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?
Buddhadharma : Spring 2016
spring 2 0 1 6 buddhadharma: the practitioner’s quarterly 13 to be present and to keep his focus on the here and now. Qui-Gon’s advice is good. It sounds like something you might hear at your local Zen monastery or Buddhist cen- ter. Being attentive to the present moment, rather than centering on what might happen later, is as important to Buddhists as using the Force is to Jedi. Mindfulness and con- centration are the basis of Buddhism—and the foundation of the Jedi arts. The way Qui-Gon uses the word “con- centration” and the way Buddhists typically use it has a special meaning. We normally think of concentration as thinking about something really hard. That’s not how Qui- Gon (and Buddhists) use the word. He isn’t telling Obi-Wan to think about the pres- ent moment. He’s not really talking about thinking at all. He’s talking about fully engaging in the immediate moment at hand, without trying to describe, label, add, or subtract anything from it. As Han Solo told Chewbacca when the Wookiee asked him how he’s supposed to fly the Millennium Falcon at a distance but not look like he’s trying to keep his distance: “I don’t know,” Han shouted. “Fly casual.” Concentration is simply doing what we’re doing. When we think about what we’re doing, everything becomes contrived—it’s impossible to be casual. FROM The Dharma of STar WarS, WISDOM, NOVEMBER 2015 honing our craft Dharma practice, says Ajahn Viradhammo, is like learning a craft. It requires patiently trying, again and again. In monasticism, we are craftspeople, not artists. The work we do is not spectacular. Notice how our monastic system works. It’s not about being a superstar. It’s about quietly plying one’s craft. It’s not about self-expression. It’s more about communal adherence and support. It’s a very quiet thing. One’s own insights and understand- ings are not broadcast all over the world. Certainly, there are popular, charismatic teachers in the sangha, but charisma can be pretty deluding, too. Dhamma can become a kind of spiritual entertainment. You start to say, “Well, that was a good talk” or “Those jokes were great” rather than reflecting on the teaching and applying it to your craft. We all like good talks, and humor is good, but the point of it is not entertainment; it’s reflection and contemplation. How do you learn something new? Perhaps you’re asked to throw a pot and you’ve never done it before. You can’t lift the clay, or it keeps getting floppy. Eventu- ally, you learn to apply an even pressure, and the clay starts to rise. This is a kind of visceral insight, not just a conceptual teach- ing. But then the next pot you do, it flops. You keep trying until it becomes a part of you. This is how we become skilled in our craft. It’s the same with the craft of the heart. Here, we are trying to understand the negative aspects of our consciousness, our own fears and angers—all the emotions we have as human beings. We’re also try- ing to develop the paramitas. If you think about developing the paramitas—patience, for instance—a teacher can tell you to be patient, but it isn’t that easy. It’s not that easy to understand what patience is and WWW.muckychris.com