I began reading Buddhist philosophy and Zen poetry over 40 years ago. There was something in it that grabbed me, similar to Existentialism, only differently, dare I say more knowingly. There is a Zen lesson that teaches:
Before studying Zen, the Mountain was a Mountain.
While studying Zen, the Mountain was not a Mountain.
After studying Zen, the Mountain was a Mountain again.
I learned this in my early thirties. It’s meant to teach something to the student. I found myself in Utah once, sitting, looking at the mountains for an hour or so, contemplating this lesson. I have contemplated this lesson for a long time. Only recently, do I fully comprehend this is a lesson about perception and the profound reality of impermanence.
There is nothing like dementia to bring us into this existential reality. We knew our loved one when the mountain was a mountain. But we are forced into dementia’s reality where the mountain is no longer a mountain. That is, our entire reality, as we have known it, has changed, and we reel in the paradox that Buddhism holds to heart to teach what is actually real. When we understand the impermanence we face with dementia--that is, we know without doubt our loved one will die--we are suddenly free to understand our illusion that separation, death, change, impermanence were far from us in a time before dementia.
Impermanence isn’t about permanently gone. It is about manifesting differently. It is about change. So, whether we believe we will meet again in Heaven or in another lifetime, as an angel or a fish, the understanding is we are not here forever as we now know ourselves. When we face this reality, we are pained to know the Mountain is not a Mountain, that is, we are facing our illusion, but after facing it, we are free to love in the awareness our time with our loved one is limited, and we understand the Mountain is indeed a Mountain again--it never wasn't--only our perception has changed. This may sound like a tragedy, but it is about our perception. If we enter into the journey with our loved one in every moment that is the actual moment at hand, we are more ready to give and receive as best we can. We are more ready to embrace the reality that they will die, as at some point so will we all, and that we will be present to their dying. This knowledge allows us to be present in loving kindness—present to our loved one, and present to ourselves.
Dementia challenges us every day to the reality of change. It challenges our perception as to what once was, what we think should be, and what actually is. When we change our perception in the awareness of things as they are, we can more readily embrace traveling with our loved one as they journey through dementia.