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 : May 2008
SHAMBHALA SUN MAY 2008 57 What Do You Do With Your Emotions? The UCLA student mused further about what was noise and what was not. Was her grief over the death of her friend something she wanted to let go of, or was that letting go not necessary? Two hundred years ago, Issa wrote a haiku for his daughter. The convention in East Asia was that on New Year’s Day, you got a year older. He wrote: Laugh, and crawl about, from today you are two! Then less than a year later, when she died of smallpox, he wrote: Autumn wind; The red flowers She liked to pick. Even without fan noise, there can be heartbreak. But the most heartbreaking thing is not heartbreak; it’s avoiding heartbreak. Inside the transience of life is the thusness of everything, of the tree with forty crows on it in winter, the sound of death-metal drums from the kids in the barn, and the feeling of sadness when you lose someone. A lot of our suffering is resistance to the life of feeling. If you surrender, you are surrendering to what is really going on. This is just to notice that nothing beyond your life is more important than your life. Obstacles can be the gate. If your diagnosis is cancer or you lose people you love, there is no alternative but surrender. You can’t rewind to yesterday when you were innocent. Meditation at such a moment might not take you back to the surface; it might take you down and through. Getting more emotional might be indicated; falling apart might happen. The practice is what tows you through. It doesn’t take the rough crossing away from you but it gives you a degree of safety in the passage. Once when I lost a friend, I realized that I was weeping since my hands were wet. I was giving a talk at the time, being wise and all that, and it was a revelation—I couldn’t trust myself not to weep in public. I also couldn’t trust myself to sleep at night, either. At a time like that we have to surrender. We are facing something vast and, really, we have always known that we would have to face it. It is an enormous, shaggy beast block- ing the way. And there is something exhilarating about the in- evitable when at last it arrives; awakening is not a choice or a matter of technique anymore, it’s the only place left. The huge animal rolls over us, and suddenly we find that we are riding MAY 54-59.indd 57 MAY 54-59.indd 57 3/6/08 11:30:48 AM 3/6/08 11:30:48 AM