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 : Fall 2014
FALL 2 0 1 4 BUDDHADHARMA: THE PRACTITIONER’S QUARTERLY 61 in and of itself—my joke being that when I tried therapy, I rarely trusted my therapists enough to tell them just how deeply I did not trust them. Basement cleaning is messy work, and I don’t know what I would have done without Kobun finding me a refuge where I could sob and shake intensely. It was much easier to sit after that, though it was not the end of my shaking. Gradu- ally I began to understand that it was the rider who needed training and not the seeming beast inside. The energy inside knew exactly what it needed to do—it wanted out and in. And it was bent on removing anything blocking its way. Instead of trying to keep that awesome energy subdued and invisibly buried inside, I continued learning to ride it. Later I learned that this was very much the way that Monty Roberts describes training horses in The Man Who Listened to Horses. It was also the way that Buck Brannaman worked with horses in the film Buck. In order to train horse owners to do the same, Buck has them hold one end of the lead rope while he yanks on it. Even though they know what’s coming, they react by pulling back. Horses, Buck explains, are the same way. Force will be met with resistance, while a gentle, firm pulling will elicit compliance. Do you want cooperation or resistance? Tame the rider! One day during sitting, I had the inspiration to find out more about this energy by allowing it to move as it wished, rather than trying to stop it and teach it that I was boss. Spirals of energy emerged from the base of my spine, moving my hips, torso, and on up my body to my shoulders, neck, and head. These were large movements, my body swaying forty-five degrees or more in every direction. Eventually, Suzuki Roshi came over to me and said, “Do kinhin.” This was quite upsetting to me—to be instructed to do walking Edward Brown watches as Richard Baker Roshi performs an eye-opening ceremony of a statue of Suzuki Roshi at the San Francisco Zen Center, ca 1972 PHOTOGRAPHERUNKNOWN|COURTESYOFSANFRANCISCOZENCENTERARCHIVES