"I don't want to die like this"

Whenever a patient tells me this, I usually have to lower my head and pretend that I'm jotting something down in my notes. They have unintentionally sent a spear into my heart, and I don't want them to see me cry. I'm instantly and deeply struck by the fact that this person sitting in front of me, and that person, and my family, my friends, me, all of us, will soon enough be moving on, part of the great constant flow of humanity and existence that is at once both beautiful and terrifying.

Such profound honesty can only come from someone who has suffered greatly. According to Buddhist beliefs, suffering is the root of our existence. Suffering, in my own experience, is the root and the commonality of psychotherapy and zen practice. Somehow, our relationship with the world, our reason for being, has become obscured, and we instinctively search for answers. It's pretty safe to say that anyone who comes either to therapy or to some type of formal zen practice is seeking a way to relieve some kind of inner anxiety, quite often about death. When I came to zen practice so many years ago, I'm not sure if I was thinking about death. I just knew that I was suffering. A lot. Therapists and zen teachers can help us with this. We just have to find our way to them.

I've learned that it's really a blessing when someone tells me, "I don't want to die like this." Starting from here, my patient and I can quietly explore our deepest fears and anxieties in a safe way, without fear of judgement. After all, it's not exactly dinner time conversation! And when we sit in zazen, we sit at the base of this mountain of doubt that is shaped like a huge question mark. At times the mountain threatens to collapse on us. We look up, and wonder what will happen to us.

Gassho