Showing posts with label mortality. Show all posts
Showing posts with label mortality. Show all posts

Wednesday, October 30, 2019

A Mortality Fable for the Day of the Dead

Woman by grave during Day of the Dead in San Andres Mixquic, Mexico City

Celebrating the Day of the Dead (Oct 31 - Nov 2) is a custom that would have seemed strange or even offputting to many in the American South when I was growing up. With the growing Hispanic influence in the U.S. today, we are being introduced to many new customs that we "anglos" can benefit from. For example, in American society, we tend to push death back. We don't really want to think about it. Even in the medical field, we are much more attuned to life-saving measures than we are at end of life care.

Setting aside some time to think about the dead need not be a maudlin or grim occasion. It can be a time to celebrate the lives of loved ones who have died. Having a day to recognize our mortality can certainly be beneficial in giving us a healthy perspective on life. The following meditation was first posted in 2015 and re-posted here in celebration of the Day of the Dead*.

A Meditation on Mortality


“I never thought I’d be eating in Heaven,” he said to his new-found guide. “Well, I’ll take that back. I did imagine that there might be banquets, but I didn’t think I’d still be going to the bathroom to take a crap – oh, I’m sorry, can you say ‘crap’ in Heaven?”

“You can say anything that applies to anything here. And yes, you’ll find that a lot of those concepts we learned, or assumed, in life are not really complete. Heaven and Hell are good examples: the idea that in the afterlife everything would be separated into good and evil, with everyone living with either reward or punishment. Purgatory came a little closer with the notion that aspects of Heaven and Hell could coexists in one place. William Blake may have come the closest, though, when he said that we each carry heaven and hell within us.”

“I guess I’m just surprised that the afterlife is so much like life on earth. I figured that if life did continue after death, it would be completely different – pure bliss and all that.”

“You’ll find that there are some differences,” his guide said, “mostly differences in quality and scale. Rest is more restful, joy is more joyous. On the other hand, pain can also be more painful. You will be continuing the trajectory that you began in life.

Before Life Began

“But if you find that things are similar in the afterlife,” the guide continued, “you must also realize how vastly different things were before life. You heard from your scriptures that ‘In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth.’ That was not really the beginning. It was in some sense, of course. That was your beginning. Those words harked back to where life began. Before there was life, however, there was heaven and earth. There was being itself. Pure being. It scattered across the vast reaches of space without limitation and without end. Except with pure being there was also chaos: turmoil and impulse with no direction. Pure being had no motivation, no guidance, no goal. It could rest listless for an eternity; it could also churn with strife for an eternity.

“Without form and limitation, pure being had no motivation, no hope, and no desire for growth. You can imagine this by looking at your own life. As a child you thought you had a very long time ahead of you. In your youth you knew that there was death and destruction, you just didn’t think it would happen to you.  A few years later you began to acknowledge your own mortality. That understanding of mortality affected what you did, how you learned, and what you deemed important. Your appreciation of friends and loved ones increased as did your appreciation of all of life; the beauty of nature, the joy of music, the wonder of existence.

“So in those distant ages,” his guide went on, “before God created the heavens and the earth, pure being was scattered throughout and would eventually become the framework for the universe. Yet with no end in sight, being had no motivation for growth or change. That is when God created the heavens and the earth. That is when limitations of life and death were set. And that is when things began to happen. In that sense, it was a true beginning.”

Mortality and the Trajectory of Life

“So you are telling me that creation was a beginning, but not the beginning?”

“That is correct. Most significantly, the advent of life and death became the most transformative event in the universe. Prior to life and death, in addition to there being no motivation or growth, there was constant conflict on a cosmic scale. The human race has distant memories of this state in myths such as Tiamet in Sumer, the Titans in Greek cosmology, and the vision of John the Revelator that there was war in Heaven.

“On the day of creation, when life and death entered the cosmos, everything changed. Conflict did not cease, chaos has never been fully contained, but form, meaning, purpose and direction took hold. In order for being to evolve, it must enter into the life-and-death process. That is why the world was made, that is how human civilization began, and that is how you and I came to be at this place at this time.”

“But what now?” he asked. “What happens from here?”

We’ll take some time to talk about how you lived and what direction that life set for you. First, talk to me about how you died.”

“Well, that part seems kind of meaningless. I died in an automobile accident. I was on my way to work, some car ahead swerved into the on-coming traffic, a diesel truck jack-knifed and there I was caught in the middle. I left home in the morning never to return. I know it’s cliché, but I thought I’d have more time. I figured I’d have that warning heart attack to tell me to slow down and that I’d die an old man.”

“And it is also cliché,” his guide responded, “to say that none of us can know how or when we’ll die. The important thing is that even though you may feel that you were snatched from life prematurely, while you were living you set your vision and trajectory. You accomplished in 50 years what pure being could not accomplish in an eternity. There are things we learn within the confines of even a short struggling life that can never be known within the context of infinity.

“Now that you have discovered your role in the life continuum, you will soon realize that you have already learned the most important things. The true wonder is not that life goes on. The wonder is in what you bring to the life continuum from that finite existence on earth.  Given the ongoing nature of life in a timeless universe, mortality is the only thing of value that can be added to existence.”

                                                                                                                        ~ Charles Kinnaird



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Matt Layne talks about Birmingham's Day of the Dead celebration


* It should be noted that in Birmingham, Alabama, the Day of the Dead (El Día de los Muertos) has been celebrated since 2003. On Talk of AlabamaMatthew Layne tells about the event and how it began.


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Wednesday, November 4, 2015

The Thing that Was Different




The Thing that was Different


I had painted that old garage before –
The first time was right after we bought the place.
Something about a new coat of paint
Gave a sense of pride and accomplishment.

The second time was after years of sun, wind and rain
Had pushed that structure to the limit.
Lots of living had taken place
Since the first painting.
We already had boxes
Of family memories
Stored on the shelves inside.

I spent a day scraping the sides of the garage
Clearing off the flakes of peeling paint.
I hired a man to help and
Between the two of us
The old garage shaped up
Good as new.

This time
When the weathered boards
Needed attention
My daughter helped me with the painting.
She had not even been born
The first time I painted this place.

Once again I saw the beauty
Of a fresh coat taking shape.
That familiar satisfaction
Of new paint
Made my heart light.

Yet under the roller I heard the crackle
Of of dry wood.
The thing that was different
Was that I could
Feel it in my body.
I knew how that building felt, soaking up
The moist paint.
I did not recall
Knowing that before.

The old garage
Has steadfastly stood;
Holding tools and projects,
Cherished items and fond memories
Throughout the years.

The thing that was different this time 
Was that after three grand efforts
In the life of the old building,
I did not think that
I would be painting this garage again.

                                                                ~ CK




Friday, February 19, 2010

Remembering Those Who Have Gone Before Us (Part 1)

In my previous blog post, I mentioned Thomas Merton in passing. Since then, yet another older poem has come to mind. I wrote the following poem to express how important a life can be even when mortality separates life from life to leave an empty space. There are many ways that I am aware of a certain "communion of saints" in which I continue to learn from friends and family who have departed this life. I hope to write more about that in the future. For now, I give you this tribute brought to mind by thoughts of Gethsemani Abbey.



To Thomas Merton

"Father Louis has died."
I meet the words with disbelief.
He accepted my nature and encouraged my vocation.
It feels as though he should still be here,
So news of his death brings a sense of loss.

But it happened in 1968
When the events of a Thousand Years took place.
I was a boy, awakened by violence -
hope slipping away,
And the one who would be my guide to peace
Lay among the dead
transported in a war plane.

"Father Louis has died."
I meet the words with disbelief.
Did he not tell me about solitude
and of the richness found within?
I think I saw him planting an oak,
but that was long ago.

But wait - I know he directed me to the East
And he affirmed my contemplative stirrings...
On second thought, that was after the fact -
it was all after the fact.
Everything happened after the message,
"Father Louis has died."

I meet the words with disbelief.
He is much too present for me to remember
That he is dead.
Sometimes I find myself in a realm
Where Thomas Merton and I are contemporaries
Comparing experiences and hopes.
I learn from his insights;
I am at home with him.
But then comes the disturbing news,
"Father Louis has died."



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