These excerpts are from a videotaped interview with Alice Miranda a few weeks before she died of cancer in a hospital on Salt Spring Island, British Columbia. Alice referred to the process of dying as her "healing journey"; its power transformed not only Alice but many who were privileged to meet her during this time.
I was diagnosed as having cancer and two weeks later went to see Chagdud Rinpoche. He told me that my focus should be on healing spiritually and not primarily on my physical body. That was a difficult one for me. He said I should try to achieve detachment from this body and this life, which, too, was very difficult. He told me that while I was purifying myself, I should think that the sufferings of all others were being purified as well, and that the purpose of this illness was the purification of this life to achieve enlightenment so that I may be able to help others. And he gave me the Red Tara practice and instructed me to do one hundred thousand mantra recitations.
As it turned out, the next two years were some of the best years of my life. Through my practice I cultivated great devotion to Tara and at the same time my devotion to Chagdud increased and developed. Physically, I was feeling better than even before I had cancer and I was happier. Emotionally, I seemed to be letting go of old stuff and my relationships seemed to get better. I wasn't always happy; sometimes there were depression and bad times, but these were shorter.
This past Christmas, however, my body started breaking down. I went to bed with a very bad backache and I have never left the bed since then. My doctor ordered the routine tests for cancer and they all came back elevated–that was my first shock.
The second shock was a few weeks later when I realized the end was much closer than anticipated. My body at this time was becoming weaker and weaker and I started losing the use of my limbs, my legs especially. I contracted pneumonia and it looked like I was going to die.
Rinpoche was notified and spoke to me on the phone a few times and told me how to prepare for death. He instructed me to practice P'howa daily.
It's not always easy to work with these things. I am under alot of medication and my mind is very groggy at times. Sometimes, most of the day it's groggy, and it's very hard for me to bring it into focus or even to think about spiritual things. I have to watch my mind constantly so that it doesn't just drift into forgetfulness. This discourages me, but again and again I remind myself that those states of mind are empty. So, I feel like a boat and the sea is a hard taskmaster.
There is nowhere else I can go. I lie here with my mind all day long and there is no escape, except to try to do what Rinpoche has instructed me to do, because any other road leads to a lot of fear and depression and discouragement ...I fear pain, I fear the times when I can't breathe, which does happen. I do forget easily when I'm in great physical discomfort. My mind just identifies completely with the pain and with the inability to breath. Those are the states that I fear more than death itself. And I fear the waiting, that I'll forget. How many months of waiting can I take, I wonder ...
A Christian minister came to help me and did a guided meditation where he asked me to get completely into my fear. When I got completely into it, there was no one to help me. Rinpoche was not there, Tara is not there, I have no faith and the fear is horrible. It is like I am completely alone and unable to find help. But after this visualization, it became so apparent that my mind was making all this up. It wasn't really real at all.
Sometimes I get very excited about dying, because I know I will go to a pureland where what I experience on earth as very happy times–being at the feet of a master and hearing dharma teachings– I will experience these again, except in a much more intense way. This helps loosen my attachment to my family. And also, to know that I'll be in a position to help them, especially my children, helps me not to worry. But it is a difficult process to detach myself.
When I was healthy, I never even thought about illness. And now I understand how much pain there is on this plane and that it's inevitable for the majority of people and there seems to be no escape. I am very aware of the suffering around me in this hospital and that most of the people won't find relief. And I wonder how they do it, how they die without some spiritual belief. They must experience much more fear than I do. So, I try, when I am doing my practices, to purify their suffering while I'm purifying mine. Or at times I try to offer my suffering up for the sake of theirs.
I have a very speedy mind, even while I'm sick, and it's difficult to tame it. But behind all that, I really feel that Rinpoche's love and protection bear me up, that he holds me in all my ups and downs so that even if I tried, I can't go far from him.
These excerpts are from a videotaped interview with Alice Miranda a few weeks before she died of cancer in a hospital on Salt Spring Island, British Columbia. Alice referred to the process of dying as her "healing journey"; its power transformed not only Alice but many who were privileged to meet her during this time.
I was diagnosed as having cancer and two weeks later went to see Chagdud Rinpoche. He told me that my focus should be on healing spiritually and not primarily on my physical body. That was a difficult one for me. He said I should try to achieve detachment from this body and this life, which, too, was very difficult. He told me that while I was purifying myself, I should think that the sufferings of all others were being purified as well, and that the purpose of this illness was the purification of this life to achieve enlightenment so that I may be able to help others. And he gave me the Red Tara practice and instructed me to do one hundred thousand mantra recitations.
As it turned out, the next two years were some of the best years of my life. Through my practice I cultivated great devotion to Tara and at the same time my devotion to Chagdud increased and developed. Physically, I was feeling better than even before I had cancer and I was happier. Emotionally, I seemed to be letting go of old stuff and my relationships seemed to get better. I wasn't always happy; sometimes there were depression and bad times, but these were shorter.
This past Christmas, however, my body started breaking down. I went to bed with a very bad backache and I have never left the bed since then. My doctor ordered the routine tests for cancer and they all came back elevated–that was my first shock.
The second shock was a few weeks later when I realized the end was much closer than anticipated. My body at this time was becoming weaker and weaker and I started losing the use of my limbs, my legs especially. I contracted pneumonia and it looked like I was going to die.
Rinpoche was notified and spoke to me on the phone a few times and told me how to prepare for death. He instructed me to practice P'howa daily.
It's not always easy to work with these things. I am under alot of medication and my mind is very groggy at times. Sometimes, most of the day it's groggy, and it's very hard for me to bring it into focus or even to think about spiritual things. I have to watch my mind constantly so that it doesn't just drift into forgetfulness. This discourages me, but again and again I remind myself that those states of mind are empty. So, I feel like a boat and the sea is a hard taskmaster.
There is nowhere else I can go. I lie here with my mind all day long and there is no escape, except to try to do what Rinpoche has instructed me to do, because any other road leads to a lot of fear and depression and discouragement ...I fear pain, I fear the times when I can't breathe, which does happen. I do forget easily when I'm in great physical discomfort. My mind just identifies completely with the pain and with the inability to breath. Those are the states that I fear more than death itself. And I fear the waiting, that I'll forget. How many months of waiting can I take, I wonder ...
A Christian minister came to help me and did a guided meditation where he asked me to get completely into my fear. When I got completely into it, there was no one to help me. Rinpoche was not there, Tara is not there, I have no faith and the fear is horrible. It is like I am completely alone and unable to find help. But after this visualization, it became so apparent that my mind was making all this up. It wasn't really real at all.
Sometimes I get very excited about dying, because I know I will go to a pureland where what I experience on earth as very happy times–being at the feet of a master and hearing dharma teachings– I will experience these again, except in a much more intense way. This helps loosen my attachment to my family. And also, to know that I'll be in a position to help them, especially my children, helps me not to worry. But it is a difficult process to detach myself.
When I was healthy, I never even thought about illness. And now I understand how much pain there is on this plane and that it's inevitable for the majority of people and there seems to be no escape. I am very aware of the suffering around me in this hospital and that most of the people won't find relief. And I wonder how they do it, how they die without some spiritual belief. They must experience much more fear than I do. So, I try, when I am doing my practices, to purify their suffering while I'm purifying mine. Or at times I try to offer my suffering up for the sake of theirs.
I have a very speedy mind, even while I'm sick, and it's difficult to tame it. But behind all that, I really feel that Rinpoche's love and protection bear me up, that he holds me in all my ups and downs so that even if I tried, I can't go far from him.
These excerpts are from a videotaped interview with Alice Miranda a few weeks before she died of cancer in a hospital on Salt Spring Island, British Columbia. Alice referred to the process of dying as her "healing journey"; its power transformed not only Alice but many who were privileged to meet her during this time.
I was diagnosed as having cancer and two weeks later went to see Chagdud Rinpoche. He told me that my focus should be on healing spiritually and not primarily on my physical body. That was a difficult one for me. He said I should try to achieve detachment from this body and this life, which, too, was very difficult. He told me that while I was purifying myself, I should think that the sufferings of all others were being purified as well, and that the purpose of this illness was the purification of this life to achieve enlightenment so that I may be able to help others. And he gave me the Red Tara practice and instructed me to do one hundred thousand mantra recitations.
As it turned out, the next two years were some of the best years of my life. Through my practice I cultivated great devotion to Tara and at the same time my devotion to Chagdud increased and developed. Physically, I was feeling better than even before I had cancer and I was happier. Emotionally, I seemed to be letting go of old stuff and my relationships seemed to get better. I wasn't always happy; sometimes there were depression and bad times, but these were shorter.
This past Christmas, however, my body started breaking down. I went to bed with a very bad backache and I have never left the bed since then. My doctor ordered the routine tests for cancer and they all came back elevated–that was my first shock.
The second shock was a few weeks later when I realized the end was much closer than anticipated. My body at this time was becoming weaker and weaker and I started losing the use of my limbs, my legs especially. I contracted pneumonia and it looked like I was going to die.
Rinpoche was notified and spoke to me on the phone a few times and told me how to prepare for death. He instructed me to practice P'howa daily.
It's not always easy to work with these things. I am under alot of medication and my mind is very groggy at times. Sometimes, most of the day it's groggy, and it's very hard for me to bring it into focus or even to think about spiritual things. I have to watch my mind constantly so that it doesn't just drift into forgetfulness. This discourages me, but again and again I remind myself that those states of mind are empty. So, I feel like a boat and the sea is a hard taskmaster.
There is nowhere else I can go. I lie here with my mind all day long and there is no escape, except to try to do what Rinpoche has instructed me to do, because any other road leads to a lot of fear and depression and discouragement ...I fear pain, I fear the times when I can't breathe, which does happen. I do forget easily when I'm in great physical discomfort. My mind just identifies completely with the pain and with the inability to breath. Those are the states that I fear more than death itself. And I fear the waiting, that I'll forget. How many months of waiting can I take, I wonder ...
A Christian minister came to help me and did a guided meditation where he asked me to get completely into my fear. When I got completely into it, there was no one to help me. Rinpoche was not there, Tara is not there, I have no faith and the fear is horrible. It is like I am completely alone and unable to find help. But after this visualization, it became so apparent that my mind was making all this up. It wasn't really real at all.
Sometimes I get very excited about dying, because I know I will go to a pureland where what I experience on earth as very happy times–being at the feet of a master and hearing dharma teachings– I will experience these again, except in a much more intense way. This helps loosen my attachment to my family. And also, to know that I'll be in a position to help them, especially my children, helps me not to worry. But it is a difficult process to detach myself.
When I was healthy, I never even thought about illness. And now I understand how much pain there is on this plane and that it's inevitable for the majority of people and there seems to be no escape. I am very aware of the suffering around me in this hospital and that most of the people won't find relief. And I wonder how they do it, how they die without some spiritual belief. They must experience much more fear than I do. So, I try, when I am doing my practices, to purify their suffering while I'm purifying mine. Or at times I try to offer my suffering up for the sake of theirs.
I have a very speedy mind, even while I'm sick, and it's difficult to tame it. But behind all that, I really feel that Rinpoche's love and protection bear me up, that he holds me in all my ups and downs so that even if I tried, I can't go far from him.
These excerpts are from a videotaped interview with Alice Miranda a few weeks before she died of cancer in a hospital on Salt Spring Island, British Columbia. Alice referred to the process of dying as her "healing journey"; its power transformed not only Alice but many who were privileged to meet her during this time.
I was diagnosed as having cancer and two weeks later went to see Chagdud Rinpoche. He told me that my focus should be on healing spiritually and not primarily on my physical body. That was a difficult one for me. He said I should try to achieve detachment from this body and this life, which, too, was very difficult. He told me that while I was purifying myself, I should think that the sufferings of all others were being purified as well, and that the purpose of this illness was the purification of this life to achieve enlightenment so that I may be able to help others. And he gave me the Red Tara practice and instructed me to do one hundred thousand mantra recitations.
As it turned out, the next two years were some of the best years of my life. Through my practice I cultivated great devotion to Tara and at the same time my devotion to Chagdud increased and developed. Physically, I was feeling better than even before I had cancer and I was happier. Emotionally, I seemed to be letting go of old stuff and my relationships seemed to get better. I wasn't always happy; sometimes there were depression and bad times, but these were shorter.
This past Christmas, however, my body started breaking down. I went to bed with a very bad backache and I have never left the bed since then. My doctor ordered the routine tests for cancer and they all came back elevated–that was my first shock.
The second shock was a few weeks later when I realized the end was much closer than anticipated. My body at this time was becoming weaker and weaker and I started losing the use of my limbs, my legs especially. I contracted pneumonia and it looked like I was going to die.
Rinpoche was notified and spoke to me on the phone a few times and told me how to prepare for death. He instructed me to practice P'howa daily.
It's not always easy to work with these things. I am under alot of medication and my mind is very groggy at times. Sometimes, most of the day it's groggy, and it's very hard for me to bring it into focus or even to think about spiritual things. I have to watch my mind constantly so that it doesn't just drift into forgetfulness. This discourages me, but again and again I remind myself that those states of mind are empty. So, I feel like a boat and the sea is a hard taskmaster.
There is nowhere else I can go. I lie here with my mind all day long and there is no escape, except to try to do what Rinpoche has instructed me to do, because any other road leads to a lot of fear and depression and discouragement ...I fear pain, I fear the times when I can't breathe, which does happen. I do forget easily when I'm in great physical discomfort. My mind just identifies completely with the pain and with the inability to breath. Those are the states that I fear more than death itself. And I fear the waiting, that I'll forget. How many months of waiting can I take, I wonder ...
A Christian minister came to help me and did a guided meditation where he asked me to get completely into my fear. When I got completely into it, there was no one to help me. Rinpoche was not there, Tara is not there, I have no faith and the fear is horrible. It is like I am completely alone and unable to find help. But after this visualization, it became so apparent that my mind was making all this up. It wasn't really real at all.
Sometimes I get very excited about dying, because I know I will go to a pureland where what I experience on earth as very happy times–being at the feet of a master and hearing dharma teachings– I will experience these again, except in a much more intense way. This helps loosen my attachment to my family. And also, to know that I'll be in a position to help them, especially my children, helps me not to worry. But it is a difficult process to detach myself.
When I was healthy, I never even thought about illness. And now I understand how much pain there is on this plane and that it's inevitable for the majority of people and there seems to be no escape. I am very aware of the suffering around me in this hospital and that most of the people won't find relief. And I wonder how they do it, how they die without some spiritual belief. They must experience much more fear than I do. So, I try, when I am doing my practices, to purify their suffering while I'm purifying mine. Or at times I try to offer my suffering up for the sake of theirs.
I have a very speedy mind, even while I'm sick, and it's difficult to tame it. But behind all that, I really feel that Rinpoche's love and protection bear me up, that he holds me in all my ups and downs so that even if I tried, I can't go far from him.
These excerpts are from a videotaped interview with Alice Miranda a few weeks before she died of cancer in a hospital on Salt Spring Island, British Columbia. Alice referred to the process of dying as her "healing journey"; its power transformed not only Alice but many who were privileged to meet her during this time.
I was diagnosed as having cancer and two weeks later went to see Chagdud Rinpoche. He told me that my focus should be on healing spiritually and not primarily on my physical body. That was a difficult one for me. He said I should try to achieve detachment from this body and this life, which, too, was very difficult. He told me that while I was purifying myself, I should think that the sufferings of all others were being purified as well, and that the purpose of this illness was the purification of this life to achieve enlightenment so that I may be able to help others. And he gave me the Red Tara practice and instructed me to do one hundred thousand mantra recitations.
As it turned out, the next two years were some of the best years of my life. Through my practice I cultivated great devotion to Tara and at the same time my devotion to Chagdud increased and developed. Physically, I was feeling better than even before I had cancer and I was happier. Emotionally, I seemed to be letting go of old stuff and my relationships seemed to get better. I wasn't always happy; sometimes there were depression and bad times, but these were shorter.
This past Christmas, however, my body started breaking down. I went to bed with a very bad backache and I have never left the bed since then. My doctor ordered the routine tests for cancer and they all came back elevated–that was my first shock.
The second shock was a few weeks later when I realized the end was much closer than anticipated. My body at this time was becoming weaker and weaker and I started losing the use of my limbs, my legs especially. I contracted pneumonia and it looked like I was going to die.
Rinpoche was notified and spoke to me on the phone a few times and told me how to prepare for death. He instructed me to practice P'howa daily.
It's not always easy to work with these things. I am under alot of medication and my mind is very groggy at times. Sometimes, most of the day it's groggy, and it's very hard for me to bring it into focus or even to think about spiritual things. I have to watch my mind constantly so that it doesn't just drift into forgetfulness. This discourages me, but again and again I remind myself that those states of mind are empty. So, I feel like a boat and the sea is a hard taskmaster.
There is nowhere else I can go. I lie here with my mind all day long and there is no escape, except to try to do what Rinpoche has instructed me to do, because any other road leads to a lot of fear and depression and discouragement ...I fear pain, I fear the times when I can't breathe, which does happen. I do forget easily when I'm in great physical discomfort. My mind just identifies completely with the pain and with the inability to breath. Those are the states that I fear more than death itself. And I fear the waiting, that I'll forget. How many months of waiting can I take, I wonder ...
A Christian minister came to help me and did a guided meditation where he asked me to get completely into my fear. When I got completely into it, there was no one to help me. Rinpoche was not there, Tara is not there, I have no faith and the fear is horrible. It is like I am completely alone and unable to find help. But after this visualization, it became so apparent that my mind was making all this up. It wasn't really real at all.
Sometimes I get very excited about dying, because I know I will go to a pureland where what I experience on earth as very happy times–being at the feet of a master and hearing dharma teachings– I will experience these again, except in a much more intense way. This helps loosen my attachment to my family. And also, to know that I'll be in a position to help them, especially my children, helps me not to worry. But it is a difficult process to detach myself.
When I was healthy, I never even thought about illness. And now I understand how much pain there is on this plane and that it's inevitable for the majority of people and there seems to be no escape. I am very aware of the suffering around me in this hospital and that most of the people won't find relief. And I wonder how they do it, how they die without some spiritual belief. They must experience much more fear than I do. So, I try, when I am doing my practices, to purify their suffering while I'm purifying mine. Or at times I try to offer my suffering up for the sake of theirs.
I have a very speedy mind, even while I'm sick, and it's difficult to tame it. But behind all that, I really feel that Rinpoche's love and protection bear me up, that he holds me in all my ups and downs so that even if I tried, I can't go far from him.
