Fear of illness is universal, even more so as we age and wonder about heart attack, stroke, cancer. Even an annual physical or a blood test can make the heart pound. I don’t know if we are more or less fearful now that we have the miracles of medicine to help us. In earlier times, when there were no antiobiotics and no surgery, people had to rely on a strong constitution, preventative practices, and faith. Children got to see sick and dead people all the time. It was the kind of life in which Buddhism grew, and the life that billions of people still live in the world today.
I have been ill about ten years out of sixty two—first cancer and that long recovery, and then encephalitis and an even longer recovery. I hated being sick, although my cancer doctor kept a photo for years in his office of me bald, jaundiced and grinning broadly to encourage his other patients. I was young then and confident in my chances.
Since then—especially because of my book Healing Lazarus—I have heard from our counseled a great many seriously ill people. None of them want to be sick; all of them would give anything not to be sick. But I saw in myself, and I see in them, the gift the the package that is illness brings. What could that possibly be?
It is the gift of not taking being here for granted. That insight is the beginning of all gratitude and the essence of all spiritual practice, in my opinion.
I wish I had never been sick—even today. But I have to admit that illness taught me my deepest spiritual lessons. A paradox? Maybe.
Thank you Lewis for this reflection. I believe, that all of us are deeply scared of illness. And deeply scared of the illnesses that our near future at this age might bring. Maybe all situations which bring us to the edge, shake our way of being in this world, opening our heart, and our spiritual eyes.
I include hereby a paragraph which I read some years ago, which moved me deeply: somebody found in the pocket of a child’s jacket dead in a concentration camp, a dirty peace of paper in which the following was written:” O Lord, remember not only the men and women of good will but also those of ill will. But do not only remember the suffering they have inflicted on us, remember the fruit we bought, thanks to this suffering, our comradership. our loyalty, our humility, the courage, the generosity, the greatness of heart which has grown out of this , and when they come to judgment, let all the fruits that we have borne be their forgiveness”Camp of Ravenzbruck.
ho, friends,
in this, my 75th year, my life continues to open in unsuspected and rewarding ways, even as it closes off in others.
I seek to remember that, when my own time to die arrives, it is very important to avoid frightening my loved ones.
May I be maximally awake at the moment of transit!
I had cancer when I was younger, caught very early, so the process was simple and I recovered easily. Being older and experiencing illness or just feeling like my body is not as sturdy and hardy as it was, has called for a conscious shift in my perception. I take the time to feel the deep gratitude for the life I have had so far. The other thing I practice is imaging that my life is totally full and complete as it is. I don’t need to do any more, or be any more than I already have. It is taking the time to connect with and rest in that fullness and completeness. The other lesson I find in illness is one of surrender. Surrender to what it means to be in a aging, fallible, human body. Surrender to the processes of nature. Surrendering the ego, so that we don’t take these processes personal. Curiousity can arise when we surrender, even to pretty difficult circumstances.
Well said Lew.
There have been times that I have been cured and not healed; healed and not cured; but also times when I was both healed and cured.
Two different medicines it seems. I am grateful for both. My eventual death is incurable. That I might continue healing at its approach is preferable.
The distinction is worth pondering.
Metta Lewis,
A friend of mine just blogged about this very subject last week. The taking life for granted part. I remarked about how he should be thankful for being above ground and air in his lungs. The ability to enjoy his family and practice mindfulness for the benefit of everyone around him. I totally agree with your post……….We all take our lives for granted at some point. Illness brings us back to the center……………
And then there is the sickness of spirit, sometimes after illness, sometimes, without physical illness, sometimes preceding physical illness.
That seems to me to be the root of suffering.
Dot
Well, we have to know by past experience that all our ancestors lived and died without us being present, unless we were there, unless we lived through countless lives as people all of whom we meet each day and “can” relate with, if we choose a deeper more austere approach at everything, including sickness and death. We are very small in some ways with our suffering, unless we use it as a tool for enlightenment, our realizations lengthen.
Yes, sickness of spirit comes at root from not being present.
Thank you for your wisdom, Lew, and for sharing about your past. I also found that being seriously ill with a heart condition led to spiritual changes, as well as physical. I would never wish illness on anyone, but for me, it was truly an awakening to the impermanence of all things – that everything can change in a moment. I now live a more enriched life, appreciating the small things more than ever previously. I am much more present now. May all beings be at peace.