A Monk, The Om, A Metronome

David Harlann had spent 14 years as a field medic. The horrors of mangled bodies and shot-off limbs were commonplace to him. Just another Tuesday strewn with blood. Those who started with him had moved on. They wanted to use the experience as an impressive line on their CV, or to run a triage unit. David, though, didn’t know what he wanted. He just… stayed.

His only personal connection was his sister, Evelyn. They grew up outside Philadelphia, raised by their single dad.

You see, when David was nine, he discovered his mom was a drug addict. He had wondered for years why they would only see her two days a week. Every time she reappeared, he would overhear shouting. He finally gleaned that his father was telling her she needed to be home more, and get help.

One fateful day, she realized she’ll never get help. She left the three of them a note, vanishing forever. David could still see the ink on the page, the swirly heart at the end… and how it looked smeared with his tears.

So, the three of them were bonded together, like never before. They were a father and two kids, sharing permanent trauma.

At 18, while his friends were packing for college, excited to move, David dreaded to leave. Evelyn was 15 then, and assured him she’d be fine. She had plenty of friends now. Even a boy she liked.

After college, he realized Evelyn and his dad were managing well. He could pursue the only ambition he had: medical school.

Early in his second year, however, his father was struck down by a heart attack. Evelyn called him, sobbing. He took a leave of absence and flew back to Pennsylvania.

He considered dropping out, but she told him to push through. Go back and earn your doctor’s license. It’s what Dad would’ve wanted!

So he did. Brown Medical School let him resume.

Tragedy, however, wasn’t done with him. Now, 25 years later in a war zone, he received word Evelyn was in a terrible plane crash! She was in the hospital, clinging to life. The air pushed out of his lungs… a punch to the gut! Once again, he dropped everything and flew back.

Her fiancé, Bradley, was at her bedside. He and David stayed by her for weeks. Bradley would leave occasionally, to take care of her affairs or check in at his office. David refused to. During his tours, there was nothing in his life but the patient. Now, there was nothing in his life but her.

When the staff came in to move her to long-term care, David asked them about their analysis and method of determination. Bradley said he didn’t have to stay. David said he would. Bradley told him again, and David repeated himself too.

”No!” Bradley yelled as they wheeled her away. David stopped short. Bradley looked at him for a second, then sighed. “Look, David…. You’ve done everything you could here.”

“What?” he said. “No, no I haven’t! I know I haven’t. No, I… I… have to do more. There’s always more! Always more…. She’d want—“

“She’d want you to be a doctor, dammit!” David froze. Bradley sighed and went on. “I love her too. So much! She was… is…. I…. I hope she will become my wife!” David looked down. “So… I know her. And she was… is… so proud of you. She tells everyone about her brother, the heroic doctor.” Tears brimmed on David’s eyes. He sighed and turned away.

“Bradley,” he said. “Everyone in life has left me. If I can’t save this patient… I’m not a doctor anymore!”

*****

A year later, David was at a monastery in Mongolia, trying to learn about something he had never, ever considered. The Abbott told him to meditate. He asked what that even means. It means clearing your mind, focusing on one point in your vision. No matter how he tried, he couldn’t find that point. He shaved his head, wore the red garment and prayer beads, and even woke up before the sun. He tried for hours every day, but was no closer to that first step.

The Abbot knew immediately his grief brought him there. He assured this new pupil that they could help. David arrived with a backpack and a suitcase from Evelyn and Bradley’s house. His would-be brother-in-law packed it with things she’d probably want him to have. He checked it on his flight, put it under his modest bed when he arrived, but hadn’t opened it. His hand shook in mid-air every time he reached for the zipper.

His roommate, Bataar, which means ‘hero,’ was helping him sort out his belongings. They said he’d have to part with everything to be a monastic. After months, he cut the contents of his backpack in half. He confessed his impediment with the suitcase. They taught him chants to overcome stagnation, but… like the ongoing attempts to mediate, it didn’t help.

One day, Bataar offered to open the suitcase for him. He doubted he could touch anything inside, though. Then I’ll bring things out, one by one. You can chant before and after. I’ll put anything aside you need to. Ok? David nodded, reluctantly.

During this process, something perplexing came out. It was an oddly shaped box with a thin metal rod in front. It was something he’d only seen decades ago… a forgotten item suddenly returned.

“This… is a musical instrument,” he said, picking it up. “At least I think so. Uh… no. No, it’s a musical tool. She used it trying to learn keyboard.” Tears were forming again. He managed to turn it on, and the rod swung back and forth with rhythmic clicking. The two roommates watched in curiosity. “Wait….” he finally said. “That’s it!”

*****

They allowed him to bring the device to the hall. The clicking meant he could finally meditate. Finally clear! He could advance.

Two years later, he was a monk.