Sophia, a member of the Living Compassion cooperative in Kantolomba, in her mid-forties, full of laughter and vibrancy, with a huge desire to serve, died last year. Her oldest daughter Ruth, 20, now a member of the cooperative, gave birth to a girl a week ago. I have been thinking so much about them.
Life is transient. We hear and talk about this endlessly in practice. But, at least for me, it is a giant challenge to actually get that. It seems the default is to assume I have tomorrow. Sure, I know I’ll die, but do I really? Me? ME? I will die? Hardly seems possible!
The other night at the Monastery we discussed a reading from When You’re Falling, Dive. It was the part about the person who is plagued by a compulsive need to check and re-check the doors at night to be sure they’re locked. The Guide’s encouragement: take that person around to lock each door each night and make a checklist. Then go around and check each door again and mark it off the list. We spoke of being moved by the practicality of the compassion in that: We take a step back from being identified with the content (checking the doors) and become the compassion that is able to accept into unconditional love the fact that there is that tendency, and to assist.
When we were last in Zambia, a small group of us visited Sophia’s grave. As a dozen of us knelt in silence, our hands touching the mound of dirt covering Sophia’s body, I became aware that Ruth was quietly crying, tears streaming down her face. Soon she was sobbing and stood up to walk, her whole chest convulsing as she repeated, “Mama, mama, mama.” She was 19 at the time, 5 younger siblings in her care, 5 months pregnant. Theresa walked slowly behind her, steady, there, present. After a moment, as they walked, Theresa lightly placed her hand on Sophia’s shoulder, whispering, “It’s okay, baby girl, it’s okay.”
On some deep level, we know that that is true—it IS okay; it is All okay. What a profound practice we are being trained in: to wake up to the ephemeral nature of the forms of life, which opens us to the exquisite care and compassion, the unconditional love for the forms that are here, now. Everything is the Buddha.
Gassho,
Jen