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Lions Roar : January 2015
I was sitting by the window—sunlight pouring in—and a dark, glossy bird I didn’t have a name for had landed on the stone windowsill outside. If it weren’t for the glass, I could have touched it—I was that close to its iridescent purple and green sheen, blunt tail, and yellow bill. Watching the bird tilting its head as it looked at me with alert, shiny eyes, I was suddenly wholly focused. From the swan that Siddhartha nursed as a boy to the fantastical Garuda—andrea Miller explores the intriguing role that birds play in Buddhist mythology and teachings. Above: Crows, six-panel screen, Japan, Edo period / Eugene Fuller Memorial Collection, Seattle Art Museum. I n My freshMan year of college, my religious studies class was at the sleepy hour of two o’clock, and to make matters worse the professor was hypnotically soft-spoken and wore tired shades of brown. So on the day that he slowly enumerated the four noble truths on the board, I failed to experience the flash of insight, which many Buddhist converts talk about; the only thing I felt was my heavy eyelids. Then I glimpsed movement. shambhala sun january 2015 65