burning issues invariably dissolved away the moment he offered
a solution. This salient recollection, so deeply engraved on my
heart, profoundly affected me when he passed away. I could think
of no other person capable of helping me solve my problems. Who
else could I find with such compassion for me? Who else’s advice
could I trust? I was afraid of being left alone, depressed, and hope-
lessly stuck with my own store of ignorance. Gone were the easy
solutions I had found while living with him. The more I thought
about this dilemma, the more discouraged I became about find-
ing a safe, painless way out on my own. In my ignorance, I saw no
way forward at that moment; only misery and despair stared me in
the face. Sitting there in front of his dead body, as though I myself
were dead, I could think of no way to save myself and relieve my
misery. I sat brooding, a living, breathing ghost, completely obliv-
ious to time or bodily fatigue. This was the first time in my life
as a monk that I felt so gloomy, frightened, and confused—and
there was no one to help me, no means of extricating myself from
this distress. Each time I glanced down at Ãcariya Mun’s still, life-
less body, tears welled up in my eyes and flowed down my cheeks.
I was helpless to stop them. My chest heaved and sobbed as an
uncontrollable emotion arose and lodged in my throat, nearly suf-
focating me.
Eventually I regained enough presence of mind to reflect
inwardly, admonishing myself: Do I really intend to die of a broken
heart right now? He died free of concerns and attachments, which
are matters of the kilesas. If I were to die now, I would die as a
result of my concerns and attachments. That would be harmful to
me. Neither my despondency nor my death is of any use to me, or
to Ãcariya Mun. When he was alive, he never taught us to miss
jacob rumans
(Jacob Rumans)
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