An Urn. Laden with “i”.
I’m Indian, a Hindu, a decidedly proud one at that. Hinduism isn’t a religion; rather it’s a way, a philosophy of life. All comes from the same ONE source, and pervades ALL we see and cannot see in “life”.
To a Hindu, life is that phenomenon which encompasses both birth and death; it is not what transpires in the interval of that time, or the gap between the two.
We cremate the mortal remains of our departed, beloved or not. In this one space and time, all humans high and low, good and bad, moral and immoral, have their bodies returned to basics. The tradition of cremation is shared by a few cultures, as too some in the modern world.
The vessel once shed, the consciousness (i) continues, apparently alive. We still are. Our limitless unseen state is I.
The Elements
Our bodies are made from “panch mahābhut”, Hindi for five elements. While each is complex and vast in its own, we know these to be Space (Ether), Air, Fire, Earth and Water. They’ve probably appeared in that order of causation too, who knows. Sounds about right to me.
Consigning a body to fire returns the body to what it was made from; the air in the body is released into the atmosphere; the fire element in the body merges with fire or heat in the atmosphere; flesh and bones turn into ashes and return back unto the earth; the liquid in the body is released as steam and humidity into the air; and space, ah, eternal space stays where it is, for it resides inside, within, and outside our corporeal frames. Space is everywhere.
Us
A continuing consciousness reassembles a body as a potter would a bowl, or a goldsmith a piece of jewellery, to complete its earthly work. We shed the body over and over, as the vessel returns to clay or the necklace to gold, and fashion another to suit our purpose. Those in the corporate world would understand our corporeal bodies to be SPVs, or special purpose vehicles.
Hindus carry the ashes of their departed to be immersed in The Ganges River, considered holy for many more reasons than one can imagine. It has fascinated scientists that water taken from one particular spot in The Ganges can be stored for ages; it does not spoil nor rot. There’s science and a mystical story there.
Our mind
While a mortal frame’s ashes are decidedly light, the weight of a filled urn can feel unusually heavy. The grief in our hearts constitutes this weight. And I daresay so does the character of that departed consciousness.
Emotional burden reflects upon the mind; the mind itself weightless, unseen, and untraceable in our bodies. There’s no accounting for how much weight we carry, nor how much we put on another person. Again, the body stays behind; the mind lives.
We can and do actually feel the weight of our emotions. Much like the backpack we carry back home after a long day; it’s always heavier than the very same one we carried in the morning. Death does that too.
Rendered quiet
I confess to not having written for a while, and these few words came about after a friend and colleague spoke with me for about a half hour this morning. I was completely present to her as she recounted her mother’s passing earlier this year. Her words were so very real; no padding, no fluff.
I was rendered quiet, and spent the next few hours in solitude. I then remembered the thirty-seven people I knew that fell to the Wuhan virus not too long ago, some of whom were very close to me. My doctor of thirty-three years, a fantastic human and brilliant physician, amongst them. While it’s unfair to set that standard on another doctor, I doubt anyone will measure up. His passing left me devastated. It was an absolute honour to have known him and learnt from him, to have had the discussions we did, to have such grace and talent serve this body. A few thousand people’s lives were touched and changed by this one man. None are over his death, yet each one only acknowledges him for his goodness, kindness, and devotion to his work and family.
Having lost my parents and a brother, I could deeply empathise with each and every word my friend and colleague said.
A thought for now, and for “from now onwards”..
I figured some thought to truth might support us in making this tough life lighter, for ourselves and others too. And so this little write. After all, there’s only two things we can know; our own selves, and the other.
Shall we pray that our bodies’ ashes feel lighter than they actually are, pray that they represent the way we lived? Pray that the ones that carry our remains to nature, whether for immersion in flowing water or dispersion in the wind from atop a mountain, actually celebrate the time we were here and they had with us, rather than mourn that we are gone? Shall we pray for light in the entirety of its meaning; luminance, enlightenment, weightlessness? Perhaps when our bodies decease, we might still witness a celebration of our lives, rather than relief with respect to our passing.
I vote light, light, light. And devote myself to my life’s work. Who’s with?
If life is a celebration, let’s bloody well live it like one. Worth a deep breath and blink, for it’s absolutely up to us to choose how we feel when alive, as to the legacy we choose to leave behind.
Let’s live well, here and now. And then when it’s time, let’s return our bodies to nature, and live on.
Love and respect.
Lion~
