Typically, when we are experiencing loss and all of the pain that comes with it, we feel deeply alone. If we’re lucky, we have close friends or family who can grieve with us. But even then, we often find that their ways of grieving are different from ours. This, ironically, can make us feel even more alone.
One of my favorite stories from early Buddhism is about Kisa Gotami, a woman who lived at the time of the Buddha. Her story has reminded generations of people of the universality of loss in a way that cuts right to the heart.
A Mustard Seed
Most Christians will know the Parable of the Mustard Seed. In that story, Jesus describes the Kingdom of God as like a mustard seed in that it is tiny but grows into a great tree. Likewise, Jesus suggested that his teaching would start with a small group of disciples and spread to a great many people around the world.
Buddhism, too, has its Parable of the Mustard Seed. But this is a very different story. In the Buddhist story, a young woman named Kisa Gotami marries a wealthy man after a childhood in a poor family. While this seemed wonderful for her, she was not treated well by her in-laws. That is, until she bore them a son. After this she was accepted and respected by the family. At last, perhaps, things were going to work out well for Kisa.
Unfortunately, though, this was not how the story would go. Tragedy struck. Her son, at a tender young age, died suddenly. Keep in mind, this was 2500 years ago when medicine was rudimentary and many children died in their early years.
Distraught, she took up the child’s body and searched for a doctor with the right medicine to revive him. But he was dead and no one could help. In her deep grief, she began to look ragged and frightening to some around her. Others laughed at her and mocked her. Finally, one day a man told her to go see the Buddha.
Falling before the Buddha’s feet, she asked if he could help her. To her relief, he said, “yes, I can help you.”
The Buddha told her that he would need a simple mustard seed from the nearby village. In India, mustard seeds are a common spice and would thus be in practically every house. She was overjoyed.
Then the Buddha added, “However, you must get the seed from a house that has not known death.”
She accepted the terms and went on her way. At the first house she asked for the mustard seed. The owner quickly went to get her the seed. But then she asked, “has there been death in this house?” The kind villager said yes and recounted the passing of a loved one. Then at the next house the same thing happened. And again, and again it continued.
As she listened to each stranger’s story, an odd thing happened. The sharpness of Kisa’s grief began to subside. Her deep pit of aloneness was being filled, gently, by the stories of those around her.
“No house is free from death,” she thought to herself.
She let go of her son, allowing him to be laid to rest, and returned to the Buddha.
The Buddha asked, “Do you have the mustard seed?”
“Dear teacher,” She replied, “I do not have a mustard seed. But I discovered that the living are few and the dead are many.”
Allowing the Rise and Fall
Knowing such a thing intellectually doesn’t necessarily help much. We know people die. We know everyone has faced loss. But when we come into contact with this truth in our lives, it can settle in our hearts more fully.
This does not make loss any easier. Nor does it eliminate the pain. But it acts like a sort of buffer for those most difficult thoughts and feelings. They are still there, but a little less sharp.
When faced with a great loss, there is no simple formula for moving forward. The mindful response is simply to allow the rise and fall of emotions. Just as we practice awareness of and letting go of sudden cravings for a cheeseburger or cake, we practice awareness of the pains of loss. And for both, occasionally, we might indulge ourselves. But we do so knowing that we’re indulging a passing feeling. We know that this can strengthen the habit pattern around that feeling.
With mindfulness, even indulging in a craving or a feeling of sorrow, we can help loosen its grip on us. We take the time to look into the complexity of the feeling. Perhaps we examine the feelings that come with it: is there avoidance here? Is there a longing? Is there loneliness?
Perhaps we cannot overcome our deep sorrow right now. But we can observe it. We can learn from it. And at times we can chip away at the parts of it that cause us problems. In doing so, our sorrow becomes our teacher. And to the extend that it demands our attention deeply and with great focus, it can be one of the greatest teachers of our life.
Kisa’s awakening
In the Buddhist story of Kisa Gotami, she goes on to be a devoted disciple of the Buddha and gains complete awakening. The depths of her despair were matched by the spiritual progress she was able to make.
Justin Whitaker, Ph.D., holds a doctorate in Buddhist ethics from the University of London. He has given lectures, and taught Buddhist studies and Philosophy at Oxford University, the University of Hong Kong, the University of Montana, and at Antioch University’s intensive study-abroad program in India. A certified meditation teacher, he is a regular contributor to Patheos.com, and Senior Correspondent for Buddhistdoor Global. He lives in Missoula with his family.