Chapter 15 6th Tuesday Emotions and Persistence

I walked past the mountain laurel and the Japanese maple and up the bluestone steps of Murray's house.The white screed of the eaves runs across the lintel like an eyelid.I rang the bell, and it was not Connie who answered the door, but Murray's wife, Charlotte, a beautiful gray-haired woman with a charming voice.She was usually away when I called, because she still taught at MIT, as Murray suggested.So I was a little surprised to see her at home this morning. She said: "Murray is not doing well today.She looked behind me for a moment, then went to the kitchen. I said, sorry to bother you.

No, no, he is glad to see you, she said quickly: I dare say She stopped in the middle of her words, turned her head slightly, and listened to the movement nearby.Then she went on: "I daresay he'd be much better off seeing you coming. I raised the supermarket shopping items in my hand and joked that this is the ration I usually bring.She had a smile on her face, but also seemed disturbed. There is still a lot to eat.He didn't eat it last time he brought it. I was very surprised to hear this.I asked, did he even eat? She opened the fridge and I saw Styrofoam boxes from the same supermarket, containing the chicken salad, spaghetti, veggies, squash, etc. I brought to Murray last time.She opened the upper freezer, and there were more things in it.

Murray couldn't eat most of these things, they were too hard for him to swallow.He can only eat things that are easy to drink now, or liquid food. I said, but he never said no. Charlotte smiled, and said: "He doesn't want to hurt your feelings. How could this hurt my feelings, I just wanted to contribute a bit.i mean i just wanted to bring him something You've brought him something, and he's waiting for your visit.He said he had to work on this project with you, he had to concentrate and make time for you.I think it gives him a sense of responsibility That distant expression appeared on her face again, as if her thoughts had flown to a distant place.I knew that as Murray was getting worse and worse at nights, that meant Charlotte was often having trouble sleeping too.Sometimes Murray would cough several verses in order to clear the phlegm from his throat.Now he has to have a caregiver to accompany him all night, and during the day there are constant visitors. His former students, professor colleagues, meditation teachers, etc. come and go in and out of his house.Sometimes Murray had six or seven visitors a day, and when Charlotte came back from get off work, there were often guests at home.She was patient with it all, even though the visitors robbed her of precious time with Murray.

With a sense of responsibility, she continued: Right.You also know it's good. I said: I hope so. I helped put the food I brought this time into the refrigerator.The kitchen counter is full of notes, messages, materials, medical prescriptions, etc.There are more medicines in bottles and cans on the table than before, including Murray's asthma medicine, sleeping pills, antibiotics, etc., as well as a can of special prescription milk powder and laxatives.We heard the door open across the living room. The guests probably left and we went to have a look. Charlotte glanced back at the pile of food in the refrigerator, and I was suddenly ashamed, because it only reminded Murray that he would never be able to feast again.

The signs of Murray's deteriorating condition were increasing, and when I finally sat down next to him, he was coughing worse than ever, a dry, heart-wrenching cough that forced his head forward to keep nodding.After a violent cough, he finally stopped, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath.I sat quietly, thinking that he was resting with his eyes closed. He suddenly asked: Is the tape recorder on?Eyes still closed. I quickly said, turn it on, and press the record button of the tape recorder. I am now, he continued with his eyes closed: trying to detach from experience. detached from experience?

Yes, above and beyond.This is important, not only for a dying person like me, but also for a healthy person like you.Learn to be detached and not attached. He opened his eyes and exhaled slowly.You know what Buddhists say?Don't be attached to everything, because everything is impermanent. I said, wait, didn't you always talk about experiencing life?Is it the same whether the relationship is good or bad? That's right. So, how can you not be attached to things like this? Ah, Mitch, your brain is working.Detachment doesn't mean that you don't let the sensory experience penetrate you, in fact the opposite is that you let it penetrate you completely.so you can let it go.

I do not understand. Take, for example, the love of a woman, or the grief of losing a loved one, or the fear and pain of dying from a disease that I am now suffering.If you repress the emotion and don't allow yourself to fully experience it, you can't be unattached because you're too busy being afraid.You are afraid of pain, you are afraid of sadness, you are afraid of the vulnerable heart that love can bring. But if you put your heart and soul into the emotion, you immerse yourself in it, and you experience it fully.You know pain, you know love, you know sorrow.Only then can you say: well, I experienced this emotion, I recognized this emotion, and now I need to get out of it.

Murray stopped talking and looked at me carefully, probably to see if I understood. I know you think that's just what people who are dying say.He said: But like I keep telling you, once you learn how to die, you learn how to live. Murray talked about some of his most frightening moments, when he had a severe asthma attack and felt like his chest was about to burst, or when he felt like he could hardly get his breath back.It was a scary moment, he said, and his initial emotional reactions were panic, fear, and agitation, but once he recognized the reality of those emotions, felt its shape, its clamminess, the tremors in his back, the tremors in his brain, Then he could say, well, that's the fear, now get out of it, get out of it.

I think about how useful this practice can be in our daily lives.We often feel lonely, and sometimes we are on the verge of tears, but we always hold back because grown-ups are not supposed to cry.Or we have a sudden love for our partner, but we don't say anything because we are afraid that if we say it, it will change the relationship between the two. Murray did just the opposite.Turn on the tap and let the emotions wash over you.Nothing will happen, it will only benefit you.If you let fear in, like a regular piece of clothing, you can say to yourself, well, it's just fear, and I don't let it dominate me, I just know it as it is.

It's the same with loneliness, you let it go, you let the tears fall, you feel it all, but in the end you say: well, this is the loneliness I have in this moment.I'm not afraid of loneliness, but now I want to put it aside, I know there are many emotions in the world, and I want to experience them. Murray repeats: don't get attached. He closed his eyes and coughed. Then cough again. Then he was still coughing, and louder. Suddenly he seemed to be holding his breath, the convulsions in his lungs stimulated him, most of his body bounced up and down with the violent coughing, and he was almost unable to breathe.He was panting with his mouth open, coughing violently, and waving his hands in front of him. His eyes were closed and his hands were waving wildly. He looked like he was possessed.I instinctively pulled him closer and patted his back. He covered his mouth with toilet paper and spit out a mouthful of phlegm.

When the coughing stopped, Murray sank back on his foam pillow, gasping for air. I said: Are you okay?are you OK?Trying to hide the fear in my heart. I'm fine, Murray was so angry that he stretched out a finger tremblingly: just wait for me for a minute. We sat quietly until his breathing returned to normal.I feel like I'm sweating.He asked me to close the window, the breeze that came in made him feel cold.I didn't mention that the temperature outside was twenty-six or seven degrees. Finally, he said softly: I know I want to die. I listened in silence. I want to die peacefully, quietly.Don't be like that. He continued: At this time, we should not be attached.If I die coughing violently like I just did, I've got to be able to put my fears aside, I've got to be able to say: My time has come. I don't want to leave this world in fear.I want to know what's going on, to accept it, to be at peace, to let it go.Do you understand? I nod. I quickly add that don't let go so quickly. Murray forced a smile.No, not yet.We still have work to do. ◇◇◇ I asked, do you believe in reincarnation? Maybe. What do you want to do if you reincarnate? If given a choice, I would be an antelope. antelope? Murray smiled at me.Do you think it's weird? I looked at his shrunken face, his baggy clothes, his feet, stiff and immobile in stockings.I pictured the antelope galloping across the wilderness. I said no, I'm not surprised at all.