Losing A Spiritual Teacher: A Journey Through Grief’s “Cave of Wonders”
When my root spiritual teacher Qapel (Acharya Doug Duncan) died suddenly, it was the most deep and difficult transition I’ve experienced in my life. Losing your spiritual teacher is a profound life shift. “Lama” literally means “good mother”, and our teacher or lama is in many ways a spiritual parent. There are many resources and articles around how to cope with losing a parent, but I found very little about grieving a teacher.
This is a reflection on my journey through this grief. It’s an attempt to provide some compassionate support and resources on what it means to lose your spiritual teacher, or a key mentor or guide in your life.
"The intensity of my grief was dramatically at odds with my view that as a Buddhist and long-term practitioner I should be at peace, and honoring my teacher by calmly carrying on the practice and work.”
Recognizing It’s A Big Thing
One key insight is simply realizing that it is a big thing. I had the sense that as a meditator and spiritual practitioner, somehow I was supposed to be equanimous. To smile lightly and comment on the impermanence of things. Maybe this expectation is why there’s little written about this topic.
I found myself very far from equanimity. I felt like joy had gone out of my life. Where everything had been in vivid color, I felt like I was living in black and white. My dearest friend and support was gone, my heart was aching in a way I’d never felt, and my body and energy were shut down and shaky. I missed Qapel’s presence and constant teaching immensely.
The intensity of my grief was dramatically at odds with my view that as a Buddhist and long-term practitioner I should be at peace, and honoring my teacher by calmly carrying on the practice and work.
I came to understand how losing a teacher is a deep process that needs to be honored. It’s both a desolate journey, and one filled with riches of insight. A Sangha member and friend, who is a grief doula, shared a profound metaphor of grief as a “cave of wonders.” A deep and dark journey that’s incredibly challenging, but as we go through the process there are big learnings to uncover.
From Missing To Yearning
One thing I realized through the grieving process is that I’m more of a devotional (bhakti) type than I knew. I had long considered that my path to awakening and growth was through karma yoga – the path of compassionate service. But I came to realize I had started doing karma yoga just as a way to be more around Qapel and to be of service to his work and teaching. It was so joyful and full of learning. When we founded Clear Sky there was so much to do that karma yoga became the main way I interacted with Qapel – so much so that I came to think karma yoga was my main path. It was a surprise to discover I was really more of a bhakti type.
I was fortunate to have friends from more devotional non-Buddhist lineages whose teachers had died and I realized their experience might help. I reached out to my friend Swami Durgadas from Kashi Ashram. His teacher, Ma, had died twelve years earlier. Enfolding me instantly in the warmth of his care, he told me–it’s like the end of a big love affair! You wouldn’t expect to get over it in a day, he said, or to fall into deep love again straightaway. Instead it’s a profound and personal experience. You may one day love again, but it will take time and be its own unique relationship and experience.
"... the negative side of grieving is missing but the spiritual side is yearning ... [this reframe] gave me a way to accept the strong emotions I was feeling and begin to transmute them into yearning to experience the ease, wisdom, playfulness and aliveness that Qapel modeled so beautifully.”
Swami Durgadas also gave me a beautiful teaching: the negative side of grieving is missing but the spiritual side is yearning. His journey of grieving his teacher had gradually transformed from missing to yearning. From missing the person to yearning for the state of wisdom and compassion they represented. He also told me that despite it being twelve years since Ma died, he’s still working with that, still reeling from it in a way. So it’s not necessarily a short process either. There’s not a due date to be done by.
I found this a very healing reframe. The Buddhist Abhidhamma categorize grief as a form of hatred – and I could see where missing was indeed a kind of anger at how my life had changed. Swami Durgadas gave me a way to accept the strong emotions I was feeling and begin to transmute them into yearning to experience the ease, wisdom, playfulness and aliveness that Qapel modeled so beautifully.
The Suddenness of Death
Qapel had often said he’d die at eighty-five. Though he also often said “and you never know, life is unpredictable.” When he died at seventy-five and in full health, I was shocked. I’d expected – and wanted – to spend ten more years with him. I thought there was time to work on developing Clear Sky. To work through more of my own blocks and illusions. To lean into and transform struggles in our community more.
I’m grateful I was wise enough to strive never to take his presence for granted, and to take every opportunity I had for teaching or to spend time with him. Nevertheless I still had an unconscious assumption it would be more orderly. That I’d have time for all the lessons I needed, and be there for his dying message! In fact, our lives here at Clear Sky all changed in a few seconds. On Friday, I played golf with him in the morning and had a final Dharma interview with him in the car as we drove. On Saturday evening, we were sitting around his dead body waiting for the undertakers.
Looking back, there were signs his death was coming – and he gave signs himself. There were a lot of things he really pushed in the last couple of years, and in retrospect it was like he felt he had a short time.
I came to see that Qapel left the moment he felt his work was done. That the suddenness of his death was also a powerful teaching not to cling, and not to be fooled into a false sense of order. It can all turn upside down in a moment. But no amount of knowing this makes it a smooth journey – on the human level there is a huge fracture between my life before and my life after. Even while part of us lives in the wisdom that all things are fleeting, our hearts still must follow the natural path of grief.
Finding The Wisdom Inside
I had so many questions about teachings he’d given me, or different situations at Clear Sky. But suddenly he was no longer there. In the first couple of months after he died, I longed for ten minutes walking down the Clear Sky driveway with him to ask my questions. Or even just five minutes sitting in silence to reconnect with his presence and wisdom. I realized I’d got used to being able to go to him at any time for support. And I discovered how much I’d unintentionally outsourced some of my ability to be in a clear loving state to him.
It was so easy to be in his presence and to ride on that – to use him as a tuning fork and touchstone for being in a good space. He brought constant play and aliveness. It was like living on the edge of a grand adventure, ever heading towards new insights.
But now he was gone. Another big learning of grief was both the challenge – and the importance – of truly learning to connect with the wisdom and love inside myself. To let the years of teachings deliver up an insight or answer. To apply myself to come back to clarity and love. To generate that spark of joy and adventure within my own heart.
Finding The Love …
One incredible thing about Qapel was how so many of us felt so deeply seen and loved. Whatever crappy state or confusion I was going through, around him I somehow felt it was ok. He’d be direct and clear that it was a bad state, but he understood what my depth was reaching for, and somehow brought a sense of lightness and humour to whatever knot I’d tied myself in.
I was surprised to find in some ways I had outsourced to him this sense of “ok-ness”, of innate worth and potential. Without him around, more habitual legacy views of myself as inherently flawed, a “mess”, “nothing to offer”, “screwing things up” re-emerged and for a time became the dominant narrative.
In retrospect, I saw that having Qapel around every day had become an unintentional prop. Without him, for a while I was easily rocked. The resources were there inside me to draw on, but it took time to find the balance, for the muscles to develop to rest in that same kind of “ok-ness” and love without him around.
Trust And Refuge
I found that the grieving process became a profound reflection on “refuge”. Learning to deeply trust and open to Qapel as a teacher was a huge journey as a student. There is something deeply important for going beyond our own ego in learning to trust and take refuge in a direct living authentic teacher. Qapel’s death catalyzed explorations around going beyond refuge in a particular person – short-lived and fragile as we all are. I could see strong places of trust in my own direct experience and work of many years, in Catherine Sensei capably holding the space of head teacher here, in the wisdom of my Sangha community, and in the honesty of other spiritual practitioners and seekers. Yet this was very different than the central touchstone over 20 years that Qapel provided.
When students would sometimes ask Qapel about trust, he often quoted Rinpoche’s own answer to him “complete trust is complete awakening”. I began to see that Qapel’s death was also calling me to deepen my understanding of trust and refuge. This feels like a rich and nuanced question I am only beginning to explore.
Final words
If you have lost a teacher or dear mentor (or will in the future) I hope these reflections offer you some support for your own journey, and help you feel less alone. Remember that it’s a deep process, and allow yourself the time and space to grieve, and for unexpected insights and changes to emerge.
For me, a year and a half later, many things are still emerging and it’s clearer than ever that there is no “due date” when grieving is done. Deep parts of me are still rearranging and processing, and it’s unclear where it is all going.
The path through the cave of wonders is dark sometimes – yet full of surprising riches. I wish you well on your journey.
