TIBETAN BOOK OF THE DEAD

I am a student of spirituality. Traditional, non-traditional, extra-traditional, esoteric...you name it and it will hook me into listening. My adventure in this life has included, not only working with disenfranchised youth of all colors and cultures, but in exploring and studying the metaphysical beliefs of the world--past as well as present. The 'God Thing'--in all its possibilities--captures me and propels me, still.

While this began in Catholic School, when I was a wee child, the disparity between what Jesus said and what I saw going on in the Church (including the discrepancies between what was demanded of nuns vs. priests...) began to raise serious questions in my adolescent mind. In college, while exploring Bible Study Groups, the Quaker Meeting in the next town, Native American shamanism, and cast in a leading role in "Godspell", I was introduced to all the "forbidden/hidden" books of the Bible--which shocked me. Shocked because they had been withheld from so many people on the grounds that the commoners couldn't handle God's words...(What else had been hidden from us? !) These were the same questions I had in Sacred Heart--where I had been told to stop asking...

Further connections with the world, through multi-cultural romances, voracious reading, ongoing exploration of the arts, and the beginning study of philosophy, whetted my wondering. (And my wandering.)It was clear that this "path" was the one I was destined to travel--wherever it led.

I came across the TIBETAN BOOK OF THE DEAD. Unlike other tomes of ceremonies honoring our deceased, this work actually laid out what happens, from the moment of our last breath, to where one might end up in the next life. It blew my mind. However, it wasn't until after many readings of the book, and years of meditation, that I began to understand its message--began to integrate what was being explained into what I've come to experience for myself.

We are a generation of death. (Maybe more so than anytime since the Great Plague years.) AIDS, global war and famine-- our sheer numbers insure there is more death around than any time in recorded history. On top of that, our communications systems are such that we encounter death up close, sometimes in an hourly manner. (Even our games and entertainment--our music, our dance, our comics--push death under our noses--yet explain nothing.) There is often no comprehension of the panic--the agony--the scarring that sudden ends leave. A vaporized zombie (or on the opposite end, a glorified Juliet) create the same impact: death is all around, yet unreal. No prep needed. No consequences acquired.

The real deal way to prepare for the inevitable eludes most of us. Our ideas of a "good death" involve popularity, drama, money spent. (Commercials for life insurance focus on the bills after death--prey on worries about the image "left behind".)Our Churches decline in regular attendees. Our prayers services become less populated than ever. Multi-cultural votives, mylar balloons and teddy-bears are the best
markers of someone's passing. (If we are fortunate, someone will video the memorial and post it to You Tube...)

Perhaps this has always been true for humans. Famous people had huge funerals. (The King and the Pope were always on top..) But what really happened when someone passed? Who could tell us, beyond the ambiguous "angels" come to call and perhaps "a bright light"? Where do we look for hard answers?

We cling to people who lecture us about "near death experiences". We devour popular books from psychics who claim to be able to talk to those on the other side,giving us some messages of closure. Yet, how often do we ask the real questions? The questions beyond "where is the money hidden" or "Who knocked Auntie Lil upside the head ?"

 Why isn't anyone asking "Okay, what happens? Line for line? What does it feel like? What should I do to prepare? Are you naked? Are you old? Do you still have your glasses or crutches or wheelchair? Are you fat? Wrinkled? Can you see  us? What ELSE can you see? Who's there? What does Jesus look like? Buddha?  Mohammed? Moses? Are they nice? What language is everyone speaking? Does anyone hug or kiss? What does it smell like? Why are you hanging around still? How did you pick out this psychic, when there are millions of people you could communicate with? What does it sound like, there?  Where is "there"?"

In the TIBETAN BOOK OF THE DEAD, I found the day by day, moment by moment, descriptions of what one may encounter and feel...advice of how to "handle" this transition--which can take up to forty-nine days. Yes--an actual outline--passed down through the ages by prophets and saints--holy adepts who have been given the knowledge of what will occur. What does occur. What one can prepare for--and how. Nothing has been "hidden" or "restricted". It is all there for the masses.Including us.

 Yes, I am still a Christian. I found that there is even advice for this...a place to call upon my Lord and my  Angels and Saints. A place for them to interact with me, if I do it mindfully. There is even an explanation of the Heaven we heard about at Sacred Heart--and transition to that place. The role of the Christ is there, too...or enough that there is no way I can discount this text based on cultural belief or pagan systems of spirituality.Each time I read the book, the sound psychology and profound spirituality resound in my mind. Give me some kind of war-manual of how to approach my end, actively, regardless of how I get there.

So, as the absurdity of Whitney's body, four floors above the pre-Grammy bash, unfolded, my mind could focus on what the spirit/the essence of "Whitney" may be encountering--even as she was a life-long professed Christian girl. Instead of anger and despair and shock at the way the "death" was being handled, I could have some kind of thumb-nail sketch of what might be going on--for her "soul"--for whatever was still "the Voice". I could pray and meditate and send the words and images off, into space, into the great Void, and know she might hear them and benefit--as is written.

While this may sound crazy or sacrilegious to some, I found surprising comfort in reading the  book, again. (Even found comfort in the death of children and close family--knowing what may be happening, and what I might do in the way of sending specific prayers along in my meditation--as well as the usual prayers of  
my youth.) It allows me a framework of focus on the essence and soul of the person who has passed, and not on the expired body or the emotional reactions going off around me. There is a calm;a hope and a light that I had not expected, reading such an esoteric book from the past. However, it IS there. It is real. At least for me...it helps.

I find the third edition, and its introduction and commentary by Dr. Carl Jung, as well as the myriad foot-notes for non-Tibetans, by the translators, to be particularly accessible.

So, as we mourn our dead, this week, whether viewing the ceremonies from cyber-space or attending the services at a gravesite, in the cold, I offer this a piece of comfort; a wee bit of enlightenment to aid us all. Namaste.  

HAVING IT ALL

This isn't just another "Farewell to Whitney" post. Though I send prayers for her soul and thanks for Voice over the years--Whitney's shocking (sort of) passage echoed a middle school student from Gardner, this week. Also  a tortured soul--a foster kid who just couldn't take anything anymore--and hung herself in her grandmother's house. I was subbing at the time at the High School. It was not the admin office that informed me of what had occurred first thing that morning--it was the kids. My students poured into the Spanish class I was filling in for, and gave me the details. The girl's relative was in the class.

At no time during the day did the High School Office fill me in on any details for "how to handle this" with my students. I was shocked--and further shocked that there was no memorial service or even an all-school call to meditation or prayer or silence in that week. My niece told me that probably it was because the dead student was a middle schooler and not a high school student. (But her sibling is...)Also, evidently, the dead girl was not "really well known". Hmmm...Of course, that leads to all sorts of speculations.

Just like with Whitney. So ridiculed at the end. So many rumors, even at the height of her popularity--some of which make me wonder--how many people are forced to deny their truest selves in order to "fit"--in order to "pass"--in order to prosper? How many are really known--for their deepest hearts--in the end? And, would a life made free (and safe) have made a difference? Can any of us be really "known"? What would that cost?
Entail? Lead to?

As I reflect on lost family history--hidden secrets in a small town--the price of fame and fortune--the fickleness and pressure of the public eye--it all comes back to what we have created as a Society. What do we really value? If one makes it to the top of the trash heap, what is one, really, except King of the Trash? Is even that Title worth dying for, in the end?

Did Whitney, surrounded by not only her mentor, her friends and family, but the New Elite of the music industry, feel herself slipping, yet again? Or, was it just too much to hide, any longer, and not worth the cost of pretending? Did she take something to help her face the Public, this last event before the Grammys? Or, did she take something so she didn't have to face Anybody, at this Masquerade Party, again?

Like the middle school student this week, Whitney made sure she would be found. She would be remembered. She would be noticed. She wouldn't be alone, finally.

Why couldn't we have noticed, sooner? And maybe, been a bit more kind?  

O THOSE COUPLES !

It's soon to be Valentine's Day. Another problematic holiday in America...If you aren't in a couple, you just want to call in sick (if you have a job...or are at school...), stay in bed, eat junk food and listen to Adele.

If you ARE in a couple, there's a whole other list of obstacles to overcome.
How much do you spend on your "Beloved"? I mean, in comparison to your friends and their "honeys"?
In comparison to your partner...who pays more? Or, have you opted out of that rat race and decided, like a lot of people during the winter holidays, to set a point of budgetary limit and not to exceed it? (Of course, if one does go over the limit, what does that mean, really? Sabotage? Guilt? Lack of communication? Regret? Camouflage? Or, what if the PERFECT GIFT is a dollar or two overlimit...what to do then?)

The question of what is the perfect gift is also a matter that makes most people begin to sweat on February 1.

Flowers? Candy? (Diets--allergies--food restrictions--personal preferences...OMG!) Clothing? (What's too intimate? What says, "This is really for my pleasure, more than yours?" and what says, "I know you want to be comfortable, but this makes you look like a pregnant cow"?) If you get something on sale, does that count? What about fit? If you buy online and the "Beloved" goes online and sees something even better, and needs to exchange your choice because of a fitting problem, but sees a better gift and buys it--does that remove all romance? If your sister-in-law gets a Range Rover for Valentine's Day and you get a Whitman Sampler, what's conversation like at the next family dinner?

In the old days, you could fall back on cards. Hand-made lace and glitter--perhaps stuffed with those terrible tasting little hearts with the great sayings --or, if you were truly serious--a heart- shaped lollipop. (Chocolates in boxes with red ribbons and roses were for adults.) Schools often broke mid-day, for the distribution of valentines.

 In Catholic School, the nuns went out of their way to make sure EVERYONE GIVES EVERYONE ELSE a card. (Of course this never worked.) I remember always feeling slightly queasy as I looked around the classroom. The cutest girl got the biggest pile--or at least the biggest cards. The poorest kid got the generics--never a candy heart in sight. (Catholic guilt began early, in these chalkdusty rooms.)

Of course, I must admit, to offset the awkwardness, there were Bible stories that made you glad you weren't in a binding couple. Not just Adam and Eve headed for Big Trouble over the first gift-exchange, but Cain and Abel, David and Goliath, Salome and St.John the Baptist, and even Mary Magdalene (as we know from the musical "Jesus Christ Superstar") in a neck to neck love triangle with Judas, over Jesus. (Being in a "couple" isn't simple...or even that safe.)

Shakespeare tried to warn us, over and over. A glance at the tragedies finds romantic love the root of all sadness and pain.(Familial love comes in a close second.) Don't take my word for it--go get your copy of "Othello" or "Hamlet". Check out "King Lear". (Don't forget "Macbeth", either.) Whereas the sonnets may be the "go to poems" for filling out love texts and e-mails, it is the truth between the lines, in the plays, that tells the real story. (Given "Romeo and Juliet", I think I prefer listening to Adele.)

Let's face it, coming so close after the Super Bowl, Valentine's Day is overkill--or maybe it has been constructed that way on purpose--a day for the sweethearts of Super Fans to make up for their lack of attention and romance these past cold weeks of winter...hmmmm.

I wonder what Tom Brady's wife will be e-mailing,on Feb.14th...