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 : Winter 2011
87 WINTER 2 01 1 BUDDHADHARMA: THE PRACTITIONER’S QUARTERLY visualization: in the case of composing music, you see what you hear. Out of the space of mind something flashes—a first thought—that has potential. Further ideas occur as offshoots or main limbs through paying attention and through coincidence. Soon a form is before you that takes on a particular authority. Then sidetracks are out of the question. Yet, if you investigate what this music is made of, you find nothing more than bits of sound that have no inherent meaning whatsoever. Somehow, notes have been endowed with such passion that they magnetize further notes until, magically, a world is born that makes us cry and laugh. A Buddhist would say that is the true nature of our entire world: empty, devoid of any inherent existence, and yet luminous, vivid with the play of apparent phenomena. Chögyam Trungpa used to say, “First thought, best thought,” referring to a state of mind that is fresh, open, respon- sive. The awake mind can never be ham- pered by concepts, but uses their energy for whatever purpose is beneficial. It is very interesting to work with whatever comes up in the mind and to have no plan other than trust in the process itself. This approach is completely different from “anything goes.” I think such trust is possible only when a certain level of confidence has been attained. One day, in the middle of a piece I was composing, all those techniques left me. Really, it felt more like a collapse. Later, I noticed that whatever technique a piece requires is suggested, even dic- tated, by the piece itself. I would like to illustrate the message of the Buddha’s enlightenment with a little story about Igor Stravinsky. My parents and the Stravinskys were friends, and when I was about twenty-two and had begun composing, I was invited to join my parents for a visit at the Stravin- skys’ hotel in New York City. Stravinsky was very old and frail. Still, he looked quite fierce, and I was intimidated. My father said to him, “Peter wants to be a composer.” I was embarrassed but nod- ded in agreement. Stravinsky said, “It is not enough to want—you must be!”