Reminder at a Funeral
It happened at the spur of the moment. The invitation to a funeral.
It seems that even close friends get lost in the absorbing business of being human—day and night—without a break. Of course, a break, time to think, is the purpose of rituals like family gatherings for fun, births, deaths, marriages, and at some, or all, of the favorite holidays. Human beings doing what human beings do—being together.
At the most basic level there is a biological drive for survival. Many of us would like to believe that, as a uniquely endowed community of conscious beings, our different cultures and societies would be able to enjoy more of the security that comes with reliable food, shelter, clothing, and comforting relationships. Look around or listen to the news and we’re met with the reality that many big powerful, industrialized, monetized countries do not seem committed to a kinder approach to human beings in their own countries or in other countries. Actions speak louder than words.
We can allow ourselves to enter into an electronic blizzard of words, a plague of locusts of words, words as abstractions of meaningless meaning. Not even information or unopinionated truth or unbiased ‘facts’ are reliably available in a reality of this familiar sort. Here, refer to reality as the experience of our lives progressing, our bodies aging, us disengaging from our primary occupations, our parents gone.
Some might say that there is a reason why we have death as one of the certainties. I choose the reason that says we can use the certainty of death to bolster our spirits to live as our own genuine vibrant selves—whatever that means? Much written about happiness talks about reducing the internal battle that comes from being someone we are not. The struggle to survive is not a reasonably true expression of what is in our hearts, more what is in our minds. It gets complicated.
Parents can be heard saying, ‘This hurts me more than it does you.’ I suggest that such a saying is one of our early introductions to paradoxical expressions, and if you will permit, to the many paradoxes we may experience in the real world: the difference between what we want and what we get. The saying is like a Zen koan. A koan is a question that defeats logical thinking, and perhaps even illogical thinking: ‘What was your face before you were born?’ Of course, eventually, when I became a parent and as the children grew, I began to understand the meaning of the paradox as it came to me with tragic realization. I was with my children as their innate sense of fairness and later, their idealistic sense of a just and equitable society hit the brick wall of greed, privilege, and unfair opportunities. I could appreciate their confusion and I wanted with all my heart and soul to try to ease their suffering with words or holding or whatever worked.
The tragedy was that there were times when nothing worked. I felt bad that I, through life experience, now had some of the skills to live with the predicaments that attend life and felt I would willingly take on the suffering for my loved ones. I would give my life for them. Of course, the frustration, which later turns to acceptance, comes from acknowledging and allowing that each human being must learn about reality and suffering on their own, and must struggle to come to grips with the truth of what ‘is’ in order to successfully adapt to the job of living. It also seems true that human beings have the creative capacity to construct mental models of what reality ‘should’ be and we can combine it with a strong capacity to deny evidence we don’t want to accept but that is clearly apparent to others. The evidence of a dead loved one stirs the heart and mind to struggle not only with loss but also with the certainty of our own journey’s apparent terminus.
Yes, I agree with you, while the demise of the body cannot be successfully denied without losing a meaningful grasp on the daily world, there is much written, in many cultures, over many millennia, about what goes on behind or beyond the known called life. The discussion seems to center around a desire for a truth about some immutable essence that most of us deny or are unaware of during our busy lives, but an essence that continues after life. This is where ideas about the unknown can get very dramatic and creative. There is a camp that takes a minimalistic view that there is no meaning, there is no essence, there is no afterlife. For me, I must offer that the arid minimalist view is simply no fun. It may be true, but it is no fun. You can argue that life is not about fun; it seems to be a lot more about want and suffering. But a minimalistic view does not disallow personal choice—indeed, how could it?
Beyond the minimalistic view…let’s just say that the human imagination seems limitless in its ability to describe an unknown that none, or at least a rare few, have experienced. When no one is looking over my shoulder, I choose the worldview that seems more in alignment with my experience. I do not require my worldview to even attempt to offer impossible but logical truth. I lost faith in the truth of Descartes’ “I think therefore I am.” It is equally plausible that “I am therefore I think.” No, the many years I spent at a bedside in the practice of compassion for the ill, injured, and dying opened my eyes and yes, opened my heart to a feeling of something I do not choose to deny: the illogical experience of a feeling that, for lack of a better word, is often referred to as love.
I am not saying that all human beings are willing to open their hearts to kindness and compassion. Many have more pressing concerns like food and shelter and safety, but given a few of the basics and enough moments to breathe easy, behaviors of kindness, mercy, forgiveness, compassion, and love can be found. Even the fortunate, industrious, and even the ruthless, near their certain end, seem to get the most comfort from relationships—not all of us, but some, maybe most. Some take refuge in anger, but anger seems to increase isolation. Many hold on with fear, resisting the certain loss of themselves. Many find comfort in faith.
Perhaps I enjoy the celebration of death because I find in it a powerful reminder to share my best self, my best feelings, and beyond reason, to offer best wishes and warm regards to every human being. And perhaps the sharing can be with less reservation and toward everyone in my life who touches in me an odd need to be loving; and today, right now, just because life is short.
Like the moment of death, all our opportunities in life come as moments, and all those moments only exist now. I have missed more moments than I have used, but I am pleased that I was able to share meaningful expressions of gratitude with family and friends while they were alive. It felt a bit forced at the time, but it gave me peace after they were gone.
A funeral is a good reminder not to hold back on the illogical proposal to spread more compassion and love beyond reason. There is no need to feel overwhelmed, small acts of kindness can become a satisfying and beneficial habit.