Reflecting on Justin Stone: A Spiritual Iconoclast

I first heard about T’ai Chi Chih (TCC) and Justin Stone from my aunt, Carmen Brocklehurst, in the 1980’s when I was in my 20’s. Aunt Carmen had learned TCC from her meditation teacher Helen Brungardt, who was one of the first wave of TCC teachers accredited by Justin. Carmen became accredited to teach TCC and was anxious to share it with the world.

She taught everyone in our family. My mother, Corine Reeber, went on to become an accredited TCC teacher too. TCC did not come easily to me, and I had other focuses in my life at that time. It was not until I was in my early 30’s, after I had finished my education and become a lawyer, that I realized that cultivating a mindfulness practice was going to be essential if I had any hope of thriving and enjoying my life.

Aunt Carmen thought the world of Justin and was very enthusiastic about me meeting him. The first time I met him I was confused, and, truthfully, a little disappointed. To me, he seemed like a standard, older, American businessman. Pleasant and friendly, but not my conception of a spiritual master or guru, which he clearly was to my aunt. I am not sure what I expected — if he had been in flowing robes, followed by a flock of bowing attendants, that would have turned me off entirely.

Though I was not bowled over by the experience of meeting Justin, Aunt Carmen made sure we (KG and I) spent some time with him whenever we visited Albuquerque from Boston. (We came to ABQ fairly often in those years because I had a lot of family there.) Justin was very generous. He seemed to enjoy spending time with us even though we were just dabblers in TCC at that time. I came to appreciate that he was a fascinating man with wide-ranging talents and interests, a world traveler, an accomplished artist, and musician, and most of all, a spiritual iconoclast.

What were Justin’s greatest gifts to me? Well, TCC of course, both as a personal practice and also as a practice I would eventually teach to others. (Becoming a TCC teacher changed the course of my life.) I felt lucky to hear the spiritual stories that Justin often recounted when TCC students and teachers gathered in his home and on retreat, even though I didn’t have the life experience to understand and appreciate their deeper meaning at that time. I now see that seeds of wisdom were planted every time I visited with Justin.

I took his willingness to repeat the stories, over and over again, for granted. Aunt Carmen used to say, “you think you have heard these stories before but have you really?” I felt that I was listening and getting the gist, but I realize now that when a story has spiritual authenticity and wisdom, it was and is possible to hear it anew no matter how many times it has been told, if only one has the ears to hear. My ears at the time were pretty full of my own ideas. I am so grateful that Justin preserved his teachings in writing. I have been able to refer back to them over the years and to find new layers of meaning each time I do.

On a personal level, Justin was a mentor and friend. Like many who knew him, I consider him one of the most influential persons in my life. He was very good at smashing through my very conventional beliefs, particularly my belief that I was unconventional and open to change. Justin’s encouragement, mostly indirectly, to soften up my attachment to my narrow conception of self and of success in this world, laid the groundwork for a lifetime of growth and prepared me for the challenges that life had in store.

Justin shared from his experience. He encouraged me to trust my own experience and to be courageous with my life. He shared lessons on gratitude, greed, taking shortcuts, and generosity. He unsparingly pointed out the narrowness of my cultural prejudices and political perceptions, and the superficiality of many of my first impressions. He spoke a lot — and more deeply than anyone I knew — about dying, death, and the inevitability of change and loss in life. I still ponder conversations we had and notes he sent me. Often, a conversation or a story comes to mind and make sense of a currently puzzling situation.

Who would have thought one might receive meaningful spiritual lessons while dining with a middle-aged American businessman at the Village Inn pancake house in Albuquerque, New Mexico? Such was my good fortune. Life is full of surprises.