The Fine Art of Living and Dying

I was inspired to write this text by someone I hold very dear and who will forever impact my life. Thank-you.





I have been contemplative about death.

Not just the death we commonly discuss and fear. But death in its essence; what it represents in various aspects of our lives. I marvel at how fast death manifests itself and permeates everything. It creeps in silently and discreetly and storms through leaving nothing untouched, nothing as it once was. Its reach is universal and seen as a curse and enemy by the eyes of most who fear it tremendously for its power and omnipresence.

Death takes on so many forms, disguising itself and you are caught in its trap unable to escape its imminence.

It can come as death of memories that once were reality and all that made up an existence. Memories become nothing but traces of events, people, places and experiences that have come and gone; that have died somewhere along the path as they are replaced by momentary episodes of life.

We may also die to whom we thought we once were, to our ideas, our ideologies, our plans, hopes and dreams. In spirit, we die to a personality we came to inherit for a little while. As if our past, as if our history becomes distant and unattached. The places we once lived fade in the background of our new surroundings even though they still exist somehow, somewhere; but its image slowly fade, adapt, transform in the realm of our imprecise minds.

Even the strongest empires have crumbled. And the most beautiful works of art ruined by the forces of nature. The most unforgettable faces shrivel, and are only made more permanent when captured by photos, film, paint and stone. But even those fade, crumble and are destroyed. Until there is nothing left.

The history of mankind, religion and wars, contained in books that date to caveman markings on cave walls; all in an attempt to make the impermanent, more permanent. An attempt to secure a moment in time and make it last eternally, but all endeavors eventually fail, for nothing can outlast time as we know it, as we perceive it.

And death is a prevalent part of life. And no matter how we may hide, it discovers us. Like water inundating every crack, finding its way through the smallest opening. For death is found in everything that moves, that breaths, that changes; the death of a thought, the death of a vision, the death of an image we held tightly to as salvation. They all arise, stay, then leave us as suddenly as they arrived and all the certainties are now doubts, questions waiting again to be answered.

And great sadness can come with death. The death of a loved one, of an animal, or the death of a self. The death of a romance, the death of childhood, the death of an existence that was once yours. Death as a loss, death as an ending, death as a tragic event that leaves you empty. But in that same death, that same emptiness, there is suddenly room for rebirth, necessary for life to thrive. As one season dies to another, nature is allowed to blossom to its full potential as the animal carcass fertilizes the earth, providing a home for the plant that produces fruit which in turn nourishes the one who consumes of it.

“Life and death are not two opposed forces; they are simply two ways of looking at the same force, for the movement of change is as much as the builder as the destroyer. The human body lives because it is a complex of motions, of circulation, respiration, and digestion. To resist change, to try to cling to life, is therefore holding your breath; if you resist you kill yourself.” Allan Watts.

In other words, resisting the power of death is choosing to live in antagonism, resisting life itself. Perhaps a better goal is to allow death and its infinite forms to compose the poetic lyric of life, understanding that it is beautiful in a sense because of its sadness, and in a sense it offers something rare, eternal, and through the opening of death, the divine is revealed.

I am borrowing some words from a very dear friend who kindly sent these quotes on death:

Normally we do not like to think about death.We would rather think about life.Why reflect on death?When you start preparing for death you soon realizethat you must look into your life now... and come to face the truth of your self.Death is like a mirror in which the true meaning of life is reflected. ~ Sogyal Rinpoche ~ As a well spent day brings happy sleep,so life well used brings happy death. ~ Leonardo da Vinci ~ Some people are so afraid to diethat they never begin to live. ~ Henry Van Dyke~ The only thing that burns in hellis the part of you that won't let go of your life:your memories, your attachments.They burn them all away, but they're not punishing you,they're freeing your soul.If you're frightened of dying and you're holding on,you'll see devils tearing your life away.If you've made your peace,then the devils are really angels freeing you from the earth. ~ Meister Eckhart ~ The fear of death follows from the fear of life.A man who lives fully is prepared to die at any time. ~ Mark Twain ~

Later, I found this quote by Simone de Beauvoir:

“Life is occupied both in perpetuating itself and in surpassing itself; if all it does is maintain itself, then living is only not dying.”

And Osho adds:

“A man who is not creative is only not dying, that’s all. His life has no depth. His life is not yet life but just the surface; the book of life has not yet started. He is born, true, but he is not alive.”

In order words, as long as we remain afraid of death, we block all the beauty that life has to offer, we shut off the flow of creativity that comes through us in whatever form and without this creative force guiding our steps, we no longer live fully, we simply survive.