using the arrow buttons.
by clicking on the page.
the page around when zoomed in by dragging it.
the zoom using the slider when zoomed-in.
by clicking on the zoomed-in page.
by entering text in the search field, and select "This Issue" or "All Issues"
by clicking on thumbnails to select pages, and then press the print button.
displays sections with thumbnails and descriptions.
displays a slider of thumbnails. Click on a page to jump.
allows you to browse the full archive.
about your subscription?
Lions Roar : July 2012
SHAMBHALA SUN JULY 2012 37 I WAS WALKING THROUGH THE AIRPORT ter- minal when my eyes met those of a baby approach- ing me, strapped into a carrier on his mother’s chest, and I knew that baby was me. A thrill went through me. I knew in that moment it did not matter that I was aging because that baby—me, in a newer, fresher guise—was on his way up in life. I recall laughing, maybe even out loud, as the baby and mother passed by. I knew that the others around me were all me too, and the mother and baby and each other as well, coming and going in this airline terminal and in life. I felt happy and said to myself, “Thinking about interconnection is one thing, but these moments of direct understanding are great.” I sat in the boarding lounge feeling tremendous affec- tion for my fellow travelers. Such an understanding of interconnection comes, in Buddhist practice, from awareness of the three characteristics of experience, also known as the three marks of existence. The first is impermanence, or as one teacher put it to me, the idea that “last year’s Super Bowl is in the same past as the Revolutionary War.” The second is suffering, which he described as the result of “the mind unable to accommodate its experience.” I WANT TO BE... Insightful We suffer, according to Buddhism, not because there’s anything inherently wrong with us but simply because we misunderstand the nature of reality. SYLVIA BOORSTEIN on developing insight into the way things really are. PHOTO:COLOURBOX.COM These two characteristics, or insights, are fairly easy to make sense of, and when I first began my Buddhist practice, I found I had a basic grasp of them. I thought, “Who doesn’t know these things?” But the third characteristic, emptiness—the insight that there is no enduring self that separates anything from anything else—seemed more elusive to me, and not particularly relevant to my life. I liked the rest of what I was learning and practicing, so I figured I would just let that one alone for now. The insight about impermanence was, in my early years of practice, what seemed most dramatically evi- dent—although not in a comfortable way. There were periods, especially on retreat, in which it seemed to me that all I could see was the passing away of everything. I saw, as I hadn’t ever before, that sunsets followed every dawn and that the beautiful full moon immedi- ately waned. As I came upon a flower that was newly opening I simultaneously envisioned the wilted look it would have three days hence. I remember tearfully reporting to my teacher, Joseph Goldstein, “It’s so sad! Everything is dying!” He responded, “It’s not sad, Syl- via. It’s just true.” I found that calming at the time, but I would say it differently now. I would say, “It’s not sad. But it is poignant.”