REGISTER

Minister Luxuan was having a conversation with Nanquan and said, “Sengzhao said, ‘The universe and I have the same root. The ten thousand things and I have one body.’ How very strange and wonderful!”

Nanquan pointed to a flower in the courtyard and called to the minister saying, “These days people see this flower as though it’s a dream.”

—Blue Cliff Record Case 40

Need we so deeply believe the endless stories that make up our dream self?

Koshin Paley Ellison is a therapist, Zen teacher, and co-founder of the New York Zen Center for Contemplative Care, which provides training in care for the aging, recovering, terminally ill, and professional care-givers. He writes:

“We see what we want to see, or what we are afraid will happen, as opposed to what actually is. Can you think of a time in your life when you were so lost in a story—either a good one or a bad one—that you didn’t see right under your nose?”

In his book, Untangled: Walking the Eightfold Path to Clarity, Courage and Compassion, Koshin recalls a family that had a story they could not let go of. Called by the family to the hospital emergency room at 4:00 a.m., he relates:

*****

This was early in my clinical training, and I remember thinking, “Oh god, what am I going to do?” Then I realized—that wasn’t my feeling. I got interested in that feeling of “I don’t know what to do,” and realized I had taken on that feeling the moment I walked in.

We walk into rooms all the time and experience them as sad or energetic rooms. This was a fearful, bewildered room, so I took on the feeling, “I don’t know what to do, I’m scared, I feel helpless.”

Instead of continuing to take it on, I got curious. I felt tight in my chest, and then I looked at the family pressed up against the curtain. Their breath was all in their chests, their eyes were wide.

I said, “What’s happening?” They said, “We don’t know what to do. We don’t know what’s happening.” I saw, when I looked over at the father on the bed, that he was clearly mouthing something.

I said, “Do you know what he’s saying?” They said, “No.” So I went over, and he was whispering. This little man was whispering, “Hold me, hold me, hold me.” I gently touched his hand and I said, “I’ll be right back, hold on.”

I told them, “He wants to be held.”

They said, “We can’t do that.”

I said, “If you hold me, I’ll hold him.”

I don’t know what came over me. If we don’t stay with the fear, and we explore the feeling instead, things can shift.

I wanted to help them get close, so I said, “One of you keep your hand on me, and the rest hold each other, and we’ll make a little chain.” I gently leaned across the bed and held the man around his shoulders, my arm on his arm. He said, “Ahhhhhh. More, more, more.”

I ended up crawling into the bed with him, holding him, as his wife was touching me on my shoulder, and I was holding him, embracing him, this man. And he said, “Ahhhhhh, thank you, thank you.” And he died.

*****

—Jon Joseph

COME JOIN US on Mondays for koan meditation, dharma talk and conversation. Register to participate. All are welcome.

Jon Joseph Roshi, Director of San Mateo Zen Community