“Look at everyone as if for the last time, as if they were to die tonight.” Ever since my teacher proposed this experiment, I’ve been seeing people and their faces with different eyes. Rather than feeling sad or afraid, as might be expected with such a weird undertaking, my heart invariably softens. As I behold the other, I’m bathed in affection and appreciation for that intimate moment. For an instant, there’s no holding on — only freedom: free from fear and uncertainty.
In Japan, I’m told, when a guest leaves their home, people respectfully wave and keep their eyes peeled until person and vehicle have disappeared from view. “Although sickness, old age, and death come to everyone who’s been born into this world,” writes Chozen Bays**, “we carry out our lives as if this is not true for us or for those we care about. … Occasionally, the veil of denial lifts and we see the truth of the fragility of human life.”
Why not try this practice and see for yourself. And post a Comment, if you like, for all to share.
* Title of the 1965 single by The Rolling Stones, based on a traditional Gospel song. “This could be the last time / Maybe the last time / I don’t know. oh no. oh no.”
** Jan Chozen Bays MD has been my spiritual teacher for 13 years. Together with her husband Hogen Bays, she guides the monastic and guest community at Great Vow Zen Monastery in Oregon. The quote is from her 2011 book, How to train a wild elephant (and other adventures in mindfulness). Boston: Shambhala.
Gurdiefe said: “If you want to love your neighbor, remember that s/he will die.”
But what happens when one has been silent inside for so long that one forgets how to imagine and dream? When the certainty of death floods every thought and the watercolors of life flow and bleed until the last drop of hope disappears? What happens when the grieving begins before the last breath has been taken? How does one find the strength to live when even the death of one’s own soul has been felt?
Dear Linda, your eloquent language paints a dismal picture. My experience of grief (my own and others’) is that it can be overwhelming to the point of suffocation. So, when in deep water, become a diver. Go to were each moment begins, to your breath. Quietly witness the emergency of a new moment. A moment that has no “stories” attached to it (yet), a moment that is pure and free of suffering. From there, another breath.
Grief does not resolve itself by thinking, but by holding it gently in the physical body. A body that’s constantly changing. This requires patience (as you already know) and perseverance (no quick fix). Concurrently, you may benefit from the help of someone skilled in grief counselling. I did.
A reminder to really look, to make eye contact with others, and not to worry that somehow that is
an intrusion or that my feelings show. A good practice, to really look at others, especially when we are
parting. I know how much I appreciate it – being the receiver of the heartfelt good-bye.