Remembering Ben Pontius

by Paul T. Wegener

Ben Pontius was and was not. His favorite gesture was either a shrug, or a laugh. He embodied the ideal of non-attachment, appearing as a person in body and conversation, yet without any strong opinions or attachment. We spoke a lot over the years, mostly by telephone between our exile islands; our stock exchange was "Still twitchin," as in "restless meditator." He practiced a good deal, but never put on any airs, and he manifested very few signs of accomplishment. No miracles, just another cigarette.

Yet he never wavered in his devotion and he practiced mostly guru yogas. He served as a kusung at all times and places, to the Druk Sakyong and Sakyong Mipham, willing to give up 24 hours at a time to enter their world and help. He told me the contrast was sometimes too much; too much sanity was overwhelming, but he always went back for more, with a laugh and a shrug.

One of my favorite memories was searching Halifax with him and my wife Brenda for some sort of celebration on a New Year's Eve. He was in the back seat, wise-cracking and keeping us going while we circled the downtown or ventured into clubs and hotels, finding nothing; it turned out to be a great celebration after all. He made fun of everyone, without making it seem like denigration (I could never manage to be that big-hearted).

His strongest praise was for those who were "kind" and he could infuse that word with real meaning, its transcendent meaning. It had to do with being well trained, that he could stay with what mattered and shrug off the meanness. Kindness was the key to his whole life. He had many relationships, but as soon as they descended into territory, he could not stand it. He wanted to be kind and to surround himself with kindness in the truest sense.

Then he became ill with ALS, Lou Gehrig's disease. He was able to bear up under his sickness with incredible patience, an awe-inspiring fatalism and forebearance. It was so inspiring to see him watch himself decay and then simply report: "I'm a 65-year-old in the body of an 80 year old man." Last summer he gave Happy Hour at SMC so he could go to bed at 6:30 after having seen everyone he wanted. He would still ask again and again whether someone was kind, or to observe that they were.

In speaking of his regard for kindness, we have to remember his wife Sandra; Sandra lived up to Ben's idea of greatness for the last few years, becoming his constant caretaker, his kusung on the longest shift imaginable. She showed herself as a truly kind person, serious and very much herself, yet able to serve and nurture and share a laugh in the looming shadow of death and decay. There was never going to be any relief on this shift, so when he died, she simply did not believe it. She never expected it to end, because she was focused on keeping him going, day after day.

Ben stands out as a true warrior, who recognized the good and the true with complete conviction. He also never believed in attainment, because he was too smart. He saw his own confusion and watched it descend after a moment of clarity. He moved in the intimate personal world of the teachers and their sanity, and emerged to report he was still confused. That clarity and intelligence never wavered and never imposed itself through opinions and pontification. I admire him for it, that he reduced everything to the utter simplicity of clarity or confusion; when it is clear, there isn't much to say, and when it is confused, words are useless. He watched his body taken inch by inch, without complaint, and then died. I will remember that last smile, as I do his others. You were a great warrior. Travel well.