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A reintroduction, meditation and letting go of a loved one
Hi everyone. First thing out of the gate, I'll say when it comes to Buddhism (or anything really?) I'm something of a non-conformist. I don't meditate according to a book or guide. I don't count japa beads etc. I kind of make it what it can be for me and frankly I think that's the way to do it. I'm not sure if I would fit more in with the Zen practitioners or the Tibetans, but the way I look at it is if I *can* meditate and reap the benefits, *how* I do it is far less important. My monkey mind is not easily tamed, so I'm working on a new technique focusing on the 26 letters in the alphabet as a means of focus ( A= Accepting - breathe it in, breathe it out etc)
Anyhow, aside from all that and of far greater importance, is my father.
Since 2001, he's carried within him a form of muscular dystrophy. For anyone interested, it's called "Inclusion Body Myositis", and basically his immune system is eating away his muscle tissue. My father aside from this condition has been in excellent health his whole life and that's really what's helped him to last this long. But... I think the disease is taking it's final turn. As I write, he's been in and out of the hospital a few times in the past month with what they thought was pneumonia. Turns out it's some rare protein lung disease. I don't say that flippantly, but it's not like it's going to change the outcome. If anything, it will hasten the process, and that doesn't make me sad.
Whether it's Buddhist, Taoist, or any other "ist", I believe that when we die, we become a part of everything. We are energy, and I like to picture those glorious photos of the nebulas and galaxies and believe that we are all somehow -from- that and will once again return to not only be a part of that but the wind and the rain, the soft shimmer of summer leaves on the trees and everything else you can incorporate into the concept.
So I'm not "sad" that my father is facing death. I half-joked with a friend of mind and said, "Hell, knowing that's what's waiting for him or anyone, how can I be sad? Some days, *I* want to get on that bus!" But then again, in the end, he is my father and of course I can't automatically go into Zen mode and blather on about impermanence (even if the voice in my head does), when I look at him and know that soon he won't be around.
How does one find peace and balance with this? I meditate according to my own methods. I tried Tonglen straight up and I believe rather overdosed on the "suffering energy" because I proceeded a day later to sleep for about 23 hours straight. Now the technique I'm working on is a mix of what we might call "Tonglen lite" mixed with Metta. The "how" I do that will be up soon in what I refer to as my guru blog, where I write when I'm feeling more enlightened.
Until then, if anyone has any thoughts on how to sail through this time in my life with compassion at mast and peace at the helm, please speak up.
PS: It is important to note: My father -will not- recover. He now has a feed tube in that may make him feel better for a while, but whether it's tomorrow or a year from now, his disease will win.
Anyhow, aside from all that and of far greater importance, is my father.
Since 2001, he's carried within him a form of muscular dystrophy. For anyone interested, it's called "Inclusion Body Myositis", and basically his immune system is eating away his muscle tissue. My father aside from this condition has been in excellent health his whole life and that's really what's helped him to last this long. But... I think the disease is taking it's final turn. As I write, he's been in and out of the hospital a few times in the past month with what they thought was pneumonia. Turns out it's some rare protein lung disease. I don't say that flippantly, but it's not like it's going to change the outcome. If anything, it will hasten the process, and that doesn't make me sad.
Whether it's Buddhist, Taoist, or any other "ist", I believe that when we die, we become a part of everything. We are energy, and I like to picture those glorious photos of the nebulas and galaxies and believe that we are all somehow -from- that and will once again return to not only be a part of that but the wind and the rain, the soft shimmer of summer leaves on the trees and everything else you can incorporate into the concept.
So I'm not "sad" that my father is facing death. I half-joked with a friend of mind and said, "Hell, knowing that's what's waiting for him or anyone, how can I be sad? Some days, *I* want to get on that bus!" But then again, in the end, he is my father and of course I can't automatically go into Zen mode and blather on about impermanence (even if the voice in my head does), when I look at him and know that soon he won't be around.
How does one find peace and balance with this? I meditate according to my own methods. I tried Tonglen straight up and I believe rather overdosed on the "suffering energy" because I proceeded a day later to sleep for about 23 hours straight. Now the technique I'm working on is a mix of what we might call "Tonglen lite" mixed with Metta. The "how" I do that will be up soon in what I refer to as my guru blog, where I write when I'm feeling more enlightened.
Until then, if anyone has any thoughts on how to sail through this time in my life with compassion at mast and peace at the helm, please speak up.
PS: It is important to note: My father -will not- recover. He now has a feed tube in that may make him feel better for a while, but whether it's tomorrow or a year from now, his disease will win.
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Comments
My father died of pancreatic cancer a few years ago. During the process, I was lucky to have a close buddhist teacher who made a lot of room to hear my stories and similar difficulties, and he gave me some advice that really helped.
He told me, that as we work to build our equaminity, it is with an acceptance of what is really around us. We don't make mountains out of molehills. Instead, we work on letting go of the unimportant. However, we don't try to make mountains into molehills either. Rather, we make proper room for the experiences we're in.
That being said, losing a father is usually more of a mountain, and that's ok. Its skillful for us, in these kinds of times, to simply recognize the emotions. We nurture ourselves, by doing things like setting down the anaylizing, maybe running a bath. It allows us to process... and we climb the mountain. We don't have to push for ideals of "Zen Mode". We let what matters, matter.
I'm sorry for your difficulties, and wish you well.
With warmth,
Matt
Secondarily, along with the meditation I've been practicing, I think my father's decline is helping me to be a more patient, more compassionate person in tangible and intangible ways.
Thank you for your kindness and in turn, I will include your father's spirit in my meditations along with all souls that have spun once again into the eternal.