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 2008
71 SHAMBHALA SUN MARCH 2008 with no legs or arms and big, blank, white circles where their eyes should be. Mine had a curved bottom so it would rock, and the idea was that even if you tried to push it over, it would always regain its balance. So, my mom set my Dar- uma rocking back and forth, and she told me he was meditating, the same thing my Grandma and Grandpa were doing. Then she ex- plained that Daruma had been a really good medita- tor. In fact, he had been such a good meditator and had meditated for so long that his arms and legs had fallen off. And the reason he had no eyes was that he had gotten sleepy while he was meditating and so he had cut off his eyelids. This was my introduction to Zen and, thanks to Mom’s explana- tion, I developed an association in my mind between Zen meditation, blindness, and grave bodily disfig- urement. For the rest of my grand- parents’ visit, I kept fearing I’d walk in and find them sightless and limb- less, rocking gently back and forth. In time I got over it, and much later on, when I started sitting zazen myself, Mom was mystified. She called the posture “squatting on the floor.” She never understood why I would choose to squat on the floor and stare at a wall for days on end, when I could be reading a good book. She saw me as the Buddhist equivalent of a born-again Christian. Like many second-generation Japanese kids in America, my mom had little connection with her Japanese roots. In Hawaii, where she had grown up, she was sent to Christian church while her parents practiced Buddhism. When World War II broke out, my grandfa- ther was interned in Santa Fe, my grandmother was left behind in Hawaii, and my mother was put under house arrest in Michigan, where she was attending graduate school. After the war, my grand- parents moved back to Japan. My mom moved to the east coast to continue her studies, and she saw her parents very rarely. My grand- father passed away shortly after their return to Japan, and by the time my grandmother died, at the age of ninety-three in an old-age home outside of Tokyo, Mom hadn’t seen her for many years. Like many second-generation Japanese in America, Mom had little connection with her roots. She was mystified when I started sitting zazen. Three generations: Ozeki’s grandparents, Kenichi and Matsue Yokoyama (above); Ozeki with her mother; with her mother and grandparents, Connecticut, 1959; struggling to ride her tricycle in traditional Japanese sandals. MAR 68-77.indd 71 MAR 68-77.indd 71 12/19/07 2:16:03 PM 12/19/07 2:16:03 PM