So I am on the plane flying out to Kansas from Colorado and decide to plug in to the Dali Lama. I slip off my worn-out black Dansko clogs and pull my sock feet up into a half lotus. I am thankful to be short and that the middle seat is empty. Ping. Ping. Ping, I shuffle through to Playlists, Books on Tape, The Meaning of Life. Close my eyes. I am flying to be with me family for my grandmother's funeral. My mind is easily distracted, but I pull it back to the monotonous tone of the voice with strength of meditation. A wheel, ignorance, a monkey eating the tail of a pig, and something about a man in a boat representing the name and the form.
Form. Our body in this life. The voice speaks of a room full of copulating couples. The soul walks among them and lays in the womb of a chosen mother. This is conception. Your form is a mass of jelly-like cells. We move on to this and that thorough life, age, and sickness. What caught my interest here is the analgesic reference to letting go of the form in death.
Imagine one dying, she is scared of that which is unknown. The person becomes more scared as his family weeps over stories of what has been. She resists the fading of the body form as it fades back into the jelly mass-form of conception. Imagine, explains the Dali Lama, if those close to the dying said instead: You had a wonderful form in this Earth. Now you will let this life go and move on to great things. Thank you for sharing your form with me. Or something like that.
Both of my father's parents have now died. My grandfather died in the summer of 2009. I was in the middle of my chemotherapy so was unable to fly and attend the memorial. I wasn't there when my grandfather died. My dad was. Dad told me that Papa explained, before he closed his eyes for the last time, that he was tired, it was time, and he was ready. I feel he left in peace. His spirit was beautiful. As a spirit, the man whole was bent over at nearly a 90 degree angle was standing tall and could dance a jig. I say "was" because his spirit is no longer here. He waited for his wife and now they have gone to another existence may it be called Heaven, Utpopia, or Shamiyam.
My grandmother's presence felt more conflicted then my grandfather's sense of peace. She missed her husband of over 60 years. His spirit waited for her. And now they both have risen to what may come next. I suppose my cousin would have more insight in how she felt her last few weeks as he sat with her quite a bit.
At any rate, death is on my mind. I find myself with the reality that I will die. Before cancer I was ignorant giving me the bliss of mental immortality. I moved in and out of my life never thinking forward to my death. Never. Not once. Okay, maybe a minute when I slammed my brakes on in the car nearly ending up in a six car pile up on the Diagonal.
I will die. I know this now. I have to fight every day with my form and name to stay in this body long enough to raise my two beautiful humans and whatever else is written in my script. When my sickness overcomes this body, I pray that it is beautiful. I pray to be released with ease. I pray for this in part because I want you, all of you that I will leave, to know that it is okay. I lived a good life. I over come much and laughed a lot. I leave you and release you to live your beautiful lives with zest and love. For if I loved you today, I will love you again. Oh, and wear purple to my memorial. Play your melodic songs you need to fill your heart. But then, please, kick off your shoes, turner up the stereo and JUST DANCE. Celebrate me and let me go. Yes, for my funeral, wear purple and dance.
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