We have all had a lesson in impermanence. The joy and wealth of life we felt during Losar has been interrupted by the death of an old man, some call him Crazy Uncle, who lives in a cave on the outskirts of the village. He’s been up there for almost 20 years, and most of us in the village don’t even remember him. I don’t. However, despite him having no family or friends there has been a sense of sadness throughout the village. It is much like the difference between conventional and ultimate truths; we are saddened to confront our own mortality after the joy of Losar by accepting his death, but we also know that life is impermanent and that death is an inescapable part of it. We are reminded that we should prepare ourselves to approach death with a positive and serene attitude so we can have a favourable rebirth. We are reminded that death is as much a part of the journey as life is.
When I was young a very close friend of my mother died. My parents were heart broken, but my mother took comfort knowing her friend, Dakme, would be given a traditional sky burial, not a cremation. My mother is very traditional and believes in the power of connecting to nature at all times, especially in death. When Dakme died, I was young enough that I had never heard of a sky burial before, I had never known anyone who had died. Dakme’s family consulted an astrologer to pick the right day for the funeral based on her birth chart and the current celestial conditions. Dakme’s body was taken into the monastery and prepared by the monks. The smell of juniper smoke filled the monastery and filtered down into the rest of the village. The hair around her crown was shaved off to allow her consciousness to leave her body optimally, and prevent it from wandering lost. She was draped in white funeral shrouds and many people from the village came to see her body. A monk came to her house to read from the Bardo Thodol everyday from her death to long after her funeral. During the mourning period I heard many times people saying, “this is her karma”. Everyone took comfort in that, knowing that she had lived her life well, and so got a good death and hopefully a good rebirth.
Me and friend secretly followed the funerary procession from the monastery into the mountains where the sky burial process would take place. We could still smell the juniper smoke lingering on the procession. Women who were friends with Dakme stood outside the monastery crying and wailing, and we could hear their cries as we left the village behind the funerary procession. It made my heart ache to hear my mother crying so hard. She declared that the world would forever be less bright now that Dakme’s smile was gone from it. When the procession got to the charnel ground my friend and I hid far enough away that we could still see but no one could see us. Even though we were a great distance away we could see the body being cut up, and the bones being smashed with a hammer. When the body was ready, the man who had cut up the body, the rogyapa, waved his hand at the vultures who were flocked together on a rock about 100 metres away. They immediately flew down and settles over the body. It was like they had been waiting patiently for him to finish preparing the body for their feast. Their black cloud descended on the rock where the body was laid out. The sound of their wings right before they landed was so loud we could hear the clap from where we were hiding. They ate everything. Watching the vultures eat the meat and bones was fascinating and repulsive all at the same time. It was awful to see the body cut up and smashed, but I could understand how my mother took comfort in the idea of the body empty of essence being transformed into food for the vultures. Dakme’s body cycled back into nature where it had come from.
As I have grown older I often think of that memory as an example of emptiness and the impermanence of the body. Even as a child I knew that the body no longer contained her personality or consciousness. With the consciousness gone, the body was just food for the vultures. First it sustained her life, and then it sustained their lives, and eventually they too will die, and be eaten by bugs or other animals. The cycle of impermanence and interdependence continue. It is a beautiful end to a life. My mother and father have instructed me to arrange for a sky burial when they die. I would like the same thing for myself.
For these reasons I believe Crazy Uncle should be given a sky burial. Though I did not know him at all, my personal beliefs tend toward the traditional like my parents. It is true that some of the great masters in Buddhism have been cremated, but I do not know the spiritual beliefs or status of Crazy Uncle. There is rumour through the village that he was a tantric practitioner, but who can say how he would have preferred to have his body disposed of when no one has seen or talked to him in over 10 years? Maybe he would be just as happy to decompose in his cave. Maybe he would prefer a cremation? People all through the village have been expressing their opinions on how his funeral should be conducted. I think the monks and astrologers should be the ones to decide since he has no family left.
His death is a reminder to us all who are still alive that the death of the body comes to us all. It is just another phase of the journey of our consciousness. The consciousness does not end at death, but travels on, confronting it’s mental projections in the Bardo, and then achieving rebirth. This process is continued until the person finally reaches liberation from the cycle of samsaric suffering. Everything is impermanent, and embracing this reality helps one accept when death comes to them in each life. Embracing the reality of death helps our loved ones accept the transition when it comes to them, and also comforts those left behind after the person has moved on to the Bardo and then into their new birth. In that light, no one is ever gone forever when they die. Even if we do not encounter their new rebirth, we can take comfort knowing their consciousness is continuing its way toward liberation somewhere in the world. They have not left us, but continue to share in the same human triumphs and sufferings we experience. I take great comfort in this.
