March 18 – time of the dying III

We die with the dying:
See they depart, and we go with them.
We are born with the dead:
See they return, and bring us with them.
The moment of the rose and the moment of the yew-tree
Are of equal duration. A people without history
Is not redeemed from time, for history is a pattern
Of timeless moments. So, while the light fails
On a winter’s afternoon, in a secluded chapel
History is now, and England

— T S Eliot, from Little Gidding, V


Human beings seem to have largely got used to being in control and apart from nature.  Ever since we stopped being primarily hunter-gatherers and moving to agriculture and raising livestock, we have had a different relationship with the land and the wild that lies beyond carefully tended fields. 

No longer part of the ecological cycle, at least in our minds, we prayed to gods to keep the chaos of disease and bad harvest at bay. As times have advanced, we have relied more on the twin gods of science and technology.  Neither is infallible.

Anthracnose stalk rot in corn


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January 6 – time of the dying II

Gate gate pāragate pārasaṃgate bodhi svāhā
Beyond, beyond, gone beyond, gone completely beyond, awakening, rejoice!

― Buddhist Prajñāpāramitā (Perfection of Wisdom) mantra


My mother’s brother died yesterday.  I don’t exactly know how old he was, but he was substantially older than my mother, who is herself in her 70s.

Uncle Tony had a pretty tough life, at one point being declared missing in action during the Suez Crisis in 1956.  After leaving the army he worked in heavy industry in Lancashire and fathered four children, my cousins, three boys and a girl.  Two of his sons saw action themselves as part of the British army, in the Falklands conflict (1982) and Gulf War I (Desert Storm, 1991). 

Sadly, the marriage ended badly but Tony continued to work hard to support his family.  As a child I remember trips to Lancashire to visit them and, although it was somewhat of a culture clash for my family of soft middle-class southerners, I always enjoyed seeing my cousins and uncle, and am still in touch with some of them. 

Phuket, Thailand

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January 4 – time of the dying

“In my time of dying, want nobody to mourn
All I want for you to do is take my body home”


― Led Zeppelin, In My Time of the Dying (Physical Graffiti, 1975)


I am coming to the end of reading In Love with the World by Yongey Mingyur Rinpoche.  Yongey Mingyur is a Tibetan Buddhist monk and abbot of Tergar monastery and the book is about his decision to go into retreat as a wandering aesthetic on the streets of India. 

Becoming sick with dysentery after eating leftover food, he finds himself contemplating death and the ways that Tibetan Buddhism prepares its followers to deal with that inevitability. 

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