Forgiving Our Bodies In 2022, my mum, Michelle, was diagnosed with ALS (amyotrophic lateral sclerosis). Her diagnosis was scary and sudden. With no cure, no truly effective treatments, and an average life expectancy of just three to four years, ALS is a fatal motor neuron disease that severs the brain’s connection to the body. We were told that Mum would gradually lose the ability to walk, speak, eat, and breathe, all while remaining fully mentally aware. “I’m not angry at my body anymore,” Mum said one night while we were driving, a few months after her diagnosis. The streetlights lit up the side of her face as we passed underneath them. She was smiling. “I may not be around as long as other people, but I’ve loved my life.” Caring for my mother as she approached the end was incredibly difficult, but it also awakened a fundamental awareness in me: Mum was dying, and so were we, eventually. Maybe not now, maybe not soon, but undeniably and inevitably. Death is always in the room with us — unspoken but palpable, lingering in the air. Mum died peacefully just before Christmas, two years after her diagnosis. In the latest issue of Lion’s Roar, we reflect on the universal nature of death and ways we can approach it with greater wisdom. As Judy Lief writes in her piece “ The Tibetan Book of the Dead Isn’t Just About Dying,” contemplating death is not only vital for preparing for the end of our lives, it’s also key to understanding the everyday reality of impermanence and suffering. “Our lives are marked by constant change and loss, by shifting and overwhelming energies and emotions, and by the desperate search for solid ground,” she observes. Valerie Brown also contemplates this constant flow in her piece “ No Birth, No Death.” It can be uncomfortable and even deeply painful to contemplate, but we all share the truth that to be alive means that we live, we lose, we grieve — again and again. The pieces below remind us that as we move through our lives, the way our bodies change, and ultimately death, can be our teacher. Forgiving our bodies — for dying, for aging, for becoming sick — can feel impossible, even radical, but it’s essential if we want to fully appreciate the time we have. We can love our lives, even while knowing that one day they will end. My mum came to understand this early on. She held deep compassion for her body, for her life, and, I believe, for all of us who bore witness, and I could not admire her more for that. I hope these offerings give you a moment of contemplation and gratitude this weekend. —Martine Panzica, assistant digital editor, Lion’s Roar |
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This ancient text offers a step-by-step guide to what happens when you die — plus it helps you navigate the transitions, losses, and uncertainty in this very life. Judy Lief explains.
The Tibetan Book of the Dead is a guide for living as much as it is for dying. It raises questions that are just as relevant in this life as they are after death: What do you do when your seemingly solid world collapses? How can you hold steady in a swirl of intensified emotions and mental speediness? When you are hit with the truth, gently or abruptly, how can you cultivate the courage to stay with it rather than run away? How can you break the habit of being so attached to what’s familiar that you keep repeating it over and over? You don’t need to wait until you’re on your deathbed to benefit from these teachings; you can work with them while you’re alive. Just like the bardo journey described in The Tibetan Book of the Dead, our lives are marked by constant change and loss, by shifting and overwhelming energies and emotions, and by the desperate search for solid ground. So, we can begin to work with these teachings now. They apply to the challenges we face daily.  |
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Through grief, Valerie Brown discovers there’s no beginning and no end. Like waves, we rise and fall — but we never leave the ocean of being.
In our culture, too often grief and loss are viewed as a disorder, something to overcome, move on from, get over, chin up, man up, rather than something we tend. I have grieved many losses. From these losses, I’ve learned that grief is far from simple. It’s a suite of complex emotions that run wild and unpredictable, unruly and untidy. There’s a spiral quality to grief, revealing ever deeper layers of sorrow. Grief calls for intentionality, and from a Buddhist perspective, it invites us into the practice of shamatha and vipassana, that is, stopping and looking deeply. When we stop and look deeply into the true nature of grief, we see that it continually transforms like a wave or cloud. We remember that it was the meaningful connection we had with our beloved that formed the basis of what is now our sorrow and grief — we are saddened because we lost someone important. We’re invited to intentionally allow ourselves to be transformed by sorrow, perhaps broken open to the deeper realization that even the bitterest grief is not unchanging. This too is a continual process of transformation. |
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Stan Goldberg, PhD, uses mindfulness, repetition, and slowness to rewire his brain and reclaim his ability to run.
With Parkinson’s, we believe that the automaticity of many behaviors ceases or degrades when the signal from the brain to the muscles is disrupted. For instance, while my brain may recognize that it’s dangerous to continue walking quickly when people abruptly stop in front of me, the message to “slow down” or “stop” may arrive milliseconds too late, causing me to bump into the person ahead. Likewise, at the end of a flight of stairs, I might continue using my “step” motions, resulting in a fall. Other brain signal problems may manifest as a tremor, where, despite a message to “be still,” the hand moves rapidly back and forth. Parkinson’s disease may also affect speech — mysteriously softening the volume or reducing the necessary airflow, resulting in slurred speech. While suggestions that these problems can be reduced through meditation are well-meaning, meditation is actually more effective for stress reduction than for relearning motor movements. Pharmaceuticals and medical devices have shown similarly limited or unsuccessful results. Few approaches to understanding and treating the disorder are using current research from a learning theory perspective, and none have recognized Buddhism as a body of knowledge that can serve as the foundation for managing Parkinson’s symptoms — until now. |
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