The Five Remembrances

In the Sutta on Subjects for Contemplation (the Utajjhatthana Sutta), the Buddha encourages both monks and lay people to contemplate five universal truths, commonly called the Five Remembrances.  I have Thich Nhat Hanh’s beautiful translation taped to my bathroom mirror to read every morning.

I am of the nature to grow old. There is no way to escape growing old.

I am of the nature to have ill health. There is no way to escape ill health.

I am of the nature to die. There is no way to escape death.

All that is dear to me and everyone I love are of the nature to change. There is no way to escape being separated from them.

My actions are my only true belongings. I cannot escape the consequences of my actions. My actions are the ground upon which I stand.

When I first put these up my husband wondered if I was suicidal.  To a westerner unfamiliar with the Buddha’s teachings, these contemplations may seem morbid and depressing.  But, when studied as the Buddha intended, the Five Remembrances can help us develop a deeper appreciation for life, be more accepting of change, and even encourage us to set a high standard of ethical behavior.

Though it  might seem surprising, contemplating the Five Remembrances has helped me cope with the reality of raising a disabled child.

In June of 2003, shortly after the birth of our second child, Sarah, my husband and I bought a new house.  I was just starting a new medical practice and we were excited about beginning the next phase of our lives.  We were young and full of energy.  We bought a house on an acre of land with a swimming pool and I envisioned many happy hours gardening and entertaining friends.  Three months after moving into our new home, Sarah had her first seizure.  She was just six months old.  By 2 years of age, she was having close to 100 brief seizures per day and we were calling 911 every two weeks for convulsions lasting as long as 45 minutes.  I had an acre of weeds and a green pool full of frogs.

So how does pondering my aging body and inevitable death help me cope with all of that?

Before life shoved me into the deep end of the special needs parenting pool, I thought I had everything figured out.  Career. Lifestyle. Family.  Suddenly, the fourth remembrance came along and hit me over the head with a brick.  Everything changed.

There is a mourning process that occurs when your child is diagnosed with a catastrophic illness.  The child you thought you had, the healthy, bright-eyed baby who would one day win a Nobel Prize, is gone.  You bury that child along with all the other preformed conceptions of how your life was supposed to unfold.  It takes you by surprise.  This isn’t how it’s supposed to be.  This isn’t what I planned.

Now I know.  All that is dear to me and everyone I love are of the nature to change.  The first four remembrances teach us about impermanence.  Don’t take anything for granted, not even your own health and youth.  You too will grow old, experience illness, and die.  Your children will grow up and leave.  Your pool will turn green and breed frogs.  Love your life, but don’t be too attached to it.  

What about the fifth remembrance?  It’s a little different from the others.  Here, we are reminded that, although all things change and eventually come to an end, the effects of your actions persist.  Do you treat others with kindness or are you quick to anger? Have you practiced generosity?  How will you be remembered by your grandchildren?  When I’m feeling exhausted after another long seizure-filled night, can I still greet my patients with a smile?  You can’t hold on to anything in this life much less take it with you.  So do good.  Help others.  Always remember that your actions are the ground on which you stand.

Metta

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