Sunday, September 30

Death is certain for the born...

...for the dead, rebirth is certain. (from the Bhagavad Gita)

It might seem outrageous for me to begin a blog with an entry regarding 'death'. But death has played a fairly significant role in my life (meaning I have attended many funerals). I have walked past and cried over the dead bodies of many relatives and friends. The last time it happened, I realized it felt a little bit wrong to look - maybe a bit voyeuristic? Maybe like I had intruded or stolen a piece of that death experience from them? Maybe like what I was seeing had absolutely nothing to do with who that person was? (Imagine that we might amount to something more than our physical looks!?)

I saw a cadaver today. And today, I was utterly fascinated by a dead body. Of course, the cadaver was almost completely dissected and my intention was to see and identify the various muscles, bones, nerves, tendons, etc. that comprise these fascinating physical bodies we walk through life with. (And truly, our bodies are magnificent! I think that if we all were to see a dissected human body, we wouldn't do quite so much to destroy our own.) How we take these inexplicable gifts for granted! But it was almost like I was finally seeing a dead body for what it really was: merely, its physical parts.

It certainly got me thinking about death though...as much as I am beginning to appreciate this body I've been lent to live in for a while, it's inevitable that it'll die. From the moment we were conceived, we've been living towards death. And people will feel sad about it - but that grief is not for the dead. We feel grief for the living - children, spouses, parents, friends, ourselves - those that have been left behind. We are sad because we have been robbed of any future physical interactions with the dead. We long for the goodness of the past. But death is merely one piece in the cycle of life that happens on this earth. We have been affected by those that have passed - affected in ways that have changed us...that may have altered the composition of our history, experience, and even physical body. In that sense, they are with us always - as we are with them. The exchange of energy has happened and it can not be taken away. The cadaver on that table today was science. All the dynamism of that man has moved on.

I wonder about that man. I wonder how he felt about dying...if it was sudden or if he knew it was coming...if he was okay with it. I wonder how I would feel if confronted by my own death - as it could happen at any time...and I giggle when I find that I feel not only peace, but hope. Hopeful that I have affected the people I've known in a positive way and that they were glad to have known me. Hopeful that the way in which I lived has been whole and true. Hopeful that I inspired someone. Hopeful that I provided someone with trust and respect and an open mind that has maybe never received those things from anyone else. Hopeful that people are at least starting to understand what's going on here aside from all the things we've created. Hopeful that people will recognize that I am still with them and celebrate.

And then I realized...hope is about beginning. Hope both creates and is created by 'the beginning.' Hope has audacity and endurance...and it can be fierce. It's curious to me that I might feel hope regarding my own death...but I do. And no part of me feels like I should question it.

Is death the beginning of something, too...?