On Mortality

I have entered a twilight zone: friends are departing life, with courage and dignity. People of my generation are all passing into the phase of life, whether it happens tomorrow or in ten years' time, where death is the next stage onwards, if there is one. The manner of our own passing may take time to understand, our own journey towards our passing. Some of us have indications, a product of our vulnerability and incapacities, or key lifechanging traumatic event. For others, it may happen without warning, a sudden, unexpected heart attack. For others, it may be a question of being in the wrong place at the wrong time, a plane crash or a car accident.

This may seem dour and grim. But those like me of a certain age, in my case over 80, and with a significant disability, like Myasthenia Gravis, may feel pretty close to it. I trudge on, sometimes a bit depressed, but usually quite cheerfully! I don't take my own departure too seriously. Death is a fact of life. I'm writing this blog to raise some questions, and hopefully, to find some answers, for myself. So what are the questions? The most fundamental question, for me, is whether there is a life after death, and if so, what kind of life is it? Equally important for me is to ask what type of approach or attitude I should adopt. Resignation? Despair? A yearned for release?.

For some, it has come as a surprise - cruel, undeserved, and a question that echoes, 'Why me?' 'Why now?' What have I done to deserve this?

For others, they find courage and dignity they never knew they had.

There are no exceptions; to be born means dying in due course. For most of us, life is seen as a one-way ticket. Certainly, Christianity, or those from no particular persuasion at all, see that we have one life, to which we are born, grow up, and in due course die. Some religious traditions, such as Buddhism or Taoism, see it differently.

The Old Testament Book of Ecclesiastes (1-2/2-18-23), traditionally ascribed to King David, acknowledges one life and one hope for salvation. If this goes wrong, we're in trouble!

" Vanity of vanities, saith the Preacher, all is vanity. What profit hath a man of all his labour, which he taketh under the sun? One generation passeth away, and another generation cometh: but the earth abideth forever. The sun also ariseth, and the sun goeth down, and hasteth to his place where he arose. The wind goeth towards the south, and turneth about unto the north; it whirleth continually, and the wind returneth again according to his circuits. All the rivers run into the sea, yet the sea is not full; unto the place from whence they come, thither they return again....The thing which hath been, it is that which shall be; and that which is done is is that which shall be done; and there is no thing under the sun." This is a King of Israel, a leader of his nation, proclaimer of an all-powerful God, who seems utterly weary, hopeless, disenchanted and pessimistic.“So I returned and considered all the oppressions that are done under the sun: and behold the tears of such who were oppressed, and they had no comforter: and on the side of their oppressors, there was power, but they had no comforter. Wherefore I praised the dead who are already dead more than the living who are yet alive. Yea, better is he than both they, which hath not yet been, who hath not seen the evil work which is done under the sun.” The book concludes, perhaps because there is no other recourse: “Fear God and keep his commandments: for this is the whole duty of man. For God shall bring every work into judgment, with every secret thing, whether it be good or whether it be evil. “

Ironically, there seems little to choose between the overall gloomy, pessimistic, world-weary tone of the writer of Ecclesiastes, and a writer I enormously admire, Christopher Hitchens. However, there are also profound differences. In the closing chapter of Ecclesiastes, this great poet of the Old Testament declares: 'Remember now thy creator in the days of thy youth, while the evil days come not, nor the years draw nigh. While the sun or the light, or the moon or the stars nor the clouds return after the rain...Then shall the dust return to the earth, as it was, and the spirit shall return unto God who gave it.' When King David was in utmost despair, he yet found within him the courage to reach out to his God beyond the clouds of despair.

In terms of contemporary writers, Christopher Hitchens wrote a profoundly moving memoir of his own departure from life in his last book, called Mortality. He died of throat cancer in 2010. He was a very talented writer and journalist, writing for many journals including The New Statesman and Vanity Fair. He never believed in God. He was an atheist all his life, and ferociously anti-Christian, thinking it a load of hypocritical self-justifying bunkum. What is fascinating and admirable is his courage, honesty and lucidity. In the last months of his life, He wrote an extraordinary memoir of his own approaching death from throat cancer called Mortality. It's necessarily brief since his illness didn't give him much time, but he wrote about his own death with the journalistic eloquence of one of his articles. He writes with elegance. and sardonic wit, as becomes one of the leading writers of his generation. This is how he looked when, as he would put it, he was well ensconced in the departure lounge.

Two short extracts suffice. In chapter 1, he writes: 'I have more than once in my life woken up feeling like death. But nothing prepared me for the early morning in June 2009, when I woke up feeling as if I was actually shackled to my own corpse. The whole cave of my chest and thorax seemed to have been hollowed out and then refilled with slow-drying cement. Any movement however slight required forethought and planning. It took strenuous effort for me to cross the room of my New York Hotel and summon the emergency services...'Hitchens writes: 'Like so many of life's varieties of experiences, the diagnosis of malignant cancer has a tendency to wear off. The thing begins to pall, even to become banal. One can become quite accustomed to the spector of the eternal Footman, like some lethal old bore lurking in the hallway at the end of the evening, hoping to have a word. ..On a much too regular basis, the disease serves me up with a teasing special of the day. It might be random sores and ulcers on the tongue or in the mouth. Or why not a touch of peripheral neuropathy like numb and chilly feet?' The symptoms he records with such dispassionate rigour inevitably get worse, until just two days before his death, he literally, physically could not write any more.

In chapter V he quote's Eliot's Love Song of J Alfred Prufrock:

'I have seen the moments of my greatness flicker, and I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat and snicker. And in short, I was afraid.' Hitchens is brave enough to admit his own anxiety and fear. As an atheist, he did not have the crutch as he saw it, of some kind of life everlasting. He would die and that would be the end of it. He himself died with courage and dignity, surrounded by family and friends.

In chapter V he quote's T S Eliot's Love Song of J Alfred Prufrock:

'I have seen the moments of my greatness flicker, and I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat and snicker. And in short, I was afraid.' Hitchens is brave enough to admit his own anxiety and fear. As a atheist, he did not have the crutch as he saw it, of some kind of life everlasting. He would die and that would be the end of it. He himself died with courage and dignity, surrounded by family and friends. Nobody knows for sure what lies on the other side, if anything at all. Those who have gone before us know, or perhaps there is nothingness, a void, existence snuffed out, extinguished. We hope, but do not know, if there is eternal justice, good works being rewarded, and evil deeds being punished.

Nobody knows for sure what lies on the other side, if anything at all. Those who have gone before us know, or perhaps there is nothingness, a void, existence snuffed out, extinguished. We hope, but do not know, if there is eternal justice, good works being rewarded, and evil deeds being punished.

Coming from a Christian society and being a practising Christian, the Christian rituals for the departed are the ones I am most familiar with, follow, and hope to be true. Christian symbolism and images were copiously present in many centuries of art, and many centuries of classical music, with respect to the many centuries of Requiems in the musical cannon, most famously Mozart's Requiem.

Or in a more satirical vein, there is Pieter Bruegel's portrayal.

Every culture and religious tradition speaks its own truth in terms of mortality and its understanding of it. From a Buddhist perspective, the Dalai Lama, in his book Advice on Dying, offers valuable insights, drawing upon a seventeen-stanza poem by the first Panchen Lama, known in certain Buddhist traditions as the first reincarnated Buddha.

The current Panchen Lama, the eleventh, is under house arrest in China.

The book starts with two quotations from the Buddha:

"Everyone dies, but no one is dead"

"Just as when weaving, one reaches the end, with fine threads woven throughout, so is the life of humans"

The book gives an overview of the Buddhist philosophy and spiritual practices that can prepare the individual human for approaching death in the most meaningful way. The first seven stanzas explain how to approach dying. The next is to address the importance of valuing the opportunity to see one's life as a whole, but to let it go, peacefully, as death approaches. Stanzas four and five encourage one to explore the barriers, sufferings and obstacles that are often experienced as the time of death approaches. Stanzas six and seven define how to best achieve the most favourable psychological conditions for dying, by remembering what to practice and to remain joyful. The next three stanzas explain how to 'stay present' and remain joyful throughout the process. Stanzas twelve and thirteen address the culminating experience of the mind in a state of 'clear light', the basis of all human consciousness. The last four stanzas describe the intermediate state after death, but before the next life. This contains, according to Buddhist traditions, the difficulties that can occur and how to overcome them, before entering the new life. In Buddhist tradition, life is this cycle of birth, dying and then, in the fullness of time, rebirth.

The Buddhist end state is sometimes called "clear light" or "primal awareness." It can be seen as the fundamental, luminous nature of the mind—unconditioned awareness that is present in all beings. It is said to be pure, clear, and free from conceptual thought or emotional disturbance. This "pure light" is not something added to the mind, but rather its true, actual, original state—unclouded by ignorance or delusion. Realising this pure awareness is considered a key step toward enlightenment, as it reveals the mind’s "natural radiant luminous clarity and openness." It is thought to be the 'pure state of being' which Buddha himself attained. Every human being can reach this, and in this sense, Buddhism is a profoundly optimistic view of the possibilities of human nature. Whilst the mind possesses this inherent purity, it can be obscured by defilements or afflictions such as greed, lust, hatred and delusion. These are considered obstacles to overcome, to allow the true, essential, original state of Buddha consciousness once the mind's defilements are removed.

I have always found Taoism a beautiful and meaningful approach to life and daily living. I have meditated on 'The Five Healing Sounds', the Microcosmic Orbit and the Inner Smile for many years. It is an approach which views death as a natural and integral part of the continuous cycle of life, rather than as an ending. It emphasises living in harmony with the Tao, the 'natural order of life', which includes accepting death as simply a return to the source. There's no sense of fear in approaching death: it's just a natural part of the life cycle, analogous to the changing of the seasons. Like Chi, which is the inner energy that flows through all organisms, this returns after death to the source, or Tao. It is an approach which emphasises living in harmony with nature and all living beings. Not easy in this stressed, tech-heavy, urbanised environment in which most of us live! Taoism is focused on cultivating inner peace and tranquillity, living simply and embracing the moment: after all, its all we have!.

Every generation has to find its approaches to mortality. In Greek mythology, Charon ferries the departed across the River Styx.

The virtuous will go on to the Elysian Fields and enjoy heavenly delights.

All we know for sure as individuals is that our life continues until it stops.

However, in many societies, people have no particular religion or faith at all. We are simply agnostics or atheists or nothing at all. Harold Bloom speaks for this majority with particular eloquence about this in his valedictory masterpiece Possessed by Memory (1992), completed just a few weeks before he himself passed on: “Epicurus wrote to Menoceus ‘So death, the most terrifying of ills, is nothing to us since so long as we exist, death is not with us; but when death comes, then we do not exist. It does not concern either the living or the dead, since for the former, it is not, and the latter is no more’.

“That does not abate my sorrow for the beloved dead or requite my loneliness for my many departed friends, yet it holds off and fears about my own vanishing.”

What then is my own attitude towards 'entering the departure lounge'? I wrote this blog in order to explore this and if possible, come to some conclusions. So here goes. I don't know whether 'I' will have one life, Christianity, agnostics, or atheists assume. I am not an atheist, so I have to believe that there will be an afterlife of sorts. Will it be a Buddhist re-incarnation, or another cycle of life in the Tao? I really don't know. It's not so much that I don't care, but all I know for sure is the life 'I' have in the now of today. One day, I won't have a life, and 'I' will have died. The most important thing is to live every day with peace, serenity and optimism, being the best person I can be to those I love and care about. So I practice Buddhist Loving Kindness meditation, my Taoist meditations, go to church and pray as devoutly as I can, and spread cheer to those I meet. Am I a spiritual mongrel? Yes of course I am, but it seems to work for me!

The fact that a dear friend of mine has recently died brings this home to me very acutely. He has passed through the boundary that separates the living from the dead. Where is he now? Has he just vanished? No, not at all. The good that people do, that he did, lasts beyond the grave. And he did achieve much of great benefit in his life, not only for himself and his family but for the community of people, the sufferers and disenfranchised, for whom he most cared was a great deal of benefit not just for them individually, but for the systems of care and service he did so much to improve. There is so much to be proud of and celebrate in his life.

What all funerals have in common, at least the ones I have attended, is that they celebrate the departed and their interests, passions, commitments and achievements. This was the case for my dear friend's funeral. My friend has not vanished from the memories of friends and family; his many achievements live on after him. Indeed, this hopefully will be my legacy too.