The Soul of Care

This picture captures my final interaction with JD—I had no idea he would leave the world soon after. He was thanking me, and I was assuring him everything would be all good. In hindsight, it should have been the other way around. A priceless picture—JD’s final sentiments were full of positivity, gratitude, love and fighting spirit. Teaching till the end, and concluding with absolute grace. The Bhagavad-gītā emphasises non-enviousness, tolerance, humility and universal friendliness—qualities which JD effortlessly exuded. He possessed a childlike innocence and an acute aversion to criticism or complaint. He just didn’t go there. JD embodied everything I aspire to be, and each year I reread the book I wrote about him (available here) to recalibrate my priorities. Spiritual practitioners meditate on death; through JD’s life, it becomes an inspiring meditation. His cancer journey was brutal, beautiful and everything in between.

Philosophers have long grappled with human mortality. Socrates regarded the self as immaterial and had no inhibitions when sentenced to death, whilst Aristotle saw death as a natural conclusion and instead focused on eudaimonia (flourishing in life). Epicurus mitigated the fear of death by claiming we’re not there to experience it, and it’s therefore irrelevant. The Stoics discouraged people from focusing on things beyond their control and suggested that emotions are not forced upon us, but are chosen by us. Christian thinkers like Aquinas and Augustine viewed death as the opportune transition towards eternal life, while Heidegger stressed that authentic awareness of mortality confers heightened significance upon existence. Cicero said that to philosophise is to learn how to die. JD computed it all through the Bhagavad-gītā and when the notice of death landed at his door, he embraced it with style. For him, it was another adventure. No frustration, bitterness or regret.

As I relived JD’s story this time, I couldn’t deny my feelings of regret. I could have done better; more importantly, I should have been better. In his book, The Soul of Care, medical anthropologist Arthur Kleinman reveals the humanity that is born from serving loved ones in times of crisis. Care, he says, is not simply a civic duty or social culture, but a defining opportunity for the moral and emotional formation of a human being. In assisting JD through his months of physical decline, I saw the emergence of innate qualities which often remain dormant within us: love, patience, and vulnerability. To be a caregiver challenges one to find their own heart, and the accompanying humility, empathy and endurance, without which care cannot happen. Care forces you to become personal.

But an uncomfortable reality dawned upon me. JD and I were active, mission-driven monks, jumping from one project to the next. His sudden diagnosis beckoned me to step away from it all and be with him. Pausing my engaged life to assume the role of caregiver brought existential angst. My life was about productivity, achievement and impact, my sense of self-worth founded upon that. Caregiving meant setting everything aside. Since his physical decline coincided with Covid, the world situation made the decision for me, and so I moved in with him. But I can’t deny the hesitation and inner conflict I felt in being a caregiver and stopping my active life. It brought a deep regret. I realised how self-absorbed I had become, losing sight of what truly matters amidst the pursuit of activities and achievements. My life was built on the care of others, yet I had grown so uncaring myself. I was humbled. How the passionate movement of the world can steal our humanity!

I could have done better; more importantly, I should have been better. May the soul of care always remain alive within us.