There is a Buddhist Temple close to my house and I was recently invited to go and participate in an open house with Valencia Community College. It was a fun night, the stories were so interesting and the food was great. We sampled the different activities available at the temple, we had a mini tea ceremony and did a little meditation. One of the things we did that I had never done before and enjoyed was Calligraphy. To the Chinese, Calligraphy is an art form and a way of meditation. I enjoyed it so much that I decided to go back this week for one of their free classes. While waiting for the class to the start one of the Venerables of the Temple and I were talking and I decided to ask her what Buddhist belief about grief. She said she had never been asked that question before, stood up and said she would be back with an answer. About 20 minutes later she came back and sat with me again. After having looked into it for me she said there is not a lot of information on grief in Buddhism because Buddhists do not grieve. You create your grief from your your want and need, you create your suffering, as Buddhists we do not create this condition of grief. Honestly when she said it I felt like she was as comforting as the people who tell me to offer my grief up to God. When I am not being advised to give my grief away, I am told I can just not have it. Oh!
I left ther wanting to know more about where the Venerable was coming from. One of my favorite Grief Books is called Grieving Mindfully, and incorporates Buddhist Teachings into a way of grieving. I love this book so much because it focuses on using your grief as a way to recreate yourself and your life. Whenever people tell me everything happens for a reason, I try to let them know that I do not believe that's true. I stopped believing that when my friend Andre died. There is no way anyone will ever convince me he died for a reason. Period. What I do believe is that you can make a reason out of everything. So instead of it being cause and effect, it is open to interpretation, to your creation. I look at Andre's mother and I see a perfect example of creating purpose out of losing
her son. She finds ways to honor him. He didn't die so charities could be started in his name. He died and his mother was moved to find ways to honor him and keep his passions alive. For me it is a little different. I do not know what Mateo would have loved, been passionate about. I will not assume that he would have been proud of me for this or that. I give back in ways that are tangible. To the Ronald McDonald House where I stayed when he was in the hospital. To the March of Dimes who gave me money and supplies when I needed it most. I can give to these places and find ways to create purpose from my pain. The part about recreating my life through my grief is a work in progress. I just got to the chapter called "The Transformative Search for Meaning Through Grief". I may be at that chapter in the book, I am not always sure what chapter I am in life.
I did find this great story about child loss and Buddha. The story goes like this
Kisa Gotami had an only son, and he died. In her grief she carried the dead child to all her neighbors, asking them for medicine, and the people said: "She has lost her senses. The boy is dead. At length Kisa Gotami met a man who replied to her request: "I cannot give thee medicine for thy child, but I know a physician who can." The girl said: "Pray tell me, sir; who is it?" And the man replied: "Go to Sakyamuni, the Buddha."
Kisa Gotami went to the Buddha and cried: "Lord and Master, give me the medicine that will cure my boy." The Buddha answered: "I want a handful of mustard-seed." And when the girl in her joy promised to procure it, the Buddha added: "The mustard-seed must be taken from a house where no one has lost a child, husband, parent, or friend." Poor Kisa Gotami now went from house to house, and the people pitied her and said: "Here is mustard-seed; take it!" But when she asked Did a son or daughter, a father or mother, die in your family?" They answered her: "Alas the living are
few, but the dead are many. Do not remind us of our deepest grief." And there was no house, some beloved one had died in all of them.
I also found a poem I found touching
Sakka the chief of gods came down to earth and proceeding to the place where a body was burning upon a pile of firewood, inquired from those standing around whether they were roasting the flesh of some animal. When they replied, "It is no enemy but our own son." "Then he could not have been a son dear to you," said Sakka. "He was a very dear son," replied the father. "Then," asked Sakka, "why do you not weep?" The father in reply uttered this stanza:
"Man quits his mortal frame, when joy in life is past.Even as a snake is wont its worn out slough to cast.No friends' lament can touch the ashes of the dead.Why should I grieve? He fares the way he had to tread."
Similar questions were asked from the dead son's mother who replied thus:
"Uncalled he hither came, unbidden soon to go.Even as he came he went, what cause is here for woe?No friends' lament can touch the ashes of the dead.Why should I grieve? He fares the way he had to tread."
"Sisters surely are loving to their brothers. Why do you not weep?" asked Sakka of the dead man's sister. She replied:
"Though I should fast and weep, how would it profit me?My kith and kin alas would more unhappy be.No friends' lament can touch the ashes of the dead.Why should I grieve? He fares the way he had to tread."
Sakka then asked the dead man's wife why she did not weep. She replied thus:
"As children cry in vain to grasp the moon above,So mortals idly mourn the loss of those they love.No friends' lament can touch the ashes of the dead.Why should I grieve? He fares the way he had to tread."
Lastly Sakka asked the maid-servant why she did not weep, especially as she had stated that the master was never cruel to her but was most considerate and kind and treated her like a foster child. This was her reply:
"A broken pot of earth, ah, who can piece again?So too, to mourn the dead is nought but labor vain.No friends' lament can touch the ashes of the dead.Why should I grieve? He fares the way he had to tread."
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