| Cougar Press PO Box 894 Meadview AZ 86444 |
| The Funeral |
Now that we have spent so much time looking at the subject of death, we may as well say a word
about the funeral. For starters, funerals, in my experience, are usually a lot more fun than
weddings.
There are reasons why this is so. At a wedding there are two distinct groups of witnesses and
guests. There are the ones who are family and friends of the bride, and there are the ones with
similar connections to the groom. At a typical wedding, most of the members of one group do
not know most of the people in the other group. The bride and groom form the only connection
between the two tribes, and often it is a very slim connection.
Friends and relations of either of the betrothed can't help but wonder if their boy or their girl is
not making the biggest mistake of his or her life. They suspect that the other intended may be a
fortune hunter. They suspect their own to be stupid. They look down their noses at the other
group and consider them to be elite snobs or vulgar trash. They drink too much. Fights break
out. Gossip flourishes.
Everyone remarks about how lovely is the bride, but she really is at her worst. The groom is not
any better. Both of them share the nervous trepidation that perhaps the whole thing is just wrong.
At a funeral, on the other hand, there is none of that. What is there is a gathering of people who
all have one thing in common, namely, the one who lies silently in the casket or the urn.
While some may have come to gloat, pleased that the old so and so has finally been laid to rest,
most are there from a sense of love, obligation or shared memories. Many of the attendees at a
funeral or a wake may not have seen one another for a long time. Now the conclusion of the one
who is departed has drawn them to reunion.
More importantly, many of these mourners will never see one another again. So, the barriers are
down. Folks confide in one another. They share their memories of the one who lies still and
silent and largely ignored beneath the flowers. Some of these reminiscences are fond. Some are
mean; some are funny. It doesn't matter because the one who is the subject of the stories is
beyond hurt feelings. So, for the ones who still live and share, it can be a bit of a purge.
In deep conversations at such times, people find out things about their dead relative or friend that
they never knew while she or he still breathed. Beyond that, they discover how special are the
ones who elected to attend the farewell. They feel privileged to be included in this group. They
find themselves wishing that they had known one another better, along with the vague sorrow that
now they probably never will.
We all erect defenses against those whom we don't know too well, and against those whom we do
know too well as well. Here is a scene that you may find familiar. A couple pays a visit to the
home of another couple. During the evening, the conversations are reserved. It is only politeness
and decorum that allow them to associate at all, that prevents them from sharing the animosity of
strangers. The get together passes pleasantly enough, but the hosts are wondering when their
guests will leave, while the visitors ponder about how soon they might get away without being
rude. Eventually hats and coats are collected, and both pairs adjourn to the driveway. The ones
who are homeward bound get into their car, and the driver starts the motor.
This is the point when the barriers come down. Now that the car is warming up, there is no longer
any doubt that the guests are departing. On each side of the car, conversations break out through
the open windows. These cheerful chats can last awhile. The driver does not switch off the
engine, for that would signal that perhaps they really are not leaving yet, and neither couple wants
that. But still the talk flows, free of the fetters of restraint that dominated the discourse earlier.
Recipes are exchanged. Promises are made. Compliments are bestowed.
When at last the visitors are gone, the pair that remain turn to one another with sighs and say, "I
thought they would never leave."
Meanwhile, on the road, the other two are telling each other, "I was beginning to wonder if we
would ever get out of there."
We have good reasons for erecting the barriers that we do. Privacy and priorities are factors in
the creation of the good life for individuals, couples and families. Kahlil Gibran, in The Prophet,
says this:
"For what is your friend that you should seek him with hours to kill?
"Seek him always with hours to live."
Too often we have acquaintances who do exactly that, who come to visit us because they have
nothing better to do. The phone rings, and the voice on the other end says, "I'm bored." Are we
then expected to drop what we are doing, to rouse ourselves from meditation, to finish early our
asanas, to postpone our nap, just so that we might entertain this other person who fails at the
moment to find life fascinating?
Some people cannot stand to be alone or to do nothing. When they find themselves with time on
their hands, they want to kill it. They will come around and try to kill your time as well. This is
unfortunate, for doing nothing is one of the treasures of life.
It is likely that for each of us this treasure has been poisoned or contaminated by the cautions
that we received as children from our parents, schools, churches and social traditions. We heard
things like:
This all sounds like good advice, but it's not. There really is no such thing as an "idle mind."
However, an empty mind can be the source of new ideas. Compulsive busywork is the real time-
waster in our lives. Here are some other ways to label the time we might spend supposedly doing
nothing:
Of course, we are never actually doing nothing. If we are alive, we are breathing; we are pumping
blood through out bodies; we are digesting; we are producing energy. Our brains are in a
constant ferment of conscious or unconscious ideas and memories. Our bodies are building or
rebuilding nerves and muscles.
Even the star of the funeral is busy. Simply dead comes along with verbs like rot, decompose
and putrify, words that imply action at the chemical and biological levels. Morticians do their
best to stifle this; nobody wants a stinking corpse at the wake or the funeral. Yet even when the
body of the dearly departed has been burned and cradled in an urn, the electrons in the
compounds and elements continue to whirl at the speed of light.
Throughout history, and even into the misty reaches of prehistoric time, humanity has
endeavored to make certain that the dead do no deeds. Myths abound around the subject of the
walking dead. Zombies terrify the superstitious heart. Even the story of the Resurrection of Jesus
treads dangerously close to that gruesome epithet. Lazarus had a lot in common with
Frankenstein's monster. Vampires haunt the imagination.
Efforts to stifle the unwanted behavior of the dead have included burial in graves, mausoleums
and pyramids, embalming and cremation, drawing and quartering, dogs, wolves and cannibalism.
Perhaps the more sensible, sensitive and ecologically sound maneuver would have been to use the
bodies of the dead to fertilize the crop lands, the pastures and fields where the food for the living
comes from, but show me a culture that has ever done this. Even the cows grazing in cemeteries
are prevented, by layers of wood, bronze, concrete and stone, from any recycling of those who
have died.
We are told that rituals such as funerals bring closure to psychological traumas like death.
Besides being an overused term in this day and age, it's debatable whether closure is real. Most
animals bring closure to the death of a fellow simply by leaving the body where it falls and
walking away. Elephants are said to be a little more elaborate, covering the corpse of the
departed pachyderm with branches and grass.
When at the ranch we had a dead dog to bury, we found it best to put a layer of dirt over the
body, followed by a layer of rocks. Then we would throw glass bottles onto the rocks, before we
finished filling the hole. This stopped the other dogs from digging up their buddy and eating
him. So much for canine closure.
The real reason that humanity burns or buries bodies is so that we don't have to endure the rank
smell and the flies. In the crowded confines of cities, towns, villages and farms, it doesn't do to
have mouldering corpses lying about. I have often thought that my ideal departure would be to
die far out in the wilderness, and to accept the destructive forces of nature that would proceed to
render my remains.
First would come the coyotes who would eat the flesh and scatter the bones. If the mangy mutts
don't move quickly enough, the crows and vultures will get there first. What is left after the
scavenging birds and mammals have had their fill would belong to the insects, the ants and the
flies. The ants would perform their own interment, carrying my meat into the earth.
The flies would lay their eggs in the putrid mass of dead yogi and coyote dung, and the grubs
and maggots would bring life back to the decayed flesh. Then the songbirds would come back to
eat the worms and the flies, and the elements that once were me would fly in voluptuous melody
into the welcoming sky.
about the funeral. For starters, funerals, in my experience, are usually a lot more fun than
weddings.
There are reasons why this is so. At a wedding there are two distinct groups of witnesses and
guests. There are the ones who are family and friends of the bride, and there are the ones with
similar connections to the groom. At a typical wedding, most of the members of one group do
not know most of the people in the other group. The bride and groom form the only connection
between the two tribes, and often it is a very slim connection.
Friends and relations of either of the betrothed can't help but wonder if their boy or their girl is
not making the biggest mistake of his or her life. They suspect that the other intended may be a
fortune hunter. They suspect their own to be stupid. They look down their noses at the other
group and consider them to be elite snobs or vulgar trash. They drink too much. Fights break
out. Gossip flourishes.
Everyone remarks about how lovely is the bride, but she really is at her worst. The groom is not
any better. Both of them share the nervous trepidation that perhaps the whole thing is just wrong.
At a funeral, on the other hand, there is none of that. What is there is a gathering of people who
all have one thing in common, namely, the one who lies silently in the casket or the urn.
While some may have come to gloat, pleased that the old so and so has finally been laid to rest,
most are there from a sense of love, obligation or shared memories. Many of the attendees at a
funeral or a wake may not have seen one another for a long time. Now the conclusion of the one
who is departed has drawn them to reunion.
More importantly, many of these mourners will never see one another again. So, the barriers are
down. Folks confide in one another. They share their memories of the one who lies still and
silent and largely ignored beneath the flowers. Some of these reminiscences are fond. Some are
mean; some are funny. It doesn't matter because the one who is the subject of the stories is
beyond hurt feelings. So, for the ones who still live and share, it can be a bit of a purge.
In deep conversations at such times, people find out things about their dead relative or friend that
they never knew while she or he still breathed. Beyond that, they discover how special are the
ones who elected to attend the farewell. They feel privileged to be included in this group. They
find themselves wishing that they had known one another better, along with the vague sorrow that
now they probably never will.
We all erect defenses against those whom we don't know too well, and against those whom we do
know too well as well. Here is a scene that you may find familiar. A couple pays a visit to the
home of another couple. During the evening, the conversations are reserved. It is only politeness
and decorum that allow them to associate at all, that prevents them from sharing the animosity of
strangers. The get together passes pleasantly enough, but the hosts are wondering when their
guests will leave, while the visitors ponder about how soon they might get away without being
rude. Eventually hats and coats are collected, and both pairs adjourn to the driveway. The ones
who are homeward bound get into their car, and the driver starts the motor.
This is the point when the barriers come down. Now that the car is warming up, there is no longer
any doubt that the guests are departing. On each side of the car, conversations break out through
the open windows. These cheerful chats can last awhile. The driver does not switch off the
engine, for that would signal that perhaps they really are not leaving yet, and neither couple wants
that. But still the talk flows, free of the fetters of restraint that dominated the discourse earlier.
Recipes are exchanged. Promises are made. Compliments are bestowed.
When at last the visitors are gone, the pair that remain turn to one another with sighs and say, "I
thought they would never leave."
Meanwhile, on the road, the other two are telling each other, "I was beginning to wonder if we
would ever get out of there."
We have good reasons for erecting the barriers that we do. Privacy and priorities are factors in
the creation of the good life for individuals, couples and families. Kahlil Gibran, in The Prophet,
says this:
"For what is your friend that you should seek him with hours to kill?
"Seek him always with hours to live."
Too often we have acquaintances who do exactly that, who come to visit us because they have
nothing better to do. The phone rings, and the voice on the other end says, "I'm bored." Are we
then expected to drop what we are doing, to rouse ourselves from meditation, to finish early our
asanas, to postpone our nap, just so that we might entertain this other person who fails at the
moment to find life fascinating?
Some people cannot stand to be alone or to do nothing. When they find themselves with time on
their hands, they want to kill it. They will come around and try to kill your time as well. This is
unfortunate, for doing nothing is one of the treasures of life.
It is likely that for each of us this treasure has been poisoned or contaminated by the cautions
that we received as children from our parents, schools, churches and social traditions. We heard
things like:
- An idle mind is the devil's workshop.
- Keep busy.
- Find something to do.
- If you don't have anything to do, I'll find something for you.
- Don't waste time.
- No loitering.
This all sounds like good advice, but it's not. There really is no such thing as an "idle mind."
However, an empty mind can be the source of new ideas. Compulsive busywork is the real time-
waster in our lives. Here are some other ways to label the time we might spend supposedly doing
nothing:
- Relaxation
- Meditation
- Contemplation
- Prayer
- Musing
- Healing
- Fasting
- Wonder
- Play
Of course, we are never actually doing nothing. If we are alive, we are breathing; we are pumping
blood through out bodies; we are digesting; we are producing energy. Our brains are in a
constant ferment of conscious or unconscious ideas and memories. Our bodies are building or
rebuilding nerves and muscles.
Even the star of the funeral is busy. Simply dead comes along with verbs like rot, decompose
and putrify, words that imply action at the chemical and biological levels. Morticians do their
best to stifle this; nobody wants a stinking corpse at the wake or the funeral. Yet even when the
body of the dearly departed has been burned and cradled in an urn, the electrons in the
compounds and elements continue to whirl at the speed of light.
Throughout history, and even into the misty reaches of prehistoric time, humanity has
endeavored to make certain that the dead do no deeds. Myths abound around the subject of the
walking dead. Zombies terrify the superstitious heart. Even the story of the Resurrection of Jesus
treads dangerously close to that gruesome epithet. Lazarus had a lot in common with
Frankenstein's monster. Vampires haunt the imagination.
Efforts to stifle the unwanted behavior of the dead have included burial in graves, mausoleums
and pyramids, embalming and cremation, drawing and quartering, dogs, wolves and cannibalism.
Perhaps the more sensible, sensitive and ecologically sound maneuver would have been to use the
bodies of the dead to fertilize the crop lands, the pastures and fields where the food for the living
comes from, but show me a culture that has ever done this. Even the cows grazing in cemeteries
are prevented, by layers of wood, bronze, concrete and stone, from any recycling of those who
have died.
We are told that rituals such as funerals bring closure to psychological traumas like death.
Besides being an overused term in this day and age, it's debatable whether closure is real. Most
animals bring closure to the death of a fellow simply by leaving the body where it falls and
walking away. Elephants are said to be a little more elaborate, covering the corpse of the
departed pachyderm with branches and grass.
When at the ranch we had a dead dog to bury, we found it best to put a layer of dirt over the
body, followed by a layer of rocks. Then we would throw glass bottles onto the rocks, before we
finished filling the hole. This stopped the other dogs from digging up their buddy and eating
him. So much for canine closure.
The real reason that humanity burns or buries bodies is so that we don't have to endure the rank
smell and the flies. In the crowded confines of cities, towns, villages and farms, it doesn't do to
have mouldering corpses lying about. I have often thought that my ideal departure would be to
die far out in the wilderness, and to accept the destructive forces of nature that would proceed to
render my remains.
First would come the coyotes who would eat the flesh and scatter the bones. If the mangy mutts
don't move quickly enough, the crows and vultures will get there first. What is left after the
scavenging birds and mammals have had their fill would belong to the insects, the ants and the
flies. The ants would perform their own interment, carrying my meat into the earth.
The flies would lay their eggs in the putrid mass of dead yogi and coyote dung, and the grubs
and maggots would bring life back to the decayed flesh. Then the songbirds would come back to
eat the worms and the flies, and the elements that once were me would fly in voluptuous melody
into the welcoming sky.
| Yoga for Carnivores by Jay Dyck |