The Last Day With My Sister

       My older sister, Marcie is always in, what could be, her last day. She has been since the day she was born. She is twenty now. Despite the uncertainty of her life my sister still lives life as best as she can. In the last decade or so my sisters eyes have slowly degenerated and her beautiful blues jewels have slowly closed to her. The lack of a visual window to her world has not held her back; rather she widened her other abilities, namely, her ears, her voice and her exploring fingers.

          Marcie cannot speak in a way that most could understand, never the less she does talk, sing and whisper to those around her. If it were possible to know exactly what day would be Marcie’s last, I would rise early. Extremely early, as Marcie’s internal clock can be skewed sometimes. I would help her dress and give her breakfast--- Marcie eats formula through a G-tube--- and afterward I would help her into her wheelchair---- Marcie cannot walk. I would then take her to a church--- it does not matter what denomination all that matters is that it has amazing acoustics. If possible I would then play the piano for her because she loves hearing my siblings practice. Did I mention that Marcie’s immediate family would be there with us? Our dad would play his acoustic guitar, our little sister would sing and play the piano with me, our younger brother would practice A Cappella while our mom would coach. Meanwhile, our older brother would blow up a few bicycle tires--- a noise that Marcie finds hilarious. Then very quietly, Marcie would periodically emit a little noise--- testing the acoustics--- then she would get louder and would begin singing along with the music and noise around her. And that is how we would spend Marcie’s last day; intermittent with reading aloud from fantasy books.

          Also there would have to be some animals ---- our pets---- for her to hold and feel; our goat Budderfinger (yes that is how it is spelled); our sheep, Trillium; our two dogs, Edgar and Chipper; our guinea pig, Izzie, and a few of our chickens.     

              

Over Seas, Alone, a small Child

The Oxford Book of Death

By D.J. Enright

“At the hour shaped for him Scyld departed,

The many-strengthed moved into his Master’s keeping.

They carried him out to the current sea,

His sworn arms-fellows, as he himself had asked
while he wielded by his words, Ward of the Scyldings,

Beloved folk-founder; long had he ruled.

A boat with a ringed neck in the haven,

Icy,out-eager, the aetheling’s vessel,

And there they laid out their lord and master,

Dealer of wound gold, in the waist of the ship,

In majesty by the mast.

A mound of treasures

From far countries was fetched aboard her,

With the weapons of a warrior, war accoutrement,

Bills and byrnies; on his breast were set

Treasures and trappings to travel with him

On his far faring into the flood’s sway.

This hoard was not less great than the gifts he had

From those who sent him, on the sill of life,

Over seas, alone, a small child.

High over head they hoisted and fixed

A gold signum; gave him to the flood,

Let the seas take him, with sour hearts

And mourning moods. Men have not the knowledge

To say with any truth--- however tall beneath the heavens,

However much listen to--- who unloaded that boat (131-132)

~Beowulf (c.720) (as cited in Enright)

               Examining this text truly drags into view how changed our death rituals have changed; and unfortunately, it does not appear to have changed for the better. In the time of Beowulf, the entire village would hike to the water’s edge to say goodbye to someone they knew and loved. Everyone was able to say their goodbyes to the one who left them behind and the grieving process was allowed to proceed with its natural course, for the most part. When we flip forward to our own time, when soul departs, a minimal tribute as possible is paid to the departed. The grieving process it nearly elimimated and mourners have little or no opportunity to reach closure, to say goodbye. We do our best to terminate all aspects of death from our lives--- with very negative results. What changed? Why did death become a shame?

I honor of this week’s chapter “Graveyards and Funerals” in the Oxford Book of Death, and the fact that All Hallows Eve is in a matter of days, I have a cool link that I found containing some curious articles of famous grave sites in New England.

http://www.boston.com/travel/explorene/specials/halloween/galleries/famous_new_england_gravesites/

   

Dye With Peace; Dye With Beauty

The Sacred Art of Dying

By Kenneth Kramer

            The concept of Tibetan attitudes towards death left me with a clearer picture than did Zen. As stated in the book, death in the eyes of Tibetan Buddhism, “It is the reverse of the process of birth” (76). When an individual is at the moment of death, the individual must dwell with proper thoughts as it is believed that mental condition of a person at death (angry, stressed, happy, cheerful, etc.)has a great probability of being retained after death. At the moment of death, according to the Book of the Dead, the individual must practice the “ ‘Ejection of Consciousness’ in which the dying person: (a)keeps a pure mind, clear of earth-bound distractions, (b) visualizes a seated Buddha over her or his head, surrounded by a rainbow arch, (c) feel the self in the presence of an enlightened being, (d) visualizes consciousness as a ball of fire in the abdomen which then rises up the spine until it leaves the top of the head, and (e) experiences self-consciousness mixing with the mind of the enlightened being like water mixing with water(75-77). This process of dying surrounds the moment of death with peace and beauty, discouraging a negative outlook of the passing of a life.

Your Soul is Screaming; Shut-Up and Listen

Success build to Last

By

Jerry Porras, Stewart Emery, and  Mark Thompson

“Successful people told us that they’ve been given far fewer reasons to follow their dreams than reasons they should abandon them”(87).

                  There is always a reason not to succeed; those motivations are always much easier aluring than the alternative, dedicating one’s self to the trials and tribulations that crop up when attempting to earning true success. The tactic to withstanding the difficulties leading to success is a matter of finding the one or two reasons why that goal means so much to you and never leaving sight of those reasons. It is also a matter of holding on for dear life! Working towards your own personal form of success is additionally challenging because there are always other people who do not want you to succeed for one reason or another, reasonable or not. In order to achieve your own goals sometimes you have to put what you want before what others want whether it be for you or for themselves.

             In Porras’ Success Built to Last, they present four deviously ensnaring traps that can prevent you from following and/or achieving your goal(s). They are as follows:

·         “Trap #1: It’s Not Considered a Worthy Career”---- Society today is all about success (the five minute of fame kind) and it makes it very difficult to pursue certain goals, especially if they do not have overnight “success” in the very for-seeable future. In this trap you can also be your own worst enemy; it is an excuse which shields your worries about your own abilities (89).

·         “Trap #2: Bright Shiny Objects for Our Driveways, Resumes, and Ring Fingers”---- Much to my chagrin these things are what matter in the world. It really disturbs me that these “Bling” items and their obtain-ability or lack thereof is obsession for so many. There are only so many times you can fix a car. The more on your resume appears great, however, did you actually do those things for the right reasons, and with the deserved dedication? Is all that holds your relationship together your significant others salary? Should not the motivations that get you up in the morning drive a little deeper in to your heart (90)?

·         “Trap #3: The Seduction of Competence”---- We all want to please others; however, this can stifle our dreams and we end up living the dreams of other people. Some individuals might tell you that your idea is a bad one and propose one that they think is better. It may or may not be so, however, if you end up rejecting your dream for their approval then a part of you will eventually die. The text sums it up well, “Do you care more about being loved than being what you love?” Sometimes you just have to do something that only makes since to you. (94-95)

·         “Trap #4: The ‘Tyranny of the OR’”---- Either this or that; those are the only options which the majority of people believe they can consider. The general populous generally choose to proceed and only serve others. True, society would be in a bad way is this did not occur, but, why the OR? Why can we not say AND? Truth is we can. If you really follow your dreams they will typically, in some way, serve others while they cater to your personal needs; your souls silent scream. (101) 

What was Here, Now is Not

Oxford Book of Death

by D. J. Enright

“No different, I said, from rat’s or chicken’s,

That ten-week protoplasmic blob. But you

Cried as if you knew all that was nonsense

And knew that I did, too.

Well, I had to say something. And there

Seemed so little anyone could say.

That life had been in women’s wombs before

And gone away?

This was our life. And yet, when the dead

Are mourned a little, then become unreal,

How should the never born be long remembered?

So this in time will heal

Though now I cannot comfort. As I go

The doctor reassures: ‘Straightforward case.

You’ll find of course, it leaves her rather low.’

Something is gone from your face.

~David Sutton (1944) (as cited in Enright 109)

             When does life begin? A frequently asked question to be sure; however, it is particular that when a child is lost before, during, or after birth, we attempt to soften the blow by saying that they never truly lived. In our hearts, though, we all know that it is not true, and the attempt does little to sooth, and ends up sounding shallow and petty. Also, the comment by the doctor is an understatement; “rather low” does not even begin to touch the depth of the pain experienced by a mother who lost her child. When a child dies it takes with it immeasurable amounts of hope, love, happiness, and dreams. 

Lost and Left Behind

The Oxford Book of Death

By D.J. Enright

“Dark house, by which once more I stand

Here in the unlovely street,

Doors, where my heart was used to beat

So quickly, waiting for a hand,

A hand that can be clasp’d no more—

Behold me, for I cannot sleep,

And like a guilty thing I creep

At earliest morning to the door.

He is not here; but far away

The noise of life begins again,

And ghastly thro’ the drizzling rain

On the bald street breaks the blank day

~Alfred Lord Tennyson (1809-92) (105) (as cited in Enright).

               When a person you care for passed from life and you are left behind, the night can be a terrible place. Activities have slowed down so memories from the past have an easier time fighting to the brink of conscious thought. Also memories that were created at night can be more vivid because there are fewer elements, such as noise, light, crowds etc, to blur them. Thus, night can be one of the most painful times for one who is in mourning. The shadows rule that time, and not just the shadows of light and dark, but the shadows of the past which found a temporary canvass upon which to project themselves; the canvass being the time when there are the fewest elements to take away from their full power. The depth of this poem achieves great lengths in portraying the pain that is experienced by those left behind, and truly captures the essence of the mourning period. 

I am by no means finished posting what I would like to tonight, however, I it necessary to pause my fingers until the morrow as tonight I will be celebrating a birth. See you in the sun. 

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Enso: free form circle

The Sacred Art of Dying

By Kenneth Kramer

“…four different faces of Zen: the sect within Buddhism, the heart of all Buddhism, the true center of all the world’s spiritualities, and the Zen beyond Zen, the no-Zen Zen” (58).

              To be quite honest I formally believed that Zen was a form of martial arts that focused (more than others) on finding one’s inner balance. I learn via visual and auditory, however, I also absorb much information by asking questions and or participating/observing activities. Because I have never been exposed to the Zen practices I am woefully ignorant in my understanding in that area. While reading the text I found it necessary to reread some sections in order to better (though not fully) understand the concepts of Zen.

“I come from the No Organizational Temple, and I bow to every Buddha” (58).

              I am not exactly why I do this, but I have a habit of comparing different world religions with each other. I do not mean comparing them with the religion I practice but with all other religions that I have a vague understanding with. A major similarity I observe in many religions is that they have different levels of devotion and worship. Also, following with the concept of the Zen monk belonging to the “No Organizational Temple”(58), numerous religions have followers who refer to themselves as nondenominational.