At my age, (soon to be 76), mementos mori often begin to pile up. (In my case, diabetes, glaucoma, A.M.D. and a heart condition.) Yet for the elderly, the skull becoming manifest under the skin tends not to cause panic--by the time one reaches one's seventies, one has encountered so many deaths of loved ones and friends that one (almost) gets used to it. In other words, we take our approaching cessation of breath in stride. (The stride might be syncopated, yet if we limp, it is more likely due to a physiological, age-related decrease in mobility, rather than to a psychological mope.)
A sounder mind in a frailer body--most Romans didn't live long enough to develop such an ideal view of old age; I, however, have.
2.
Meditation has been a habit with me for a long time. I have not always meditated regularly, but most days, especially now that I'm older, do not pass without at least one twenty minute session. I have always meditated while sitting on the floor; at present, I sit on a beautiful hand-made Muslim prayer rug which I bought in Istanbul years ago. On a little wooden table, which a friend recently made for me, I have placed a gilded statue of Buddha, a fairly recent gift from another friend. I sit before it at least once a day, doing my best to concentrate on my breath, while reciting various mantras.
Buddha's left hand points to the Earth, as witness to his Enlightenment; he has transcended samsara, the wheel of birth and death, which earthly things represent. I'd like to call your attention to his right hand, the palm of which is extended to the onlooker. This is the classic Abhaya mudra, the hand gesture which designates 'No Fear.' This symbolic hand gesture has been used in Hinduism since at least the sixth century. (The famous 10th century Chola dynasty bronzes depicting Shiva Nataraja, Shiva performing the Cosmic Dance, has Shiva using the 'No Fear' gesture with his lower right hand.)
During a meditation session, shortly after my diagnosis, I seemed to hear an inner voice repeating, Do Not Be Afraid, while I stared at Buddha's Abhaya Mudra. It reminded me of the tonic drone of South Indian music, usually played on the tambura throughout a piece; if you would prefer a Western example, it reminded me of the prolonged E flat at the beginning of Wagner's Rheingold. Both represent the foundational tone of creation, at least as far as human consciousness is concerned.
Do you mean, Inner Voice, that, while approaching death--and all of us, of course, have been approaching death since birth--I shouldn't be afraid? That I shouldn't fear the dissolution of this self which has been me for so long? Do you mean, Inner Voice, that I shouldn't fear oblivion, which begins with the last breath of personhood and lasts forever? Do you mean I shouldn't fear death, the boundary beyond which there is no experience of all the wonderful--and awful--things to come? Do you mean I shouldn't fear the unbearable loss of loved ones and friends and the ineffable conscious experience of nature? Well, basically, Yes. (By the way, you have no choice.)
3. Why Fear? The example of Sai Baba
Sai Baba, who suddenly appeared in the town of Shirdi in the nineteenth century, was a prominent embodiment of the Hindu teaching of Advaita Vedanta, nonduality, with which science is in basic accord. He remained in Shirdi, living an ascetic life in an abandoned mosque until his death in 1918. Although scorned at first, he has since received a large international following, including temples in India and elsewhere, dedicated to him.
Sai Baba taught his disciples to live an ordinary family life--and a moral one. "Love your neighbor as yourself," was one of his basic messages, although he didn't use those exact words.
Odd for an Indian guru then, and especially now, he accepted, without favoritism, Muslim as well as Hindu followers. Although he was firmly against dogmatism and petty behavior, he saw truth behind both religions and never advocated one over the other. He celebrated festivals of both communities. In this respect, he provides a shining example, especially for these divisive times.
In Hinduism, there are two paths. The path of bhakti, devotion, and that of jnana, wisdom. This is a very dangerous dichotomy, since many are devoted to a good guru, yet do not put his teachings into practice Only when devotion is mixed with right action is a just life possible. Far too many devote themselves, nay, worship Sai Baba while still living lives of greed, hate, and delusion. They want to be relieved of their burdens--which most of us, especially the elderly, so well know, can be very heavy indeed--without having to change their vain ways. They want miracles, not wisdom.
Sai Baba played along with all this in some respects, claiming powers that no mortal can ever have. One of his most famous sayings is "Why Fear, When I am Here," words which are etched over altars in Sai Baba temples.
One of my favorite sayings of his is "If somebody wants any money from you and you are inclined not to give, do not give, but do not bark at him like a dog." More practical than Jesus's dictum of turning the other cheek, this saying indicates that Baba knew that earthly life and greed, hate, and delusion are unfortunately intertwined; at the very least, he seems to be saying, we should be civil to one another. This quote which seems to support the status quo must be put in context with other sayings that advocate that one should work hard to relieve the burdens of the poor.
Baba also said, "My mortal remains shall speak from my tomb. If you seek my help, it shall be given to you. There shall be no want in the house of my devotee." This, for me at least, is Spiritual Fake News.
For me, Rationality must keep guard and frisk Religion as it attempts to enter the inner sanctum, removing all irrational baggage. Any package marked 'Wishful Thinking' is not allowed entry. Religion will be more than half naked after this shake down is over, but, I think, love and wisdom will remain. And that is more than enough.
4. Miracles
I, too, believe in miracles, but not of the Baba-type. I believe that while the universe supports us--after all, we evolved in it--it is completely indifferent to human needs. What kind of miracles are left? Impersonal ones.
That matter evolved into the feeling of separation, the miracle of consciousness, remains inexplicable. Why there is something rather than nothing remains inexplicable as well. There are many such examples. The most important one is that understanding the totality of nature will remain totally beyond us. We can only apprehend reality according to our senses, including the one of thought, which is a sixth sense in the Eastern tradition. One can never completely know what is out there and what is in us.
I call these 'negative miracles' to contrast them with the personal miracles many believe in. Many religious people seek miracles from a personal God. They want an omnipotent supernatural being who loves them and will cure their ills. Unfortunately for them, the universe supplies no such relief.
Is this view of life cold? Well, the universe, albeit fascinating, is cold. Love of others and of ourselves, however, is more than enough to keep us warm.
If we are to be truly happy, we must let wisdom teach us that we are not the center of the universe. If we are to be truly serene, we must let wisdom teach us that all things must come to an end. We must let love teach us that we must give up vain ways and think of others. In addition, we must deeply appreciate the impersonal gift of life, and do our very best to keep healthy and fit while it is ours.
Who practices these things sincerely experiences bliss. At least for a while.
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