Dear friends in the Dharma!
Every new year's eve when the church bells start ringing in the new year, there is a live reading of Alfred Tennyson's "Ring out, wild bells" on Swedish national tv. It is a Swedish translation, of course. I'm not sure whehter you know of the poem or not. Anyway, the first stanza reads:
"Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky,
The flying cloud, the frosty light:
The year is dying in the night;
Ring out, wild bells, and let him die."
The line "The year is dying in the night" is somewhat different in the Swedish translation. It is interpreted as: "The old year lies down to die". There is something very suggestive there to me. It sticks in my head, but I can't quite tell why. But it is something graceful about it. Like the dying elephant solemnly seeking out its final resting place, perhaps.
I wanted to tell you something about dying and death, that I feel has changed in me, thanks to my Dharma practice. At least I think it depends on that.
I work at a children's hospital, in the play therapy there. Every day, we meet children that are very sick and every now and then approaching death sooner that one would prefer.
The other week, a little friend of mine that I have spent a lot of time with during several years suddenly turned worse. She was admitted to the ICU the day after and within the next day, she had passed away.
I was sad. Sad for me. Sad for her. Sad for her brother, mother, father and all mourning this little beautiful person. At the same time, the sadness was not overwhelming. There was pain, but it didn't hinder me from working or caring or anything, really. This might come out as presumtous, but the thought of being an aspect of Kannon came to me. Seeing the pain and anguish, hearing the calamity in the mourning ones, but standing tall, not backing down. Not backing down.
A service we at the play therapy offer is to make impressions in clay from the deceased child's foot and hand. We then cast it in plaster as a memory for the family to keep. I had never done this before, but immediately felt I wanted to do this. The family stated they want the cast, so we proceeded with arrangements. The same afternoon, me and a couple of colleagues went to the mortuary to make the casts.
It was a very special experience seeing and touching the cold and limp body of my little friend. To me personally, I have felt that seeing the dead body of a family member or friend and touching it has been very healing to me. Healing in the sense that it has given me a strong experience that the death of this person really has happened.
I am strongly convinced that my Zen practice has prepared me for moments like these. The person is dead, yes, but it is still here in me and all that that person has done in its life. Gone but never gone. And there is something else that I can't express in words as clearly. I believe the Zen practice has created a healthy space and distance in my life. At the same time as I don't get as attached to things and feelings, there is no doubt that there is a strong compassion beyond attachment.
Tennyson again:
"Ring out the old, ring in the new,
Ring, happy bells, across the snow:
The year is going, let him go;
Ring out the false, ring in the true."
I am sorry I did not stick to the three sentence reccomendation.
Every new year's eve when the church bells start ringing in the new year, there is a live reading of Alfred Tennyson's "Ring out, wild bells" on Swedish national tv. It is a Swedish translation, of course. I'm not sure whehter you know of the poem or not. Anyway, the first stanza reads:
"Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky,
The flying cloud, the frosty light:
The year is dying in the night;
Ring out, wild bells, and let him die."
The line "The year is dying in the night" is somewhat different in the Swedish translation. It is interpreted as: "The old year lies down to die". There is something very suggestive there to me. It sticks in my head, but I can't quite tell why. But it is something graceful about it. Like the dying elephant solemnly seeking out its final resting place, perhaps.
I wanted to tell you something about dying and death, that I feel has changed in me, thanks to my Dharma practice. At least I think it depends on that.
I work at a children's hospital, in the play therapy there. Every day, we meet children that are very sick and every now and then approaching death sooner that one would prefer.
The other week, a little friend of mine that I have spent a lot of time with during several years suddenly turned worse. She was admitted to the ICU the day after and within the next day, she had passed away.
I was sad. Sad for me. Sad for her. Sad for her brother, mother, father and all mourning this little beautiful person. At the same time, the sadness was not overwhelming. There was pain, but it didn't hinder me from working or caring or anything, really. This might come out as presumtous, but the thought of being an aspect of Kannon came to me. Seeing the pain and anguish, hearing the calamity in the mourning ones, but standing tall, not backing down. Not backing down.
A service we at the play therapy offer is to make impressions in clay from the deceased child's foot and hand. We then cast it in plaster as a memory for the family to keep. I had never done this before, but immediately felt I wanted to do this. The family stated they want the cast, so we proceeded with arrangements. The same afternoon, me and a couple of colleagues went to the mortuary to make the casts.
It was a very special experience seeing and touching the cold and limp body of my little friend. To me personally, I have felt that seeing the dead body of a family member or friend and touching it has been very healing to me. Healing in the sense that it has given me a strong experience that the death of this person really has happened.
I am strongly convinced that my Zen practice has prepared me for moments like these. The person is dead, yes, but it is still here in me and all that that person has done in its life. Gone but never gone. And there is something else that I can't express in words as clearly. I believe the Zen practice has created a healthy space and distance in my life. At the same time as I don't get as attached to things and feelings, there is no doubt that there is a strong compassion beyond attachment.
Tennyson again:
"Ring out the old, ring in the new,
Ring, happy bells, across the snow:
The year is going, let him go;
Ring out the false, ring in the true."
I am sorry I did not stick to the three sentence reccomendation.

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