The Lifeless Body
This is a serious topic, but one well worth speaking frankly on, since it concerns every one of us. Death of the body, that is.
Somehow I have lived for nearly 36 years without seeing a corpse. I haven't attended an open-casket funeral, or been unfortunate enough to see a fatal accident or witness the reality of war. On Sunday, I heard that a local Buddhist monk and teacher had died, and was having his body shown as a final lesson.
I leaped at the chance to see his corpse-- better now than under more shocking circumstances. Also, I didn't know him, so it would be an uncomplicated viewing of Death without emotions getting in the way.
I made the 45-minute drive, noting that the creeping fog that envelopes San Francisco most of the time had advanced just far enough inland that the mortuary was shrouded in chill, gray air. Inside, a sign directed me to the right place-- apparently many bodies or their coffins were on display. I went inside, removed my shoes respectfully, and sat in the Noble Silence among about 10 other devotees.
First I gazed from afar, then I approached the open casket and lingered before it.
A corpse is certainly a truly lifeless object, far different from sleep. I didn't see the "peace" that is supposedly evident in death. My guess is that the peaceful expression comes just as the person dies, and it is the final expression of the life force (call it what you want). Once the body's dead, there's no need for an expression of peace. Not that he looked angry or sad-- he just didn't have an expression on his face at all (and why would he?).
The teaching he was passing on is twofold. First is the teaching of Inconstancy (anicca). We should remind ourselves regularly that everything changes, everything that is born must die, and we are no exception. I looked at the dead body and reflected that I, too, would someday look just as lifeless. Maybe people will come and gaze at my graying face also, unless I die in a more grisly way and that wouldn't be suitable.
The second teaching is that the body is not the person (anatta). There was a photograph of the monk mounted right beside the casket, and it was obviously very different even though it too was a perfectly motionless representation of him. It's totally different to have life in the body, animating it. Take it one step further and the inevitable conclusion is that "I" (whatever that is) is not my body. It's easy to say, but when you really look inside, not so easy to believe.
That doesn't mean that the body is nothing but a puppet of the mind/self/soul/atman, just something to inhabit like a dorm room or drive around like a vehicle. It's more like a horse than a car. It's got some of its own personality and intelligence, and the mind has to share control of it in a give-and-take way. The body shapes the mind just as surely as the mind animates the body. But still, the body is nothing but a pile of organic materials without an active, alive mind.
I had an interesting experience looking at the corpse and reminding myself that someday I would look that lifeless also. I began to feel the life force in me very strongly. I was very aware of my breathing, my heartbeat, the heat in my body, and the general feeling of pulsing energy that accompanies an alive body. These are the things that separated me from that corpse--- and the only things.
Also, my mind kept eerily making it look like he had moved, just a bit. It was so unusual to see a body with no movement, not even breath, that I fantasized it into existence at a couple points!
I went back to my seat, and then back to the corpse two more times before departing for home. I'm really glad I went. Death is something we should know since it's the only thing we really have to do in life. Everything else is pretty much optional.
And it was helpful to have a non-emotional look at it. Perhaps this will shape my next experience with death of a loved one-- we'll see.
Somehow I have lived for nearly 36 years without seeing a corpse. I haven't attended an open-casket funeral, or been unfortunate enough to see a fatal accident or witness the reality of war. On Sunday, I heard that a local Buddhist monk and teacher had died, and was having his body shown as a final lesson.
I leaped at the chance to see his corpse-- better now than under more shocking circumstances. Also, I didn't know him, so it would be an uncomplicated viewing of Death without emotions getting in the way.
I made the 45-minute drive, noting that the creeping fog that envelopes San Francisco most of the time had advanced just far enough inland that the mortuary was shrouded in chill, gray air. Inside, a sign directed me to the right place-- apparently many bodies or their coffins were on display. I went inside, removed my shoes respectfully, and sat in the Noble Silence among about 10 other devotees.
First I gazed from afar, then I approached the open casket and lingered before it.
A corpse is certainly a truly lifeless object, far different from sleep. I didn't see the "peace" that is supposedly evident in death. My guess is that the peaceful expression comes just as the person dies, and it is the final expression of the life force (call it what you want). Once the body's dead, there's no need for an expression of peace. Not that he looked angry or sad-- he just didn't have an expression on his face at all (and why would he?).
The teaching he was passing on is twofold. First is the teaching of Inconstancy (anicca). We should remind ourselves regularly that everything changes, everything that is born must die, and we are no exception. I looked at the dead body and reflected that I, too, would someday look just as lifeless. Maybe people will come and gaze at my graying face also, unless I die in a more grisly way and that wouldn't be suitable.
The second teaching is that the body is not the person (anatta). There was a photograph of the monk mounted right beside the casket, and it was obviously very different even though it too was a perfectly motionless representation of him. It's totally different to have life in the body, animating it. Take it one step further and the inevitable conclusion is that "I" (whatever that is) is not my body. It's easy to say, but when you really look inside, not so easy to believe.
That doesn't mean that the body is nothing but a puppet of the mind/self/soul/atman, just something to inhabit like a dorm room or drive around like a vehicle. It's more like a horse than a car. It's got some of its own personality and intelligence, and the mind has to share control of it in a give-and-take way. The body shapes the mind just as surely as the mind animates the body. But still, the body is nothing but a pile of organic materials without an active, alive mind.
I had an interesting experience looking at the corpse and reminding myself that someday I would look that lifeless also. I began to feel the life force in me very strongly. I was very aware of my breathing, my heartbeat, the heat in my body, and the general feeling of pulsing energy that accompanies an alive body. These are the things that separated me from that corpse--- and the only things.
Also, my mind kept eerily making it look like he had moved, just a bit. It was so unusual to see a body with no movement, not even breath, that I fantasized it into existence at a couple points!
I went back to my seat, and then back to the corpse two more times before departing for home. I'm really glad I went. Death is something we should know since it's the only thing we really have to do in life. Everything else is pretty much optional.
And it was helpful to have a non-emotional look at it. Perhaps this will shape my next experience with death of a loved one-- we'll see.
