By Khenpo Tengye

Chinese to English Translator: Jamyang Woser

English Copyeditor: Cecilia Chen

I’ve been putting off writing this for a while now; the passing of a close friend of mine has inspired me to write this. Her family also moved me immensely with their composure, despite dealing with great reluctance and fear. Towards the end of her life, my friend demonstrated a boundless sense of positivity and mindfulness that inspired joy in the sorrowful hearts of all those around her.

I went home to see my parents the day after she passed away. I told them that I’d been visiting a friend at the hospice. While not trying to avoid the topic of death, I expressed the innate joy that I felt instead. I told them, “This is the first time in my life that I’ve left a hospital ward with a terminally ill friend feeling joyful, at peace and filled with gratitude.” My parents did not reply much at that moment.

The following day, my father called and said, “Khenpo, you should write down your friend’s story.”

Beginning from her final moments

Procrastination has always been a big problem of mine. Editors who are close to me know that they have to give me a clear deadline beforehand, overtly spelling out when it is due. If not, my passive and undisciplined tendencies get the better of me and I fall far behind schedule.

My kind editors usually make the deadlines earlier than necessary, allowing me to deliver my scripts on time. Editors even closer to me lie in good faith, claiming that other contributors have already submitted their work, reminding me to stop procrastinating and get back on track.

Looking back, although my friend had been ill for quite long, she accepted it graciously and even travelled to Nepal despite her condition. I’m not her family member, nor was I able to be constantly beside her, but I believe being bed-ridden is definitely not an easy feat. While spending a few days by her side, I tried to understand how this friend of mine, whom I’ve known for more than a decade, was able to put the dharma into practice during her final moments.

My friend did not attain a rainbow body, nor give off fragrant scents. Rainbows did not appear in the sky. It was just her mild, soothing and relaxed state of being that brought joy to others.

Acceptance and Tranquility

When we know that somebody is about to pass away, particularly a friend or family member, we tend to get entangled in certain thoughts. Because the outcome is already known, our ruminations slightly differ from worldly ones. There are no longer any unrealistic expectations nor wishful thinking involved. A particular sense of indifference and tranquility arises when we know the sequence of events of the plot, the reasons behind the twists, the humor, and the horror.

I was feeling like this prior to arriving at the hospital. I think it’s because I made a personal connection, that I too will die one day. Perhaps we’ve forgotten the experience of birth now that we have grown up, but death is something we are able to experience quite distinctly and vividly. Perhaps we all have different paths in our lives, but ultimately we will have to move on or become liberated from this one.

It becomes easier once the dying person accepts that death is a natural, inevitable occurrence.

My friend seemed quite delighted when I played a recorded message from her guru. I pressed close to her ear and slowly added, “After our guru recorded the message, he mentioned that he doesn’t really remember who you are.” She wasn’t able to break out in loud laughter, but she raised the corners of her mouth and smiled like her usual, humorous self.

Normality is the best approach

My friend used to wear the same old clothes, sitting in the least obvious corner during her occasional visits to class. She supported the dharma teachings enthusiastically; in order to benefit the teachings more substantially, we had discussions on what really needs to be done and where the actual problems lie. This kind of virtuous stubbornness and inquisitive disposition was something she applied at the time of her death.

We listened to a traditional Tibetan aspiration prayer that day. The guru’s deep voice and relaxed pace emanated a warm compassion that naturally touches and soothes one’s mind. While holding the phone, I imagined her breaking into tears after the recording ended, but instead she quietly asked, “What was the guru reciting just now?”

I immediately relaxed upon hearing and couldn’t resist grinning. She was still her inquisitive self, comfortable and unfazed by the illness and impending death. I explained that the recitation was about Akshobhya. With a smile on her face, she nodded satisfactorily and said, “Thank you!”

The next life will be better than this one

To be honest, this was my first time being with a dying person and I really had no idea what to do. All I could do, at the last minute, was to ask our teachers for instructions. The Tibetan and Chinese monastics around us, including her family members, also put their minds together to help out.

Being endowed with such positive conditions for dying is a result of her virtuous motivation along with the merit she had accumulated. Without having sown numerous virtues, there would not have been such favourable results. In retrospect, I’ve actually learned quite a lot from this experience. When caring for a dying person, our aim is to help them let go and leave mindfully with a virtuous mindset. However, on a deeper level, it is a chance for each of us to practice mindfulness and virtuous thinking, preparing ourselves for the future.

My friend was a student of Thrangu Rinpoche, and Rinpoche left her a message saying:

“I will always pray, take refuge and make aspirations for you. No matter the nature of your illness, I will do a longevity practice daily and dedicate the merit to you.”

“You need to take refuge and pray to the Three Jewels. Birth, aging, sickness and death are the nature of samsara. Making good aspirations and giving rise to Bodhicitta will benefit you.”

“You will be fine. You’ve offered all that you have to the Three Jewels and practiced generosity towards sentient beings. You will be alright. Relax. Pray to Buddha Amitabha.”

“If you can, don’t forget to do the practice of Sending and Receiving, Tonglen. (I added: As we breathe out, all our merits and prayers radiate white light into sentient beings. When we breathe in, we take on the sicknesses, worries and suffering of all sentient beings.) This practice can quell suffering and is the best one to practice when dying and in the bardo. By doing so, this positive habitual tendency will continue on beyond, allowing the next life to be even better than the present. This greatly beneficial and easy to do practice is mentioned in the mind training teachings.”

After listening to the recording and my translation, my friend folded her palms and nodded in acknowledgement.

Don’t forget it, don’t forget

My friend passed away that weekend.

“Don’t forget it, don’t forget. Keep a virtuous motivation and practice Tonglen.” Rinpoche’s advice reverberated in my head as I slowly walked out of the hospital.

In addition to procrastination, forgetfulness is another big problem of mine. If I didn’t write this article, I probably wouldn’t remember that I too will die one day. I probably also wouldn’t remember the many exhortations given to me from His Holiness the Karmapa and Rinpoche since I became ordained.

In all honesty, perhaps I haven’t forgotten about death at all, but have forgotten how to live properly.

His Holiness the Karmapa wrote in the preface of Living and Dying with Aspiration, “Although referred to as bardo teachings, they actually emphasize the practice we do while alive. If we are not able to practice now, there is no way to know the nature of mind in the bardo. The essence is to be able to practice well especially at the moment of death.”

I believe that my friend will reach the Pure Land. Her last moments allowed us to experience the joy of acceptance and complete tranquility, just like being in a Pure Land. I thank her and her family for this.

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