From the Trenches of Dementia

A Buddhist trains with her mother-in-law

Mrs. T at Jones Beach.

In the Buddhist tradition, there is a daily practice of taking refuge vows.
It’s very simple. It goes like this:

In the Buddha, I take refuge.
In the dharma, I take refuge.
In the sangha, I take refuge.

I’ve taken those vows since 1999, when I met my teacher, Anam Thubten. In the beginning, my refuge was the fact that this man actually existed (the Buddha); then, that he offered his teachings for our benefit (the dharma); and finally, that there were like-minded humans who gathered to practice those teachings (the sangha).

With time, I learned how much deeper those vows go.
Now, my refuge is:

The Buddha (The Buddha lives in me, and I bow to this and invoke it every day.)
The dharma (Everything that happens is a teaching. Everything.)
The sangha (Everyone in the world points me toward awakening.)

In that context, I want to tell you a story crafted from a journal entry I found, written on December 12, 2020. My mother-in-law was deep into the Times Square Traffic Jam of dementia; and, because our home health care aide had thrown her back out on that…