change and loss

The last few weeks have been a whirlwind of serious contemplation for me. My grandmother is facing the end of her life, and last week my grandfather took her home from the hospital so that she could spend her final days in (relative) comfort. It's been difficult for me for a few reasons (outside the obvious of losing a family member). First, I don't hold my grandfather's certainty that death is simply a release from the earthly trials that determine our place in a final kingdom of heaven (or..not). He's comforted knowing his wife will be in the hands of God (and if anyone ever deserved a great spot at the table, right next to the Almighty, it's my grandma). I, however, am a Buddhist, and since my grandma hasn't (to the best of my knowledge) achieved enlightenment, death just means another go-round...another shot at samsara. Death is never the answer, it's simply another beginning. And while I know it's a necessary part of the cycle, I can see how difficult it is for my family to lose its matriarch.

It's really been a confusing lesson for me. I'm not upset at the death of my grandmother, I'm upset at the suffering that it's causing for others. Thus, I'm suffering. While my practice has helped me find some release from the suffering relating directly to the loss of someone who means so much to me, the rest of my family doesn't have anything to help THEM in this time of sadness, and THAT'S causing me suffering. It's really very ironic, (and, as I'll get to, also pretty misguided and arrogant).

This worry about my family is, apparently, a common problem, especially for Buddhist practitioners with non-Buddhist family members. Where Buddhism teaches unattachment, transience and the impermanent nature of life, it also preaches compassion and loving kindness, so it's difficult to watch those you care about suffering while you yourself have ways to cope. There was a great article about this by Judy Lief in the Shambhala Sun this month, called The Problem with Problems. Lief talks about how it is human nature to worry about the people we care about the most - that even if times are tough for ourselves, we tend to feel worse for those around us, in the mistaken assumption that THEY must not be able to cope. Since everyone feels this way, it's actually pretty funny, if you think about it.

While visiting my grandma today this was really driven home. Having finally made peace with her inevitable passing, she told my mother that she was worried about her; that she wanted to be sure that we'd all be ok when she was gone. According to Leif, this happens a lot: "It's not uncommon, for instance, for a dying person who has come to terms with their own mortality to still be in great distress because they are worried that their family or loved ones do not have the inner resources to face up to what's happening." My grandma seemed immeasurably happier when my mother responded with 'we'll be all right'. I suspect it won't be much longer that she'll be with us, now that she's been reassured.

Leif says that we need to question this need to 'fix' people's suffering, and examine why we want this. It's actually really disrespectful to the person to assume that they can't fix their own problems, that they're not capable of dealing with the situation themselves. Leif references 'the story of a child who comes upon a chrysalis, and touched by the struggling of the moth inside, decides to help it break out. But when the child pulls open the covering, the moth dies. Because the moth did not have to fight to break free, its wings were unable to strengthen and mature, so it could not survive.' We need to let our loved ones deal with problems on their own - it's the difficult circumstances that offer opportunities for growth, for finding new strength, and for developing new insights.

A while ago I was watching Oprah for the first time in years. It was a show about faith, with a panel of spiritual leaders and authors. One of them said something that really resonated with me, and that is (I think) important to this discussion. A viewer asked how she can fix a problem in her life...I think she was having financial problems or something like that, and she wanted to know why God would do this to her. She wanted them to tell her what she could do, what changes she could make to her life, to make everything go 'back to the way it had been.' One of the pastors said to her that things aren't MEANT to stay the same...change is inevitable. It's how we approach it that defines where we end up. We can cling to it, and feel hurt and suffering at the inevitable change and long for days gone by, or we can let go and embrace the future. Changes don't happen because something new comes along, they happen because we let go of something from our past. I thought this was amazingly insightful, and every time I'm faced with something that seems scary or sad, I come back to that - t//'hat it's simply my unwillingness to let go that's keeping me from seeing the lesson to be learned. I'm sad that in this case it's letting go of someone who means so much to me, but this too will present an opportunity to grow and to learn. I know my grandmother would expect nothing less.

I told you dancing was fun

Feel the Music

We were watching '18 Kids and Counting' the other day (ok, I admit, I'm addicted to reality tv families). Normally I kind of admire the Duggars and the values they're trying to instill in their children. Let's face it, Michelle Duggar is the definition of patience. But this week I found something that baffles me... these children are not allowed to dance!

No dancing!

It's like those words don't even make sense to me. Dancing is something so fundamentally a part of who I am that I can't understand that some people don't (or won't!) engage in it.

Now, let's be clear. I'm not a *good* dancer. My moves are somewhere between Elaine from Seinfeld and Pheobe from Friends in that episode where she takes up jogging.... I just wiggle around and jump up and down and move to the beat of the music. If there's no music, I imagine some. I'm sure I'm embarrassing to others. But that's what dancing is SUPPOSED to be! It's a reckless abandonment of all the things that makes one a 'grown up' and a return to just FEELING life, the way we did when we were kids. I don't understand what complaint someone could POSSIBLY have against that. How can feeling wonderfully free and innocent be a BAD thing?

My very favorite time of day has become the evening dance-a-thon that my daughter and I share. Nearly every night we crank the stereo and dance around the living room until we fall over from exhaustion. All sorts of music inspires us, but Bob Marley, IllScarlett and old school jazz are our perpetual favorites. These moments with my kids, just being free and happy, are going to be the memories I look back on when I'm old, as the very best that life has to offer.

If you don't dance, for whatever reason, just let go... crank up the music and ask a kid how it's done.