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Posts Tagged ‘death’

Every moment
dying
breathing shallowly

as if not enough
intoxicating limitability
with life force not
but suicide substance
depleting what seems desirous to the world
an inner desire to cease.

Asked once, “what do I want”
revealed then, “there is nothing that I want”
nothing fulfilling that of which is yearning
what the world sounds of
…money, relationships, materials…
if only, if only.

Progressing too fast?
What a highway!
Progressing too slow?
What a boat ride!
Progressing Just Right.
Could it be otherwise?

Nothing to say
though so much is being said.
Nothing to do
though so much is being done.
Melancholically Alone
yet paradoxically Pleased
in such Solace.

Indeed, what an irony!

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Each moment some meaning arising
Making experience possible
Whether it is appreciation, love or grace
Even anger, disappointment or sentimental.

Imagine
A world without meaning
What would it be like
In experience
Perhaps deep Serenity, Bliss
From the vast contrast of suffering
Hence making peace now more valuable
Void of dependency on meanings.

Yet is it possible
For meaning not to arise
From data taught, churned, concluded
Even an answer from beyond
Only usable for the moment
Once kept, also transforming it to data
Turning wisdom into sheer ignorance.

Can Peace then be possible?
Can Serenity then be graspable?
With meaning, non escapable
Twirling around like the swirling dervish dance.

Yes, yes, we tell you
It is possible, it is possible
Just take a step back
And watch
And another step back
And watch
And another
And another
And another
Until there is nothing else to watch.

Then no longer do meanings rule
Though their dance cease and begin
Each their own time
Released or not
With tools or not
Watch, watch…

Serenity awaits you.

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Do you really think you can kill
a person, a situation or even a thought?

That would be ignorance,
working its work.

What you can really do
is to understand
to realise
the cause behind
what that caused you the intent to kill,

and you can be rest assured
finally
smiling and at peace
with a person, a situation and even a thought.

For you’d see,
how you could never hate or resist
a person, a situation or a thought
especially not to the point of killing
but only to the idea of a person, a situation or even a thought –

in the meaninglessness of the idea
you’d finally arrive at your own pain
yet paradoxically also,
Your Own Freedom.

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We are all like strangers
walking on the face of the earth
brushing shoulders and yet not noticing
totally oblivious who and what we are meeting, or not.

Even our apparent ‘loved ones’
it’s really quite amazing how we ‘survived’ this far
when what we are left with is only just a name, a label; so to speak;
Not to mention the imagination that comes along with it
of what is being experienced, observed and interpreted.

And the hopes of what we can actually get out of it
how ironic and silly
whether it is a thwarted need
or apparently, a godly goal to inspire and uplift another…

Simply, simply asleep…

To oneself, and also to the world…

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It has been a long winter,
no wonder drawn to such.

Dry branches, withering leaves;
chilly wind blowing, trivial stiff movements.

Indeed a beauty,
dying its natural death;
and in its death,
births another new life –

from nature, as nature, to nature.

Oh how wonderful this winter has been!

The silent night,
no words, no thoughts.

Occasional echoes of faint memories,
no longer longing to capture or retain.

Swiftly each surfaces, swiftly each passes;
like the mist of dawn fading,
back into nothingness.

Soon spring will come,
and the birds will begin to chirp.

The flowers will bloom,
in beautiful, bright colours.

Children’s laughter will be heard at the park.

And it begins again,
a whole new world…

~ written on 18th December 2011, Hong Kong ~

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If it is true that consciousness is the domain of ego
and body is part of mind
and mind being ego
and ego being self
is what I am dissolving
and non-self
is what I am to realise

then is it a blessing or a curse
that this body is still breathing
a blessing or a curse
that this body is still living
a blessing or a curse
that I am here, at all?

If it is so
this is an illusion
and all are illusionary
why did the Buddha teach
why did Jesus teach
why do the Masters share
of teachings and its lineages
the profound seriousness?

Surely
if it is seen
all as an illusion
and all else being illusionary
even this self or that body
why bother, really
to jump into the dream
to invite the ghosts to wake up
lest to make the ghosts realise
they are nothing but just ghosts?

Nothing real can be threatened.
Nothing real exists.
Does it mean that
when I can no longer be threatened
that means I am real?
And if the body still exists
and body being part of mind
and mind being ego
and consciousness being domain of ego
and ego is what I am learning to discern
as not me
am I still not trapped here
amidst the beautiful trees and concrete walls?

So is it a blessing or a curse
that there is still breath in this body?
Do I celebrate death of a body
or the birth of a baby?
Which is it? Which is it?
Simply too many daunting questions
irreconcilable.

Who am I? What am I?
Who is this “I” who is asking?
Is it a blessing, or a curse?

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performed by Alanis Morissette

Fourteen years
Thirty minutes
Fifteen seconds I’ve
Held this grudge

Eleven songs
Four full journals
Thoughts of punishment
I’ve expended

Not in contact
Not a letter
Such communication
Telepathic
You’ve been vilified
Used as fodder
You deserve a piece
Of every record

But who’s it hurting now?
Who’s the one that’s stuck?
Who’s it torturing now
With an antique knot in her stomach?

I want to be big and let go
Of this grudge that’s grown old
All this time I’ve not known
How to rest this bygone
I wanna be soft and resolved
Clean of slate and released
I wanna forgive for the both of us

Like an abandoned house
Dusty covered
Furniture
Still intact
If I visit it now
Will I simply re-live it
Somehow gratuitous

But who’s still aching now?
Who’s tired of her own voice?
Who is it weighing down
With no gift from time of said healing

I want to be big and let go
Of this grudge that’s grown old
All this time I’ve not known
How to rest this bygone
I wanna be soft and resolved
Clean of slate and released
I wanna forgive for the both of us

Maybe as I cut the cord
Veils will lift from my eyes
Maybe as I lay this to rest
Dead weight off my shoulders will rise

Here I sit
Much determined
Ever ill-equipped
To draw this curtain
How this has entertained
Validated
And has served me well
Ever the victim

But who’s done whining now?
Who’s ready to put down
This load I’ve carried longer than I had cared to remember

I want to be big and let go
Of this grudge that’s grown old
For the life of me I’ve not known
How to rest this bygone
I wanna be soft and resolved
Clean of slate and released
I wanna forgive for the both of us.

~.~

Thank you for sharing this beautiful song, Lynn

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The endless sobbing
Heart throbbing
The death of the Lover
Giving up
Experiences
Words
Actions
Movements
World
Dreams
Anything
Everything
Finally
To Light

The curtains down
Props dismantled
Stage dissembled
Take a bow
The night is over
Eyes are closed
The last sigh
The final breath
Securing the cover
Madonna lilies thrown
On the coffin

Descending
Sand thrown
Hastened with movement by the shovel
Celebrating what was once before
Moaning what will never come

No one around
No prayers
No priests
No nuns
No hymns
No nothing

An emaciated death
Awaiting
A Glorious Birth
Coming back as Life itself
Once again

A brand new show
Until the next funeral
That is

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Gardening is very much like one’s spiritual journey.

Today, I was blessed with the mood to look consciously at my garden and the plants that surround it. Automatically, I noticed some leaves which needed a trim, some stems that needed to be cut off and some leaves that needed to be swept. Because the weather was welcoming, as in cooling, else I would have given myself another reason to procrastinate the act that the weather is just too hot, I picked up the cutter (I am not sure if there is a special name for this device – the one we use to cut plants with) and started trimming the leaves which were dead, dried or were drying.

So there was this particular plant, where two of its stems looked as if it was turning light green colour, instead of its usual dark bright green colour. Oblivious to whether it was normal or not, I just trimmed the leaves of the light green coloured stems which were ‘dead’ as in yellow. My wise partner came up to me and told me, “honey, cut the whole stem.” With that, he took the cutter from my hand and demonstrated how I could cut the stem right at the bottom of its root just above the earth and pulled out the stem. “There,” he said, handing me the stem and the cutter, “it will grow anew again” and my mind continued in his sentence, “in freshness”.

My dad told me once too, that there was no need to worry about cutting the stem which was turning yellow or was dying as it will grow new roots. Those were just information to me and due to my lack of interest and awareness to how the nature of plants work, I never really bothered and allowed the leaves to be; whether they lived or died, green or blue – because someone else was always around clean up the mess. Or so I thought.

And it reflects back on how the mind is of such nature. The growing of an idea, to its maturity and it withers and die to a somewhat ugly sight. Except that in the case of the mind, the idea doesn’t drop off and die completely though we experience death through it – as in, we become dead, oblivious and unaware. When my partner cut off the root, it was clear that ideas that did not serve the mind had to be uprooted so for new, useful ideas to grow or more so in a clearer and more creative perspective. New ideas that are suited to the moment, to the now. Not the old which were conditioned and moulded in the past due to its past experiences or learning much in the case of the plant growing to its full potential based on the weather experienced in the past few weeks. It may have been hot and sunny a few weeks ago, but it sure is rainy and gloomy these few days. Each of what the plant experiences will exactly determine its growth.

To trim off the little of the leaves of a dying stem, is to do that little work on the mind, and if you are into gardening, you will notice that a shape does start to take place. It does not grow wildly anymore but is within control albeit still within its own nature. And when the stem becomes useless, it is taken away, as in cut off, so that a new root or stem can grow. One that brings freshness to the environment or, at least to my garden.

So this reminds me of something that one of my teachers shared with me some time ago. Rules are only needed for a time being and after that, they are dropped. Such as beliefs, ideas, whatever that is needed for that moment, to cater for a specific condition, situation or learning. To hang on to such beliefs is to limit our own growth and creativity. But isn’t it strange that these beliefs are the ones which brought us thus far?

So I do not know if I will continue the activity of gardening. But I do know that it is not the act of beautifying an outer garden that is important. It is the purifying process of the garden within that is utmost significant – for it is all of life itself.

With a wild forest within, how scenic can the world be?

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Strangely, I’ve observed that there is this thing about dying and death in my space recently. It is either about a friend passing away, or a friend’s friend, or a friend’s relative, or a friend’s mom. Even in newspaper or one of my preferred blogs, there too was mention of death.

When I heard of a new friend’s mom who passed away a few weeks ago, and her next move to head back to hometown to support her dad, I pondered a little deeper about it. The mind is always like that, if the incident is not related to it, it would not care; but when the incident strikes someone whom it is quite fond of (and I am rather fond of this new friend); it would start its engine to inquire.

I wondered about the funeral – the rituals, the prayers – who is it for? I used to have the impression that these stuffs were for the dead, to assist their journey to a better rebirth or realm and it is up to the children and grandchildren to pray, pray and pray for don’t-know how many days to ensure that the ‘soul’ do not get lost, and that it is ‘guided’. Although I cannot say there is no truth in it, but I also wondered if the whole ritual is more for the living – their perception of giving the dead a last ‘gift’, or accompanying the dead for their last walk on earth. In my perception, the whole process seems to serve more as a completion for the minds of the living.

And I wondered about the moaning, the grief – who is it for? Am I really crying because the person is dead, grieving for the dead person; or am I crying for myself, ill in the heart that I may never see, speak or touch this person again, or perhaps filled with regret that I’ve not done or said enough?

The truth is, what has this dead person got to do with me? If he is not dead, good for him; and if he is dead, good for him too! Unless, there is something in for me, then him being dead or alive would very much effect my being, isn’t it? I remember when my grandfather passed away, I felt nothing. I was not very close to my grandfather at all but when we, as grandchildren held on to the car which the coffin was in that drove to the end of the road, symbolic of sending grandfather off to his journey, I cried heartily. My young cousin surprised, asked me, “Are you crying because you are really sad? Or are you crying because the others are crying?” I loved her honest questions and answered her too, in honesty, that I was crying because I was feeling sad; you see, I suddenly remembered as I saw his picture that I had never experienced a grandfather’s love before, and he was my only grandfather who was then alive, and now dead. I grieved, not for his passing, but for the moments that I never had which in my perception; only he could give to me. Is that true?

Just about a year or so ago, a friend’s brother also passed away, due to an accident. Her mother took it the hardest. When I took the opportunity to drop by before the funeral just to have some quiet time with the family, her father asked me, “How now, G? How now? He is gone! And he is so young. Why couldn’t he have waited?” I cannot know the grievance of a parent or a sister over the death of a child and a brother, though I can somewhat imagine it – and I am sure, it would have been overwhelming.

The thing is, if we are totally present to reality – the death, which is a fact – where is the need to cry or to grieve? If I start thinking of you, of the memories that we had, by going back to the past, I will surely start to miss you because I would have gone into the future too, and imagine moments where you are not there. I will start to feel sick in the stomach and start to cry because I am imagining a future where there is no you. And I would start questioning if I have done enough? If I had said enough? If you have said enough? If you have done enough? And the story goes on and on… and the fact is, it is with 100% certainty, that there is nothing I can do about it. Now, this is brutal truth.

Coming back to the now, have we not experienced moments where the dead is not with us? And weren’t we fine? And BANG! Comes the guilt of not grieving, or enjoying ourselves without the presence of this person who is dead – the should haves, should nots, could haves, what ifs…. Ahh… all violent, violent words…

Having said that, I am not implying that we do not grieve or cry; for there are some many who choose to put aside their own time to grieve because they have to ‘there’ for someone or others to support them. It is important to grieve, if there is grief; to cry, if there are tears; rather than burying these pent up feelings. At the end of the day, it is still back to staying present to one’s own state of mind. To be ‘there’ for another is indeed a noble gesture, but if we are unable to be available to ourselves, who are we kidding to be available for others?

In death, we grieve. We feel that we are crying because the person whom we love has left us. Never mind the guilt which maps out more and more illusionary stories and dramas; but death, is symbolic of something which we had all forgotten. It is the mere separation that we feel most painful about. It is an ugly feeling; ugly because we prefer the opposite of it; but yet, when we truly know that it is the essence of the person, and not the form as in body, that we have recognized and loved, and that very quality is in us; this person lives in our hearts, and has never gone anywhere. You see, everything is symbolic in a conscious state. Where is then the separation?

Most times, we are attached to the form but yet we know that it is the not really the form that we are attracted to, or have deep connection with. It is beyond the form, and we must know that if it is beyond the form – its essence, which cannot be seen or touched – is always felt and savored in quietness and stillness.

If we knew that in death, is simply the death of the vessel, of a shell; that a loved one is once again free, liberated and returning to Source, would we still grief with pain, or celebrate with joy?

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