying to put things into words. And so much cannot be put into words. And words often can’t be put into things.

So I have to make that transition. To stop looking for things. Stop analyzing. There’s this great story someone just told me about Leonard Cohen. Let me see if I can remember it…

He was asked: How do images usually come to you?

And he said: Things come so damn slow. They come to a tollgate, and they say, We’ve got the goods—what do you want to pay?
I say, I’ve got my intelligence, my mind.
We don’t want that.
I’ve got my training as a poet.
We don’t want that.
I’ve got guitar skills, some licks.
Nope.
I’ve got a broken heart.
No.
I’ve got a beautiful girlfriend.
No.
I’ve got sexual desire.
Still no.

The tollgate keeper says: That’s not going to get it. We want you in a condition that you are not accustomed to. That you cannot name. A condition of receptivity that you cannot produce by yourself.’

Then he says: I don’t know how to do that… but I’ve been lucky over the years. I’ve been willing to pay the price.

So his answer, really, is about forgetting everything, and just being receptive, without expecting what to get. When Leonard Cohen says “pay the price,” it’s interesting—because that’s also what Joe Biden just said to Putin: “You’re going to pay…” What were his exact words?

Scott Snibbe: Something like, “pay for your actions,” I think?

Laurie Anderson: “You’re going to pay for this.” And I thought, wait a minute, this is a transaction. And we’re watching it happen. And Putin’s like, “Yeah, I’m going to pay. Can I get a discount? No? Okay, I’m paying. I’m doing it. I’m paying for it.”

And just by using that language, you’ve acknowledged that this is a transaction. Some people are going to get hurt along the way, but hey, it’s just business, right? So it’s another way to see this: the tollgate.

But when you ask, What is the price of enlightenment? What is the price of my education as a Buddhist? You realize there is none. It stops being like that. You have to be in what’s sometimes called beginner’s mind. That means being completely open.

And I’m kind of a natural at that, because I truly think of myself as a total idiot. I feel like a lot of the things I say are pompous or confused. I don’t always understand what I’m saying. I try not to put myself down too much but I really do see myself as someone who knows very, very little, and just likes to take guesses.

And I try my best to do what Leonard Cohen suggests: to let go of the list of things I think I need to know, and the need to prove to others that I know them. Just stop all that. And instead, let this thing, whatever it is, blow your mind and take you somewhere unexpected.

The most recent teaching I’ve been doing is with a teacher named Vinny. He’s a wonderful theorist and practitioner. He takes you through these 16 steps in the Anapanasati Sutra—and it’s so logical, so doable. It’s kind of breathtaking. I’d say, if you’re interested in this kind of thing, find a teacher. That’s something I always do. I venerate my teachers. From the very beginning, from childhood, the people who taught me things. I’m always looking for that.

Someone who can say, “Look—over here.” That’s what I am: just a student who never got over being a student. Right now, I’ve actually taken all the books off my shelves. Thousands and thousands of books. And on a whim—maybe a mistake—I decided to go through all of them. It’s been about a month now. I have three people helping me evaluate what’s in the books, toss some, give some away, keep others.

And I realized, I’ve got about 80 categories. And I just feel so grateful to my teachers. There have been so many people I’ve been lucky enough to see, even for a moment, what they were doing. And try to learn from that. So if someone asked me, “How can I start down this path?”—I’d say, for me, it’s been about finding teachers. People who know more than I do. Asking them questions. Then experimenting for myself: Does this resonate with me? And trusting myself enough to say: Nope, not for me. Or: Yes, that really works.

Scott Snibbe: That’s wonderful. And that open mind too, so important. I think a lot of us are closed off to authority. But if you find the right authority, you can really learn from them.

Laurie Anderson: Yes, though I wouldn’t even say “authority.” Because the ones I love most are the ones who encourage you to be your own. Don’t believe me.

Scott Snibbe: Don’t take my word for it.

Laurie Anderson: Exactly. That’s the greatest teaching. But they still say: “Here’s something you could think about…” And those are the great ones. I’m so grateful to have found them. There are a lot of them out there. That’s why I love this image that Bob Thurman always shares, the jewel tree.

And this is, to me, a very valuable image, something you can do whether you’re a Buddhist or not. You can make a visual. A tree is a good thing, it’s a happy image. On that tree, you put everyone you admire and love. It helps if they know some things, like your Uncle Al, Krishna, whoever. Just recognize that they’re all there to help you.

That’s their job. And you have access to all of it. And they want to be on your tree. That’s the other thing. You’re not torturing them by imagining this. They want to be there. They’d like to help you. So it’s, I guess they’re the angels, right? I even have a category in my books called Ghosts. And yesterday, I had a biography of Jesus, and someone asked, “Where should we put this?”

I said, “Let’s put him in Ghosts.” Because yeah, here’s a big ghost in our world, looming over many of us. And long after his life, he’s still here, still present. He left behind a lot of beautiful things he said. A wonderful teacher, too, whether or not you think he’s the Holy Ghost. Doesn’t really matter. He just said a lot of things that help people get through their days.

The role of work in a meaningful life

Scott Snibbe: You touched on work a few times, how the pandemic made people reconsider it. And you’re someone who’s phenomenally productive and deeply engaged with your work. I hesitate to even call it work, because it’s so joyful and beautiful. But I wonder if you could talk a bit about the role of work in your life.

Maybe advice for people struggling with that now, trying to figure out what work is, how to live a meaningful and beneficial life. You’re someone I really admire for doing so much with your life through your work.

Laurie Anderson: Well, it is kind of a weird thing to call it “work.” For many people, it has a lot more to do with just being able to put food on the table. And to find a way to do that—that feels like survival. In my so-called work, it’s really been, as you pointed out, an elaborate form of playing around with different things.

On the other hand, I think one of the great things about this moment in time is that people are realizing maybe the work they’ve been doing isn’t the work that gives them the most satisfaction. It’s a wonderful time to look at that. A lot of people are downscaling or reevaluating. They’re realizing, “I don’t really need a hot tub—it’s stressing me out.” Maybe I could just go for a walk in the rain, a nice, free, misty, natural rain, and get just as much, maybe more, without having to work nonstop.

Adjusting those things, even finding work that feels more meaningful, if you’ve had doubts about the purpose of your work, this is a chance to rethink it. I’m not saying it’s wrong to do any kind of work you enjoy, but if you’ve had reservations, now is the moment to pause and ask, “Is this right for me?” It’s a very fertile time to consider that. I wish I could apply what I’m saying, honestly.

I suddenly realized I have these makeup concerts coming up in April, and I’m terrified. I don’t remember how to play. I don’t remember why I’d be on stage or what I’d be doing there. It’s called being rusty, I guess, but I’m like, why would I do that? That’s supposed to be my job? And I’m questioning if it’s really worthwhile.

So I’m going through that same thing, just wondering, is that really what I want to do? Is it still meaningful? I don’t know. It’s not an easy question, and I don’t have a simple answer. But I think it’s good to keep turning it over in your mind, even without a resolution. At the very least, I think, “Well, I should pay attention to that.” Maybe this isn’t for me anymore. Maybe I want something more engaged, or less competitive, or less lonely. Just something that’s more fun, more alive.

Scott Snibbe: So Laurie, is there anything else you’d like to add before you go off to prepare for your benefit for Ukraine?

Laurie Anderson: Oh gosh. I don’t have any little pearls of wisdom, life is hard. But I guess one thing I’ve been learning, especially in working with Bhikkhu Anālayo on breath, is something very simple. A lot of people who study Buddhism rely on the breath—just noticing it, feeling it. And I found the first few steps of his process incredibly helpful. First, give yourself time to breathe and notice it. Be curious about it. Be relaxed. Let it fill your whole body.

Then, become aware of your whole body, and in the next step, calm all of your bodily activity. Just those four simple steps: breathe, be curious, feel your whole body, calm everything. They’re very grounding for me. Bhikkhu Anālayo also has a really lovely voice. When he instructs you to let go of all your worries—like, “Oh, I have to think about this”—he just gently says, “No need for that.” And as soon as I hear that, I think, Yeah… there’s no need for that now.

It helps me relax. Letting yourself stop doing all that stuff is a powerful way to start the journey into these more open, strange, beautiful states. He guides you there so gently that you feel like, “Okay. I can do that.” So I want to thank Bhikkhu Anālayo for his teaching. You can check him out at BCBS in Barre, he has wonderful books and online teachings. Right now, I find him incredibly inspiring—as I do many people. Including Zelensky. The Gandhi of our moment.

Scott Snibbe: That’s a great simple mantra to take away: No need for that now. I think I can remember that. Well Laurie, thank you so much for joining us on A Skeptic’s Path to Enlightenment. I’m so grateful you gave us your time. I think people are really going to benefit from this conversation.

We’re also going to include some tracks from Songs from the Bardo in the episode after this—as a kind of guided meditation, if we have your permission.

Laurie Anderson: For sure. And the other musicians on that were Rubin Kodheli, especially Thea Austin, and Ali Sethi, and Jesse Paris Smith—and the wonderful singer Tenzin Choegyal. It was really fun to do that because we had no plan. We improvised the entire thing. It was a live performance, and honestly, no one had any idea what they were doing.

It was like, “You read, I’ll play, you sing, you do something else.” We were just caught in the present moment. And because that felt so alive, we thought, Let’s record that. We tried to record the present. Good luck with that, but we gave it a shot.

Scott Snibbe: Well, it’s beautiful. Thank you so much.

Laurie Anderson: Thank you, Scott. Really nice to see you.

Scott Snibbe: Really nice to see you too. Is your benefit being broadcast anywhere?

Laurie Anderson: I don’t think so. It’s at The New School. It’s a John Zorn event, so it’ll be loud.

Scott Snibbe: Wonderful. I’m sorry I can’t be there, but I totally rejoice in your doing it. Thank you.

Laurie Anderson: Yeah, thanks. Bye.

Scott Snibbe: See you later. Have a great day.

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