Time passes by.

For many reasons, I suppose, I have always been fascinated by the theories and concepts of what actually constitutes “Life”, that essence, that vivifying factor that is present when something is “alive”, but is absent when that same something is now “dead”. 

The thing is – nobody knows!! 

In a book of short stories, “Like the flowing river”, by Paulo Coelho, there is a thought provoking passage, in fact two – from different stories – that I will quote as they appeal to my ideas about Life (with a capital “L”).

In the first quote Coelho was in a forested area on the French side of the Pyrenees, practicing his archery, when a French Colonel, exercising with his troops in the area, recognizes Coelho and admits that he too is a writer – about life matters. Once this Colonel asked children in various schools to write down anything they would like to know about life.

He summarized what the children wanted to know:-

Where do we go after we die?

Why are we afraid of foreigners?

Do Martians and extraterrestrial beings really exist?

Why do accidents happen even to people who believe in God?

What does God mean?

Why are we born if we all die in the end?

How many stars are there in the sky?

Who invented war and happiness?

Does God listen to people who don’t believe in the same (Catholic) God?

Why are there poor people and ill people?

Why did God create mosquitoes and flies?

Why isn’t our guardian angel next to us when we are sad?

Why do we love some people and hate others?

Who named the different colours?

If God is in Heaven and my mother is there too because she died, how come He’s alive? 

All, to my mind, very valid questions! 

Those questions lead me easily to my next quote, also by Coelho, which is actually an abbreviated summary of a passage from Chapter II of the Hindu scripture, the “Bhagavad Gita”:-

“Man is not born, nor does he die. Having come into existence, he will never cease to be, because he is eternal and permanent.

Just as a man discards old clothes and puts on new clothes, so the soul discards the old body and puts on a new one.

But the soul is indestructible, swords cannot pierce it, fire cannot burn it, water cannot wet it, the wind cannot dry it. It is beyond the power of all these things.

Since man is always indestructible, he is always victorious (even in his defeats), and that is why he should not mourn.” 

It’s easy to see that I am not a Christian!! Though I do, I think, have a profound belief in a Higher Power. This brings me comfort. 

Now I don’t mourn, but I do grieve. I know that time has passed by – four years actually – since Magucha died, so the grief is not quite so “sharp”. But it is still there as it will always be. I miss her companionship. I miss her as a friend. I also know, deep down, that the essence – her soul, if you like – is out there somewhere. I will never believe that Magucha’s intelligence, her love, her humour, her compassion, have just disappeared into nothing.

So, together with what in written in the Bhagavad Gita, and what others have written, I like to think that life is eternal. That there is a never-ending cycle of birth and death.

To support this here are the first two verses of a poem, “A Creed”, by John Masefield:- 

I hold that when a person dies
      His soul returns again to earth;
Arrayed in some new flesh-disguise
      Another mother gives him birth.
With sturdier limbs and brighter brain
The old soul takes the road again.

Such is my own belief and trust;
      This hand, this hand that holds the pen,
Has many a hundred times been dust
      And turned, as dust, to dust again;
These eyes of mine have blinked and shown
In Thebes, in Troy, in Babylon.

Ancient wisdom

From a book called “Zen flesh, Zen bones”, compiled by Paul Reps, there are quite a few little gems of Buddhist wisdom. Personally I don’t worry about the source – to me wisdom is wisdom!

1. A cup of tea:-

Nan-in, a Japanese master during the Meiji era (1868-19120), received a university professor who came to enquire about Zen.

Nan-in served tea. He poured his visitor's cup full, and then kept on pouring.

The professor watched the overflow until he could no longer restrain himself, “It is overfull. No more will go in!”

“Like this cup,” Nan-In said, “you are full of your own opinions and speculations. How can I show you Zen unless you first empty your cup?”

This next one is my favourite, I think.

14. Muddy road:- 

Tanzan and Ekido were once travelling together down a muddy road. A heavy rain was still falling.

Coming round a bend, they met a lovely girl in a silk kimono and sash unable to cross the intersection.

“Come on girl,” said Tanzan at once. Lifting her in his arms, he carried her over the mud.

Ekido did not speak again until that night when they reached a lodging temple. Then he could no longer restrain himself. “We monks don’t go near females,” he told Tanzan, “especially not young and lovely ones. It is dangerous. Why did you do that?”

“I left the girl there,” said Tanzan. “Are you still carrying her?” 

And I like the wisdom in this one too. It fits in with my philosophy.

95. A letter to a dying man:-

Bassui wrote the following letter to one of his disciples who was about to die:

“The essence of your mind was not born, so it will never die. It is not an existence which is perishable. It is not an emptiness, which is a mere void. It has neither colour nor form. It enjoys no pleasures and suffers no pain.

“I know that you are very ill. Like a good Zen student, you are facing that sickness squarely. You may not know exactly who is suffering, but question yourself: What is the essence of this mind? Think only of this. You will need no more. Covet nothing. Your end which is endless is as a snowflake dissolving in the pure air.”

Pilgrim Soul.

Pilgrim Soul – those words seem to have a special meaning for me. And I am not sure why. Possibly because the memory of my wife and best friend Magucha, who died three years ago is ever present. As far as I’m concerned she most certainly had a soul! And I like to think her soul is out there somewhere, helping and nurturing – always busy. Just like when she was “alive”.

I suppose it is also the fact that no one knows what “Life” is, why “Life” exists or where it was first evidenced. Furthermore the question remains to be answered - what is that essence, that vivifying force we call “Life” that is present when a living organism is “alive” but is absent or withdrawn when something that was “alive” is now “dead”? 

Science has no answer. This is the ultimate question that I think all philosophers seek to answer and is the basis (so I understand) of all what are termed “scriptures”, and is the basis (again, so I understand) of all religions. 

The mental image of a soul – that Life essence (however it is named) searching for a home – somewhere to express itself, it’s Life, resonates with me. Where was it’s original home? Where did it come from? It is certainly present in “seeds”; seeds from all biological organisms. These geminate and grow. The Earth we inhabit and share with millions of different life forms is testament to their variety and their beauty. 

But why? And will we ever know? Maybe Shakespeare was correct when he has Hamlet saying, 

“The undiscovered country from whose bourn

            No traveller returns, puzzles the will.”

I believe that there a continuum – there is “Life” and there is “Death” – that one leads on to the other. Just the way it is. Not to be feared. Rather this chain of events, this grand progression, is to be welcomed (so I like to imagine it) as a manifestation of something wonderful, of a grandeur that is always just beyond my reach and comprehension. 

It is, after all where we will all end up! But I would really like to know.

So will my "pilgrim soul" keep on it's journey, meeting other wayfarers and dear companions on the way? Until .....?

Another day has passed.

Some things, like memories, are not easy to write about. I know that memory is a wonderful thing yet it can be quite frightening in its scope. My memories seem to be activated at random, as I presume happens to others. All of a sudden a memory is there without seemingly being called. While others have to be dragged from wherever they reside. 

While the time spent without Magucha has not been easy, time can be kind. It dulls the pain. Sort of. But the ache remains, as do the memories. They always will. 

But the curious in me wants to know so many things. One thing has bothered me, even though I think I have worked it out – why we/I grieve. Grief hurts in many ways but it’s all about me! It’s about my hurt; my loss; my feelings. 

I should be glad that Magucha no longer suffers; I should be glad that she is no longer burdened by the trappings and necessities of life, as we live it. I am - but it is not easy!

That her love; that her emotional strength; that her mischievous sense of humour; that her deep and sensitive knowledge of the needs of others; that all this has just disappeared into "nothing" is beyond my understanding. 

Of course it is a given that I have absolutely no idea what has "happened" to her. I have the strong conviction though, that when we die we still “exist”, obviously without the bodily form we used when “alive”. The essence that was/is us continues. That essence, that “Life”, has returned to wherever it came from.

All I know is that (in the words of the song) “Loving her was easier than anything I’ll ever do again”.

Love - the greatest gift of all

I know that I have written on this subject before but it is still something that, as I get older, is of interest – grief, mourning and the cause. There is after all only one end to life. But this subject, for some reason, is studiously avoided. So while I’m not sure how to introduce this I find that grief has many facets and is very puzzling. We are, after all, mortal beings. Trying to make sense of death, however, is very hard. We will all, at some stage of our life, have cause to grieve and mourn. 

There was, in my case, the death of my wife Magucha whom I dearly loved.

Then there is, now, the harsh reality, still not fully absorbed, that my life will never be the same. Her love, her intelligence, her insight, her emotional support, her wonderfully infectious laugh, her mischievous quirky humour – is now all gone.

Then, now for me, there is the settling into a new way of life that is part acknowledgement of her memory and the way we used to do things together and part acknowledgement that from now on I’m on my own without her at my side. This is still a work in progress.

Then there is most difficult part of my day, not so strange really I suppose, difficulty in actually going to bed. I defer this necessary function until the last possible moment – 12 mid-night, even 1am. Then I might read for a few minutes before I “crash”. Once asleep I sleep well. It’s just getting the “courage” to actually go to bed. Bed is not the same now, you understand.

Then there are my own questions. But I do believe in something that is above and beyond us all to which we are “attached” by the essence that common to all living things - Life itself. Call this God if you like.  And then where did my Life come from – the same place it will return to? It makes sense to me, that death is a “transition” from this life to the next – just as a birth transitioned me from “that place” to this. This is a subject we, all of us, usually avoid, ignore or change the subject when it is introduced. Why?

Then there is the problem that we humans are unable to imagine “God”, or conceptualise “God”, so we bring “Him” down to our level and imbue “Him” with human attributes that we can understand – passion, hate, vengeance, anger, jealousy and such like. Reduced to this level we now need to propitiate “God” and get “Him” to agree to our point of view – hence the requirement for sacrifices (hopefully symbolic). Is this because humans are all supposed to be born sinful (because of Adam and Eve)? With a sacrifice, it is posited, we can attach our “sins” to whatever, or whoever is sacrificed, and so be absolved of “sin” and be “cleansed”.  

Surely, surely, any God who can be “altered” by anything men do or say, or by the sacrifice of an animal or human (even if symbolic) cannot be a perfect God? God, surely, doesn’t need a reward? God, surely, cannot be bribed? Why load, even symbolically, some poor animal or human (that God created in the first place) with the wrongs that we commit?

But personal sacrifice is a different matter. Is this what grief is – a form of personal sacrifice? That the more we love the more we grieve?

I believe there is a Spanish proverb that goes something like this: “Take what you want from Life, says God. Take it, and pay.”

And so it should be – we reap what we sow! The Law of Cause and Effect applies to all. This is justice and by my book, this is Love – maybe tough love – but Love none the less.

I like to think that this place, this planet Earth, is but a school for what comes next. We all need this school, to learn to Love – and to forgive.

All this, of course, gets me no closer to understanding what Life is; that “essence” that is present when something is “alive” and is absent when something that was “alive” is now “dead”.  

To me “God” is pure Love and understanding - this is “His” greatest gift of all, even if it is the most difficult to accept.

This is all rather circular and brings me back to the point where I started. I still grieve.

We are the Pilgrims, master; we shall go

    Always a little further; it may be

Beyond that last blue mountain barred with snow,

    Across that angry or that glimmering sea,

White on a throne or guarded in a cave

    There lives a prophet who can understand

Why men were born; but surely we are brave,

    Who take the Golden Road to Samarkand.

                                                            James Elroy Flecker