Cattāri Brahmavihārā

For the last six days my daughter has had an inexplicable and worrisomely high fever that has had us in a constant state of alarm and anxiety. The pediatircian was at a loss when my wife took her in on Friday but when she woke up this morning with a raging fever we knew we had to take her to the ER. What was it that was tormenting our little one? Our minds raced and, as is my nature, I immediately thought of the worst terminal diseases. And, as much as my friends and acquaintences would like to ridicule my anxieties I still return to this one question: why not?

Children get horrible diseases so why not mine? And, what is so different between my child and another’s? Do others deserve to suffer anymore? Surely not. That it turned out that she probably only has a urinary tract infection is really nothing more than a brief reprieve as much as it hurts to realize it. Being through this again and in the ped ER broke my heart wide open to the predicament each one of us is in and throughout it all my mind kept turning to the story of Kisa Gotami. Why are we different from her? Each of us wakes, walks and sleeps in death’s embrace living on borrowed time. Why wait to go from dooor to door seeking a mustard seed from a house that knows not death when we can train our hearts to open out of compassion and solidarity with our brothers and sisters in birth, aging and death?