Still Hold Fast to a Little Light Amid the Gray
#TBSN True Buddha Garden By Shi Lian Yi

Lately, the state of mind Guru has revealed since his illness has felt especially heavy. This illness has brought not only bodily suffering; it seems to have changed the very way he looks upon life. Where there was once brightness and optimism, there is now a deeper shade of gray. As the body gradually loses its autonomy, the feeling of being trapped—as though one were trying to break out of a shell and yet could not emerge—becomes more real with each passing day. It is precisely in such suffering that one truly realizes: in this world, there is ultimately nothing one can really hold on to.

Sometimes, what is harder to bear than pain itself is not the pain, but the shadow that slowly gathers over it. We know well that each day we live should be a day of gratitude, a day of practice, and a day of joy. Yet once illness deepens, the heart seems pressed beneath a layer of gray. Where there is a body, there is affliction; where there is a body, there is burden; where there is a body, there is a loss of freedom. Laozi said, “My greatest affliction lies in having a body.” In ordinary times, it reads like a philosophical insight. Only in sickness does one discover that it is also a sigh rising from within the body itself. One no longer merely understands it; one feels, with painful clarity, the weight behind that sigh.

Such a state of mind is not unfamiliar to many people today.

Some, after a serious illness, seem to lose their color altogether. Others, after a trauma, continue outwardly with daily life, yet inwardly feel as though a corner of the heart has collapsed. They cannot sleep well, startle easily, dare not think about the future, and cannot summon strength even for the present. Still others, under the long strain of stress, exhaustion, and loneliness, gradually lose their warmth for life. Post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) and depression torment people not only because the symptoms are painful, but because they erode hope itself, leaving the past, the present, and the future shrouded in pressure and shadow. What is most frightening is often not the suffering itself, but the way suffering slowly wears away that last inward strength that still wants to go on.

But suffering rarely falls on one person alone.

When someone is bedridden for a long time, the suffering spreads from the bedside to the caregiver as well. Those who care for a seriously ill loved one over the long term often bear not a passing hardship, but a kind of exhaustion with no end in sight. What others see is that they are still standing. What they do not see is that inwardly they may already have been collapsing, inch by inch, for a very long time. The most frightening thing is not simply fatigue, but reaching the point where one no longer has the strength even to grieve, or the strength even to break down. What remains is numbness, grim endurance, and the daily labor of dragging oneself through one more day.

Therefore, seeking help is not weakness. Taking a breather is not unfilial. Resting is not escape. Only by first pulling oneself back from the edge of collapse can one continue caring for others over the long term.

As a physician, I am unwilling to write of PTSD and depression as though they were things one can overcome simply by “thinking more positively.” Those who are truly in the grip of illness do not recover because they have heard a few words of reason. PTSD requires treatment, and so does depression. When it is time to talk, one must talk. When it is time to seek treatment, one must seek it. When medication is needed, medication must also be used. In milder cases, one may begin with regular routines, behavioral activation, support systems, and psychotherapy. In more severe cases, antidepressant medication is often also necessary. What medicine can do is help restore, little by little, sleep, mood, function, and a sense of safety, so that the whole person is not dragged under by illness.

And yet Buddhadharma remains vital precisely because it addresses not only symptoms, but also the heart that is on the verge of being dragged entirely into darkness.

Buddhadharma does not ask a person to pretend that nothing is wrong, nor does it hastily cover over human wounds with the phrase “all is empty.” The Buddhadharma that truly has power is that which gives a person a place to settle when they are about to sink. Hold fast to the breath, hold fast to the Buddha’s name, hold fast to the mantra, hold fast to the present moment. Do not let the whole heart be pulled again and again by past, present, and future. Do not let affliction churn like muddy water until it grows ever murkier. Trauma drags a person back into former terror. Depression drives a person toward hopelessness. Practice, however, brings one back, little by little, to this very moment—to the place where one can still stand.

Medicine helps stop the bleeding; Buddhadharma helps the heart find a place to abide.

The former treats the symptoms; the latter sustains the life within. When illness is severe, one should see a doctor, receive treatment, and take medication when medication is needed. And amid all of this, one must still find a way to preserve that small light that refuses to go out. Not merely to flicker like a candle in the wind, barely alive, but, however difficult it may be, to slowly find one’s footing again.

In the end, what people fear most in the depths of suffering is not that grayness has come, but that once it comes, they themselves slowly begin to believe that there is nothing left to hope for, that nothing lies ahead but anxiety and sorrow. For when a person lets go even of hope, when they no longer have the heart to take one more step forward, life itself begins to sink.

So perhaps what truly matters is simply this: to hold fast to that small measure of light.

Perhaps it is the willingness to get out of bed today.

Perhaps it is the willingness to see a doctor today.

Perhaps it is the willingness to admit, “I am truly exhausted.”

Perhaps it is simply the decision not to give up today.

People do not find hope because suffering has already ended. Rather, it is because they are still willing to hold fast to that little bit of hope that they gradually find a way out of suffering.

So even amid the gray, one must still hold fast to a little light.

For once a person lets go even of that little light, the darkness truly enters.