04.17.2026 Listening as a Way of Being When I started meditating, I believed the only way to experience mindfulness was by sitting crossed-legged and listening to a meditation session for a number of uninterrupted minutes. It wasn’t until I read Jon Kabat-Zinn’s Wherever You Go, There You Are that I realized mindfulness can be achieved through the art of intentional listening. I started noticing my mindfulness growing when I took a simple walk outside without my phone. Listening to the sounds of the natural world, with kids playing, birds singing, and cars passing by, brought me a sense of peace. My mind soothed, and I felt present in my body. It became a habitual practice of mine — anytime I started feeling overwhelmed, and couldn’t get out of my head, I took a no-phone walk. I always felt lighter afterward. But this isn’t the only way I practiced mindful listening. Listening to music has always been a refuge of mine. But with all the different streaming options, I felt overstimulated by the endless choices. So, my favorite way to listen to music is by playing vinyl records, and intentionally listening to an album from start to finish. That’s what mindfulness is: the ability to direct your attention fully to whatever is in front of you. To my surprise, this practice translated into my listening habits with people as well. I found myself having conversations and truly listening to what they were saying, without thinking of what to say next. Without feeling agitated if their opinion differed from mine. I wanted to genuinely understand where they were coming from, why they held this opinion, and what brought them to this conclusion. Instead of defensively responding, I listened, not as a means to an end, but as the end itself. Intentional listening permeates every aspect of my life and helps me experience a deeper facet of living — of being. The three articles below explore mindful listening in its various forms. —Sarah El-Chaar, Editorial Intern How to Get Lost — and Found — in Music Music connects us to the present moment like nothing else, says Miguel Chen. He explains how to really listen to music. Let’s spend some time connecting to our deeper selves by mindfully listening to music. Instead of just throwing music on as background noise and doing a hundred other things, let’s really listen. Find a space without distraction near your stereo. If you have a record collection, bust out the vinyl. If you don’t, don’t worry about it. I’m not a vinyl purist like many of my friends, though I agree it might help in this particular practice. It’s totally not necessary though. Grab your favorite record, or CD, tape, mp3, whatever. Headphones might help for this practice, but again they are not completely necessary. The important thing is to set yourself up to just listen to music and do nothing else. Turn your phone off for a minute. Put away any other distractions. It’s time. ADVERTISEMENT Listening to the Sounds of the Earth with Larry Ward Larry Ward shares the daily meditation he uses every morning and every evening to ground himself with the planet. While I am waiting for the sun, I practice listening to the sounds of the planet — the birds, the movement of prairie dogs, cars on the road, trucks and buses, the wind, the hawk talking, the magpies chattering — the silence in between and underneath all those things. Every morning I just take 10 or 15 minutes to ground myself on the planet, with the planet. Then I simply notice what I notice. I’m often delightfully surprised by the sounds of new birds with new songs, new beauty. My sensory experience of being an earthling is affirmed. Listening Deeply for Peace Peace will only become a reality, says Thich Nhat Hanh, when world leaders come to negotiations with the ability to hear the suffering at the root of all conflicts. The secret of creating peace is that when you listen to another person you have only one purpose: to offer him an opportunity to empty his heart. If you are able to keep that awareness and compassion alive in you, then you can sit for one hour and listen even if the other person’s speech contains a lot of wrong perceptions, condemnations and bitterness. You can continue to listen because you are already protected by the nectar of compassion in your own heart. If you do not practice mindful breathing in order to keep that compassion alive, however, you can lose your own peace. Irritation and anger will come up, and the other person will notice and will not be able to continue. Keeping your awareness keeps you safe.

Answering Your Deepest Questions; Thich Nhat Hanh on the Sunlight of Awareness; Wisdom for Caregivers

 

04.14.2026 Your Deepest Questions Koan practice isn’t limited to formal Zen inquiry. It can also be carried into the unresolved places of ordinary life—into grief, uncertainty, ethical crossroads, and love itself. Lisa Ernst explains. READ MORE The Sunlight of Awareness Shine the warm light of awareness on your thoughts and feelings, says Thich Nhat Hanh. READ MORE Wisdom for Caregivers Drawing on Shin Buddhist teachings, Rev. Dr. Mutsumi Wondra explores caregiving as a path of compassion and insight. READ MORE ADVERTISEMENT Profound View, Precise Conduct Adrienne Chang shows how Shantideva joined the way we see with the way we act in his classic guide to living the life of a bodhisattva. READ MORE Lion’s Roar Is Hiring a Copy & Story Editor Lion’s Roar is seeking a thoughtful, skilled Copy & Story Editor, with a focus on advancing and integrating Asian American voices. READ MORE Featured Workshop How to Cultivate Awareness Through Zen Meditation Learn the traditional practice of zazen (Zen meditation) from Zen priest Karen Maezen Miller, as shared via the same instructions handed down since 13th-century Japan, teaching simple, direct guidance on posture, breath, and mind for sitting meditation. SEE DETAILS

 

04.10.2026 Moon Joy Earlier this week, when the astronauts of the NASA mission Artemis II, were conducting their landmark lunar flyby, they were filled with what one NASA officer called “moon joy.” Although the astronauts had been well trained in the cold language of science, as they looked at the far side of the moon — the side that no human had ever before seen in real time — they slipped into the language of wonder. “I just had an overwhelming sense of being moved by looking at the moon,” astronaut Christina Koch told The New York Times. “The moon really is its own unique body in the universe,” she continued. “It’s not just a poster in the sky that goes by — it’s a real place.” Reading these words, I recalled a certain Buddhist teaching: If someone tries to tell you about the moon, he may — with his finger — point it out to you in the sky. But you should not confuse the finger for the moon. Instead, guided by the finger, you should look at the moon itself. Here, the moon represents the direct experience of truth, the true nature of mind, enlightenment itself. In contrast, the finger represents the teachings, the methods, the words and concepts a teacher uses to invite you to awaken. What does this mean? No teacher or text can give you enlightenment; awakening can only be experienced directly. Words are a raft you can use to get to the other shore, but then let them go. Ultimately, there’s no way to explain direct experience. I think the astronauts of Artemis II tasted this truth. Mission commander Reid Wiseman quipped that mission control should send him a new list of words to expand his vocabulary because he knew of no adjectives, no words, to describe what they were seeing out the window. This is just one of the moon’s many dharma lessons. For more teachings that can point you in the direction of awakening, see the three articles below. Meanwhile, in this troubled time, my practice is to cultivate moon joy. I think this is the practice of many of us right now. Maybe you and I can’t go to space. Maybe we can’t look out a window and see the moon’s volcanic plains or cratered highlands for ourselves. Yet we can look at the photos taken by the NASA team, and — if we open our hearts and minds — we can have a direct experience of these lunar images. We can see the moon as a real place, an awe-inspiring place. And we can feel the joy. –Andrea Miller, editor, Lion’s Roar magazine Reflections on Chiyono’s “No Water, No Moon” Merle Kodo Boyd responds to Chiyono’s “No Water, No Moon.” For several years now, I have kept a picture of Chiyono and her bucket on the bulletin board above my desk. It is a delicate nineteenth-century woodblock print of a young Chiyono standing in pale moonlight, a bottomless bucket at her feet, a puddle of water spreading across her path. The artist is Yoshitoshi. I was drawn to Chiyono’s verse the first time I heard it. I was seized by the words, “With this and that I tried to keep the bucket together…” But I did not know that she is also thought to be Mugai Nyodai, whose name we chant in our morning dedication to our women ancestors. She was the first Japanese woman to receive dharma transmission and founder of the first Zen Buddhist convent in Japan. ADVERTISEMENT The Moon Is Me, I Am the Moon We are all one and the same. This is the experience of Zen. So teaches Shodo Harada Roshi in his book of original calligraphies. When the subject and the object become one and the same, this is the experience of realization. When we move in oneness with the heavens and the earth, this is the experience of Zen. We see the flowers and the mountains, we hear the bell ringing, and we know it all as ourself. The river is ourself, and so is the other. We see that from the origin we are all one and the same. This experience is Zen. The moon in the deep spring is so beautiful that we are pulled right into it, and that moon itself is in a vessel that becomes the moon’s very purity and clarity. The moon is me, and I am the moon. We enjoy this world completely. How Equanimity Powers Love True equanimity, says Kaira Jewel Lingo, is not in any way detached or uncaring — it’s inclusive, and loving, and the foundation for spiritual courage. In this analogy, loving friendliness, compassion, and joy have a warm quality, like the sun itself, while equanimity is cooler, the full moon that only reflects the sun’s rays. This cooler quality does not signify a lack of caring. Equanimity is full of love. It is a face of love. What’s unique about equanimity is that it helps balance the other three aspects of love so that we don’t burn out in our caring, in expressing the other aspects of love to others. It keeps us grounded. Without equanimity, our compassion can become compassion fatigue; we can outpour to an extent that we become exhausted or overly identified with the situation. Equanimity can help keep us resourced and in our center.