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Lions Roar : May 2013
SHAMBHALA SUN MAY 2013 37 the Los Angeles Live entertainment center, I walked not long ago into a Starbucks and was greeted by the album being featured that week: the work of an ordained Zen monk mumbling about how “None of us is deserving the cruelty or the grace.” When people learn that I’ve been lucky enough to spend a little time with the man, they often want to hear more. All I can say is: “Leonard Cohen is like one of those old Eastern poets of whom he’s been writing for half a century or more—alone in his simple hut on the top of a mountain, with a pen and paper and a bottle of wine nearby. Perhaps also, in the case of this unortho- dox hermit, a beautiful woman.” P ART OF WHAT FASCINATES so many about Cohen is the mixture of intimacy and elusiveness: few writers render themselves so seemingly open and unadorned on the page, and yet few offer so rich a sense of having no interest in explaining anything away. It’s as if—like many of our deepest artists, from Emily Dickinson to Melville—the more he sits still