Dying Wiser #7: Who’s helping who?
Wisdom through literature; Eldering through Dad: and some more from Ram Dass
I think it’s true for most educators, that we love to learn. We love it so much, we’ve dedicated a career to serving others, kids if we were lucky, in the profound acts of teaching and learning. Learning is brain science in action—teachers are surgeons of the mind. There is nothing quite like the thrill in witnessing the light of learning and recognition in the eyes of a child when they have struggled to learn something but then “finally get it.” It is inspiring and awe-inducing at times.
Master teachers make learning for others effortless—this is one of the hallmarks of a great teacher. “Master teachers show you where to look, but they don’t tell you what to see.” Under the guidance of a great teacher, the students only realize the deeper lessons learned much later in their lives—should they be lucky enough to understand.
Dad’s a master teacher—and he has no idea.
Growing up with Dad, I never really realized his powerful, effortless teaching. Nor did it dawn on me the lessons he taught me as I was living with him, because he never told us the “hows,” he just lived. He allowed us to simply “watch him.” At the time, I didn’t know I had to watch, but the lessons I didn’t realize were there, were amassing with each passing year of living a farm-life with a quiet farmer as a Dad. And never did I understand their importance and relevance—until much later in my life, that is. So, I do consider myself lucky—especially because my teacher is living with me now. Every day I’m reflecting upon Dad, and those years on the farm, and with each memory that arises, and with each story I get to write about, I look, now, for the deeper meaning inherent in his quiet teaching of simply living his life.
And every day, I’m still learning from Dad. Mostly about myself now. I’m no longer “not understanding,” even as Dad’s teachings still remain implicit. Instead, as he remains a passive teacher not even expecting me to learn from watching him, I’m a more active student mainly because the teacher won’t be here much longer—and time is too precious not to take full advantage of this moment. There is still so much I need to learn about myself in my own journey of becoming more human.
I’ve shared things we learned from Dad while growing up the sons of a farmer in past posts. I wanted to share some of what I’m learning right now as Dad is living with us at this stage of his life’s journey—some of the Elderings he is freely but passively offering to me each and every day and night.
From Ram Dass who, himself, stopped his life in order to serve his ailing father full time until his father’s death:
“In a way, this [is] my father’s final gift to me: the chance to see him as something more than my father; the chance to see the common identity of spirit we both [share]; the chance to see just how much that makes possible in the way of love and comfort. And I feel I can call upon it now with anyone else.
“The most familiar models of who we are—father and daughter, doctor and patient, “helper” and “helped”—often turn out to be major obstacles to the expression of our caring instincts; they limit the full measure of what we have to offer one another. But when we break through and meet in spirit behind our separateness, we experience profound moments of companionship. These, in turn, give us access to deeper and deeper levels of generosity and loving kindness. True compassion arises out of unity.”
~ Ram Dass (p. 19-20 from “How Can I Help: Stories and Reflections on Service.” Alfred Knopf, New York. 2021.)
I’m closer to my Dad than I’ve ever been.
Maybe you have to either “be here now” or have, yourself, been a caregiver like this to some other person or persons to appreciate what you learn about yourself when you take on the responsibility of caring for someone like an aging parent. Not to minimize these teachings, because I’ll only mention them in brief, but these are the lessons that surfaced quickly, and that are growing me as a deeper human, as I write today (know that there is so much more…SO much more!):
Service—I thought I knew what service meant. I strove each day to be a servant leader when I was a principal. But Dad is showing me I had no idea. Until you find yourself in a place where your own “self” needs to disappear because of the 24/7/365 needs of another, you won’t fully know what it means to serve another.
Gratitude—Dad thanks us for every meal, thanks us for any small kindness we may offer (handing him a napkin or handkerchief, propping a pillow behind his back, folding a blanket across his legs), and always quietly thanks me for tucking him back in after helping him to the bathroom for late night visits. His gratitude reminds me every act in service to another has meaning—even when they do not or cannot show gratitude. Dad, fortunately, can. But it’s not expected…anymore. Because we know he’s grateful.
Compassion—Dad gives me the opportunity to see vulnerability from a man I only knew as “independent strength” growing up. Being vulnerable in this particular way with another, even though I do know it was hard for Dad at first, is, in itself, a loving act of compassion. Live long enough, and there will come a time, perhaps, where you have no choice but to accept your own vulnerability. I’m more mindful of my own now. In those moments when he is most vulnerable, we drop into those times with gentleness, grace, and acceptance. With mindfulness, it can be a sacred moment. His vulnerability gifts me compassion. An AMAZING lesson, that.
Patience—And here I thought I was a patient guy. Dad is showing me all the times when I am not patient and how impatience is never helpful. It doesn’t feel good when I fall short of patience—but learning, after all, isn’t always comfortable.
Intimacy—Even though it is one of the hardest things for me—to see Dad’s vulnerability so up close and personal, this level of deep intimacy has broken down any walls or barriers that may have been up between myself and my Dad—none of which were ever erected purposefully, mind you. Growing up, Dad kinda did “live at a distance” from us, mostly I think because he was more than happy to allow mom to live the closest in our lives and take up the bulk of parenting while he remained busy on the farm. Being “Dad” wasn’t in his comfort zone. But, now, we no longer “live at a distance.” Dad and I have never been closer—in just about every single way you can imagine. And if I were being honest, this hasn’t been easy for me either—to be this intimate with my father, when we never really exchanged even hugs when I was little and growing up, means I had a lot to learn about myself and my own capacity to gift intimacy like this. This, I’m still learning with every bathroom trip, shower, walk, and meal.
Dignity and Interconnectedness—The intimacy of shared vulnerability and the need for the care of another can be risky—but I know this now because of my past day job. Who we are shows others who they are:
“…the quality of our helping sometimes suffers from the hold our sense of separateness might have on us. As happily and healthily as we may function within it, the degree to which we believe ourselves to be individual, isolated entities has consequences for how we care for one another.” (p. 22)
“Implicit in any model of who we think we are is a message to everyone about who they are. It’s not as if there are any real secrets. If we are only seeing one part of the picture about ourselves, positive or negative, that’s all we’ll be able to make real to anybody else. Caught in the models of a separate self, then we end up diminishing one another. The more you think of yourself as a “therapist,” the more pressure there is on someone else to be a “patient.” The more you identify as a “philanthropist,” the more compelled someone feels to be a “supplicant.” The more you see yourself as a “helper,” the more need for people to play the passive “helped.” You’re buying into, even juicing up, precisely what people who are suffering want to be rid of: limitation, dependency, helplessness, separateness. [How] much is this helping, and how much it is hindering?
“Perhaps we recognize the predicament; we see the problem of always having to be “somebody.” So we decide to let it all go, become the model of humility, and aspire to the ideal of selflessness.” (p. 28)
“Perhaps we give up in resignation; the separate self, by definition, has its limits, after all. But maybe we find another way. We surrender into the unknown. With nothing left to do, we let our heart and intuitive wisdom reveal another way to be.” (p. 35)
~~~~~~~~~~~~
(Excerpts from Ram Dass’ “How Can I Help?”)
Those last parts are perhaps the most important things I’m learning about myself from my Dad. I fail at them every day (humility, selflessness, simply being with heart and wisdom), but I wake up the next morning wanting to be a better version of myself, to be more selfless in my service to Dad, and in doing so, to give up any selfish titles of fake importance in favor of understanding the value of humble, simple service in upholding another person’s dignity.
These are among the “most important” learnings, except for…
Love—It is said there are really only two emotions: love and fear. Dad, through his quiet and sometimes not quiet way of being, now, is “asking” me to choose Love. I am learning from Dad that Love can encompass “it all.” But it is an active choice—with Love, everything has meaning, everything matters, everything is necessary to grow a deeper Love. Nothing, no thing, can be left out. It is Love’s mandate. Otherwise, it’s not really Love—I’m learning that’s just selfishness.
Again, these aren’t the only things I’ve been learning with Dad; they were just the ones that surfaced now, after some reading, and in this time of reflection upon a man’s selfless, long-ago life of farming in service to something greater than he was; and that same man’s current life of open-hearted vulnerability as he struggles to find his way back to his true nature—the reincarnation of his self back to Soul.
I find that I read and write a lot about Soul lately. That word has shown up a lot in these posts too. This is Soul work that we are doing—Eldering, Serving, Loving, Learning. So I aim to explore that more fully in the future—and in doing so, come to a better understanding, myself, of who we really are and how best we should be in this world for each other…as fellow travelers.
Even and especially as we travel with my Dad on His Journey Home.
T plus 99 days…and counting. 99 DAYS! Tomorrow we celebrate Dad’s 100th day of being with us on this, his Journey Home. Maybe we’ll share vegan cupcakes—with candles on top (he ate all the leftover pancakes). It IS a celebration after all—no different from any other day now.
Hugs to Wally from a lifelong non hugger, though I’m getting better at it.
Amazing Kert...truly profound!!
Bless you🙏🙏🙏