Hearing about the passing away of Richard made me reflect about life — as it always happens when someone I have known passes on.
My wife, Eva, and I first met Richard (and his wife, Virginia) while they were living in Cleveland, not far from Eva’s father, Jindrich Degen. Theirs was a lovely lowset brick home (with a swimming pool in the back) in a quiet neighbourhood — close to a walkway through a beautiful natural setting of bushland, creek, and mangrove trees, not far from the sea.
Later, Virginia died, and in time Richard needed to sell their home and move to a retirement village. Learning of his death this week brought about the following reflections.
All Things Are Impermanent
Just like the ocean waves not far from Richard’s former home, all things in this life are impermanent. Our own bodies gradually change. Before long, it seems, old age arrives, and with it possibly illness. Slowly our mobility, flexibility, endurance, and physical well-being all weaken. Often our vision, hearing and teeth also deteriorate. Jindrich has at times reminded Eva and me when unexpected situations occur that “such is life”.
Yet, sometimes, the reality of the end of life for ourselves just doesn’t “sink in”. Yes, we intellectually accept that people die — but not at the heart and emotional level. Then, when death suddenly approaches, there is shock, incomprehension, despair, and fear.
When the time comes for each of us to depart this world, we leave everything behind — our home, possessions, friends, relatives, family, and even our body.
A Continuity of Consciousness or Awareness
One thing continues (even scientific studies are showing this) — and that is our consciousness, spirit, or soul (whichever term you are comfortable with). There is a continuity of consciousness or awareness.
With our consciousness, the results of our actions (whether positive or negative) continue — and this is why our love, compassion, kindness, peacefulness and other positive qualities in life are so important. These are the things that really count in the end and in our life beyond when all our physical things disappear.
I’ll end my reflections with words taken from a poem written by one of my past Buddhist studies teachers. The poem is entitled “Farewell” and is written by Ken Holmes in 2016. He wrote it because he wanted a song to sing to himself in memory of the many friends he had lost over the years.
Farewell
For a while now, I have wanted a song to sing to myself in memory of the many friends I have lost. Here it is:
And so, Farewell, my friend Your time comes to its end: Departed once again through that greatest of doors, To be, here with us, no more.
As you make your way alone Into that vast unknown Such deep prayers extend, to serve you as a friend When, as strangers, We’ll meet again.
As thanks and tears combine, The turning water-wheel of time That scooped us both up from life’s long stream Now empties out our dream.
From my heart, I wish you so well In whichever forms you’ll dwell
In every land or realm where you’ll abide May dharma ever be your guide.
With you goes some part of me And, besides all these memories, What you changed in me remains behind Within this garden of my mind.
From my heart, I wish you so well In whichever forms you’ll dwell
In every land or realm where you’ll abide May dharma ever be your guide.
Source: “Farewell” A song by Ken Holmes. Lyrics and music by Ken Holmes. Copyright Ken Holmes, January 2016
Written by Alexander Peck; edited by Eva Peck.
Like lengthening shadows as the sun sinks low,
The demon of death relentlessly draws nearer;
[Listeners], quickly! Get away from him!
As the sun sets in the evening, the lengthening shadows of the western hills draw ever nearer until they engulf us in the twilight. So, too, do the shadows of death approach as the sun of our life declines.
But there is one important difference—death does not come at a predictable time and place. From the very moment of our birth, our lives are ever moving inexorably toward death, but the time of that encounter is anything but certain.
A hunted criminal never has a tranquil moment. He is always alert, urgently devising a thousand schemes to escape the punishment that awaits him. You will never find him drawing plans for his future house.
How can you rest when death threatens to strike at any moment? From now on, your sole recourse must be the practice of Dharma. There is no other way to turn death into something favorable.
(Dilgo Khyentse & Padampa Sangye. The Hundred Verses of Advice: Tibetan Buddhist Teachings on What Matters Most. 2002.)
