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 : March 2007
When I first met Byron Katie, I was profoundly impressed by her openness of heart and her wisdom, which seemed to be a kind of transparence. Katie knew nothing about Buddhism or Taoism—she had never even heard of the Tao Te Ching. Yet the most wonderful insights would pop out of her mouth, sometimes straight from a sutra or an Upanishad, without any awareness that anyone had ever said before. Early in our marriage, I began reading passages to her from Lao-tzu, the Buddha, the Zen masters, Spinoza. (She calls them “your dead friends.”) Katie would take in their words, nodding sometimes, or saying, “Yes, it’s exactly like that!” Occasionally, to my surprise, she would say, “That’s true, as far as it goes, but it’s a little ‘off.’ Here’s how I’d say it.” Eventually I read her my version of the Tao Te Ching and wrote down her responses, which were the raw material for A Thousand Names for Joy. Of course, I had to explain what Ta o means—that it’s a word for ultimate reality, or, in her own terms, the way of it: what is. Katie was delighted. “But,” she said, “I don’t understand concepts like ‘ultimate.’ For me, reality is simple. There’s nothing behind it or above it, and it holds no secrets. It’s whatever is in front of you, whatever is happening. When you argue with it, you lose. It hurts not to be a lover of what is.” But A Thousand Names for Joy. is more than a commentary on the Tao Te Ching. It is a glimpse into the depths of being, and into the life of a woman who for twenty years has been living what Lao-tzu wrote. The profound, lighthearted wisdom that it embodies is not theoretical. That is what makes the book so vivid and compelling: it’s a portrait of a woman who is imperturbably joyous, whether she is dancing with her infant granddaughter or finds that her house has been emptied out by burglars, whether she stands before a man about to kill her or embarks on the adventure of walking to the kitchen, whether she learns that she is going blind, flunks a “How Good a Lover Are You?” test, or is diagnosed with cancer. With its stories of authentic ease in all circumstances, it doesn’t merely describe the awakened mind; it lets you see it, feel it, in action. Stephen Mitchell BKI100_NamesForJoy-Sham 11/30/06 10:44 AM Page 1