Someone died the other day. It was unexpected. She had been my patient for less than a day. My first reaction was “Did I do something wrong?” And then the blame, guilt and general queasy stomach began.
Often in situations like this it is easy to respond from fear and other old habits. Somehow I remembered to offer merit to the patient and her family and also asked for help for myself to not turn away from the discomfort of the situation. The next day, I took care of making necessary phone calls and finishing medical paperwork. The judgment and self-doubt kept coming up and I noticed that I wished they would leave but also tried my best to let them be there.
After a while I could look at the feelings in a more neutral way and actually explore what was behind some of them. For instance, I could see inadequacy-I worried that I might have overlooked something and that I wasn’t a very good doctor. I also feared what the family’s reaction might be and what kind of judgment might come from my peers. As I kept looking at this way of thinking, I could see my unwillingness to set aside the worry and blame.
The more I could just let these feelings be there, I saw that much of their power was based on what I was feeding into them. Rather than simply noticing that difficult emotions had come up, I was allowing them to sidetrack me. As I became more aware of my thought processes I could also see an opening for training. By continuing to see things only from my perspective (of blame and inadequacy) I was neglecting to do what was needed and instead was creating suffering for myself. Eventually, I could ask myself, in terms of the Teaching, “What is the important thing?”
It is reasonable to work at being a responsible and careful physician and our every action is important but this is not a True Refuge. Even if our work is flawless it will not bring us lasting contentment. It is actually a source of unnecessary pressure to think that it is up to us to make things perfect. As a senior priest once told me “We can waste a lot of time trying to get things perfect.” This is not to say that we should settle for mediocrity or that we shouldn’t offer our very best effort, but simply to remember we are human.
As a human, I do make mistakes but I can still train in perfection. But this perfection is not on my terms and is not found by holding onto my proficiency, skills and accomplishments. Much of the training for me is acknowledging my humanity (including the mistakes) and having the faith that none of this separates me from the True Heart of training. Another part of it is recognizing that there is much more going on than what the intellectual mind can figure out. The Truth is not a puzzle to be deciphered. This widened perspective gives me a chance to ease my grip on being “me” and become less resistant to the way things are. Even if the grip is loosened just a fraction, we get a glimpse of freedom which is unmistakable.
Even after years of Buddhist practice I still find the need to remind myself that training comes first. Somehow actually saying this to myself in the midst of these difficult situations helps me change the direction of my thoughts and trust that what is right in front of me (including whatever way I am feeling) does not need a solution from me. Yes, sometimes a response from me is called for, but if I insist on having things my way I’m asking for a dose of suffering.
Rev. Master Jiyu talked about the Perfection of Zen as “uncomplaining all-acceptance” and I’ve actually found it helpful to repeat this to myself on occasion. I remind myself that she didn’t mean when I felt better or when I got it right but right now. Just as it is. Just as I am.
As simple as it sounds, this process takes a huge amount of effort for me to do. Part of this is in misunderstanding what is actually meant by all-acceptance. I have tended to think this means having to like what is going on. It was recently explained to me that acceptance points more to not having a hard heart towards something rather than simply liking it or not. Rev. Master Jiyu wisely added the word “uncomplaining” as a direct instruction for us to drop the criticism and other negative commentary. To me, this simple phrase points me toward training rather than where my old habits might lead me. We know that negative feelings arise. The important thing is that wea don’t run with them, but instead face the whole of what is there with an open heart and be willing to do better.
Several years ago I asked a senior priest if I would recognize the Truth when I saw it. I guess I was thinking it would be some esoteric, inscrutable thing that I might not get. I was told I would recognize it. Nowadays I’m starting to realize that what I’m looking for is not far away. The offertory from the Segaki Ceremony begins, “The Body of the Buddha permeates the universe; it manifests itself in front of all of us; there is no place where it does not so manifest itself; it does so for every relationship and in all need yet it is still in its own true place.” The Truth has always been there but I’ve often overlooked it, choosing instead to come up with my own version of how things should be. By meeting whatever comes up in daily life with sincere training, our own true place is also clarified. It is actually a relief to find I don’t need to be an arbiter of perfection.
In a real sense, nothing is wrong with me or with my patient. Yes, things happen to our bodies; we are subject to birth and death. I can see the trap of thinking that when things are going well one might equate this with good training. Or that if I’m mindful and kind at work then my patients will get better and difficulties won’t arise. And often things go well. And then things change. But all of this is only the expression of karma. Rather than being an excuse for turning away, situations like these actually direct us to where we need to make whole-hearted efforts in practicing uncomplaining all-acceptance. In this way we have a chance for clarity and knowing from the inside that the Body of the Buddha is right here.