A Return Home - Part 2

Continued from Part 1

Today, I may say that I’ve returned home - even if I’ll soon be moving on - it’s still currently my home. But, in truth, this is only my temporary home. It may not be even be my real home. For when I leave this life, I have to give up all I have come to know as a human being.

Then, after my body dies, will I return to my authentic home?

Will I find my refuge?

Perhaps I have already found it...

One thing appears clear. My outlook on life has changed again. I'm sure it will change again in the future. I have grown to appreciate more what I learned from this ongoing journey of self-discovery and comprehend better what the Buddha and other great spiritual figures such as Jesus were saying.

That living a good life or finding happiness meant that we have to die for ourselves. That, no matter what society says or thinks, we can only gain if we lose our attachment to the self and objects that don't last but open our heart and mind to the other and to a world far greater than we are.

To lose ourselves to a universe so immense and mysterious that removes from us any pretensions that we are, in any way, the greatest gift to humanity.

This doesn't mean that we despair and indulge in self-loathing or give up on life. On the contrary, it's an invitation to be happy and discover a peace that is beyond our imagination and expectation.

We'll return to our real home.

A home where we are free.

A home that no one or nothing can destroy.

A place of refuge.

A Return Home? - Part 1

Yesterday, I was discharged from hospital - thus ending my stay in hospital. When I got out for the first time, I felt that the world around me looked different. The sun would soon be setting in a few hours but I could just make out the buildings and streets we had to pass through as I made my way back home.

I was struck by the fact that even if I have travelled this way before so many times, I wasn’t really noticing what was around me before. It was like awakening from a bad dream. Life became so vibrant... So real! I was a witness to what I was sensing without judging or conceptualising what I was perceiving.

I felt rested and appreciated being in silence. Admittedly, the last week at hospital where I had to share a room were particularly hard on me and I didn’t get a lot of sleep at night. I was surprised by how much commotion and noise there could be at times and then, silence. Indeed, hospital is a place of extremes.

I witnessed the best and the worse of human nature. Nursing staff who treated patients with dignity and respect. Others who could be cruel and insensitive to the pain of the other. There were words of kindness and words uttered aimed only to shame and humiliate. Words aimed to dominate and belittle another.

Believe me, I tried to rationalise the ugly things that happened but I couldn’t really excuse such acts of inhumanity.

Of course, these actions were few and far between but that doesn’t reduce their ugliness. I know that there is a lot of stress and frustration involved with working in an environment where you’re constantly seeing disease, death and social problems. Yet, there are those who rise up to the challenge and manage to comfort and genuinely help those In need. Perhaps, it is in people like this that I retain my hope in the basic goodness of human beings.

For, after all, I am also a human being seeking that happiness and freedom from suffering we all are seeking. Unfortunately, we do sometimes end up hurting or harming others because we forget that we are part of the same human family. We forget that we are also the sons and daughters of the Earth and depend on it for our survival. We forget that we are also the offspring of the universe which has given us our mind and bodies.

Continues...

Letting Go - A Haiku Trio

Hopes and dreams may die,
Now, a tree may yield no fruit.
Living on thru death.

Like our hopes and dreams,
A dying wish can give life,
To other beings.

And fresh hopes and dreams,
May grow from dwindling visions,
First we must let go!

You might want to read the commentary for this haiku now.

Location:Mater Dei Hospital, Msida

A Hospital Retreat - Part 2

Continues from Part 1
Now seven days since I was hospitalise. I can't deny that this stay, like all the others before, don't upset my daily routine and force me to confront an aspect of life we often forget or choose to avoid acknowledging. For, in spite of all progress in our standards Oc living, many face the reality of illness and old age. And no one can really escape death.

My life right now appears almost unreal. I do sometimes feel as if this will never end. Yet, as I take the time to apply what I learned from my Buddhist teachings, I realise that this too will pass. However, even if the temptation is to avoid thinking of the pain I'm going through, I am realising that dealing with this experience as it manifests itself leaves me feeling more peaceful and serene.
This insight into this suffering seems to be counter-intuitive. Yet, accepting what is happening right now as it happens does help free the mind from intensifying the suffering as it considers the future while it gives you back some control over your life. After all, the fact that we all get ill and many of us will get old is an inescapable part of life. Death is also inevitable.

There's a certain sadness that emerges from considering these three realities so central to buddha's teachings. We are too attached to the idea that we can remain closed to accepting that life is impermanent and temporal. But, then we risk loosing a very precious truth about our human condition. That, in spite of their repulsiveness, illness, old age and death; all connect us. All affect us as living beings. All reveal that other differences based on other aspects of who we are such as race, gender, disability, faith and sexual orientation; are only secondary to our basic humanity.

These three realities not only define us as humans, they can be the source and motivations behind our greatest achidvements.
I don't know how long I'll be here in hospital. But, as I said before, I'll try to make the best of it. Of course, I will do my best to regain my health. Bug, equally important, I want to grow spiritually and appreciate more the life I have and receive the present moment with an open heart and awakened mind.

Related entries:
Letting Go - A Haiku Trio

Location:Mater Dei Hospital, Msida

A Hospital Retreat - Part 1

Last Tuesday, I was admitted to hospital to undergo a number of rtests so that doctors can figure out what was causing the problems I was having recently. Here, it's not my intention to talk about my health issues. Yet, every time I'm admitted to hospital reminds me of how unpredictable our lives really are. This week, I had to deliver a presentation at a local conference but even if I had prepare everything for the following Friday, I found myself on a hospital bed. We can and make plans for the future, but it would be foolish for us to get too attached to them. This realisation of impermanence appears to be more in my life. Not that it wasn't there before but it can be an uncomfortable truth to face.

At the same time, since my Buddhist practice of mindfulness, I also learned it would be a tragedy if life wasn't subject to change. We would be justified then to fall into despair and become despondent. It would be futile to hope and to dream. Yes, I know that hard days seem eternal and oppressive. But, even now, I'm still in hospital, I have more time to practice meditation which lifts up my spirit as I notice that I can learn even from this experience. That, even if we don't see hospitals as pleasant places, there are people who care about the welfare of others. Of course, you'll also find people who don't care about others but only see their work as another job to get over and done with. However, this shouldn't diminish the daily acts of humanity and compassion taking place here.

We shouldn't forget that hospital itself can also be a happy place. most of people e West, living in the West, are born in a hospital. The hospital is also a space where people get better or given another chance to live better again. And, yes, it's also where people die. Hospital reflects life but in a way, hospital can quickly become almost an unreal location which we deny exists because we want to hide, perhaps, from those aspects of life which are difficult to come to terms with. A life which not only consists of health and beauty but one also characterise by old age, illness and death.
As I type this from hospital, I am still waiting for news about my health. I also hope to return to my previous life. However, thanks to mobile technology, I can still reach out to the world. And this made it possible for me to end my series entitled 'In Memory of Identity '.

I am also taking this hospital stay as an opportunity to grow in self-awareness and cultivate my understanding of life and reality. This blog started off following a hospital experience.

But, even if I've changed a lot in how I view my life, I realise how very little I actually know.
Such as to appreciate more of what I've been given. For, in an earlier time, I would surely not have survived till 30.
Continued...

Location:Mater Dei Hospital, Msida

In Memory of Identity - Part 4

Continued from Part 3

The realisation that our memories, and consequently, our identities can be so fragile and vulnerable might make us feel sad. On the other hand, it should help us reflect more on the preciousness of the everyday moment. It should make us more aware of how unique and sacred the experience of living is and open our hearts and minds to those around us and to all living beings.

The awareness of that who we are today would not be possible were it for the people we have met throughout our lives should make us reflect on how co-dependent we are on the world. For if it wasn’t for the material world, we wouldn’t be able to sustain our bodies. For if It hadn’t been for the many people, past and present, who taught us how to be human, we wouldn’t be seeking more from life and asking what life is all about. For if it hadn’t been for the Earth and all the conditions that made life possible, we wouldn’t be here as a species and would have never evolved in the first place.

I want to grow and practice mindfulness not to achieve fame and fortune but to find the peace and happiness that sometimes still eludes me. I know that I am not wise and did falter before and I am sure that I will falter again. However, I realise that, despite my failings, change does not come without a degree of sacrifice and an open mind.

I don’t know if I’ll ever be in a position when I start forgetting who I am. I confess that the possibility does frighten me. However, life is unpredictable and it could happen. I hope that those around me will still view me as a human being and support me in the best way they can. I also hope that as I drift into forgetting, I will appreciate the present moments as I experience them. For, even now, the present moment is really what we experience. And it flees away so quickly.

The End

In Memory of Identity - Part 3

Continued from Part 2

People who have severe memory loss challenge our ideas about identity. They force us to consider that our identity isn’t as solid and constant as we wish to believe. If this wasn’t the case, we wouldn’t grow. Change would be impossible and we wouldn’t be able to adapt. Life without change leads to an inevitable death. There is no escaping that fact.

Buddhism talks about the principle of dependent arising which is relevant to this reflection on memory and identity. For while we may deem people having memory loss as suffering, 

we experience suffering ourselves as we witness another human being fading into oblivion. It’s undeniable that the person experiencing memory loss may be going through a nightmarish existence where nothing makes sense any more.

Yet, the more I contemplate this reality, the more I realise how I, myself, don’t exist without a frame of reference. We exist in relation to others. We define ourselves in relation to the world around us. Our identity is not absolute and is in a flux. A single experience, a word, or even a piece of music, can alter our sense of self. And we can’t even claim to be self-made as we’re tempted to do in a Western society preoccupied with independence and individuality.

For in truth, the memories that remind us of who we are or we think we are have been shaped by our friends, family, society, history, culture, language and many more. Our contribution to our identity becomes significantly limited. But, we have the most important tool in our mind. We can choose to remain passive and complacent or learn to cultivate awareness. 

Many times, I notice that people go on living as if their life was immortal. They take life for granted without opening their minds to the world around them. We are sometimes too concerned with preserving the memory of our identity when, in fact, the self is only the product of many processes working together to create an illusion of self. A self dependent on our senses, our perceptions, on our histories and the context we’re living in. Ultimately, we hold all this together thanks to a memory that, as a product of mind, is also prone to decay.

Continues...

In Memory of Identity - Part 2

Continued from Part 1 

 

We often underestimate the importance of memory in defining who we are. Indeed, our identity is dependent on memory. Our past only exists in our memories. We create our present from the accumulation of memories. Even our futures are often rooted in our past and present experience which we remember thanks to our memory. If we had to forget everything we learned in the past, or incapable of creating new memories, it appears to us as an unbearable existence. For, in truth, memory is at the basis of everything we think of as human.

 

If there was no memory, there would be no history since historians wouldn’t remember what happened yesterday and wouldn’t feel a need to record it. Science wouldn’t exist as knowledge about the world is lost as soon as it is observed. There would be no need for politics, religion or philosophy as in a amnesiac world, time becomes irrelevant for to perceive time, we must be able to know what happened before and assume that after this moment there will be another one and yet another. There would be no language, for no one would be able to remember concepts or words.

 

To us, who are so unaware of how dependent we are on memory, a life where we lose our memory to the point of forgetting ourselves is a fate comparable to death It’s only natural to fear this sort of death. But are our memories really that reliable and infallible? Aren’t our memories like everything in life, prone to distortion and corruption? Is the past we reminisce about an authentic representation of the past that existed? Are we really in tune with our present existence? Are our futures but projections of our fears and desires with no firm grounding in reality?

Continues...

in Memory of Identity - Part 1

First, let me start with a haiku

I do lose myself
In a nature beyond me
Finding compassion

After a hard day and a deep restful sleep, I sometimes find myself having to adjust once again to a waking state. I need to make a little effort to remember what happened last night and what I had to do that morning.

Even if it’s not as worrying as memory loss that characterise some mental states, I wonder where my mind was during the time I was asleep. Where was I? And who was I? The truth of the matter is that during sleep, we enter a state not that different than death.

When you hear about the death of someone, even if he or she is not close to you, we are momentarily forced to reflect about the everyday reality of death. Yet, we fail to see that each day, in many ways, we are dying on different levels. Inasmuch as death terrifies most of us, we are also afraid of one day waking up to realise that we don’t know who we truly are any more. The prospect of forgetting ourselves is, of course, associated with old age.

However, more serious cases of memory loss, such as dementia are particularly disconcerting as they effectively conditions that threaten our belief in an ever present self.
During sleep, we forget who we are. In that condition, who we are becomes immaterial. We need to rest and, if that means completely shutting down to the world, we are willing to forget the world for a while. We don’t plan to sleep or can really suppress it for long without experiencing health or psychological problems. It’s not only natural but it appears to be necessary for our wellbeing. Yet, when we wake up, we need to function again in a material world. There, we turn to our memories.

Continues...