You may remember Adams -- he was mentioned in the introduction of my book, Modern Buddhist Healing. Adams was eighteen when his leukemia returned. At the urgent behest of his parents, I first guided Adams through his original bout with cancer and treatment when he was twelve. He called me “Master Yoda” and I called him “my young Skywalker.” At the time, our bond was stronger than Jupiter’s gravity. He chanted daimoku and used visualization with youthful zeal as a complement to his conventional treatment. In short order he claimed victory over leukemia. His medical team was so impressed with the attitude of the boy and his recovery that they began to incorporate the Simonton visualization technique into their treatment arsenal for other chronically ill children.
Adams began a new round of chemotherapy. I encouraged him by letter, reminding him of what he could do to fight his illness. He complained about his swollen eye. On further investigation, they thought his eye was a bad sinus infection due to his depressed immune system. When the situation grew markedly worse they thought it might be a tumor on his optic nerve. More tests were ordered. His condition rapidly declined and he was hospitalized. After some delay the doctors learned that his infection was actually mucormycosis, a rare and often deadly flesh-eating fungus that attacks the mucous membranes of immune-suppressed people.
They caught the infection too late. Immediate surgery to remove the necrotic tissue cost him an eye, part of his face and palate, yet the fungus continued to advance. All the while, I engaged Buddhists from all over the world to pray for the boy. In my proviso to them, I asked that they pray for the universe to have mercy on Adams and his parents. Finally, the doctors declared him terminal.
As one who is somewhat experienced in mediation, remote viewing, and samadhi states of consciousness, I visualized my mind going to Adams, praying before his bed, holding his hand, stroking his head, praying to ease his pain and distress. I performed this type of effort twice a day for ten minutes at a time, pleading with the beneficent forces of the universe to have mercy on the boy and his family. A few days after I had begun to do this, Adams mother called me to say that the boy kept seeing a balding man with gray hair and glasses holding prayer beads, chanting in front of his bed. He immediately knew who it was.
The mother could not see the presence but sensed that the sterile ICU room took on a spiritual aura for around ten minutes when the presence emerged. I could offer her no certain explanation of these phenomena except that it could be what it seemed. Prayer works. The laws of time and space do not bind prayer. One need not be a sage or priest to have their prayers answered. In fact, I assert that the prayer of one sincere common person is more potent than a temple full of clerics. I was not the least bit surprised that the boy saw the presence. What truly compelled me was the vivid detail of his vision and how he told his mother that he didn’t feel alone when the man appeared. Until he lapsed into unconsciousness, he kept reporting seeing the man.
Adams was put on a ventilator. His parents were completely exhausted but hoped for a miracle even though they understood the grim reality of the situation. Yet Adams fought to live, like a warrior in hand-to-hand combat. Prior to losing consciousness the boy knew that he would probably not survive, but he would not let go. Two weeks passed and the deadly fungus advanced unabated inside his precious body. Adams father would call me in the middle of the night saying, “get your ass out of bed and chant…” Both parents fell ill and could no longer attend their son. We were all totally exhausted.
The doctors insisted that there was no hope that the boy would
recover. There seemed only incalculable suffering for all concerned.
It seemed to me that we treat our pets more humanely than we treat
our own species. What was the point of perpetuating the agony?
The brutality of sickness and death stunned us all with its garish
display of cruelty.
I also understood that karma is exceedingly difficult to understand
and that to end suffering in life, such as by euthanasia, might
only forestall the most difficult crux of the karma, which had
to be expiated in some future life.
There are other subtle lessons that apply to the survivors and how they must deal with their own destiny. Will they be defeated in spirit by the death of a loved one? Will they find the gold buried beneath the murky waters of senseless death? Will they live better lives? Will they understand the greatness of life?
A heroic death can positively move the hearts of weak and detached loved ones and observers, causing them to learn important lessons about themselves and the true nature of life. For the foolish there are the hopeless questions of “why me – why him?” Some give in to the chaos and paradoxical unfairness of life imagining it like a cosmic roulette wheel that tells us when our number’s up and there’s nothing we can do about it. These types of people become the fatalists that abhor life and fear death.
But there is always meaning and truth in a seemingly hopeless situation, if we are wise enough to rise above our suffering and realize it. It was the afternoon and I was trying to figure out a way I could help Adams. All our prayers seemed to be impotent in thwarting his decline. What more could I do? We were all deadlocked. At that exact moment, I received the most disturbing phone call of my life.
Early that same afternoon, Adams’ mother asked me to help her son die. “I’m not a God. Who could do such a thing?” I asked. She explained the latest turn of events and the magnification of the boy’s distress. I explained that it was not in my nature to pray for someone to die. It is true that our bodies must kill off bad cells, microbes and viruses in order to survive, but I could not be party to a death prayer. She persisted. I had an idea. I asked her if she was sure that this is what she truly wanted. There could be no turning back.
I told her that I would attempt to visit the boy in mind and spirit and help him decide for himself. Because I implicitly believe in the reality of spirit travel and nonlocal consciousness, the idea seemed completely plausible. To a skeptic, it would seem like utter hogwash. I told her to be ready. Immediately I sat upright in the immovable spot of profound mediation before the Gohonzon and chanted daimoku. Pleading with the universe, I prayed for the power to touch his life. I was instantly with the boy who was in a limbo between his wracked body and the realms of nonbeing. His ego, senses and mundane consciousness clung to his body like a spider’s web is securely anchored to a branch. The mind at large was rapidly emerging from within him, and he fought to cling to the physical plane. Although it might seem like make-believe to some, I was actually in the presence of the boy’s being.
I asked him if he knew his condition. He did, but was holding onto hope that he could overcome his situation. After all, hadn’t I just told him that he could definitely overcome cancer?
I explained that it wasn’t the cancer but the mucormycosis that was killing him. “They can’t stop it and the damage is too extensive. The disfigurement is profound. You’re not going to make it. Do you know how painful seeing you suffer is for your parents, knowing you’re going to die and seeing your body waste away? Of course you don’t feel it, but they think you do. What are you afraid of?” I asked.
I could see that he was afraid to let go. “Don’t you know who’s waiting for you? It’s wonderful. You’re totally protected. The universe is waiting for it’s newest hero,” I told him. But he didn’t want to go. I scolded him like a child. He lashed out at me with a cat-claw of angry light. His swipe took my breath away. He managed to break my meditation.
Gathering myself, I was back with him in about a minute or so, shocked at his tenacity. Again, I scolded him. “I’ve come here to help you. You must listen to me. Your suffering is crushing your parents. You’ve transformed your karma and won’t ever have to experience such things again. Your life will inspire countless other kids in their own battles. You must let go.”
I imagined fashioning him a lantern and robe made from the colors of my mantra. The lantern was his beacon in the dark blue that surrounded us. The robe emitted glorious beams of light. There was a tiny cord of silver light that connected his life essence with his body. It dissolved and he faded with it. I awoke from my mediation, not knowing if I had imagined it all. Forty minutes later his mother called to tell me that Adams became very peaceful and died.
Since Adams' death, I have had many thoughts on the events that transpired and what it means. His parents are exceedingly grateful for the many prayers on behalf of Adams and are especially appreciative for the Nichiren Buddhists all over the world who prayed for their son.