Death

Q: What happens to us when we die? J.H. — engineer and musician

A: This is a big question for everyone, and I certainly am not an expert. I have not yet died, nor do I have a clear memory of any previous death.  Nonetheless, I have done my share of study and contemplation of what happens at death, and so I will share my current thinking. 

In wisdom traditions from all over the planet we find a wide range of responses to this question.  In the Asian traditions originating in India, including Jainism, Buddhism, and Hinduism, there are widely accepted beliefs in the continuity of consciousness after death, and the reincarnation of this consciousness in new bodily forms lifetime after lifetime.  The monotheistic traditions originating in the Middle East usually also have some idea of the afterlife, in the form of heavens and hells, rather than reincarnation.  And the third prominent belief we might call the scientific materialist perspective, which was once succinctly and authoritatively expressed to me by my then father-in-law: “I know what happens when we die.  We’re . . ..”  and then he made a “phhttt!” sound and a gesture with his hands to indicate that we’re gone, lights out. Nothing left.  One of my own Zen teachers shared this common viewpoint which is that when we die, we die. Our life is done. We’re gone.

Interestingly, I have a different viewpoint from my teacher: While I accept the reality of death, I do think there is a continuation of subjective experience after our physical body dies.  In this I am influenced by the Tibetan Buddhist tradition, and its detailed description of the dying process in texts such as the Tibetan Book of the Dead, as well as from oral teachings from master practitioners.  Since being introduced to those teachings, I have pondered them a lot.  

Have you ever been in an accident of some kind where a sudden impending moment unfolds in a split second or two, just as you are about to be hit, or hurt, or die.  If so, you likely know the experience where that split second seems to stretch out for a long time. I believe that in the moment the body is dying, it is as if time stretches out, and we go deep into our subjective reality, and many experiences are possible —  a vast space opens up, and journeys occur, and in some way at the other end of this subjective inner  journey, new lives, new experiences occur.  In fact experiencing never ceases.

This is not to say, however, that the life we had been living is still going. On one level, death is of course very real; this life does end; our identity dissolves, and we have to let go.  But the continuum of life is not over, and the traces of who we were, and what we did continues, and potentially feeds into and influences the lives of future individuals.  My father died this past July.  He was a scientist, and a realist.  He didn’t really believe in heaven, or reincarnation, and was fairly doubtful about any continuation of subjective experience.  But as he told me many times he felt that our life after death is the legacy we leave from the things we did, and the people we’ve touched.  I appreciated his perspective very much.  Whether or not you believe in the continuum of consciousness after death, it remains true that the influence we bring to the future stems from the efforts and quality of our current life. For this reason, Buddhists strongly emphasize preparing for our deaths by living a worthwhile life, benefiting others, and clearing our mind and hearts of negative and destructive emotions as best as we can.  

Every life is unique; it begins with a unique birth, and ends with a unique death. I cannot say exactly what you will experience when you die. Some people have peaceful deaths, others go through much struggle.  My father was a good man who in many ways left a very positive legacy, but the last month of his life was a difficult struggle. Some of that was due to unfortunate aspects of the hospital setting he found himself in, and some of it came from within himself as he worked to resolve the remaining threads of his rich and complex life.  I wish us all courage as we face the complexities of our lives, and the courage to embrace fully the journey of dying when that time comes.  And perhaps we may discover, in the words of an ancient Taoist text:   “The idea of everlasting life has nothing to do with hankering after life. The truth is that actually there is no death.  How can there be no death?  Because actually there is only one single energy, one all-encompassing motivating force which lies at the root of our life’s activity, not two. The Great Void which is the common ground of all life is there already, with life continuously being born within it . . . there is only this one single energy flowing and circulating about.”

Even amidst his struggles, in the last significant exchange I had with my father, he looked up at me as I was leaving the room for the night and said simply, “Peace.” It was his blessing. I extend it to you. He was saying in effect: “I know this is what you are about. So go for it. May you create peace. May you have peace..”