a Tibetan refugee named Tenzin was diagnosed with lymphoma.
While receiving his first dose of chemotherapy,
Tenzin’s gentle disposition turned angry and upset.
Pulling out the IV, he refused to cooperate.
The patient’s wife explained:
Tenzin had been a political prisoner for 17 years at the hand of the Chinese,
who had killed his first wife and brutalized him throughout imprisonment.
“I know you mean to help him,” she consoled, “but he feels tortured by your
treatments.
They are causing him to feel hatred inside, just like he felt toward the
Chinese.
He would rather die than live with the hatred he is now feeling.
According to our belief, it is very bad to have hatred in your heart at the
time of death.
He needs to be able to pray and cleanse his heart.”
A hospice nurse
was assigned to Tenzin’s care,
who encouraged him to talk through his horrible memories.
Tenzin held up his hand, stopping the well-meaning professional,
“I must learn to love again if I am to heal my soul.
Your job is not to ask me questions. Your job is to teach me to love again.”
The nurse took a deep breath and asked how she was to do this,
to which Tenzin replied, “Sit down, drink my tea and eat my cookies.”
Tea with the married couple commenced:
strong black liquid laced with yak butter and salt was endured for several
weeks.
Throughout the winter months, Doctors treated Tenzin’s physical pain
as the patient tended his spirit, routinely sitting cross legged and praying.
The Tibetan couple hung more and more colorful “thankas,” or Tibetan religious
art,
transforming Tenzin’s room into a beautiful shrine.
Spring arrived.
Hospice nurse asked Tenzin what Tibetans do when they fall ill in the spring.
Smiling brightly, he answered,
“We sit downwind from flowers.”
Poetic, but not simply metaphorical.
He explained that to sit downwind
is to be dusted with new blossom’s pollen,
carried on spring breeze.
How to achieve such remedy?
Local nurseries were called
and when the unusual request
to sit downwind from flowers
was explained, one manager agreed.
To the florist were escorted, Tenzin, wife and all provisions:
black tea, butter, salt, cookies, cups and tea pot, prayer beads and prayer
books.
Each week, Tenzin and his wife visited another nursery
until the hospice nurse began to get calls of invitation—
“New shipments of Nicotiana, Fuschias, and oh, yes! Daphne!
And new lawn furniture the couple might enjoy.”
A different nursery called—
colorful windsocks had arrived
that would help Tenzin predict where the wind was blowing.
Nurseries and their patrons began
tending
and caring for the couple:
refreshing hot water for tea,
monitoring the direction of the wind,
leaving wagons of budding flowers close by.
Summer ended.
Tenzin returned to the doctor for a CT scan to determine the spread of cancer.
Dumbfounded, Doctor found no trace, reporting it was unexplainable.
Tenzin lifted his finger, saying, “I know why….
When I began to feel all the compassion
from all those people who wanted to know about me,
I started to change inside.
Now, I feel fortunate to have had the opportunity to heal in this way.
Doctor, please don’t think that your medicine is the only cure.”
Cures come in a myriad of forms and combinations,
affecting many layers of disease—
physical, mental, emotional and spiritual.
Perhaps when faced with circumstances repressing heart’s capacity to love,
sit downwind from flowers,
receive strong medicine of prayer, beauty, appreciation, compassion
from those who hold the vision of healing.
Poem adapted from
Lee Paton's story
