Tonight, standing in our kitchen, my daughter brewed a cup of coffee for herself while I sipped on hot cocoa. The temperature outside had dropped. Spring had quickly decided to go back into hibernation. I needed something warm to drink. She needed caffeine to finish a paper. We snacked on air-popped popcorn my husband just made for us.
My daughter relayed how she was having great dreams. So great that in the morning, she didn't want to wake up and deal with the reality of papers, exams and waiting to hear back from colleges she applied to for the fall. I suggested doing some self-introspection and recognize the blessing-that her mind protects herself in such a way that it manifests the opposite of how many of us deal with stress when we sleep. Most people, including myself, have stress-filled dreams or nightmares. As a psychology major, I thought she would be on board with this idea.
"But I've had this happen to me three times already," she said about going through this phase. She said it puts her into this tailspin of worrying more.
"Well then," I replied, "how about you think about what would make you happy if you were 100 years old and on your death bed." Not the average bedtime story moms tell their children.
"Yeah, but I worry that if I failed a test or paper and then failed a class, then I would have to report it to the colleges I applied to and then I might not get in and then I would be stuck in Pennsylvania..." she went on. She, like many, saw greener pastures in places other than home. For her, it was California.
"Yes, but that's not what you would be thinking about on your death bed. What do people think about? They don't think about what college they went to or what kind of job they had. They don't think about the car or house they had or how much money they accumulated. That's all consumption. Think about what Bhante Sujatha and other monks say. Suffering comes from attachment. All those attachments are from consumption. And you can't take your house, your job, your money with you when you die and they weren't with you when you were born. When people die, they think about how much they loved."
"And how many people they hurt," she continued.
"Yes, and the adventures they had or didn't have. They think about what filled their heart."
"So, I should think about what feeds my soul," she said connecting the dots with such ease. Which was then followed by how brilliant I was. I reminded her that she is the one that figured it out, not me. She was the one that realized that what feeds your soul is what you think of at the end of life. Those are the things that matter the most.
