Like others here I also felt some dismay about Myozen leaving for China when his teacher was dying, and for all the same reasons you've all stated. But I did think about it a bit more and try to frame it in its historical context. I googled travelling by sea between China and Japan today, and of course it's a whole new world - brief research showed a boat leaves Shanghai daily for Japan, I assume flights are just as frequent, and are much quicker, unimaginable to Myozen and Dogen. Okumura Roshi tells us that there was no guarantee of future boats at all, let alone regular sailings, timetables and bookings, all of which we take for granted today - the next boat didn't leave for 10 years! So seeing it through the lens of history helped me understand and support Myozen's decisions.
But my mind also turned to what benefit it would have been either to Myozen or his teacher if he had stayed. Why are bedside vigils beside the dying so important to us, what and who do they serve?
During this Covid-19 crisis, friends and family have not been able to sit with loved ones who are dying. In Italy, where we keep a vigil with the deceased in the brief (usually not more than 24 hours) period between death and burial. We come together to pray for the departed and ourselves, to share memories, to touch and kiss our loved ones one last time before the lid is closed on the coffin. Not to be able to do this has only compounded the terrible pain people have and are suffering. There are many stories ; one from the UK was particularly moving - the death of a young Muslim boy whose mum and dad couldn't be with him,again a terrible experience made worse by the family not being able to express their religious rites.
It's my belief that in the end we all die alone. Family, friends can accompany us so far but at a certain point we let go and walk forward, no-one can come with us. Thinking about this, I came to the decision that I might prefer not to have any loved ones at my bedside, how hard it would be to witness their grief! I personally find it easier to confront difficult or fearful situations by myself, I find that I can draw on reserves of strength that I don't tap into when I'm with someone I can lean on. This was brought home to me the first time I had to fly alone. I've been a nervous flyer in the past, but to my amazement, despite my worst fears, I loved it, it was a liberating and life changing experience. I was able to concentrate on myself and rationalise my fear of flying, without encouraging it by expressing it verbally,or allowing it to manifest in irritation and impatience with my long suffering partner.
But to deny others the bedside ritual - would that be a last act of selfishness? I sat with my mother when she was dying. I wanted to be with her but there was also an underlying sensation that not to do so would be unacceptable, unfeeling, self centred. There was no sense of her soul departing, no sense of her leaving, just an outpouring of grief - at last, we could all cry together, and comfort ourselves that her suffering was over. And yet, and yet.. even faced with the death of a loved one, can we ever shake off that instinctive(in my opinion) belief, that despite all evidence to the contrary, we are ourselves, individually, somehow unable to grasp the fact of our own deaths? The rituals and rites, bedside vigils etc - protection against or awakening to our own mortality?
This is all a digression from the subject of this chapter, but it's interesting where a small detail in a commentary can take the mind, even more to think about than usual.
If you've read this far, thank you for your patience if this is slightly incoherent. I wrote a longer post which I managed to lose just before posting (all typed with one finger on the phone) impermanence, gah.
Gassho
Meitou
Sattoday lah
But my mind also turned to what benefit it would have been either to Myozen or his teacher if he had stayed. Why are bedside vigils beside the dying so important to us, what and who do they serve?
During this Covid-19 crisis, friends and family have not been able to sit with loved ones who are dying. In Italy, where we keep a vigil with the deceased in the brief (usually not more than 24 hours) period between death and burial. We come together to pray for the departed and ourselves, to share memories, to touch and kiss our loved ones one last time before the lid is closed on the coffin. Not to be able to do this has only compounded the terrible pain people have and are suffering. There are many stories ; one from the UK was particularly moving - the death of a young Muslim boy whose mum and dad couldn't be with him,again a terrible experience made worse by the family not being able to express their religious rites.
It's my belief that in the end we all die alone. Family, friends can accompany us so far but at a certain point we let go and walk forward, no-one can come with us. Thinking about this, I came to the decision that I might prefer not to have any loved ones at my bedside, how hard it would be to witness their grief! I personally find it easier to confront difficult or fearful situations by myself, I find that I can draw on reserves of strength that I don't tap into when I'm with someone I can lean on. This was brought home to me the first time I had to fly alone. I've been a nervous flyer in the past, but to my amazement, despite my worst fears, I loved it, it was a liberating and life changing experience. I was able to concentrate on myself and rationalise my fear of flying, without encouraging it by expressing it verbally,or allowing it to manifest in irritation and impatience with my long suffering partner.
But to deny others the bedside ritual - would that be a last act of selfishness? I sat with my mother when she was dying. I wanted to be with her but there was also an underlying sensation that not to do so would be unacceptable, unfeeling, self centred. There was no sense of her soul departing, no sense of her leaving, just an outpouring of grief - at last, we could all cry together, and comfort ourselves that her suffering was over. And yet, and yet.. even faced with the death of a loved one, can we ever shake off that instinctive(in my opinion) belief, that despite all evidence to the contrary, we are ourselves, individually, somehow unable to grasp the fact of our own deaths? The rituals and rites, bedside vigils etc - protection against or awakening to our own mortality?
This is all a digression from the subject of this chapter, but it's interesting where a small detail in a commentary can take the mind, even more to think about than usual.
If you've read this far, thank you for your patience if this is slightly incoherent. I wrote a longer post which I managed to lose just before posting (all typed with one finger on the phone) impermanence, gah.
Gassho
Meitou
Sattoday lah
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