Comments on: Illness: Fear and Fearlessness

By: John Kernell

John Kernell — Fri, 04 Dec 2009 21:05:10 +0000

I’ve stayed away from this because the question is, intentionally or not, an explosive one. i guess that’s good, because some folks have taken the gloves off and are saying exactly how they feel. Easy to judge them. I’m trying not to lest I be judged. And I HATE to be judged. Unskillful effing Buddhist that I clearly am. :8-(

i take a different tack, admittedly personally, admittedly one that I do not intend to parse or defend.

I say, to myself, repeatedly, how I go out exponentially affects how I come back….

maitri,

John K.

By: Greg

Greg — Tue, 01 Dec 2009 04:58:24 +0000

As I laid in a death grip of illness the pain of leaving my infant daughter was far more poignant than the physical pain in my body.

I was 27. Reaching deeply into that profound and painful sadness shifted something. Life was not about me.

By: lewrich

lewrich — Tue, 01 Dec 2009 03:38:12 +0000

Actually, physical pain in the dying process can usually be well controlled now–even very severe pain. I have seen people with extreme pain be pain free as they approach death, due to modern pain medications. So even this is not inevitable.

By: Rebecca

Rebecca — Mon, 30 Nov 2009 16:22:48 +0000

As I have aged (I just turned 61), I have thought more and more about illness. I would just say to myself, “If only I can die without pain and suffering.” Finally, one day I realized that it is very unlikely that I will die without experiencing pain. Once I accepted that fact, I felt my whole body relax. Yes, I’m going to experience pain, maybe very significant pain, before I die. That’s just a fact and the more I am able to accept that, the less of a problem it is for me. I’ve been lucky–while I’ve experienced some pain, it has not been chronic. I am aware that when I’ve been in pain, what works best is not to fight it by tensing up, which is the most common reaction I have. I also have in the past gotten angry with myself when I was ill, as odd as that may sound. I’ve learned to let go of the anger. None of what I have just said should lead others to believe that I don’t still feel fear, but rather that with the experience of fear comes the memory that pain and illness are inescapable and inevitable. I feel better able to meet the inevitable with courage and insight.

By: Maura

Maura — Mon, 30 Nov 2009 07:52:22 +0000

Karin, when I read those words, “His way of dying was so helpful to so many people,” I thought, “That is what we call grace, he was the embodiment of grace.” “Grace” is a Christian term, but there must be a Buddhist equivalent, as his life and death–and your perceptive understanding of it–are in my understanding what the Buddhist life is all about. Thanks for telling us this.

By: judithsusan

judithsusan — Mon, 30 Nov 2009 01:11:43 +0000

I await with interest the next posting on illness. My 2005 dance with Encephalitis turned out to be a blessing because it necessitated my inventing a new life for myself — a simple, quiet life, without pretense or ambition. There are still difficulties, (it doesn’t seem as though my recovery is as comlete as Lew’s) but most importantly, I know where to turn.

For the past two years, I have sat (not in the Buddhist sense) down with a spiral notebook, writing, reading, and sometimes, just breathing. Every morning I have the chance to sit and recall the wisdom I learned in all my years of reading and searching, and reframe it in my own words, to meet my present needs. But most of all, when I am alone, perhaps frightened, perhaps in pain, I know that I have someplace/something/someone to turn to. If I turn there first, I have succeeded, whether or not the problem is solved. I have succeeded because I have turned away from the fear and into the Light.

By: lewrich

lewrich — Mon, 30 Nov 2009 00:26:42 +0000

“It’s hard” could be the mantra of everything life gives us. A lot of it doesn’t seem hard–we just go through each day. But actually it is hard. It’s hard to be a human being, fully.

Richard: when I started reading your post I was struck by several other stories of people I know about being on ladders that didn’t end nearly as well ( I won’t go into details but you can imagine). thank your arm for being there and knowing what to do, I guess.

–Lew

By: John E

John E — Sun, 29 Nov 2009 20:17:57 +0000

Our lives have evolved into this, time, being here now, to show compassion. And “my” illness, has been, and is – anger.

Anger breaks relationships between myself, my body and others around me. And sometimes I feel I use quiet, silence as anger, because the need exists from everyone to relate with on a level where I can help. Whereas I may be choosing to distance myself, into my own space, as silence is becoming a greed-based addiction, because without the silence a stirring is perceived which is noise based, in what “I” do not want.

I make the noise of not paying attention to the need of others to hear me listening to them, by closing a door or facing a wall, or computer screen… yeah.

I take a deep breath in, and let it out with the intention of reducing suffering, and using compassion to listen, to anger, in myself, or others.

By: karin gjording

karin gjording — Sun, 29 Nov 2009 19:44:46 +0000

I was accompanying my brother through his struggle with lung cancer, which did end his life at the age of 50. He was a Jesuit priest, and his spirituality completely imbued his life and his dying. One (of many) memorable moment: he was coming to terms with the reality that the treatment was not working. He was lying on a sofa, tears coming down his face. He said–its just hard. That’s all, just hard.

That really struck me. He did everything he could to stay alive, and did in fact really live until his last breath. And, at the same time, acknowledged that this acceptance of dying was hard.

He then wrote a deeply moving letter about his struggle with illness and that he was dying, and sent it out to a broad community of people whom he would not be seeing again. His way of dying was so helpful to so many people.

By: Richard Speel

Richard Speel — Sun, 29 Nov 2009 16:10:14 +0000

Yesterday I was up on a ladder cleaning out my gutters(instead of down in the gutter) and putting in screen to keep leaves out, when the ladder shifted and I grabbed onto the gutter with my left hand and at the same time tried to balance the ladder into a stable position, which I did, but my left arm stretched so far I felt like I was Plastic Man and then it hurt!
I should have been more careful, and gone slower and now my shoulder hurts…hopefully, it’s just a strained muscle…but I see how the physical pain can affect me emotionally and make me aware of my vulnerability in this life. It’s amazing that one little incident can alter what you think is going to be the direction of your life…we all know we’re not going to survive this life, but how we go through it is another mystery, too! Suffering can be an attachment that is hard for us to let go, because it implies that we associate our existence to our bodies and that is all…Of course, it’s hard to realize that our minds give us the choice of not being attached or continue to suffer…