Transforming the Inevitable: Samuel Bercholz on Embracing Obstacles as a Path to Wakefulness

In the landscape of modern life, the human desire for a frictionless existence is perhaps one of our most persistent, if ultimately futile, pursuits. We often operate under the subconscious assumption that if we simply organize our schedules, optimize our health, or cultivate the right mindset, we might eventually arrive at a state of permanent ease. However, in his latest work, Rude Awakenings, author and teacher Samuel Bercholz offers a poignant reminder that this search for a "perfect, fully Jell-O-ized state"—a life of constant, bouncy, tangerine-sweet comfort—is not only unattainable but fundamentally misaligned with the reality of our existence.

Writing for the Fall 2026 issue of Tricycle: The Buddhist Review, Bercholz addresses the inevitability of friction in our daily lives. According to his teaching, obstacles are not merely temporary nuisances or unfortunate interruptions to a smooth life; they are, in fact, an inherent feature of the human experience. In Buddhist philosophy, this reality is often described through the lens of samsara—the cycle of suffering and conditioned existence. By framing obstacles as a "samsaric predicament," Bercholz suggests that the very nature of being a sentient being involves navigating a world that does not always conform to our desires.

The core of Bercholz’s argument lies in the distinction between how we react to these obstacles and how we might choose to engage with them. He posits that the suffering we experience is often exacerbated by our instinctual rejection of life’s difficulties. When a plan falls through, a relationship falters, or an unexpected tragedy strikes, the immediate impulse is often to look outward for someone or something to blame. We project our frustration onto our circumstances or the people involved, hoping that by identifying a source of the "problem," we can somehow excise it from our reality.

However, Bercholz argues that this mechanism of rejection is a missed opportunity. Instead of viewing obstacles as barriers that prevent us from achieving a state of peace or "wakefulness," he suggests that we should invite them in. This is not a call for passive resignation or a grim acceptance of misery; rather, it is a call for a radical shift in perspective. To transform an obstacle into a path, one must integrate it into the fabric of one’s being. By accepting the presence of these difficulties without the habitual layer of blame or aversion, we create a space where those very challenges can serve as a catalyst for growth.

This concept of "transforming the obstacle" is deeply rooted in broader Buddhist traditions, which emphasize the use of difficult emotions and circumstances as fuel for practice. If we can remain present with our discomfort rather than fleeing from it, that discomfort becomes a teacher. It tests our patience, exposes our attachments, and highlights our rigid expectations of how the world "should" be. In the process, our capacity for compassion—both toward ourselves as we stumble and toward others who are navigating their own versions of the same struggle—begins to expand.

The imagery Bercholz employs—the "Jell-O-ized state"—is intentionally whimsical, designed to highlight the absurdity of our quest for a life without challenge. He acknowledges that there is simply "not enough Jell-O in the world" to soften every hard edge of existence. This humor serves a serious purpose: it lowers the stakes of our frustration. If we accept that the ground is inherently uneven, we stop being surprised when we trip. We can begin to view our life not as a series of problems to be solved, but as a dynamic field of experience where every event, regardless of its pleasant or unpleasant nature, can be used to sharpen our awareness.

This approach requires a high degree of emotional maturity and a willingness to be vulnerable. To look at a "horrific" event and see it as a potential benefit to our wakefulness sounds, on the surface, like a daunting or even controversial proposition. Yet, Bercholz is not suggesting that we ignore the pain of such events or minimize their impact. Instead, he is pointing toward a profound psychological and spiritual flexibility. If we can hold the totality of our experience—the joy, the sorrow, the boredom, and the trauma—within the container of our practice, we cease to be at the mercy of shifting circumstances.

As we move through the complexities of the 21st century, where the pace of life seems only to increase and the potential for disruption feels ever-present, these teachings offer a stabilizing anchor. The "path of wakefulness," as Bercholz describes it, is not a destination we arrive at after clearing all the hurdles from our track. It is the act of walking the track itself, hurdles and all. By choosing to include the obstacle in our life rather than attempting to bypass it, we change our relationship with the world. We move from a state of reactive defensiveness to one of responsive, open-hearted engagement.

The perspective offered by Bercholz serves as a reminder that the "samsaric predicament" is not a trap to be escaped, but the very classroom in which we learn to be human. Whether we are dealing with minor, daily irritations or significant life-altering events, the invitation remains the same: stop rejecting, stop blaming, and start observing. By doing so, we turn the raw material of our existence into the wisdom required to navigate it with grace.

This teaching, excerpted from Rude Awakenings, arrives at a time when many are searching for more resilient ways to engage with a world in flux. By stripping away the expectation of comfort, Bercholz provides a framework that is both realistic and empowering. It is a philosophy that does not promise a life without obstacles, but rather promises something perhaps more valuable: the capacity to walk through any obstacle with a steady mind and an open heart.

As readers engage with these reflections, they are invited to consider the specific "obstacles" currently occupying their own lives. Rather than viewing these as disruptions, Bercholz encourages us to examine how they might be utilized. What would change if we stopped waiting for the world to smooth itself out? What if we decided that the current, messy, and often difficult moment was exactly the right place to begin the work of wakefulness? It is in the answering of these questions that the transformation begins, turning the inevitable friction of life into the very energy that sustains our journey toward deeper understanding and compassion.