This past Saturday (3/11) lecture at the Zen Center was given by Blanche Hartman. It was about living the life we want to live knowing that someday we are going to die.
She stated that the moment we are born, we are basically given the "terminal" diagnosis. We just don't know when it will happen or what will happen to us when it happens. Nobody knows. She gave the parable of a person going up to a Zen Master asking, "What happens to us when we die?" The Zen master responds, "I don't know." The person asks, "How come you don't know? Aren't you a Zen Master?" The Zen Master says, "I am a Zen Master, but not a dead one."
People don't start thinking about death until someone close passes away. She told us about her best friend and how her friend was having headaches and ended up having a tumor and then passed away very soon after. Blanche was devasted when it happened.
She said that oftentimes we always put things off that we want to do and don't realize how precious our lives are until it's too late or until some tragic event occurs. She had a heart attack in 1989 and realized that life was precious...but she went on saying that her life was also precious prior to her heart attack but she didn't realize it until after.
Of course, she told us to be awake in every moment of our life and to meditate and find out what is in our minds that is keeping us from living the life we want to live. She read a lot of inspirational poems and quotes to us.
Her lecture reminded me a lot of "The Dash". When I got home, I emailed the poem to Blanche and she responded back saying that she came across that same poem some years back but lost it so is glad to have a copy of it again. Here is the poem:
The Dash - By Linda Ellis
I read of a reverend who stood to speak
at the funeral of a friend.
He referred to the dates on her tombstone
from the beginning…to the end.
He noted that first came the date of her birth
and spoke of the following date with tears,
but he said what mattered most of all
was the dash between those years.
For that dash represents all the time
that spent alive on earth
and now only those who loved her
know what that little line is worth.
For it matters not, how much we own,
the cars…the house…the cash.
What matters is how we live and love
and how we spend our dash.
So think about this long and hard,
are there things you’d like to change?
For you never know how much time is left.
(You could be at “dash mid-range.”)
If we could just slow down enough
to consider what’s true and real
and always try to understand
the way other people feel.
And be less quick to anger
and show appreciation more
and love the people in our lives
like we’ve never loved before.
If we treat each other with respect
and more often wear a smile…
remembering that this special dash
might only last a little while.
So when your eulogy’s being read
with your life’s actions to rehash,
would you be proud of the things they say
about how you spend your dash?
That poetry is exquisite. Thank you, 99. I hope I will read it from time to time and be reminded of its simple message.
I recently lost my sister to a brain tumor. Death comes unexpectedly. The dash between the two dates that evelop our existence can be long or short. But it's never interminable. When we die, existence as we know it is over. When our loved ones die, we are left behind and we don't know where they've gone. What has become of this person who was just here with me? Yes, she's dead. But what has become of her? "I" probably will never know.
In the face of the unknown, we should strive to live one day, one thought, one moment at a time. Maybe that'd help us to mark a more beautiful dash, whether it be long or short.
I'd like to share with you a poem I read at my sister's memorial service. Called "Plucking the Rushes", it's a poem by an anonymous 4th century Chinese poet:
A boy and a girl are sent to gather rushes for thatching
Green rushes with red shoots,
Long leaves bending to the wind –
You and I in the same boat
Plucking rushes at the Five Lakes.
We started at dawn from the orchid-island:
We rested under elms till noon.
You and I plucking rushes
Had not plucked a handful when night came!
Thanks. I'm going to send this to my dad. -P