The Best Buddhist Writing 2010 - Melvin McLeod [3]
The Buddhist magazines—Shambhala Sun, Tricycle: The Buddhist Review, Buddhadharma: The Practitioner’s Quarterly, Turning Wheel, Inquiring Mind, The Mindfulness Bell, Mountain Record, Bodhi, and others are the public square of Buddhism in the West. All offer quality writing and vital connection among those interested in dharma. Their future is important.
I would like to thank editor Beth Frankl of Shambhala Publications for her always excellent work on the Best Buddhist Writing series, and Peter Turner, the president of Shambhala Publications, for his friendship and support. All of my colleagues at the Shambhala Sun Foundation play an important role in the creation of The Best Buddhist Writing, and indeed in my life. Some are Buddhists, some are not, but all are friends and fellow travelers on a wide spiritual path. And finally, thank you to my partner Pam Rubin and our daughter Pearl. You are my teachers and companions as we learn together from this thing called life.
Melvin McLeod
Editor-in-Chief
The Shambhala Sun
Buddhadharma: The Practitioner’s Quarterly
Lessons for the Living
Stan Goldberg
Buddhism has been described in many ways—as religion, philosophy, ethics, psychology—but really it is a mode of being, marked by awareness, courage, love, and sensitivity to one’s own and others’ suffering. These qualities, no less heroic for being human and humble, are on full display in this story by Stan Goldberg about his first experiences as a hospice volunteer, shortly after his own diagnosis of prostate cancer. It also shows why Buddhism has had such a profound impact on end-of-life care in America.
The quality of mercy is not strain’d.
It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven
Upon the place beneath: it is twice blest;
It blesseth him that gives and him that takes.
—WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE
There is a presumption when you’re asking for forgiveness that you did something wrong. Until the cancer, I was reluctant to ask for forgiveness. I might half-heartedly admit that I “misinterpreted,” said something “without thinking it through,” or any of a dozen other rationalizations that allowed me not to use the words, “Please forgive me.” I didn’t realize what asking for forgiveness really meant until I met Jim.
My first shift was scheduled for Thanksgiving at the Zen Hospice Project’s Guest House, a hospice in San Francisco. Although I had the option of starting the following week, something compelled me to start then, even though it meant missing Thanksgiving with my family and friends. I spent the weekend before my shift amassing as many facts as I could. That’s how I tried making sense of things then: gathering information, numbers, and data. The book that had the greatest impact on me was Final Gifts: Understanding the Special Awareness, Needs, and Communications of the Dying, by the hospice-care nurses Maggie Callanan and Patricia Kelley. A recurring theme that Callanan and Kelley described about the experiences of people who were dying was their sense of embarking on a journey they said they were required to make, but for some reason couldn’t start. One person talked about not having the key to open a locked door. A few people vividly described trips they were getting ready for but couldn’t begin until something necessary, like a passport, was found. And others waited until they could say good-bye to someone. According to the authors, these were universal signals that something needed to be resolved before people allowed themselves to die. The idea that anyone could have control over the time of their death mystified me.
It was the Tuesday before Thanksgiving when I received an e-mail from the volunteer coordinator. Jim, one of the residents, was becoming confused, restless, and anxious. The coordinator asked if any volunteers could stay the night with him. Volunteer shifts normally end at