Terminal Sentence
by Jenna Sundell
I have no time to do things that do not bring joy.
The constant pain of this physical frame
does not mean I must suffer.
Enlightenment is at hand;
all I need to do is open to It and let go.
It is through this disease I am learning body awareness.
When to eat, when to sleep, when to exercise, when to rest.
This disease cannot stop me from doing what I truly love.
I don’t know which is worse: being told you have only a year to live, or being told you can expect to live another 30 years in severe, constant pain. When I was diagnosed with fibromyalgia, the doctor told me I should not be upset because my body would live just as long as someone with rheumatoid arthritis. He didn’t understand how intense the pain and weakness had become, or that I simply could not accept a diagnosis with no treatment and no cure. I left his office depressed and desperate. When I got home and began researching my new diagnosis, confusion overwhelmed me as I realized I had symptoms that did not fit on the list. In the midst of my internal freak out, I wondered: if these other symptoms were from a terminal illness, would I want to know?
As a Buddhist, I learned about reincarnation and how we move from one body to the next over the course of many lifetimes. I read about the Tibetan masters who used their death as a teaching tool. The master would tell his senior students where and when he would be born next. To prove who he was, the child would be asked to make a selection from a variety of items brought by the monks. The child would then select the item specified by the master in his previous life, and return to the monastery to continue his spiritual work. After years of my own practice, I began to have moments of remembrance as pieces of my own past lives reactivated in my awareness. I cannot prove it to anyone, but I know I have had other bodies before this one, and I will have another available to me when this one dies.
Knowing this does not lessen the sting of loss when I think of leaving this world, or when I’ve said goodbye to others departing for their next journey. Even though I cannot tell you exactly where or when my next incarnation will be, knowing life continues in this and other worlds removes the fear of that transition.
Once we step outside of fear, we can use the knowledge of our mortality to live better today. Mystics have long used death as an advisor. Framing every action in the context of, “What if this were my last act?” changes everything. Taking this powerful stance leaves no room for self-pity, regret, anger, or hate. It allows us to consciously focus our energies on what is truly important to us.
The tricky part is we don’t know the exact moment of our death. Even when confronted with a terminal illness, doctors can offer only estimates. And even then, anything is possible. An accident could kill the body while leaving the doctor’s office. Or a miracle cure could be discovered and suddenly the terminal illness is no longer terminal. Finding the balance between planning for a realistic future and doing what you love today is key. The best advice my teacher gave me on this point is: be prepared for the worst, hope for the best, and expect nothing.
Once we realize we don’t know when the body will die, we can greet every day as a precious gift because we’re not sure if we’ll get another one tomorrow. And at the same time, we can dream what we would like to do tomorrow because there is a chance we’ll be here. In either case, accepting the body’s inevitable end teaches us that all we have with any certainty is this moment, right now.
Everyone faces the mortality of the body eventually. Most people seem to prefer to ignore their impending death, feeling it somehow won’t happen to them. The truth is death makes us and every other living thing equal. No matter how wonderful or horrible you have been, no matter what you have accomplished or didn’t, in the end we all face the same door. The only difference is that some are dragged through, filled with denial and resistance, while others step through with their eyes wide open to the wonder waiting on the other side.
The way we walk through the door of death and into the next life is determined by the sum total of our awareness. Every moment we have the choice to shut down or open up to all the different layers of experience. The more we can open, the greater our awareness becomes, and the wider our view of existence. As we move higher and higher, our suffering diminishes. Just as cars shrink when viewed from an airplane, we see how small our pain is compared to Eternity.
Through the twin practices of meditation and mindfulness, we expand our awareness. We use everything in our life as an opportunity to practice. Sometimes we find ourselves stuck on the roller coaster of duality. We rise up, we go down, we twist, and we turn. Sometimes we scream; other times we laugh in sheer delight. In our terror, we wish for it to end, then we realize that it will in fact end, and that causes even more terror. In our laughter, we feel only the exhilaration of the moment.
Whether we are in terror or joy, we can stand back and watch ourselves on the roller coaster. By standing firmly in the present moment, we can see the mind’s reaction to the circumstances of life and the impending death of the body. We can witness all the different games the mind plays as it moves through each twist and turn and dip. From this place of silence, we realize we are not the mind and we are not the body. At that moment, no matter what is happening to or around us, we are free.
Jenna Sundell teaches Practical American Buddhism at the Dharma Center in San Diego (www.DharmaCenter.com). Despite having a chronic illness, she also offers classes in other cities across the country and is author of Worlds of Power, Worlds of Light. This article is an excerpt from her current book project, Making Peace with Pain: Your Guide to a Joyful and Productive Life in a Malfunctioning Body. Jenna will be teaching at CIIS in San Francisco on October 29. You also can find her at www.facebook.com/JennaSundell and on Twitter @jennasundell. E-mail her at Jenna@DharmaCenter.com or call 619.808.2864.
