Living a life of vow

A record of my training as a chaplain and other things Zen.

Thursday, July 19, 2012

Notes on couples from April


Last week I met three different couples whose stories were fundamentally the same - long marriage, geographically distant children, one partner losing to dementia or Alzheimers, the other struggling to imagine what to do next.  The encounters were heartbreaking and inspiring at the same time.  


My favorite was the outrageously sweet Italiam man married to a “Scotch Irish and you know what their temper is like” woman with Alzheimers.  Both in their 80s, he’d been caring for her for over three years.  Now it has become too hard.  After this stay in the hospital she would go to a nursing home; but he would be there every day.  With each scattered phrase she uttered, his attention, devotion, and care were evident.  He would have said, as another woman said of her husband of 61 years (the last 5 years with Alzheimers) - "He’s my bashert."


I spoke with the wife of the third couple.  She shared a bit of who they were and where they found themselves now.  She spoke softly when she talked of the unexpected anger that had emerged in her husband’s illness.  She then turned to me and asked: Isn’t it just depressingly sad to hear these stories?  


Yes, I answered, the stories are sad, but they also give me hope.  I can see more clearly that we are all in the same boat - and I wonder how I can get us all to pull together so we can feel less alone.

Never Say Die: The myth and marketing of the new old age by Susan Jacoby c2011

Juicy bits:

"I do not believe in an immortal soul independent of the human body, because I do not believe in God or any form of supernaturalism.  Nor do I argue, as some psychologists and philosophers do, that there is a mind or consciousness independent of the intractable materials mass of gray matter that is the human brain.  To contend that consciousness (like spirituality) is a phenomenon separate from or greater than the brain itself strikes me as just another refusal to acknowledge that homo sapiens, with the most sophisticated brain of all species on earth, nevertheless belongs to the animal kingdom.  What others call the mind or the spirit is the literally marvelous result of what the brain, a physical organ, has made of its encounters with stimuli over a lifetime."

Notes undertreatment of pain in Alzheimer patients because they can't express their circumstances clearly.

"One of the most frequent promises that husbands an wives makes to each other is that neither will put the other in a nursing home."  So you'd think we'd judge the avail drugs by their ability to keep people out of institutions.  They do nothing - merely palliative.  Give us the sense we're doing something. The drugs given are palliative."

Old age is a woman's issue.  Decries the puffery about the wisdom of old to identify a purpose for the longer lives lived today.

"I do not know whether any death can truly be called good, decent, or dignified.  For me the physical reality of the end, the flickering out, whether slow or fast, of brain neurons that have communicated with one another so brilliantly to form the life experience of one member of our species - one beloved member - overwhelms everything else.  To an atheist, death -whether it comes as a thief in the night or through sudden. violent confrontation - is no more and no less than he fate all humans share.  Take away supernatural hopes and one is left with nature, which is neither decent not indecent.  The difference between "do everything" and "do everything - but stop when there is no more to be done" lies not in any spurious distinction between the "unnatural" (ventilators and tubes) and the "natural" (palliative care at home or in a hospice) but in the recognition that human intelligence itself is a part of and not the master of nature. Acceptance of the point at which intelligence and its inventions can no longer battle the ultimate natural master, death, is a true affirmation of what it means to be human."

"The issue is not whether it is morally wrong to want to live longer but whether it makes sense for a society to assume the costs that will inevitably be associated with a longer period of old age for more of its members.  ....as long as Americans continue to believe in the myth that each of us possesses the power to create our own economy, we will be paralyzed, as a society, in our effort to meet the huge challenges to our institutions posed by the impending old age, and old old age, of the boomers."

"The central emotional challenge of advanced old age, as distinct from financial issues, is the establishment of a livable balance between autonomy and dependence."

"Laying claim to the right to feel rotten about what is happening can free up energy for the fight to live as well as possible through whatever life hands us as we grow older."

"The case against the propagation of [the myth and marketing of young old age] is much clearer when considering large social issues in an aging society, because faith in the future victory of science over old age and its discontents is bound to divert energy and money from the urgent task of devising new institutions and strategies to meet the needs of the old as they are now.  But it is more difficult to make the case, on an individual basis, against the [xxx] of hope for a new old age....Even if there is little fact based justification [can it be no more deleterious to adults than he myth of Santa Claus to children?]  ...adults are not children, even though they are often treated as children.  Hope is not incompatible with realism, but it is incompatible with the expectation that things are going to turn out well if we only conduct ourselves well.  Inflated expectations about successful aging, if the body imposes a cruel old age, can lead to real despair....

"The myth of the young old age spreads a miasma that obscures the intensity of memory and vision - not wisdom - that is the gift of sentience if one is fortunate enough to remain aware until the end."

Poem by Ch’ang-hui



on a peak standing still

only clouds coming and going

a thousand misty mountains below me

in the open sitting straight

nothing false  nothing real

shapes of light and dark before me

Zen and Pure Land from Bill Porter's Road to Heaven

From interview with hermit Hsu-tung (p95)

Question:  What is the difference between Zen and Pure Land practice
 In Zen, we keep asking who is chanting the name of the Buddha.  All we think about is where the name of the Buddha is coming from.  We keep asking, until we find out who we were before we were born.  This is Zen.  We work with one mind.  And if the mind runs off somewhere, we follow it whereever it goes, until the mind finally becomes quiet, until there’s no Zen to Zen, no question to question, until we reach the stage where we question without questioning and without questioning we keep questioning.  We keep questioning until we finally find an answer, until delusions come to an end, until we can swallow the world, all its rivers and mountains, everything, but the world can’t swallow us, until we can ride the tiger, but the tiger can’t ride us, until we find out who we really are.  This is ZenIn Pure Land practice, we just chant the name of the Buddha, nothing more.  We chant with the mind.  We chant without making a sound, and yet the sound is perfectly clear.  And when we hear the sound, the chant begins again.  It goes around and around.  The chant doesn’t stop and the mind doesn’t move.  The sound arises, we hear the sound, but our mind doesn’t move.  And when our mind doesn’t move, delusions disappear.  And once they’re gone, the one mind chants.  The result is the same as Zen, and Zen practice includes pure land practice.  If you don’t practice both, you become one-sided.  
Question:  Is Pure land more appropriate for the present age?
All practices are appropriate.  ....All practices are related...All practices are like candy.  People like different kinds, but its just candy.  The Dharma is empty.



Monday, July 16, 2012

Busyness


Been saving this link from the NYT to post on The 'Busy' Trap.

I agree with the assessment...


"....Almost everyone I know is busy. They feel anxious and guilty when they aren’t either working or doing something to promote their work. ....The present hysteria is not a necessary or inevitable condition of life; it’s something we’ve chosen, if only by our acquiescence to it. .... Busyness serves as a kind of existential reassurance, a hedge against emptiness; obviously your life cannot possibly be silly or trivial or meaningless if you are so busy, completely booked, in demand every hour of the day."


And the sane response....


"...I am not busy. I am the laziest ambitious person I know. Like most writers, I feel like a reprobate who does not deserve to live on any day that I do not write, but I also feel that four or five hours is enough to earn my stay on the planet for one more day. On the best ordinary days of my life, I write in the morning, go for a long bike ride and run errands in the afternoon, and in the evening I see friends, read or watch a movie. This, it seems to me, is a sane and pleasant pace for a day. .....Idleness is not just a vacation, an indulgence or a vice; it is as indispensable to the brain as vitamin D is to the body, and deprived of it we suffer a mental affliction as disfiguring as rickets. The space and quiet that idleness provides is a necessary condition for standing back from life and seeing it whole, for making unexpected connections and waiting for the wild summer lightning strikes of inspiration — it is, paradoxically, necessary to getting any work done...."

Saturday, July 14, 2012

Yard work


Beads of sweat drop to the earth beside my knee
Birds cry in joy at my industry
I stand to leafy applause
As the breeze drinks from my brow

Sky mind


At last
sky mind

all is encompassed

treetops
birdsong
insect hum
pine scented loan
the industry of ants beneath my hammock

the innumerable labors of all being that have gifted this breath

the vow to bring this mind to my actions

but now
just now
I spread my arms wide to love the world