Frank Ostaseski – The Zen Hopsice Center.

[blockquote source=”Frank Ostaseski”]”There comes a point in our lives, as you know so well, (when) we stop and turn towards our pain. And that becomes the ground for compassion.”[/blockquote]

I once attended a lecture given by Zen Hospice founder, and beloved Buddhist teacher, Frank Ostaseski.

I remember it was a beautiful spring day, the air was crisp and the auditorium filled with the softened smiles of compassion’s greatest energy.There was a sense of shared humanity, of unity and togetherness – much like the inviting warmth of a cherished family home.

Walking in, I looked to the faces in the crowd. There was such a calmness about them, a serene acceptance, if you will.

I couldn’t have felt more welcomed, and yet, ironically…I felt so terribly disconnected.

And yet I, felt so terribly disconnected.

I watched as this tall, slender man took the stage. His eyes radiated a kindness unlike any I had ever known before.

“The eyes of a dying patient, they’re the clearest mirrors I’ve ever looked into. And, in their gaze – there is no place to hide,” he began.

In those few short words I realized the source of my own unsettledness. These beautiful faces that surrounded me, were both students and patients. Some gravely ill, and others, now recovering – but all, sharing the same sense of unity.

Illness has great power over us – capturing both body and spirit in a seemingly endless tug of war. It humbles us, chipping away at our toughened exteriors and revealing the rawness and frailty of our most human soul.

This was the beginning of my own illness. And, i was desperate to find the resting spot within such a godawful mess.

I had read about Frank’s work many years ago. He was at the forefront of the AIDS epidemic, serving as caregiver to those the hospitals turned away. I remember reading his story with great care. I can’t explain, but there was something in his words which inexplicably drew me nearer.

Little did I know the impact these words would soon mean to me.

I had come to the lecture that day, I suppose – in search of relief. It’s not always easy navigating the greater of life’s changes. There are no cheat sheets, nor any instruction books – we must learn by way of our doing.

But, change of this magnitude forces an intimacy with ourselves and others. In our darkness, we must find our way through with careful step and hands to the ‘wall.’

I was so very moved by his lecture. I stopped looking at my illness, and began to look into it. Suddenly, the path seemed fuller – stumbling blocks became cherished lessons, and darkness the means to amplify the light.

I want to share with you the precepts he provided on that day, a short list of the lessons learned from the dying. As he said, so many times over and again, “The dying were my greatest teachers.

I do hope you’ll post this one to the walls, my dears ~ as a reminder, that the life we live is the one we have chosen.

Thank you, my dearest Frank ~ for sharing this gift of living. As the saying goes, ‘we are all here to walk each other home.’

1. Welcome everything; push away nothing. That doesn’t mean we have to like everything that comes, rather we must be willing to meet it. And, in order to do so – we must find something within ourselves, that is capable of this type of welcoming.

2. Bring your whole self to the experience. We often feel it is our strengths that will serve us best. But, in weakness we find a common ‘meeting place.’ When we bring our whole self to the experience, we offer a space for community to grow.

3. Don’t wait.  Waiting is full of expectation. In waiting for the next moment to arrive, we miss this one right here. This has become, perhaps, my most powerful intention – that I would begin to live each moment freed of the burden of outcome.

4. Find a place of rest right in the middle of things. We often think that rest will come once all the other tasks have fallen away. But, there’s always something else on the plate – always something to fill our time and seize our attention. Rest brings our awareness home again.

5. Cultivate ‘don’t know’ mind. That is to say, that we should cultivate a mind that is full of awe and wonder, one that engages fully in this experience of life. “Can we really be that curious about your next breath? Or is it boring? It’s boring because that’s the attitude you’re bringing to it.”

 

About

Tara Lemieux is a mindful wanderer, and faithful stargazer. Although she often appears to be listening with great care, rest assured she is most certainly‘forever lost in thought. She is an ardent explorer and lover of finding things previously undiscovered or at the very least mostly not-uncovered.

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