Mother, Your Light Remains

She was trapped in despair. Deep, immovable depression had taken hold of her life. The cause was clear: her beloved mother had passed away. This was the person she loved and cared for most in the world, and the loss was devastating. She was not on any medication at that juncture. She was trying to cope with the suffering on her own, miserably, to the extent of suffocation. She felt abandoned. Lonely. Depressed. Could not breathe. That feeling was terrifying—her ribs, chest, and lungs cramping up like acute panic attacks. She had many of those. Depression is real when you're smack in the centre of it, drowning. The doctor gave her some sleeping pills (Xanax) to help her sleep, but she did not take them. She knew that taking medication to curb her mental quality was not the way to go about it. She wanted healing, not just a cure—a holistic approach rather than simply numbing her state. But she did not know any other way.

Like many people in distress, she turned to Google. Something unusual happened. At the top of her search results appeared something called WISE—an approach she had never heard of before. This was strange because WISE seldom ranks so highly. By any ordinary logic, it should not have been there. Yet there it was, waiting for her. Meditation was completely new to her, but she decided to give it a chance.

To cut the story short, she understood what she needed to do. In a remarkably short time, the gift of wisdom brought back the sanity she had lost—but as a different person. She had discovered something she never knew existed within herself, and in that discovery, she found her life again. From then on, awareness of her state of mind became her priority.

She came to a startling understanding: the suffering came from her mind, not from her mother's demise. The loss was real, but the prolonged despair came from her way of seeing the situation. Her mind was constructing stories, and she had bought into them completely. Later, she expressed it poetically: The mind that is doing its job—not directed at anyone in particular—was being misunderstood as her self. She saw that mental processes are simply nature unfolding. None of them is made by a "self." But when she was not mindful, identification with those processes caused the despair to become hers.

Her awakening made her realize that everyone is immersed in their mind's activity, mistaking whatever arises as themselves. Our sense of self is just a play of mind states—a mind-making, not our true self at all.

There is much in this story that defies rational explanation. Why did WISE appear at the top of her search? Why was she ready at that exact moment? The thinking mind wants answers, but that is precisely the error she uncovered. If we rely on our thinking to rationalize what happens, we will only reach erroneous conclusions. When conditions are ripe, the meeting is made possible. We cannot fully comprehend this, only trust that this is how nature works.

She never rejected medication as useless. She simply saw that medication offers a cure—suppression of symptoms—while she sought healing: a transformation in her relationship with her own mind. Both have their place, but for her, only one led to freedom.

From her awakening onward, she lives differently. Randomly, the sadness occasionally still arises, but the despair—the endless looping, the identification with suffering—is gone. She watches her mind like a river: thoughts and feelings flowing by, none requiring her to jump in and drown. Her awareness has become who she is.

If you are where she once was—despairing, suffocating, searching beyond medication, unsure about meditation—consider this. She knew nothing. She had no special talent. She was simply desperate enough to try something new, and grace met her there. Not because she deserved it, but because when conditions ripen, the meeting becomes possible. Here is the truth she would want you to know: The mind is doing its job. She mistook it for herself. When she stopped mistaking it, the despair became just weather passing through an open sky. That is not poetry. It is simply what she saw. And what she saw set her free. Exactly one year after her mom's passing was the day she came into contact with WISE. A day that marks two meaningful events: losing someone precious and, in return, gaining something precious that saved her life. A year of deep suffering. And all that is history.

As we approach Mother's Day, let this story be a gentle reminder. If our mother is still alive, let us take this moment to appreciate her—not someday, but now. Let each moment of her aliveness be a celebration of proximity, a quiet gratitude that she is still here to share this breath with us. And if she has moved on, let us remember this: her love is not gone. It has become our own. It lives in our kindness, our laughter, our tears, and the way we care for ourselves and others. That love was never lost. It was only waiting for us to recognize it within ourselves.

This article was also brought to life on video. Watch the video rendition.

In grace,
Hor Tuck Loon
5 May 2026