[Post Gandhi 3.0, Susan invited me to write a foreward for her upcoming book -- which ended up aligning so elegantly with personal life circumstances where I experimented with finding beauty amidst constraints. :)]

Foreword

In the midst of my brother's arduous 73-day hospital stay for a complex bone marrow transplant, my family stumbled upon a simple yet profound practice: bring homemade Indian tea, chai, for the nurses. Initially, we brought it to sustain ourselves through our 24x7 caregiving caravan, but one morning, we offered it to a nurse in gratitude for her work. Soon, this small act of kindness became the talk of the ward. It was a gesture of kinship, a bridge across the shared uncertainties of life. Our humble chai became a beacon, flask after flask, offered to anyone who entered our room. The nurses flocked to my brother’s side, drawn not only by his serenity and gentle joy but also, I like to think, by the warmth of the chai. :)

One morning, as I perfected my “gold medal chai” recipe, I realized something that was staring at me all along – the ingredients! The mint was from my cousin’s backyard that she generously delivered every week, the milk was from cartons that my Dad would pick up to save us grocery shopping time, the custom “masala” mix of spices was a gift from friends from India, lemon grass was lovingly plucked by Mom’s hands and frozen into a ziplock bag. So many hands were contributing to a single cup of chai, so many hands were receiving this cup of chai, and so many more would benefit from its ripples.

I’m honored to introduce Leaves Falling Gently by Susan Bauer-Wu precisely because it invites us to use serious illness as a fertile practice ground for mindfulness, compassion and connection. In each of those three sections of the book, Susan offers a rich tapestry of wisdom, stories, and practical exercises designed to help readers cultivate a deeper sense of those virtues.

Beneath these practices lies a subtle yet revolutionary insight: resilience is a collective endeavor. As mindfulness centers us amidst overwhelm, we awaken an impulse to see the shared suffering of others. And as that compassionate instinct is sharpened, we drop into a profound connectedness with all life. Now, individual difficulties feel shared across many able shoulders of our affinities. An individual heroic journey for resilience gives way to a quiet surrender into a web of relationships – that organically regenerates with wider and wider arcs of existence.

Covering my brother’s hospital TV was one of his favorite quotes, by Zohar Lavie: “Equanimity is the tender but unshakeable confidence that everything is workable.”

During a particularly harrowing phase of my brother’s recovery, he sustained 103+ fevers for an entire week. In every six-hour cycle, after maxing out on Tylenol doses, he would still have 2 hours of extreme chills, where the only recourse was ice-packs -- which only added to the chills. For the body, such rigors are like running marathons on repeat. Exhausting and debilitating. And it was on repeat -- two hours of this, every six hours, without any end in sight. Hard to watch, and certainly moved me to tears many times.

One night at 3 AM, as he lay in such a state, going in and out of awareness, I was holding his hand in solidarity. And I found myself introspectively asking, "What is my deepest prayer for him, right now?" My answer at that moment lay in his favorite quote. That may he abide in equanimity. Not that his pain would somehow disappear, but rather that he would dive fearlessly into the gateway of the present moment to uncover multitudes that would otherwise be inaccessible to him. Like an oven that cooks primed dough such that it can nourish others as supple bread.

To genuinely hold that in my heart, though, required me to first step into that space in me – do I really hold an unshakeable confidence that all this is workable? 

The source of my deep YES in that trying moment didn’t come from personal resolve. It felt as though the nurses who drank the chai were a part of my strength, my family who delivered the milk and lemon grass and mint were part of my strength, the unknown people who had affinities with all of those people were part of my strength.

Everything is workable, not through the might of individually accumulated merit, but rather through our web of relations that empower us to stay with suffering until we can respond with compassion.

In Leaves Falling Gently, Susan emphasizes that living fully is not about the absence of illness but the presence of possibility. The possibility to become aware, open our hearts, and remain connected. Her background as a nurse, researcher, and meditation teacher breathes life into her stories and practices, making them both accessible and grounded. The first section on Mindfulness guides us to resilience with powerful stories and exercises to tune into our bodies, manage overwhelming emotions, and embrace daily activities mindfully. In the section on Compassion, Susan explores the bridge connecting us to ourselves and others, encouraging forgiveness, generosity, and gratitude. These practices benefit not only those living with illness but also their caregivers. The final section on Connectedness teaches mindful communication, the power of presence and touch, and finding solace in nature and spiritual connections. Within the challenges of our healing journeys lie opportunities to connect, love, and find peace.

Hospitals can be a great place to define, refine and redefine one’s own relationship to personal and collective suffering. “This job is overwhelming. People suffer so much,” a hospital security guard confided in me one evening. Walking through the hallways, I witnessed profound moments of grief and tenderness: an older man clutching his young daughter, two burly men with tattoos crying together, families receiving heartbreaking news. And then, one fine day, I found myself in their shoes – tearing inexplicably, as I paced the hallways. Through it all, I managed to crack a little smile, in knowing that someone somewhere, in the sea of hearts walking by, must be beaming me the same kind of invisible prayer I had sent to others the ethers of life’s inner-net. I felt held.

Leaves Falling Gently is more than a book; it is a companion on the journey to feeling held. It reminds us that even amidst duress, we can keep our hearts open. 

May the path ahead deepen your sense of connection with yourself, your loved ones, and the world.

May your days be filled with offerings of chai.

With one heart bowing,

Nipun
Santa Clara, July 2024