As well as being the title of one of my favourite films, a matter of life and death has been a subject curent in my mind. At my age (63) I suppose that it is natural that some of my contemporaories will fade away. I don't seem to experience grief in the same way that others do. I am of course sorry that I will not see this person again but people frequently enter and leave our lives in other circumstances leaving a gap where they used to be and we cope. The dynamics of relationships are frequently reorganising themselves.
When a person has been in physical or mental pain it is good to know that they will no longer be suffering. Their component parts will dissolve into and be absorbed by the universe. It is always sad to lose a friend but we are presented with the opportunity to meet new ones. I am pleased to have had the opportunity to see both my parents shortly before they died. They seemed to know what was about to happen and we were at peace with each other. I probably felt more grief as a child as I didn't understand the process. The saddest part is the folks that are left behind who can't cope with the loss.
A friend once told me after I had a mastectomy that I should grieve for my lost breast! I found this rather comical and could never see the point. As far as I was concerned it had been there to keep my bra in place and balance the other one so how could I grieve for it? As I have always been well endowed it was a good way to lose weight.
When a dearly loved pet dies, I am very sad as I had care of this creature and tried my best to make it comfortable and happy. Maybe losing a child is like this but I'll never know. Maybe it is different when death is unexpected.
A friend who died recently has given instructions that the mourners should wear red, what a wonderful idea. Peter Sellars left instructions in his will for the Glen Miller version of "In the mood" to be played at his funeral although he actually hated it as it was excruciantingly cheerful! I have stipulated that the awful Tai Chi Melody to be played at mine! Haha! Gotcha!
It is a curious fact that for years I have been wishing that I was dead and now I am glad to be alive. I'm not scared of dying as living is much more scary and much harder to do.
After a bad motor cycle accident many years ago I had a "near death experience", the typical "going along a white tunnel towards the light" thing. I remember going towards prople dressed in white who were talking together. When they saw me they said that it wasn't my time and I had to go back. I felt rather disappointed as this place seemed very pleasant and I wanted to stay.
After suffering a cardiac arrest on the operating table recently I had another strange experience. I immediately went into a space where there were beautiful sounds and colours that I had never heard or seen before which was an extremely pleasurable sensation. I came to after my heart was re-started and sat up on the operating table saying to the assembled medics "That was interesting!". I would like to think that being dead was like that but I strongly suspect that this was just the beginning of the process. If I find a way of sending a message when I'm dead I'll let you know.
Monday 17 August 2009
Sunday 16 August 2009
The first stop
I have had such an interesting day that I feel like making notes of some of it's curious contents. It all started with an invite to a Zen calligraphy workshop given by Sarah Moate Sensei in Exeter.
I had forgotten that there are many schools of Zen, this particular one was Rinzai Zen. Starting with chanting the Heart Sutra in Japanese was a great beginning but I was not expecting the subtle changes in intonation and the sheer VOLUME of it. A zazen period followed.
In the room there were two original Hakuin calligraphies. Being a dedicated Hakuin fan, I couldn't believe my eyes. They were not behind glass as in a museum but right here with the group as if the man himself were watching us. They seemed to be emanate qi.
Next was the calligraphy preceded by a short but powerful qigong set. Every thing about this calligraphy was different from the Chinese style that I had previously tinkered with. The brushes were much bigger and the horsehair bristles were stiffer, as one friend put it - it is like painting with a bog brush! Then there were formalities to be observed with great care taken over the handling and loading of the brush, correct posture and even breathing. This was calligraphy done with extreme focus and mindfulness. I felt quite scared at the prospect of making some awful faux-pas and felt clumsy in my movements.
Our first attempt was on newspaper but even so, the list of possibilities of making mistakes grew longer by the minute, remembering the effortless ease of my teacher's demonstration and making unfavourable comparisons with my clumsy attempts. Whoosh! The first one was done and was whisked away and disposed of before I had time to think. There were no recriminations, no awful post mortems on my messy lines. The idea then struck home - how silly, it is about the doing of it and not he finished product. Very sensible, very Zen. I could hear Hakuin laughing. I laughed with him.
After lunch an opportunity to try something on calligraphy paper. More qigong, demonstrations and directions about the ritual of performing the art. Working on a long piece of paper I was a little more confident now but this soon evaporated when my brush seemed to stick to the paper and provided some interesting angles in what should have been flowing lines! Somehow it didn't matter any more as, again, it was the doing of it that mattered and not the end result.
During the break I really had to go through some taiji and grabbed a friend to join me in a quiet spot for some practice. It felt so good.
The group was treated to an amazing demonstration of something that was completely new to me called a Hojo Kata. Apparently an ancient forerunner of kendo with similarites to aikido bokken forms, it was very slow, stylised and performed with great focus. The energy emitted at the ki-ais was powerful and somehow it was like looking at one of those old samurai wood block prints coming to life with the two performers faces looking like Japanese theatre masks.
Japanese arts seem to be very much about mindfulness and attention to detail which seems to form a strong framework and yet somehow this extreme focus provides a way of letting go which is very freeing and unrestrained. I am fascinated by this concept.
I had forgotten that there are many schools of Zen, this particular one was Rinzai Zen. Starting with chanting the Heart Sutra in Japanese was a great beginning but I was not expecting the subtle changes in intonation and the sheer VOLUME of it. A zazen period followed.
In the room there were two original Hakuin calligraphies. Being a dedicated Hakuin fan, I couldn't believe my eyes. They were not behind glass as in a museum but right here with the group as if the man himself were watching us. They seemed to be emanate qi.
Next was the calligraphy preceded by a short but powerful qigong set. Every thing about this calligraphy was different from the Chinese style that I had previously tinkered with. The brushes were much bigger and the horsehair bristles were stiffer, as one friend put it - it is like painting with a bog brush! Then there were formalities to be observed with great care taken over the handling and loading of the brush, correct posture and even breathing. This was calligraphy done with extreme focus and mindfulness. I felt quite scared at the prospect of making some awful faux-pas and felt clumsy in my movements.
Our first attempt was on newspaper but even so, the list of possibilities of making mistakes grew longer by the minute, remembering the effortless ease of my teacher's demonstration and making unfavourable comparisons with my clumsy attempts. Whoosh! The first one was done and was whisked away and disposed of before I had time to think. There were no recriminations, no awful post mortems on my messy lines. The idea then struck home - how silly, it is about the doing of it and not he finished product. Very sensible, very Zen. I could hear Hakuin laughing. I laughed with him.
After lunch an opportunity to try something on calligraphy paper. More qigong, demonstrations and directions about the ritual of performing the art. Working on a long piece of paper I was a little more confident now but this soon evaporated when my brush seemed to stick to the paper and provided some interesting angles in what should have been flowing lines! Somehow it didn't matter any more as, again, it was the doing of it that mattered and not the end result.
During the break I really had to go through some taiji and grabbed a friend to join me in a quiet spot for some practice. It felt so good.
The group was treated to an amazing demonstration of something that was completely new to me called a Hojo Kata. Apparently an ancient forerunner of kendo with similarites to aikido bokken forms, it was very slow, stylised and performed with great focus. The energy emitted at the ki-ais was powerful and somehow it was like looking at one of those old samurai wood block prints coming to life with the two performers faces looking like Japanese theatre masks.
Japanese arts seem to be very much about mindfulness and attention to detail which seems to form a strong framework and yet somehow this extreme focus provides a way of letting go which is very freeing and unrestrained. I am fascinated by this concept.
In response to things,
be like the moon in water.
Hakuin Ekaku
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