I have been struggling with how to respond to this. The food related stuff is brilliant. I always feel out of place saying things like this to anyone who is grieving. Every time I see a photo of Tashi I catch my breath. He was so much a part of you, and an expression of you, as I'm sure your other son is who I've also never met is. And, who really wants to hear about dealing with impermanence and grief from a stranger? Anyway, I have too much respect for you to not share what I feel about what you wrote. Even just to communicate that I hear you.
I've always encouraged you to rage loudly, while you denied that being a need or objective. Expressions of sympathy from others like "so young, or too young to die", awkward or sincere expressions of sympathy, are often received as inflammatory or improper. But I'm beginning to sense the rage, on your terms and timeline. Your not being able to do something you had planned is very distressing. Do not internalize that.
Age can be a form of grief, and can also be accelerated by it. I like to kid myself I'm aging as disgracefully as I can, but I have almost no agency in the matter. That said, remember Buddha grieved. People often misinterpret Buddhism by blaming themselves somehow for a loss. They question whether they loved too much or too little.
I don't think Buddhism really teaches emotional detachment in the sense of being indifferent or unexcited. It's not about not caring. You didn't love too much, or somehow fail to live up to a Buddhist ideal. I think you're right that we love people, places, plans, and hopes, and then have to learn to navigate the losses and disappointments that come. Always. The other choice is withdrawal and paralysis.
Your riding the waves metaphor is very Buddhist. Balance or equanimity is allowing experiences to arise and pass without trying to hold on to the pleasant or push away the painful. What creates suffering is our very human tendency to demand permanence from impermanence, even after the fact.
Suffering doesn't come from loving, but from wanting what is changing to remain unchanged. Everything we love is changing and cannot be possessed. That's a painful thing to accept. Every time it happens.
Your grief over losing Tashi is not a failure, or an indictment that you loved him too much, or a small thing. Buddhism does not see it that way either. Even the Buddha grieved losses. The question isn't whether grief happens, but whether, over time, we can learn to live with it rather than deny it.
Living isn't withdrawal from life, but participating in it. Change is constant. We just learn, slowly and imperfectly, how to live. Eventually it ends. When it ends. Discretion always gets you nothing. Rage, brave warrior. Live the fuck out of life, scars and all.
You’ll be much missed at Oxford Symposium this year, beloved old friend (and co-Trustee for more years than either of us care to remember). We’ll all keep you posted, anyway. Next year if not sooner!
I have been struggling with how to respond to this. The food related stuff is brilliant. I always feel out of place saying things like this to anyone who is grieving. Every time I see a photo of Tashi I catch my breath. He was so much a part of you, and an expression of you, as I'm sure your other son is who I've also never met is. And, who really wants to hear about dealing with impermanence and grief from a stranger? Anyway, I have too much respect for you to not share what I feel about what you wrote. Even just to communicate that I hear you.
I've always encouraged you to rage loudly, while you denied that being a need or objective. Expressions of sympathy from others like "so young, or too young to die", awkward or sincere expressions of sympathy, are often received as inflammatory or improper. But I'm beginning to sense the rage, on your terms and timeline. Your not being able to do something you had planned is very distressing. Do not internalize that.
Age can be a form of grief, and can also be accelerated by it. I like to kid myself I'm aging as disgracefully as I can, but I have almost no agency in the matter. That said, remember Buddha grieved. People often misinterpret Buddhism by blaming themselves somehow for a loss. They question whether they loved too much or too little.
I don't think Buddhism really teaches emotional detachment in the sense of being indifferent or unexcited. It's not about not caring. You didn't love too much, or somehow fail to live up to a Buddhist ideal. I think you're right that we love people, places, plans, and hopes, and then have to learn to navigate the losses and disappointments that come. Always. The other choice is withdrawal and paralysis.
Your riding the waves metaphor is very Buddhist. Balance or equanimity is allowing experiences to arise and pass without trying to hold on to the pleasant or push away the painful. What creates suffering is our very human tendency to demand permanence from impermanence, even after the fact.
Suffering doesn't come from loving, but from wanting what is changing to remain unchanged. Everything we love is changing and cannot be possessed. That's a painful thing to accept. Every time it happens.
Your grief over losing Tashi is not a failure, or an indictment that you loved him too much, or a small thing. Buddhism does not see it that way either. Even the Buddha grieved losses. The question isn't whether grief happens, but whether, over time, we can learn to live with it rather than deny it.
Living isn't withdrawal from life, but participating in it. Change is constant. We just learn, slowly and imperfectly, how to live. Eventually it ends. When it ends. Discretion always gets you nothing. Rage, brave warrior. Live the fuck out of life, scars and all.
You’ll be much missed at Oxford Symposium this year, beloved old friend (and co-Trustee for more years than either of us care to remember). We’ll all keep you posted, anyway. Next year if not sooner!
Beautiful writing, as always.
Thank-you!