Not the same

31012012.2317

Not the same

I've been coming to the monastery in the mountains for over six years. When I first arrived, there was such spirit, such energy. Everyday there were many chores to do, errands to run, translation work to be done. There was barely any dull moment. The monk soon became a close friend and confidante, a father figure, someone I could go to for advice about Buddhist teachings and practice, someone who inspired and lived life as a model for many to aspire to.

Two years ago, the monastery's managing person passed away. The monk was and has been devastated. Today, I can still see the hurt in his eyes when I talk about cancer and its effects on my mum. Today I can see moist eyes when I describe the utter fatigue and emotional drain mum's current condition is having on me.

The monk is no longer as colourful and chatty as before. Perhaps age too has taken away part of the life from him. But I know, I can sense, that the loss of his disciple was devastating and broke the monk apart. I know he is still lingering in his mind about the past. What exactly I cannot know, and I dare not ask too much because it's all so very personal and raw. And I respect him greatly, have such great reverence toward him for all the wisdom he has shared with me...

"I'm sorry it's all so difficult..."  I said at one point when I realised talking about my mum's treatment and her hospitalisation changed the look on the monk's face... We sat a while in silence before I changed the topic.

I wish I could reach him, and that he could open up to me and share with me his pain, even after  these two years. But I know he won't, because he's a monk, and monk's are supposed to be able to weather emotional turbulence and mental distress and come of it all having dealt with and overcome death. And because of this, a place where I thought I could unwind and release my feelings feels now more distant... Maybe I too have changed over the years, and cannot always expect to come here and relieve those happy and carefree moments years ago. People change, circumstances change, feelings change. But whether monk or laypersons, we are all human beings with feelings, human beings who hurt, who cry, who need care and human compassion and understanding...

We all have our personal pains to deal with, we all have our wounds to heal, and pasts to mend and overcome. The monk is facing his, and from what I can see, from others who are close to his life tell me, he has steadily been dragged deep down into depression and lethargy...

I too have my lesson in death to face in the eventual loss of my mother. How will I respond? Will I too turn people away and just want to close my eyes and rest and rest and rest?  Will I too recluse myself and be too tired and unmotivated to do anything worthy of mention...? Time will tell.

I only hope I will be strong and collected when that day comes, and when I am alone on this world... But for now, I only hope I can say something, maybe do something, to help the monk who has inspired me all these years, and who has been my guide and compass through difficulties and pains. Help him walk away from the darkness of the past, help him rediscover and reconnect the way things are...
Help him be a light and strength onto himself...