Chapter 14
Brother Francis explained, “We thought that these items might be of some comfort to Tar-chin. She is missing a Dorje from her home that has been in the family for generations.”
As he was speaking, Tar-chin became more animated and even tried to enter into the conversation. This startled everyone. Tar-chin said, “Dorje and bell are helpful. Give me your medicine.” Then she drifted back to her gray world.
The Director observed, “She is obviously drawing some benefit from holding on to those sacred items. I believe that I heard you talking about Resurrection Pills when I was in my office before I became free to come out here and visit.”
Brother Francis talked to the Director. “This is your jurisdiction, Doctor, and none of us wants to interfere. There has been no change, however, so I am wondering if we might have your permission to treat your patient Tar-chin with Resurrection Pills. I very much enjoy collaborating with other doctors and think that between us we might be of some benefit to this woman.”
The Tibetan was thoughtful. He knew the value of Asian medicine but had focused his professional life on Western medicine. There is so much superstition mixed in with spirituality and indigenous medical practices, but there is also great benefit when Asian medicine is used wisely.
“Very well, Brother, you may administer Resurrection Pills. I will record it on this patient’s chart.”
Francis explained that the only Resurrection formula he was able to obtain was in the pill form of delivery system and that this patient would probably have difficulty with pills. He asked the Director for a mortar and pestle and began crushing the pills with these pharmacy tools. He next asked for some boiling water, into which he placed the powdered pills and mixed them thoroughly with the water. Eventually he had liquefied the medication completely. Francis invited Krishna to intubate the patient with a naso-gastric tube and then administered the cooling liquid into Tar-chin’s stomach through the tube and a funnel.
“We can do nothing now but continue our vigil. The last of the medicine will be taken in shortly and then we will need to watch for possible changes. Ang, is there anything you would like us to do, or anything we can do directly for you?”
“No, Brother, nothing else has been helpful. At least we are now doing something different. I have always believed that if one always does what one always did, one will always get what one has always gotten.”
Flo joined in, “I understand, Ang, and I agree with you.”
The Director went back to his office as the mystery team lowered the lights near the bed of the patient and kept quite vigil. Each person prayed or reflected in his or her own fashion. Some members of the group began to dose off. About twenty minutes after the medication was administered, Tar-chin began to stir, but in a less agitated fashion.
She mumbled, “Yes, if it means that much to you, you may have the Dorje.”
All ears perked up. Ang went to the side of his mother.
“Mother, it is me,” he said in Tibetan, “your small one, Sunday-born.”
She smiled. “Ang my son, the Buddha has brought you to me. I would be happy to see you under any circumstances, but wonder what I am doing here.”
“Mother, you have been very sick indeed. These kind people from the United States found you in a semi-coma in your home and brought you here. They then contacted me.”
“I remember bits and pieces, Ang, but not everything.”
Brother Francis interjected. “Give yourself some time Tar-chin. The memory has a way of rebuilding itself, brick by brick. Whatever is necessary for your health and wholeness can return, I am convinced, if you are at peace and give it some time.”
“I certainly will give it time, Geshe-la, for my name means ‘giver.” But perhaps I should call you ‘Brother Francis,’ which is what you are more used to.”
“Tar-chin,” Francis said in amazement and offered a question for everyone in the room, “how did you know my name? You have been just about comatose for days.”
“I saw you. Don’t you remember? It was the night I gave the Dorje away. You came to me. I suppose a Westerner in monastic robes appearing to me in my parlor should have frightened me, but there you were and I was not frightened. You asked me not to be and then assured me that all would be well, and so it is.”
“What do you mean, ‘there I was,’” prodded Francis.
“Maybe if I start from the beginning it will be helpful.”
Tar-chin went into a reverie. “I was a little tired and grimy from a walk to the store and back so I went into the bathroom to wash my face, preparing to read a little bit before I went to bed. I heard a knock and went to the door where I saw a rather tall Western gentleman, perhaps in his early fifties. Again, I ought to have been frightened but I wasn’t.
“The man told me that he was researching a book on Tibetan spirituality and healing and came across some references in his research to the ‘Tar-chin Dorje.’ You see, Brother, that is the name of the Dorje that my ancestor prayed with. He was a Buddhist monk whose name was Tar-chin also, and I have been named after him. There are those of us among our tradition who believe that I am his reincarnation, although I never really, how you say, ‘bought into that very much.’
“I invited the gentleman in. He was very warm and gracious. He asked to see the Dorje and I took it out of the box in my bedroom and then handed it to him.
“He reminded me that Dorje and bell equal male and female and are really supposed to be used together. Judd, for that was his name, told me that he was on his way to Tashilumo Monastery in the city of Xigatse, Tibet.
“Judd’s research indicated that the bell that matches this Dorje was at the monastery and wondered if he might reunite them for me. I was hesitant to let go of this family heirloom, but also knew that one must live in a way that brings everything into wholeness. The gentleman seemed very sincere. I thought that I might give him happiness, along with whoever possessed the bell, if indeed that bell was truly the mate.
“With tears in my eyes, I handed him the Dorje, which he then reverently placed in a beautifully embroidered pouch. Judd promised me that he would be in touch and left my home. After that I became very dizzy, as if someone had unplugged an electrical cord that had been feeding my body. That is the last I remember until now, except for a moment or two here or there.”
David whispered, “Isn’t Judd the name of the man who is co-director of the Tibetan Buddhist Learning Center in New Jersey?”
Francis nodded.
The Director of the clinic was at her bedside now, looking at Francis. “You can explain to us how this woman went into a coma, can’t you Brother?”
“Perhaps I can, Doctor.”
“As a clinical psychologist one might hypothesize that this woman had an emotion reaction to her loss of the family Dorje. This object, which had provided much meaning to her life for many years, was now out of her control. Some clinicians refer to the state Tar-chin entered as a ‘fugue state.’
“As a naturopathic doctor, one might hypothesize that Tar-chin swallowed some form of toxin, although lab studies have not identified any. Perhaps there was something in the water she drank, the food she ate, or the air she breathed while out on her walk. I suppose we will never know about that.
“A more wholistic and perhaps more spiritual explanation would be that Tar-chin was connected on a qi level to all of creation in a very profound way. This connection is really what keeps every one of us alive.
“For Tar-chin, however, the connection was mediated by the Dorje, because of its role in the life of her family.
“When she experienced the loss of the Dorje, even voluntarily and perhaps temporarily, she went into a state of suspended animation.
“When I placed the bell and Dorje in her hands, her hands seemed to know what they were grasping and the beginning of her ‘resurrection’ began. Administering the liquid form of the Resurrection Pills completed the job.”
The explanation set everyone but Francis at ease. Tar-chin said that I appeared to her the night she parted with the Dorje. It was physically impossible to do so. I didn’t even know her then. Thank you, Jesus, for the gift of a curious and scientific mind, but a mind which is not limited by science and which possesses ‘the peace that passes understanding’ referred to in the scriptures when it can’t explain something.
“I think it’s time for your mother to get some rest,” the Director said to Ang. “If she continues to make progress, and is strong enough in the morning, maybe we can think about sending her home.”
Ang brightened. “I’ll stay here this evening if I may, Doctor.”
“That sounds like a good idea,” the Director responded.
The rest of the group made their good-byes and walked the winding streets back to the hotel.
The next day the travelers took a one-hour flight back to Lhasa and, after resting, returned to their favorite nunnery down the road from the hotel. They visited with Ani Cho-nyi, who invited them to join her as she visited her sister, Lhak-pa Gyal-tshen. The Tibetan Buddhist nun explained that Lhak-pa’s name means “courageous speech” and that it fits her very well. She reminded the group that her blood sister, also a Buddhist nun, lived in a little house by herself. Because of her openness in working for human rights, she was not very popular with government officials, although the Tibetan people revere her highly.
The seven friends walked through a rabbit warren of Tibetan streets. After about twenty-five minutes of twists and turns they came to a small house in a relatively quiet neighborhood. The hermit nun greeted them with traditional Tibetan warmth and immediately began preparing yak-butter tea for her visitors.
Globs of yak butter, which looked something like lard, were plopped into a blender full of hot tea. Salt was added. The group didn’t want to think about what else might have gone in also! They looked away as the concoction was being created. All drank with gratitude, sprinkled with light conversation.
Flo wondered how far off the charts this yak butter tea was sending her cholesterol. I’ve really got to follow up on that protocol Francis has for lipid management through pharmaceutical grade marine fish oil.
As the group prepared to leave the little house, Brother Francis told Ani Lhak-pa that he wished there were a way that he could keep in touch with her. They seemed to have a similar value system and he felt as if he had known her all his life and that he would be hearing more from her somehow.
The nun smiled sweetly. “Sometimes it is better not to know things, but perhaps I can get a note to you,” she said with a strange mixture of gratitude and humor.