Practicing With Loss

Our sorrows provide us with the lessons we most need to learn.

By Lama Surya Das

At one time or another, everyone loses something. We lose loved

ones. We lose our health. We lose our glasses. We lose
our memories. We lose our money. We lose our keys. We lose our
socks. We lose life itself. We have to come to terms with this reality.
Sooner or later, all is lost; we just don’t always know when it will
happen.

Loss is a fact of life. Impermanence is everywhere we look. We are

all going to suffer our losses. How we deal with these losses is what
makes all the difference. For it is not what happens to us that
determines our character, our experience, our karma, and our
destiny, but how we relate to what happens.

Related: Why Grief Is A Series of Contractions and

Expansions

Realistically, since we will all suffer many losses, we need better,

more evolved and wise ways of approaching sorrow and emotional
pain. We need to be more conscious about the ways our losses can
help us become wiser and more spiritually evolved; we also need to
be more sensitive to and aware of other people’s pain and suffering.

Different forms of universal wisdom may tell us to “shake it off,”

“get over it,” “offer it up to God,” “learn and grow from it,” or that
“time heals all wounds” and “what doesn’t kill us makes us
stronger.” To somebody who is suffering from a profound loss,
these words can sound superficial and shallow; they can even be
irritating.

But none of this alters the fact that we need to find more
enlightened ways of approaching loss. There are so many different
modes of suffering and dissatisfaction arising out of the various
troubles and travails that afflict us. How can we appropriately
respond to loss, failure, illness, death, tragedies, calamities,
injustice, betrayal, shock, trauma, abuse, grief, and life’s most
hurtful wounds? Can we do so with wisdom? Our sorrows provide
us with the lessons we most need to learn.

With every breath,

the old moment is lost;
a new moment arrives.
Compare the intensity of losing a tennis game with that of losing a
child. Think about the difference between losing a job, a mate, a
house, or a parent. Think about what it means to lose innocence,
trust, faith, or belief. Some varieties of loss are momentary, while
others are more lasting and not necessarily to be swiftly released
and forgotten. Some losses, like bankruptcy, unemployment, or
eviction are serious, but they can eventually be put behind us. But
others, like the loss of family members, mates, and young children,
can be so brutal that we may never really get over what we have
known and experienced; nor do we need to. The deep pain we
continue to experience reminds us of our love and keeps our hearts
open. We discover, often to our amazement and relief, that love is
greater than time and place and even greater than death. We
discover that we can hold our lost loves in our hearts even as we
slowly open to new love.

With every breath, the old moment is lost, a new moment arrives.
This is something Buddhist meditators know. We breathe in and
we breathe out. In so doing, we abide in the ever-changing
moment. We learn to welcome and accept this entire process. We
exhale, and we let go of the old moment. It is lost to us. In so doing,
we let go of the person we used to be. We inhale and breathe in the
moment that is becoming. We repeat the process. This is
meditation. This is renewal. It is also life.

Teachings on the nature of loss and change are the most basic and
essential to seekers on the Buddhist path. However, most
traditional Buddhist teachers don’t call it loss or change; they call it
impermanence. Buddhist teachings remind us not to run away
from our thoughts and feelings about the losses in our lives, but
instead to become intimately aware of the gritty facticity of life.
MEDITATIO N ON IMPERMANENCE

Sit someplace where you can be quiet and alone. Try to find a place
that brings you closer in touch with a sense of the natural ebb and
flow of all life. In Tibet, this kind of meditation is often done
outdoors in a charnel ground, or beneath clouds moving across the
sky, but these particular forms aren’t absolutely necessary. You can
watch the waves move in and out on a beach; you can sit near a
waterfall or in a park. In autumn you can watch leaves flutter to the
ground. Other places sometimes suggested to increase awareness of
impermanence would be the city dump, car junkyard, or hospital
entrance.

Wherever you are, get comfortable. Release the muscular tension

throughout your body. Breathe in through your nostrils; breathe
out through your nostrils. Do this several times until you are
feeling relaxed and settled.

Rest in the moment. Stay with this awareness of breathing. Be

aware, attentive, and mindful. Let your breath come and go, rise
and fall. Simply be with what you are presently experiencing,
beyond judgment and beyond interference or alteration. Don’t
suppress what you feel or what you think, but also don’t allow your
mind to get carried away into trains of discursive thinking. For the
moment, don’t try to work or figure anything out. Let it all settle,
dissolve, return back to where it all arose.

Let it all be, as it is. Love it and leave it, with a light, lovely touch.
Let things fall as they may.

PROCESSING LOSS

Start by listing your greatest losses. Just jot down whatever comes
to mind. This is not a test; nothing has to be alphabetized. Skim the
surface at first, and just see what comes up.

Don’t worry about whether or not you are writing exquisite prose.
In some ways, writing in this way corresponds with the tantric
principle of getting it all out until you are exhausted and then
seeing who you are at the bedrock level. Some people are working
through a current loss; others are enmeshed and caught up in the
past. Start from wherever you are.

After you have skimmed the surface, you might want to consolidate
your loss list or break it down into categories, such as “material
loss,” “relationship loss,” “lost opportunities,” or “lost dreams,” to
name just a few possibilities. Which areas stand out for you? With
each of your losses, reflect on what happened. Reflect on your
deepest feelings and get into the details. When you start writing,
you might be surprised at the losses that take priority.

With each loss that you write down, ask yourself the following
question: What did I really lose? List the answers and work them
through. For example, if you lost your job, and one of your losses is
a sense of status, ask: “Is this really important to me? And why?”
Here are some suggestions for questions to get you started:

• What did I really lose?

• Why did I lose it?

• Have I healed from this loss?

• Will I ever heal from this loss?

• Do I want to heal from this loss?

• If I have healed, what lessons have I learned about myself?

• What lessons can I apply to current or future loss?

• Have I stopped blaming myself?

• What can I do to be more accepting and forgiving of my own

behavior?

Then write down what you are feeling because of your loss. Ask
yourself:

• Am I still angry and bitter?

• Why am I still hanging on to losses that have no real meaning in
my life?

• Am I hanging on to unrealistic fantasies and illusions around my

loss?

• How can I let go of my negative feelings?

Often when we have lost something, we blame ourselves. People

blame themselves if their partners cheat or their children become
ill, but it isn’t spiritually intelligent to blame ourselves. There are
many factors involved with each event, and we can’t control the
ungovernable world. Getting more in touch with your feelings
about the major and minor losses in your life can help you heal and
forgive yourself. This can be an important first step on the road
back to wholeness.

Adapted from Letting Go of the Person You Used to Be © 2003 by

Lama Surya Das. Reprinted with permission of Broadway Books, a
division of Random House, Inc.

The Arrow of Grief

Even if a person lives a century

—or more—
he’s parted
from his community of relatives,
he abandons his life
right here.

So, having heard the arahant,

subduing lamentation,
seeing the dead one whose time is done,
[think,] “I can’t fetch him back.”
Just as one would put out
a burning refuge
with water,
so does the enlightened one—
 discerning,
skillful,
& wise—
blow away any arisen grief,
like the wind, a bit of cotton fluff.

Seeking your own happiness,

you should pull Out your own arrow:
your own lamentation,
longing,
& sorrow.

With arrow pulled out,

independent,
attaining peace of awareness,
all grief transcended,
griefless you are
unbound.

—Translated from the Pali by Thanissaro Bhikkhu. From the Salla

Sutta, Sutta Nipata III.8

A Buddhist Perspective on Grieving" by Roshi Joan Halifax

« "The Chicken and the Duck" by Ajahn Brahm | Jane Hirshfield: "Leaving the Palace" »
11 March 2010 The ultimate relationship we can have is with someone who is dying.
Here we are often brought to grief, whether we know it or not. Grief can seem like an
unbearable experience. But for those of us who have entered the broken world of loss and
sorrow, we realize that in the fractured landscape of grief we can find the pieces of our
life that we ourselves have forgotten. Grief may push us into the hard question of Why?
Why do I have to suffer like this? Why can’t I get over it? Why did this one have to die?
Why... . In the tangled web of “Why,” we cannot find the reasons or words to make sense
of our sadness. Dying people also can grieve before they die. They can grieve in
anticipation of their death for all they will seem to lose and what they have lost by being
ill. Caregivers will grieve before those they care for have died. They are often saddened
by the loss of freedom and options of those that are ill and the knowledge that death will
rob them of one more relationship. Those that have been left behind by the dying are
often broken apart by the knowledge that they cannot bring back that which has been lost.
The irrevocability of it all often leaves them helpless and sad. And then there is the taste
of grief in Western culture which is conditioned to possess and not let go. We all face
loss, and perhaps can accept it as a gift, albeit for most us, a terrible one. Maybe we can
let loss work us. To deny grief is to rob ourselves of the heavy stones that will eventually
be the ballast for the two great accumulations of wisdom and compassion. Grief is often
not addressed in contemporary Buddhism. Perhaps it is looked on as a weakness of
character or as a failure of practice. But from the point of view of this practitioner, it is a
vital part of our very human life, an experience that can open compassion, and an
important phase of maturation, giving our lives and practice depth and humility. To begin,
it is important for us to remember that the experience of being with dying for many does
not stop at the moment of death. As a caregiver of a dying person or family member who
has been at the death of a relative, we may attend the body after death and offer our
presence to the community as they and we grieve. When the details of dying and death
are settled, then what arises from the depths of the human heart is the many expressions
of sorrow when the presence of loss is finally give the room to be seen and felt.
Sometimes grieving lasts not for weeks or months but for years. Frequently the reason
why grief is not resolved is that it has not been sufficiently attended to just after the loss
of a loved one. Family and friends of the deceased can become consumed by the
busyness of the business that happens right after someone dies. This is one of the great
problems that we face in the Western way of dying, that business is so much a part of the
experience of dying and death. Survivors often face a complex situation on the material
level in the after-death phase. They find themselves looking for a funeral home, letting
friends and family know that a death has happened, and creating a funeral service.
Unraveling health insurance, taxes, and the last will and testament also take time and
energy at this stage. Later there is cleaning up, dividing and giving away the deceased’s
property, and other seemingly endless chores of closure. Resorting to the business of
death can be a way for survivors to avoid the depth of their own loss. Like dying,
grieving has its phases, and it is important to pass through them. Similar to the phases of
dying, grief can be characterized by numbness and denial, anger, great sorrow,
depression, despair and confusion. Finally, there can be acceptance and even
transcendence as sorrow has opened the door of appreciation and compassion. These
phases are similar to those experienced in a rite of passage: separation, transition, return.
Grief can also arise as a person is dying. Family and friends as well as the one who is
dying can experience what is called “anticipatory grief,” the bones of loss already
showing. Working with that grief is an important part of what one can do in the care of
the dying. In fact, most caregivers have to cross and recross this territory of grief in being
with living and dying many times in the course of just one person dying. When my
mother died, I received one of the best teachings of my life on grief. I realized that I only
had one chance to grieve her. As a Buddhist, I felt I had a kind of choice. On the one
hand, I could be a so-called “good Buddhist” and accept death and let go of my mother
with great dignity. The other alternative was to scour my heart out with sorrow. I chose to
scour. Shortly after her death, I went to the desert with photos of her and several letters
she had written my father after I was born. Settling under a rocky ledge, I sunk back into
shadows of sorrow. When your mother dies, so does the womb that gave birth to you. I
felt that my back was uncovered as I pressed it into cold rock. Later, I was to walk the
Himalayas with a friend who had recently lost his mother. The fall rains washed down the
mountains and down our wet faces. In Kathmandu, lamas offered a Tibetan Xithro
ceremony for her. They instructed me not to cry but to let her be undisturbed by grief. By
this time, I was ready to hear their words. The experience was humbling for me. And
when I finally got to the bottom of it, I found that my mother had become an ancestor. As
I let her go, she became a healthy part of me. C.S. Lewis in his A Grief Observed reveals
that “No one ever told me that grief was so much like fear. I am not afraid, but the
sensation is like being afraid. The same fluttering in the stomach, the same restlessness,
the yawning. I keep on swallowing.” Grief can call us into an experience of raw
immediacy that is often devastating. Grieving, we can learn that suffering is not
transformed by someone telling us how to do it. We have to do the work ourselves. Yet a
friend can bear witness and shine light into the darkness of our suffering and in this way
help us to learn to swim in the waters of sorrow. Ubbiri, one of the first women
Buddhists, was drowning in grief as a result of the death of her daughter. Through the
help of the Buddha, she discovered truth from within the experience of her own suffering.
Ubbiri came from a high family in Savatthi. She was beautiful as a child, and when she
grew up, was given to the court of King Pasenadi of Kosala. One day she became
pregnant by the King and gave birth to a daughter whom she named Jiva, which means
“alive.” Shortly after being born, her daughter Jiva died. Ubbiri, terribly wounded by
grief, went every day to the cremation ground and mourned her daughter. One day, when
she arrived at the cremation ground, she discovered that a great crowd had gathered. The
Buddha was travelling through the region, and he had paused to give teachings to local
people. Ubbiri stopped for a little while to listen to the Buddha but soon left to go to the
riverside and weep with despair. The Buddha, hearing her pain-filled keening, sought her
out and asked why she was weeping. In agony she cried out that her daughter was dead.
He then pointed to one place and another where the dead had been laid, and he said to
her: Mother, you cry out “O Jiva” in the woods. Come to yourself, Ubbiri. Eighty-four
thousand daughters All with the name “Jiva” Have burned in the funeral fire. For which
one do you grieve? The sorrow of great and small losses is a river that runs in the
underground of all of our lives. When it breaks to the surface, we might feel as though
only “I” know this pain. Yet grief is a universal experience, touching caregivers, dying
people and, if we look deeply, all of us. When grief overwhelms us, whether we are
anticipating the loss of our own life or living with the loss of another, we can pass
through the dark realms of the five elements of earth, water, fire, air, and space. We may
feel forsaken as Christ was. Fearful, our body is empty and haunted, walled off from all
that we have ever cared about. We can be plunged into numbness, with the very life
squeezed out of us. We can drown in the cold and churning waters of sorrow or be blown
like hot dry dust in a desolate landscape of depression. We can inhabit the hot exhausting
dullness of mind and heart of a world without meaning, a life without purpose. We can
try the patience of friends and be an embarrassment to others with our maudlin
repetitiveness and self-pity. We can feel heavy with guilt or contracted in shame. We can
resent the shallow and defensive reassurances that “this too will pass” or that “there is no
death.” Grieving is a landscape that is so varied and so vast that it can only be discovered
through our own most intimate experience. It touches the one who is dying, those around
a dying person, and those who survive. No one escapes her touch nor in the end should
we. The river of grief might pulse deep inside us, hidden from our view, but its presence
informs our lives at every turn. It can drive us into the numbing habits of escape from
suffering or bring us face to face with our own humanity. This is the very heart of
Buddhism. When the 18th century Japanese Haiku master Issa lost his baby daughter, he
wrote: “The dewdrop world is the dewdrop world and yet – and yet.” Issa has not yet
been released by the anguish of grief. But the hand is beginning to open. And like the
transiency of his precious daughter’s life, we hope his grief also passed. The Zen nun
Rengetsu expresses the poignancy of loss and impermanence in this way: “The
impermanence of this floating world I feel over and over It is hardest to be the one left
behind.” Grief can ruin or mature us. Like the mother who bathed her dead baby in her
breast milk, grief can remind us not to hold on too tightly as she teaches us tenderness
and patience with our own suffering. An old woman once told me that wisdom and
compassion are not given to us; they can only be discovered. The experience of discovery
means letting go of what we know. When we move through the terrible transformation of
the elements of loss and grief, we may discover the truth of the impermanence of
everything in our life, and of course, of this very life itself. This is one of the most
profound discoveries to be made as we engage in Buddhist practice. In this way, grief and
sorrow may teach us gratitude for what we have been given, even the gift of suffering.
From her we learn to swim in the stream of universal sorrow. And in that stream, we may
even find joy. For this Buddhist, this is the essence of a liberative practice.

Dealing with the Death of a Loved one—the Buddhist Way.

The greatest realization I’ve had about death happened to me last year in India. During
my Introduction to Buddhism course, we meditated on death. The teacher asked us to
visualize the death of a loved one. We followed the instructions as he told us to envision
our loved one becoming extremely sick, watching them die, and then attending the
funeral. I burst into tears as I started imagining the funeral. Some other students and I
dropped the session and returned to our dorms. I thought the teacher was a masochist;
why would he let us experience grief during a retreat that was supposed to make us feel
good? During my Vipassana course, S.N. Goenka told us a parable that made me realize
I’d dropped the session that day because I wasn’t ready to deal with the death of the
person I visualized.
During Buddha’s time, there lived a woman named Kisa Gotami. She married young and
gave birth to a son. One day, the baby fell sick and died soon after. Kisa Gotami loved her
son greatly and refused to believe that her son was dead. She carried the body of her son
around her village, asking if there was anyone who could bring her son back to life. A
village elder took pity on her and suggested to her to consult the Buddha. She
immediately went to the Buddha’s residence and pleaded for him to bring her son back to
life. “Kisa Gotami,” said the Buddha. “I have a way to bring your son back to life. But I
need you to find me something. Bring me a mustard seed, but it must be taken from a
house where no one residing in the house has ever lost a family member. Bring this seed
back to me, and your son will come back to life.” Having great faith in the Buddha’s
promise, Kisa Gotami went from house to house, trying to find the mustard seed. At the
first house, a young woman offered to give her some mustard seeds. But when Kisa
Gotami asked if she had ever lost a family member to death, the young woman said her
grandmother died a few months ago. She kept moving from house to house but the
answer was the same—every house had lost a family member to death. Kisa Gotami
finally came to realize that there is no one in the world who had never lost a family
member to death. She now understood that death is inevitable and a natural part of life.
Putting aside her grief, she buried her son in the forest. Shen then returned to the Buddha
and became his follower. I was 18 years old the first time I lost a loved one. Like Kisa, I
was eager to find a way to bring him back to life. When I lost my grandmother four years
later, I refused to leave the funeral, because (to me) that meant leaving her. Death is a
tragedy that can leave us traumatized for a long time. Like Kisa, we wish to bring our
loved ones back to life. It’s arduous to accept that we won’t see a lover, a good friend, or
a family member ever again. We can’t change the truth of death, but perhaps there is a
way to deal with it. When I came back home from India, I forced myself to meditate on
death without letting up. After a few sessions (and a whole lot of tears), I realized that
getting familiar with impermanence before it takes place, helps us to deal with death
better. Understanding impermanence doesn’t take away our grief. In fact, proper grieving
is healthy. However, like Kisa, we can realize that death is universal and happens to
everyone. There isn’t one person who’s excluded. We can’t fight it; we can only cope
with it through seeing it coming. As Buddhists advise, the first step toward coping is
acceptance. Denial only makes the experience worse. Furthermore, the “Parable of the
Mustard Seed” teaches us that we are not alone in our experience. Perhaps, accepting
death and realizing that it’s coming could help us deal with life and others better. We
might stop taking others for granted and appreciate their presence more. Most
importantly, we might stop taking our own lives for granted; knowing that death is
coming for us as well can entirely change our perspective on living.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Navigating Loss: Dealing with the Pain and Letting Go By Alex Lickerman
“It isn’t what happens to us that causes us to suffer; it’s what we say to ourselves about
what happens.” ~Pema Chodron I remember when I first read the pathology report on my
patient, Mr. Jackson (name changed), my stomach flip-flopped. “Adenocarncinoma of the
pancreas,” it said. A week later, a CT scan revealed the cancer had already spread to his
liver. Two months after that, following six rounds of chemotherapy, around-the-clock
morphine for pain, a deep vein thrombosis, and pneumococcal pneumonia, he was dead.
His wife called me to tell me he’d died at home. I told her how much I’d enjoyed taking
care of him, and we shared some of our memories of him. At the end of the conversation I
expressed my sympathies for her loss, as I always do in these situations. There was a
brief pause. “It just happened so fast…” she said then and sniffled, her voice breaking,
and I realized she’d been crying during our entire conversation. “I’m so sorry for your
loss,” I told her again. She thanked me for caring for her husband and hung up. I’d known
Mr. and Mrs. Jackson for almost seven years and had always liked them both immensely.
I thought the world a poorer place without Mr. Jackson in it and found myself wishing I’d
done a better job of consoling his wife, thinking my attempts had been awkward and
ineffective. I reflected on several things I wished I’d said when I’d had her on the phone
and considered calling her back up to say them. But then instead I wrote her a letter.
Navigating Loss Dear Mrs. Jackson, When you called me to tell me your husband had
passed away and how hard a time you were having, I found myself, frankly, at a loss.
Conventional wisdom about how to console people who’ve suffered grievous losses
includes platitudes like “be there for them,” “listen,” and “let them know you care”—all
valid and useful guidelines that I’m sure have brought comfort to many suffering people.
But inevitably conversations end, people go home to resume their normal lives, and the
wife or husband or son or daughter is left alone with pain now occupying the space their
loved one used to be. Though I don’t know how comforting you’ll find this letter, I
wanted to share with you some of my thoughts about grief in hopes of making your
journey through it somewhat more bearable. Why do we suffer when we lose those we
love? I think the true answer is because we believe we can’t be happy without them.
Knowing how much you loved your husband, I can only imagine how strongly you must
feel this to be true. And yet I often think the only reason the pain of loss abates at all is
that we do become convinced we can be happy again—just slowly and unevenly.
Certainly, some people find themselves stuck in grief, unable to move on. Sometimes this
happens because we actually become reluctant to surrender our grief even after it’s run its
proper course, believing the pain of loss is the only thing keeping us connected to our
loved one, or that to feel happy again would be to diminish the significance of the
relationship we once enjoyed. But neither is true. Even when people we love die, our
relationships with them do not. We continue to have feelings about them, memories of
things they did, imaginings of things they might say were they with us now. Just because
the pain of losing them diminishes with time, their importance to us need not. Normal
grief is like a roller coaster: there are ups and downs, moments of pain intermixed with
relief. If, however, after the first six months or so there seem to be fewer periods of relief
rather than more, normal grief may have changed into full-blown depression. If you think
this might be happening at any point, please let me know. I can help. Everyone grieves
differently. Don’t ever let anyone tell you how to do it. If you want to talk about your
husband with others, do. If not, don’t. There’s definitely something mysterious about the
human psyche—some intrinsic force within us that continually seeks to engulf pain and
suffering the way our white blood cells engulf viruses and bacteria. It’s an elixir we seem
to swallow at the very moment our loss occurs that immediately begins to work on our
suffering without us even knowing it but which nevertheless somehow eventually cures
us of it. After experiencing a devastating loss, if you’ve allowed yourself to feel the
legitimate pain it’s brought and not sought to avoid feeling it, things slowly start to
improve. We wake one morning to find there’s something in the day we’re actually
looking forward to; or someone says something funny and we actually laugh; or we find
ourselves able to plan things again, even if only a trip to the grocery store. But there’s no
definite timetable for this. Don’t allow anyone to hurry you along with their expectations
about when your grief should end. Just know that it will. It may seem to you now, while
in the middle of the worst of it, that it won’t, that your happier self was only a dream and
that this grieving self is here to stay for good. But that’s an illusion brought about only by
your current life-condition. Nothing is forever, including the pain of loss. Don’t grieve
alone. I worry that you have no one with whom to share your grief (you’ve told me in the
past how you were all alone except for your husband). While you may not have much
energy for this, I find myself hoping you’ll join a support group, either at your church or
by looking online. There’s something often magically healing about spending time with
others who’ve had or are having painful experiences similar to your own. It may seem an
overwhelming prospect now, utterly beyond you, but often by holding someone else’s
hand, by becoming their support, you’ll find your own pain lessens just a little bit. When
you shine a light to guide others on a dark road, your own way is also lit. Forgive
yourself your failures. You said on the phone you “felt guilty,” but not what you felt
guilty about. I wondered about that. I wondered if you felt guilty about having spent time
doing things like seeing other people or watching television rather than spending every
moment with him; or about feeling tired of caring for him; or about not always having a
positive attitude when you were around him; or for wishing the nightmare of his illness
had actually ended sooner—or any of a myriad of things family members have told me
have made them feel guilty, too. Or maybe you feel guilt about the decisions you made
when your husband was no longer capable of making them himself. The end of a person’s
life is often composed of gut-wrenching choices that land squarely on the shoulders of
family members: to put in a feeding tube or not; to use mechanical ventilation or not; to
use heroic measures or not; to decide not to press forward with an intent to cure but rather
with the intent to palliate. I know you struggled mightily with the decision to stop
treatment and bring him home to be comfortable, but you must know your decision did
not cause his death. His disease did. His disease is what thrust you into a situation you
didn’t ask for or want, but accepted with grace, making every decision with as much
deliberation and wisdom as you could muster, even when you were exhausted, and
always with an eye towards his comfort. Forgive my presumption, but if you feel guilt
over any of these things—or over other things I didn’t mention—you must forgive
yourself. There was never a need for you to be a perfect caregiver—only a caregiver who
cared, and that you most certainly were. The person who gets sick is never the only one
whose life is deeply affected by their illness. This was your experience, too. I want you to
know that watching the way you were with your husband always inspired me. I can only
hope to face losses in my life with as much courage, acceptance, and humor as you and
your husband did both. While no one knows what happens when we die, we can say with
certainty that we lie between two equally inconceivable possibilities, one of which must
be true: either the universe has always existed and time has no beginning, or something
was created from nothing. Either case makes every one of us a miracle.

+++++++++++++++++
It is a warm afternoon, early March. I am deep into the
retreat — ten weeks so far. As I head out for my daily walk
in the forest that surrounds the center, I pass the
communal message board near the dining room. A note is
posted with my name on it. This is very odd. I read:
Someone has called with news that my friend Bob died.

I turn back and return to my single dorm room, lie down,

and cry. It’s a brief, clear, unobstructed cry. A few minutes
later, I head out again to walk in the forest.

Bob’s death was not unexpected. He had been battling

stage-four cancer for a year. When I entered the retreat,
his situation was already precarious. He was 52 years old.
REAL LIFE. REAL NEWS. REAL VOICES.
Help us tell more of the stories that matter from voices that too often
remain unheard.
As I walk I register surprise that the woods are no different, as
if instead they should reflect this tectonic change. But of
course it’s not a tectonic change. For all but the tiniest sliver of
humanity, it’s not a change at all.

For ten weeks, I have walked in this forest every day. At various
times I have seen the woods as indifferent, sympathetic, or
consoling; as inclined to compassion or wisdom; as a metaphor
for resilience or resignation. I have invested the trees with
wizardly secrets that they choose to reveal or not, based on
their own arcane whim. But these are all my colorings. The
woods are just the woods.

As I move, I step in and out of sadness. I reflect, as I do with

every close death, every grief, how each loss still shocks on its
arrival. How each causes a transient but deep upheaval. And,
as with other deaths, I wonder: Where is the manual for grief?
Am I doing this right or wrong — too nonchalant, too uncaring,
too indulgent? Am I grieving more for myself, my own fears,
my own losses, than for the person whose life has ended?

A friend has died. How different this actual fact of

impermanence from the abstract “truth” of my meditations!
I’ve spent months now trying to grasp impermanence, to get it
into my bones. All that suddenly feels like a game. Could I not
see that I subtly controlled “impermanence” the whole time?
That it was as if deep down I was exempt, toying with the idea
of impermanence, reflecting on it from a place of imagined
immunity?

The thought arises: I prefer the game impermanence to the

real one. And then: This is the best teaching yet of the entire
retreat. And then, in rapid-fire succession: I am co-opting Bob’s
death into a teachable moment. Is this disrespectful? Should I
feel guilty? Am I jerk? I watch all these thoughts and reactions
come and go, waves breaking on an endless beach.

It strikes me that Buddhist teachings are at their trickiest in

regard to grief. Everything changes, we are taught again and
again. All that is born dies. It’s right there, in the foundation of
the philosophy, in the four noble truths: The cause of suffering
is attachment. This key opens the great door of liberation. All is
impermanent.

Grief, then, is clinging to a delusion: the delusion that death

should not occur, that anything is outside the tenacious
purview of impermanence. Our attachments put us at risk for
our own suffering.

Yet what is more natural than to attach to whom and what we

love? Without this attachment, is life anything more than
neutered, mechanistic quasi-engagement? Isn’t it attachment
that turns the hollow into the hallowed?

Yes, suffering arises from attachment - but doesn’t every single

thing we cherish in life? If we attach to nothing, then what of
our heart?

If grief is just another manifestation of avidya, of ignorance,

then the practice loses its humanity. But if it is not, then the
basic edifice of non-attachment crumbles.

This is not about how attachment differs from clinging. I

appreciate that distinction, but here it feels like passing the
buck. Can love of anything or anyone specific, sustained over
time, exist free of attachment? When we lose what we love, do
we not grieve?

It’s one more koan, another paradoxical riddle with no rational

answer. Welcome to Buddhism. And to life.
I continue my walk. The sunset burns fiery in the late winter
sky. The landscape is still saturated in brown. A few buds pop
up here and there, but it’s too early for greenery, for color.

Fifty-two years old: Bob was young. A year younger than me.
Too young to die? Called before his time? How am I to know?
By what measure, according to what yardstick?

I breathe in deeply. For a moment, the moist forest air tastes of

an earthy fug, a hint of the changing season, of
impermanence.

I watch Bob’s esteem rise in my mind. Thought by thought,

step by step through these silent woods, I sense my memories
of him white-washed in the superstitious laundromat of
bereavement. This happens to the dead, especially those with
whom we have touched hearts, however lightly: We quickly
elevate them, grant them hero’s status.

I continue walking. The sky’s fire is fading fast, dimming to

grey. The orange and red clouds grow wan and lose their
distinction. I hear a flock of geese fly overhead, but looking up I
now see only shadow against shadow. In the gathering dark the
trees also lose their clarity, clumping into indistinguishable
masses. No longer individuals, each looks like any other.

Night is coming. I return to my temporary shelter while enough

light lingers to guide the way.

++++++++++++++
Buddhism, grief, and loss

Ancient Buddha head without body in Sukhothai, ThailandRecently a meditation student

who’s only just begun practicing wrote to say that she’d experienced a bereavement. She
wondered if I had any suggestions to help her through the grieving process. I have to say
first of all that I’m not a grief counsellor. I’m just a meditator who has ended up sharing
what he’s learned about working with pain. And I also would like to add that I’m hesitant
to give advice in such situations because I know how feeble words can be in the face of
powerful emotions. I long ago gave up on the notion I once held that there is some
magical form of words that will make everything better. Despite that, though, I know that
sometimes when we share our perspectives with others (or when they do this with us) it
can be helpful. So here’s an edited version of what I wrote to her. Grief can of course be
very painful. I think the main thing I’d emphasize is that the pain of loss is very natural,
and to be accepted. It’s common to think that there’s something wrong when we feel pain,
but when our life has been deeply entangled with that of another being, the two of us are
part of one emotional system — a kind of shared love that flows between us. In that kind
of a relationship we’re not, on an emotional level, two entirely separate beings. And so
when we lose the other, it feels like a part of us has been ripped out. It feels that way
because that’s exactly what’s happened. So take a breath, and say, “It’s OK to feel this.” It
really is. Even those who are enlightened feel grief. Just as one would put out a burning
refuge with water, so does the enlightened one — discerning, skillful, and wise — blow
away any arisen grief, his own lamentation, longing, and sorrow, like the wind, a bit of
cotton fluff. The Sutta Nipata When we think there’s something wrong about feeling
grief, then we add a second layer of suffering, which is often far more painful than the
first. This second layer of pain comes from telling ourselves how terrible the experience
is that we’re having, how it shouldn’t have happened, etc. Accept that it’s OK to feel the
initial pain of grief, and you’re less likely to add that second layer. Grief is an expression
of love. Grief is how love feels when the object of our love has been taken away. And
that’s worth bearing in mind. Try being aware of the grief and seeing it as valuable,
because it’s love. Without love, there would be no grief. But without grief, there would be
no love. So we have to see grief as being part of the package, so to speak. You can treat
the pain as an object of mindfulness. What we call “emotional” pain is actually located in
the body. When the mind detects that something is “wrong,” it sends signals into the
body, activating pain receptors. The more you can be aware of where those painful
feelings are located in the body, the less your mind will have an opportunity to add that
second layer of suffering. You can recognize that a part of you is suffering, and send it
loving messages. While you’re paying mindful attention to the part of you that’s suffering
(noticing where in the body your pain is located) you can say things like “It’s OK. I know
it hurts, but I’m here for you.” You can find your own form of words if you want. Lastly,
it’s worth reminding yourself that all living beings are of the nature to die. It’s a natural
part of life. We don’t do this to numb the pain or to make it go away, but to help put
things in perspective. Today, thousands of people are mourning the loss of pets, parents,
even children. You’re not alone… The enlightened feel grief, but it passes for them more
quickly than it does for us, because they recognize that everything is impermanent, and
they don’t add that second layer of suffering. So your grief is natural, but I hope it soon
becomes easier and easier to bear.

++++++++++
GRIEF Grief (soka) is a feeling of deep sadness experiences on losing something or
someone loved. The period during which a person feels grief is called mourning (sacana).
If a person dies after a long illness, the grief felt by their family and relatives is usually
far less because they have had time to prepare for the death. But some deaths are sudden
and unexpected. The different reactions to a sudden or tragic death are well illustrated by
what happened when the Buddha died. `Those monks who were not yet freed from the
passions, wept, tore their hair, threw up their arms and rolled about on the ground  But
those monks who were free from craving, endured mindfully and clearly aware, saying
ßAll compounded things are impermanent so what is the use of all this?û.'(D.II,158). This
first type of reaction might be called demonstrative grieving and the second quiet
grieving. Sometimes this first type of grieving is due in part to social expectations or the
desire to attract sympathy or attention. When genuine, it serves as a catharsis and a way
to channel emotions into non-destructive paths. Nonetheless, it can be an extremely
painful experience. For most people, even such intense grief usually fades after a while
and they return to their normal state. But for some it persists and can cause a loss of
interest in normal activities, long-term sadness and moping and even to depression. Quiet
grieving can be due to suppressing one's feelings, either to conform to social expectations
or out of fear of appearing soft or vulnerable. At its best, however, quiet grieving can be
indicative of emotional strength and a mature acceptance of life's realities. Of course,
better than strategies to deal with grief after it arises, is to prepare for it before it does.
Nothing in life is as utterly predictable and absolutely certain as death, and yet it is the
one contingency that we rarely prepare for. The Buddha recommended the practice of
occasionally reflecting on the certainty of our own and our loved ones' demise. This can
lessen the intensity and duration of grief when we experience it. An acceptance of the
truth of rebirth can likewise be helpful. Understanding that our deceased loved ones had a
life and a family before we came into contact with them, and that they will probably go
on to a new life with a new family when they are reborn, can likewise lessen the pain of
grief. However, at least some sense of sadness at losing a loved one is inevitable. Even
the Buddha experienced mild grief, or at least a sense of loss, after his two best friends
and chief disciples, Moggallàna and Sàriputta, passed away. He said: `Monks, this
assembly seems empty to me now that Moggallàna and Sàriputta have attained final
nirvana' (S.V,164).

++++++++++++++++++
Fear And How To Overcome Fear: A Buddhist
Perspective
Bhante T. Seelananda, Bhavana Society Forest Monastery, High View, WV, USA

Fear is an unpleasant emotion that arises mainly because of craving. Craving and

attachment are the causes for many unwholesome, unpleasant, and evil things in

life. It is because of these two that we wander in samsāra, the cycle of birth and

death. In contrast, fearlessness is the state of perfect peace, tranquility, and the

highest bliss that which is possible to be achieved by us all.

Naturally, all beings experience fear. They all are afraid of either of their present,

past or future. All beings are called beings (satta) because they all are clinging to

the five aggregates: form, feelings, perception, volitional formations, and

consciousness. As long as we are clinging to these five aggregates, we have fear.

Only arahants are entirely freed from fear. They have achieved the state of

fearlessness. That is why they are called non-beings (asatta). [1] We cling not

only to the five aggregates of existence, but also to many other material and

immaterial things around us. Therefore, as long as we attach, grasp, and cling to

things we have no escape from fear.

Why Fear?

With this short article I intend to clarify the Buddhist perspective on fear and how

to achieve the state of fearlessness. If one were able to observe and read our

mentality right now, one would be able to see that we all are like spiders

entangled in our own woven webs. We wove our webs of attachment and

expectations and got trapped. That is why we are suffering from fear of getting

lost and fear of many different things about us and around us. For instance, as

we see here in the West, many parents are fearful of things such as their

children's moving out after they turn 18, job security, mortgage payments, debts,

credit card bills, etc. which contribute to constant distress. At the same time,

children themselves fear for their parents' insecurity, such as fear of aging,

sickness, and death. Then, at least for some extent, because of their

untrustworthiness both husband and wife may fear that the other one could

leave them at anytime. Likewise, regarding many other factors contribute to the

rise fear in individuals. Fear does not arise by itself alone, but in combination with

other factors, such as suspicion, presumption, jealousy, misleading information,

vanity, and hostility.

The Greatest Fear

In daily life, most people fear separation from their family members temporarily

or permanently. The Buddha said, "Separation from loved ones is sorrow." Not

only actual separation, but even thinking of their future or past, based on the

experience they have gained, most people undergo unutterable agony and

create anxiety and worry. Mainly, because they do not think of and are not ready

to accept the fact that all animate or inanimate things are changing (anicca) they
have fear and suffer. As the Buddha taught us, nothing is certain or permanent.

In other words, nothing remains the same. That is one of the fundamental

teachings of the Buddha. Most people simply go with the flow, but they

themselves do not know that it means that they are simply floating. The

teachings of the Buddha is not to simply float along in the river of existence. It is

to strive and get out of the river of existence to the state of non-existence where

there is no fear, sorrow, lamentation, pain, grief, or dispair at all because it is not

an existence. Those who have achieved that experience enjoy that bliss.

Fear of Death

As the Buddha said, "All beings die, but death is not the end of all things. Death

is only the end of one life." Thereafter, one will have to go according to the

volitional actions (kamma) done while living here, in this world. We all experience

fear of facing death. Actually, for the worldlings, their greatest fear is death. That

is why even the Buddha said, "All tremble at violence; all fear death. Putting

oneself in the place of another, one should neither kill nor cause another to kill."

(Sabbe tasanti dandassa- Sabbe bhāyanti maccuno

Attānam upamam katvā-Na haneyya na ghātaye) [2]

However, if we get ready for that we can face death bravely. The Buddha's

instruction for that is to develop and cultivate mindfulness. This is the way to the

state of fearlessness as well.

How to Face Fearful and Stressful Situations

The old saying goes "every dark cloud has a silver lining." Even beyond the fear

of death with the guidance of the teachings of the Buddha in our daily lives we

can find positive results or aspects of the fearful and dreadful situations we

encounter. With fear of future uncertainties about their own jobs, mortgage,

children's schooling, college or university entrance or exams and so on, day and

night people are suffering from boundless fear to achieve these so-called goals.

However, unexpectedly fear arises and collapes the mansion of hope. What
should be done then? Nothing but coming to the present moment to understand

the situation mindfully and make up your own mind to face it more positively,

productively, and rewardingly.

The best thing to do is seek the cause of the problem objectively. That means

removing the focus on individuals. Strive to find the root of the situation as not

his, her, or their faults, but as based on conditions. Then seek the cause and

remove the cause of the action. If you can remove the cause you can definitely

remove the fear, perhaps to a certain degree or even completely. Unfortunately,

human nature is to panic, suffer or obsess over every single unachievable target.

Whatever your targets they should be achievable, goals should be realistic,

expectations should be real, worthy to achieve. Always be positive and strive to

understand the benefits you have gained from blessings in disguise rather being

in a panic.

Suppose you are laid off – think of your own quality time with the family and

friends. It could be a wonderful opportunity to teach your culture, language,

mediation, dhamma to your kids, to limit your children’s screen time in order to

save their eyes, teach them how to cook, give the essential life skills, improve

themselves with meditation, learn the dhamma, original discourses of the

Buddha, and enjoy the free time visiting a nearby park with the friends and

family. Parents, creating memorable experiences with your family is more

important than having money. Kids grow up quickly, so it is worthwhile to spend

time with the kids when they are young. They feel it, enjoy it, appreciate it. When

you hear the news "laid off," parents and kids get the message differently. While

the kids may celebrate it, parents will take it as it is the end of the world.

Although you need money, if the given situation cannot be changed, you have to

learn how to turn the bad news or bad period to an advantage. Positive mindset

is important. Learning Buddha's teaching will definitely guide you to see and

accept the facts and the situation positively.

Fear and Emotion

As an emotional arousal fear arises in the mind as a mental state. When there is

fear, our mind is directly connected to our heart. Therefore, by that time, both

our brain and heart are guided not by intelligence but by emotion. Emotion is

always harmful. Emotions are based on greed, hatred, and delusion. This is why

one has to develop intelligence and wisdom by developing the intellectual

aspect of mind and perceptional aspect of mind through mental

development(bhāvanā). Emotion and fear are interdependently existing like a

cycle. Where there is fear there is emotion and where there is emotion there is

fear. Therefore, as long as fear exists emotions exist and vise-a-versa. However,

when we are intelligent and wise enough to understand and control our emotions

we can come to the state of peacefulness and calmness of mind.

Fear is caused by the belief that someone or something is dangerous or likely to

cause pain or a threat. According to the teachings of the Buddha, all those who

have not yet completely eradicated their defilements are under the influence of

fear. That means only the Enlightened Ones are entirely be free from fear. With

their enlightenment they come to the state of fearlesness (abhaya or

akutobhaya).

Fear Directly Springs from Craving

As the Buddha very clearly and comprehensively said in the Dhammapada, fear

arises because of craving (tanhā).He said, "From craving springs grief, from

craving springs fear. For him who is wholly free from craving there is no grief,

whence then fear?

(Tanhāya jāyati soko-Tanhāya jāyati bhayam

Tanhāya vippamuttassa-Natthi soko kuto bhayam) [3]

One should not forget that the cause of all dukkha, unsatisfactoriness is craving.

Once the Buddha himself said that the world is ensnared by craving (Tanhāya

uddito loko). [4] In accordance with the teachings of the Buddha craving should

be tamed and entirely eliminated by mindfulness. This is why the Buddha taught

us the technique of Samatha-Vipassana meditation to understand the real refuge

and to go to the real refuge, rather going to refuge of many things in the world

blindly. It is because of fear they go to many a refuge. We have to understand the

real refuge and go to the real refuge. Refuge is never found in another person.

The Real Refuge for Fearlessness

In the Dhammapada, the Buddha pointed out what happens when fear arises in

the minds of uninstructed, worldly people, average persons. Since they have fear

of many things, they search for safety. Therefore, they go to many a refuge. The

Buddha explains,

They go to many a refuge,

Those who have been struck by fear:

They go to the mountains and forests,

To parks and trees and shrines.

But none of these is a secure refuge:

None is the refuge supreme.

Not by relying on such a refuge

Can one be freed from all suffering.

But one who has gone for refuge

to the Buddha, Dhamma, and Sangha,

Sees with perfect wisdom,

The Four Noble Truths

Suffering, the arising of suffering,

The transcending of suffering,

And the Noble Eightfold Path

That leads to suffering's final end.

This is the refuge that is secure:

This is the refuge that is supreme.

By relying on such a refuge as this,

One is released from all suffering. [5]

Personalization and Depersonalization

In accordance with the above explanation, when fear strikes one cannot

understand things clearly. Therefore, one does not know what is to be done and

what is not to be done. As a consequence, they go to many a refuge without

understanding the real refuge. Not only that, with their perverted perception,

they grasp things as mine, me, and myself and then they take whatever is

impermanent as permanent, unsatisfactory as satisfactory and selfless as self.

That is the danger in them. Therefore, seeking to allay their fear they start to do

many types of rites and rituals. This is because of their fear of losing of what they

have grasped with delusion. As a result, they are entirely engaged in

personalization, doubt, and rites and rituals (sakkāya ditthi, vicikiccā,

silabbataparāmāsa). In such away they are tightly fettered to the cycle of birth

and death (samsāra). Hence, for them depersonalization is impossible. Moreover,

due to their fear, they believe that there is a permanent entity as a soul or self

that needs to be protected and will save them from fear. They mistakenly think

that this form is myself, feeling is myself, perception is myself, volitional

formations are myself, and consciousness is myself. In such a way, they grasp

five aggregates into four ways (5x4=20 ways) thinking, "This is my form, this is

myself, my self is in my form or my form is in myself." Such thinking is called

personalization or personality belief. With that they have doubt about themselves

referring to the past, future, and the present. For them there is no way to come

to the path of fearlessness at all. As the Buddha said one has to cut off the above

three fetters first and follow the path to fearlessness based on the only real

refuge which is the Four Noble Truths.

Fear and the Three Modes of Good Conduct

The Buddha has talked about fear even before his enlightenment. According to

the discourse titled "Fear and Dread" in the Majjhima Nikaya [6] he clearly said

that fear and dread arise because of impurity of bodily conduct, verbal conduct,

and mental conduct. He said,

 I considered thus: Whenever recluses or brahmins

unpurified in bodily conduct resort to remote jungle-thicket

resting places in the forest, then owing to the defect of their

unpurified bodily conduct these good recluses and brahmins

evoke unwholesome fear and dread. But I do not resort to

remote jungle-thicket resting places in the forest unpurified

in bodily conduct. I am purified in bodily conduct. I resort to

remote jungle-thicket resting places in the forest as one of

the noble ones with bodily conduct purified. Seeing in

myself this purity of bodily conduct, I found great solace in

dwelling in the forest. ... in verbal conduct... in mental

conduct...

In this manner, it is clear that fear arises because of impurity or imperfections of

mind as well such as covetousness, lust, ill will, hate, sloth and torpor, envy,

avarice, restlessness and un-peacefulness of mind, and doubt. In short, as long

as we have attachment by any means, we have fear. Again, it is clear the words

of the Buddha, “Attachment arises because of craving and fear arises because of

craving. Those who have no craving have no attachment and no fear.”

How to Overcome Fear

1. Overcoming of fear is not that easy. First and foremost, it is very clear that in

order to overcome fear one has to remove the cause of fear. That is the most

practical method. Once the Buddha said,

Bhikkhus, whatever fears arise, all arise because of the fool,

not because of the wise man; whatever troubles arise, all

arise because of the fool, not because of the wise man;

whatever calamities arise, all arise because of the fool, not

because of the wise man. Just as a fire that starts in a shed

made of rushes or grass burns down even a house with a

peaked roof, with walls plastered inside and outside, shut

 off, secured by bars, with shuttered windows; so too,

bhikkhus, whatever fears arise … all arise because of the

fool, not because of the wise man. Thus the fool brings fear,

the wise man brings no fear; the fool brings trouble, the

wise man brings no trouble; the fool brings calamity, the

wise man brings no calamity. No fear comes from the wise

man, no trouble comes from the wise man, no calamity

comes from the wise man. Therefore, bhikkhus, you should

train thus: 'We shall be wise men, we shall be inquirers'. [7]

Those who find the way to overcome fear should understand this as a fact. So in

short, fear arises because of foolishness. Being wise we can keep fear at bay. No

doubt that if we are wise enough we can understand many things regarding fear

and we do not want to be fools to fear anything material or immaterial. So let us

be wise enough and strive to find the cause of fear. That is the first method to

overcome fear.

2. Secondly, we must understand that as long as we are under the influence of

fear we cannot understand that we are dwelling either in the past or in the

future. The problem is nothing but this. That itself is the cause for insecurity. You

are not dwelling in the present moment. You are full of delusion, full of

expectations, this means either brooding over the past or delving into the future.

If you come to the present moment you see what is going on right now. You see

what you have grasped as your own is rapidly changing and vanishing. The

Buddha said, "All what is dear and delight to you is in the nature of changing and

vanishing. This is to be repeatedly collected upon by monks, nuns, lay women or

lay men." Therefore, in order to dispel, remove, and completely relinquish your

fear the Buddha's instruction is to dispel the darkness of delusion, illusion,

ignorance through which you are shrouded from head to toe and come to the

present moment which is the precious moment. He says, "Let go of the past, let

go of the future, let go of the present, and cross over to the farther shore of

existence. With mind wholly liberated, you shall come no more to birth and
death." [8] Once the Buddha said, "Those who see something to fear where there

is nothing to fear, and see nothing to fear where there is something to fear

upholding false views, they go to states of woe." [9]

(Abhaye bhayadassino

bhaye cābhayadassino

micchāditthi samādānā

sattā gacchanti duggatim)

In short, one should dwell in the present moment, be aware of what is going on

now. Then, one can dispel the darkness of fear. That is the second method we

introduce for the overcoming of the arisen fear.

3. Let us come to the third method. Apply the six factors to any object whether

animate or inanimate that comes to your mind through the six senses. What are

the six factors? Giving full attention and understanding the object as something

conditioned, fragile and dependently arisen, mentally repeat, "This is not mine,

not I am (not me), not myself. This is impermanent, unsatisfactory, and not self."

This is how one comes to understand reality as it is -- to see things as they really

are. Then, you can abandon the arisen fear because you see the uselessness and

meaninglessness of grasping things as your own.

4. The fourth method is this. For this purpose one has to understand cause and

effect or causal conditionality. One has to reason out things, rationalize things

with a clear mind applying wise attention. This is the way to overcome fear. The

Buddha, even before his enlightenment as an unenlightened Bodhisatta,

practiced the same thing while he was at the palace and while practicing as an

ascetic in the woods. He said,

And while I dwelt there [in the woods], a wild animal would

come up to me, or a peacock would knock off a branch or

the wind would rustle the leaves. I thought: What now if this

is the fear and dread coming?‟ I thought: Why do I dwell

always expecting fear and dread? What if I subdue that fear

 and dread while keeping the same posture that I am in

when it comes upon me? While I walked, the fear and dread

came upon me; I neither stood nor sat nor lay down till I had

subdued that fear and dread. While I stood, the fear and

dread came upon me; I neither walked nor sat nor lay down

till I had subdued that fear and dread. While I sat, the fear

and dread came upon me; I neither walked nor stood nor lay

down till I had subdued that fear and dread. While I lay

down, the fear and dread came upon me; I neither walked

nor stood nor sat down till I had subdued that fear and

dread. ... There are, brahmin, some recluses and brahmins

who perceive day when it is night and night when it is day. I

say that on their part this is an abiding in delusion. But I

perceive night when it is night and day when it is day.

Rightly speaking, were it to be said of anyone: A being not

subject to delusion has appeared in the world for the

welfare and happiness of many, out of compassion for the

world, for the good, welfare, and happiness of gods and

humans, it is of me indeed that rightly speaking this should

be said. [10]

That is how he dispelled the arisen fear with a clear mind, wise attention and a

firm determination. When the people are plagued with delusion and fear they are

certainly deluded and perceive things in a distorted way, perhaps completely

upside down.

5. One day a certain brahmin ascetic named Bawari sent his sixteen disciples to

the Buddha in order to see the Buddha and ask a particular question based on

ignorance. As they went to the Buddha as instructed by their teacher they first

asked questions mentally and then asked the question on ignorance. Thereupon,

the Buddha gave the right answer. Being satisfied and gladdened, they then
asked their personal questions as well.One disciple named Ajita asked the

following questions first. He asked,

Bhante, the world, by what it's wrapped?

and why it shines not forth?

say too with what it's smeared?

and what's its greatest fear? [The world here means

'person'.]

Then the Buddha answered.

The world is wrapped by ignorance;

It shines not forth due to doubt and negligence;

It’s smeared by longing,

And suffering is its greatest fear. [11]

According to this expression it is clear that the greatest fear for humans

is dukkha or unsatisfactoriness. People are almost always unsatisfied with what

they have. This itself is a cause for fear. Therefore, the remedy for this is

developing contentment or satisfactoriness. The Buddha pointed out clearly that

contentment or satisfaction is the greatest wealth (santutthi paramam

dhanam). [12] Therefore, this is the fifth method for overcoming fear.

6. The Buddha taught that one should not follow wrong

courses (agati). Therefore, he taught us four types of wrong courses. We need to

remember that one of them is fear. He said, “Bhikkhus, there are these four ways

of taking a wrong course. What four? One takes a wrong course because of

desire, because of hatred, because of delusion, or because of fear. These are the

four ways of taking a wrong course.” What really happens if one takes these four,

wrong courses?

If through desire, hate, fear, or delusion

one transgresses against the Dhamma,

 One’s fame diminishes like the moon

in the dark fortnight.

If one does not transgress the Dhamma

through desire, hate, fear, or delusion,

One’s fame becomes full like the moon

in the dark fortnight. [13]

So if one does not take the wrong course of fear, that itself is a way to remove

the fear of going off course (agati). When one takes these wrong courses one

does evil deeds.

7. For our mental protection, the Buddha expounded many different protective

discourses (paritta). Specifically, for the protection from fear and worry he

delivered several discourses. Among these discourses, there is one particular

called "The Discourse on Banner Protection" (Dhajagga Sutta) where the Buddha

said,

Monks, I shall relate a former incident. There arose a battle

between the Devas (gods) and Asuras.Then Sakka, the Lord

of the devas, addressed the devas of the Tāvatimsa heaven

thus: “Happy ones, if the devas who have gone to the battle

should experience fear or terror or suffer from hair standing

on end, let them behold the crest of my own banner. If you

do so, any fear, terror or hair standing on end arising in you

will pass away. If you fail to look up to the crest of my

banner, look at the crest of the banner of Pajāpati, King of

gods. If you do so, any fear, terror or hair standing on end

arising in you will pass away. If you fail to look up to the

crest of Pajāpati, King of the gods, look at the crest of the

banner of Varuna, King of the gods. If you do so, any fear,

terror or hair standing on end arising in you will pass away.”

“Monks, any fear, terror or hair standing on end arising in

them who look at the crest of the banner of Sakka… The

Lord of the gods, of Pajāpati… of Varuna… of Isāna, the King

of the gods, any fear terror or hair standing on end, may

pass away, or may not pass away. What is the reason for

this? Sakka, the Lord of gods, O monks, is not free from lust,

not free from hate, not free from delusion, and is therefore

liable to fear, terror, fright and flight. I also say unto you O

monks — if any fear, terror or hair standing on end should

arise in you when you have gone to the forest or to the foot

of a tree, or to an empty house (lonely place), then think

only of me thus: “Such indeed is the Blessed

One, Arahant (Consummate One), supremely enlightened,

endowed with knowledge and virtue, welcome being,

knower of worlds, the peerless trainer of persons, teacher of

gods and men, the Buddha, the Blessed One.” Monks, if you

think of me, any fear, terror, or standing of hair on end that

may arise in you will pass away. If you fail to think of me,

then think of the Dhamma (the Doctrine) thus: “Well

expounded is the Dhamma by the Blessed One, a Dhamma

to be realized by oneself and gives immediate results, a

Dhamma which invites investigation and leads up

to Nibbāna, a Dhamma to be understood by the wise each

for himself.” Monks, if you think of the Dhamma, any fear,

terror or hair standing on end that may arise in you, will

pass away. If you fail to think of the Dhamma, then think of

the Sangha (the Order) thus: “Of good conduct is the Order

of Disciples of the Blessed One, of upright conduct is the

Order of Disciples of the Blessed One, of wise conduct is the

Order of Disciples of the Blessed One, of dutiful conduct is

the Order of Disciples of the Blessed One. This Order of

 Disciples of the Blessed One — namely those four pairs of

persons, the eight kinds of individuals is worthy of offerings,

is worthy of hospitality, is worthy of gifts, is worthy of

reverential salutations, is an incomparable field of merit for

the world.” Monks, if you think of the Sangha, any fear,

terror or hair standing on end that may arise in you, will

pass away. What is the reason for this? The Tathāgata, O

monks, who is Arahant, supremely enlightened, is free from

lust, free from hate, is free from delusion, and is not liable

to fear, terror, fright or flight. [14]

This is another method to dispel your fear. Recollect the qualities of the Buddha,

Dhamma and the Sangha. This works very well. All monastics dwelling in the

woods do this for their protection from various spirits and creatures like snakes.

8. According to the teachings of the Buddha it is because of not knowing the fear

of samsāra we are wondering in samsāra hindered by ignorance and fettered by

craving. This samsāric fear is to be understood properly. Only then, we can find

the real remedy for this malady. The Buddha says, "Monks, thissamsāra is

without discoverable beginning. A first point is not discerned of beings roaming

and wandering on hindered by ignorance and fettered by craving. [15] If we

know this samsāric fear we do not cling to things and strive to live as if we are

not dying. Since we all have to face death, having fear of death, we should do

more and more good deeds in order to be reborn in good destinations. We should

do more and more good deeds for the happy and peaceful samsāric journey as

well. So knowing the malady of this samsāra itself is a way to dispel the fear of

existence which brings us suffering.

9. In the Anguttara Nikaya (Numerical Discourses), referring to fear or peril the

Buddha said how the uninstructed worldling speaks when there are three type of

perils where mother and son will be separated (fear of separation). As they say,

they are the peril of a great conflagration, a great deluge, and a time of perilous
turbulence in the wilderness. However, the Buddha himself pointed out some

other times of peril or fear. The Buddha says,

There are, monks, these three perils that separate mother

and son. What three? The peril of old age, the peril of

illness, and the peril of death. When the son is growing old,

the mother cannot fulfill her wish: ‘Let me grow old, but

may my son not grow old!’ And when the mother is growing

old, the son cannot fulfill his wish: ‘Let me grow old, but

may my mother not grow old!’ “When the son has fallen ill,

the mother cannot fulfill her wish: ‘Let me fall ill, but may

my son not fall ill!’ And when the mother has fallen ill, the

son cannot fulfill his wish: ‘Let me fall ill, but may my

mother not fall ill!’ “When the son is dying, the mother

cannot fulfill her wish: ‘Let me die, but may my son not die!’

And when the mother is dying, the son cannot fulfill his

wish: ‘Let me die, but may my mother not die!’ “These are

the three perils that separate mother and son. [16]

So what is to be done? Nothing can be except to be more and more intelligent

and wise. Be aware of the nature of change. Nothing is unchanging. Everything is

changing, everything is unsatisfactory, and everything is without a core,

substance or soul. With this understanding you can dispel and overcome existing

fear and fear that may arise in future. That is the ninth method.

10. The Buddha delivered a special discourse on five types of fearful animosities.

Here, the Buddha clearly pointed out that as long as one has not subduded the

five types of fear one is not safe because one still has tendencies to be born in

the animal realm, hungry ghost realm, or other woeful states such as hells. That

is the fear in samsāra. No one can escape from this fear, this danger if they have

not realized the Four Noble Truths. Addressing the householder, Anāthapindika,

very clearly and positively the Buddha said,

 Householder, when five fearful animosities have subsided in

a noble disciple, and he possesses the four factors of

stream-entry and he has clearly seen and thoroughly

penetrated with wisdom the noble method, if he wishes he

could by himself declare of himself: "I am one finished with

hell, finished with the animal realm, finished with the

domain of ghosts, finished with the plane of misery, the bad

destinations, the nether world. I am a stream-enterer, no

longer bound to the nether world, fixed in destiny, with

enlightenment as my destination. [17]

That is how one enters the state of fearlessness. In order to complete his or her

final mission there are three more stages to accomplish, namely the once

returner, non-returner, and arahantship. The arahant is the real person who has

completely cut off fear and attained the state of fearlessness (abhaya). He or she

has no fear at all of the defilements greed, hatred, and delusion. The Buddha is

the most excellent Fearless One in the world who brings fearlessness to the

whole world. In this manner, let us understand the nature of fear and how to

overcome fear to attain a state of fearlessness as the Buddha has taught. That is

the Buddhist perspective the Buddha well expounded in his teachings.

Summary

Fear arises because of craving and attachment. According to Buddhism in order

to overcome fear the following ten methods can be applied:

1. Be wise enough to understand things properly

2. Dwell in the present moment

3. Apply the six factors to anything that comes to your mind through senses

4. Investigate the situation to understand the cause and effect of what is

happening

5. Develop contentment or satisfaction (santutthi)

6. Understand fear as a wrong course (agati) and avoid it

 7. Remember and recollect the qualities of the Buddha, Dhamma, and

Sangha

8. Understand samsāric fear and make haste to escape

from samsāric existence

9. Understand the three perils of old age, illness, and death; and finally

10. Strive to eradicate the five fears and animosities to attain the state of

stream entry and full enlightenment so that it is possible to completely

eradicate fear.

May You Be Well, Happy, And Peaceful!

May All Fear Cease For You!

May You Live Long In Peace!

[1] Dhammapada. Verse 419.

[2] Dhammapada. Verse 129.

[3] Dhammapada. Verse 216.

[4] S.N. I. 67 (7). Ensnared.

[5] Dhammapada. Verses 188-192.

[6] M.N. No. 4. Bhayabherava Sutta.

[7] M.N. No. 115. Bahudhatuka Sutta.

[8] Dhammapada. Verse 348.

[9] Dhammapada. Verse 317.

[10] M.N. No. 4. Bhayabherava Sutta.

[11] Sutta Nipata. 5. 2. Ajita's Questions.

[12] Dhammapada. Verse 204.

[13] A.N. 4. 18 (8). Wong Courses.

[14] The Book of Protection. Venerable Piyadassi Thero. Kandy, Buddhist

Publication Society, 1999.

[15] S.N. 15. Anamatagga Samyutta.

[16] A.N. III. 62 (2). Perils.

[17] S.N. 12. 41 (1). Five Fearful Animosities.

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Transcript of Venerable Zasep Rinpoche’s

Response
Yes, I do have advice for dealing with the loss of a loved one. We all,
at some parts of our life, some stages of our life, we — all of us —
have to deal with loss of a loved one.
I say that, the first time, when you lose a loved one, you go into
shock. Then, at some point, you start grieving. First, when you go
into shock, you need help. What you really need is help of friends,
spiritual friends, and teachers or Sangha.
You could do meditation on loving kindness for the
loved one who’s no longer with you. And, also,
you could do some Sadhana practice, mantras —
like Om Mani Padme Hum — mantra of
Chenrezig, mantra of Amitabha Buddha — Om
Amitabha Hrih — and do your daily practice and
meditation. It will be very helpful.
When you first go into shock, you feel very lonely, as well, that’s why
you need help. Then, at some point, when the shock is over, you
start grieving. Grieving can come, and go, and come again,
sometimes can go on for months and months, even years, several
years — depends on the individual.
You feel your grief mentally and physically. You might need help or
counselling. You need help from a Dharma teacher or spiritual
friend. Then you need to meditate. Meditate on the suffering or
loneliness, the suffering of loss of loved ones, and impermanence. It
is important to “go back” to the Lamrim. Lamrim teachings are very
powerful, very helpful, and profound psychology.

One needs to realize that we all lose loved ones,

sooner or later, and we die ourselves. When we
die, our friends feel the same way. They lost a
friend. So this is impermanence. Once
you understand impermanence, you feel a little
better.
Sometimes when you lose a loved one, you feel not only grief, but
anger. They’re upset and angry. They feel guilt. So that anger, grief
and guilt is happening for some people. Not everybody, of course.
Some people feel angry. First they’re angry with themselves,
because they feel guilty. They think, Oh I should have saved… maybe
I could have saved… maybe I could have done this, could have done
that. I didn’t do that. So now you’re disappointed with yourself, upset
with yourself, and feel guilty.
Another part of grieving, you could feel angry. You feel
angry with the person who is deceased, like
mother or brother or uncle, or maybe wife, you
feel — how could you die? How could you leave
me here? You’re gone now. I’m alive and I’m
suffering.
Thats very sad, because, actually from a Tibetan Buddhist point of
view, one should not get angry, because that person who is
deceased, he or she doesn’t have a choice. Unless that person
committed suicide. And, even if they committed suicide, who wants
to commit suicide? You must have so much suffering, unbearable
suffering.

You have to let it go, and forgive. When a person dies,

he or she has suffered a lot. They had no choice.
They didn’t do it deliberately. They didn’t abandon
you. Those people who feel angry, I think they’re
very confused. That’s why they’re angry. Or
sometimes, they’re a bit self-centred.
From my point of view it’s a bit self-centred if you are angry.
Because, “I want you to be with me. Now, you’re not with me. I am
abandoned.” It’s all about me and I.
Instead of feeling angry, you should feel sorry. “I lost you, you’re
gone, I wish you have good rebirth. I pray for you, for the journey and
rebirth, and if possible born in the Buddha Land, Pure Land.” We
need to change our attitude. It’s hard for someone who is confused
and angry. But we need to educate them.
For grieving, your question about how to deal with grieving —
grieving is a long process. Again, as I said before, Lamrim practice,
study Lamrim, meditate on impermanence, on death and dying,
ongoing prayers, and meditations on loving kindness. You could
dedicate the merit of your daily practice, daily meditation, dedicate
for the deceased. Then, you feel better.
Other things you can do: you can make offerings to
the Buddha, Dharma and Sangha. Make beautiful
offerings like butter lamp or candles, food, and
water, and so forth. Make offerings. Daily, or
weekly, every seven days (since the deceased
passed away) for the next forty-nine days.
According to Mahayana Buddhist tradition, we make offerings every
day, or, especially every seven days, until the forty-ninth day. Also,
you can do the offering annually.
Also, you can do retreats, meditation retreat, mantra retreat. You
could also go on a spiritual pilgrimage to Bodh Gaya, the place
where Buddha was Enlightened. You could go to Varanasi, the place
where Buddha gave his first teaching. Do a pilgrimage trip, and
dedicate for the deceased.
This is a long process. Simple answer for dealing with bereavement
is to meditate on loving kindness. I think that is the best.