Five minute post

There are a lot of things rolling around in my head today. Foremost is mom's condition, which is worsening each day. There will be no more treatment -- the cancer is now free to run its course. Regardless of the inevitability of her death, the finality of the statement that they won't treat her any more still managed to change the way I was viewing things in my mind.

Interestingly, the day after we were told that the doctors would no longer treat her was one of the happiest in my life. My mood was overflowing with a joy of life and beauty, perhaps triggered by the purity of the recently-washed skies. Further, I was feeling a growing conviction that this happiness should belong to all beings, and that my task is to do my best to make it so. The joy of realizing that the immense happiness I felt was not for myself but for others only reinforced the original mood. I was miles high.

I thought my mood would change when we went to pick up mom from the hospital, but it didn't. There was no dampening, only radiant happiness. I momentarily understood the concept of impermanence, that nobody and no thing will last forever, and understood that it meant I should make mom's current mental state the best it could be. I hope my happy mood reached her.

Today, however, I had a weakening of that spirit. I returned to an older version of myself that was more sentimental and attached. As we talked to her in her bed in the morning, I could barely hear her response to our question: "is there anything you want?" Normally, her concerns were with hydration or adjusting her position in the bed. But in a nearly inaudible voice, she said "I just want to be with you." The shock of the greater nature of her concern as well as the implicit defeat in her statement -- neither of which had she expressed until that point -- released the all-too-familiar feelings of tight warmth in my throat and watery eyes. All I could say in response was that we'll miss her, and there's nothing to worry about. I'm never very good at expressing exactly how I feel in words anyway. I'm really happy she's still here though. Maybe tomorrow I can try to give her more of my happy feelings.

Reincarnation

Religions tend to encourage belief in supernatural, unprovable, or unobservable concepts to direct followers' actions towards specific ends. Christianity's heaven and hell act as reminders to behave morally at all times. Judaism's concept of god brings weight to the teachings laid out by its founders. Some, however, lack an apparent purpose, and seem to be remnants from days when the world was understood differently. Shinto's belief in powerful spirits that can cause prosperity via offerings steeps the religion with an ancient, supernatural feeling. For some, the mystic nature of beliefs like these can be foundations for faith; they provide ideas that cannot be conclusively disproved by the methods of science. For others, they are meaningless traditions accepted only because followers from previous generations believed in them.

As I learn more about Buddhism, I find that belief in reincarnation is an accepted principle and is rarely questioned. Each being has been reborn an essentially limitless number of times in all possible arrangements, primarily due to actions in previous lives. At first, I thought that the idea was just another purposeless anachronism -- an imaginative tradition adapted from prevailing beliefs in India at the time of the Buddha. However, upon further reading, I discovered at least two possible purposes. The more obvious application is to encourage good, compassionate behavior so that one might be re-born in a better situation. This concept lacks weight for two reasons: proof of rebirth dependent on actions is lacking (thus reducing its efficacy as a motivator), and, more subtly, by implying that being reborn in better circumstances is highly desirable, it defies the essential Buddhist teaching that one's inner condition is not dependent on external circumstances, but is fully dependent on one's own (improvable) mindset.

Personally, I think the more exciting purpose relates to compassion. Patrul Rinpoche, a Tibetan Buddhist master, tells of one clever application of belief in reincarnation. To strengthen our compassion for others, we should remember that each being -- whether animal or human, friend or enemy -- has been our mother, father, or child in a previous life. We should therefore be concerned for the wellness of each being to the same degree as we are for our dearest family members.

I find this idea particularly empowering because it provides a concrete foundation from which to develop my compassion for strangers, enemies, and even animals. Even though I don't think reincarnation as described by the Buddhists could be possible, when I imagine that the person passing me on the street was my father in a previous life, I'm immediately filled with a sense of love and caring for him. It's much more effective than simply trying to draw up some abstract concept of love and cast it on a stranger; there is simply too much confusion as to how I should think, and how I should apply it, leaving little mental room for me to actually express the emotion. But, Buddhism skillfully uses reincarnation, the idea that we were all relatives in past lives, to harness the unfaltering, unquestioned, and naturally effusive love that exists between family members, and helps us apply it to all beings.

Cool.

Showers

I remember a time when I still took baths. I think I was in elementary school. I liked to soak for a good while, and occasionally enjoyed the pleasures of a bubble bath. I loved to play until my fingers and toes were completely wrinkled from sitting in the water for too long. At the time, I remembered hearing about "showers" from classmates and thinking how adult-like they sounded. There was an air of coolness about those who took showers instead of baths. They were so mature.

However, despite their adult-ness, showers are not just a quick rinse. We see them as a time to refresh, a time to relax, a time to think, or even a time to sing. The word "shower" seems to trigger more than its fair share of emotional overtones. We think fondly of our own personal interpretation of the shower ritual whenever the word is mentioned.

Recently, I've made an effort to simplify my life and spend more time doing what's important. In the process, I've reexamined my own habits, including showers. However obvious it may be, it took this process of introspection to remind me that the purpose of a shower is to get clean. Using the focus I've developed through meditation and other means, I have changed my showers from something vague and contemplative into something swift and efficient. Once a rather passive activity of warming myself with the heated water, it has become a brisk, focused experience that serves to quicken my wandering mind.

Showers are like most things; there is no "right way" to take them. But having rethought a nearly subliminal ritual, I feel that it now serves me instead of controlling me by putting me in a pleasant, mindless state.