Last Words

[A Serious Buddhist]

Buddhist practice has cultivated in me an interest in states of mind before death, so naturally this little op-ed piece in the New York Times caught my eye: quotations taken from inmates’ last statements in Texas just before being executed. I found it moving. All were interesting. Here are a few that struck me:

"My heart goes is going ba bump ba bump ba bump."

"I am nervous and it is hard to put my thoughts together. Sometimes you don’t know what to say."

"Could you please tell that lady right there — can I see her? She is not looking at me — I want you to understand something, hold no animosity toward me. I want you to understand. Please forgive me."

"I said I was going to tell a joke. Death has set me free. That’s the biggest joke."

"Give me my rights. Give me my rights. Give me my rights. Give me my life back."

Read the rest by clicking here.

[Trevor Atkinson]

Hi Leslie

I'm intrigued by your question about spending less time on the cushion. Perhaps there's a forum question here.

[Leslie]

I am curious-are there other long time meditators who started spending less time on the cushion after years of practice?

Lately, in my own practice, it has become apparent that there is a process that unfolds and it requires time and energy put into it- there is no way to do it without making this consistent effort. I do imagine that it is possible that a person develops enough that less time is needed to maintain the practice.

[Trevor Atkinson]

Hello Rob

Thanks for your eloquent reply. It's hard to say how much time I've spent in formal meditation these past four decades to be honest but it seems like a lot to me.

Yes, I guess it is possible to just unmindfully "think" your way through Buddhism and treat it as an intellectual pastime but in my experience it is also possible to learn important lessons from being aware of the way we think about things - including the dharma.

I just feel that my path is more off the cushion than on it at the moment.

[Rob MacLachlan]

Trevor, with apologies I must ask how much time have you actually spent in formal meditation? It's easy to conflate meditation with "relaxation", "reflection", "prayer" or other contemplative mind mechanisms, as if the goal is to relieve one's personal burdens toward a higher state free of personal pain. Everyone begins this way, but the Buddhist path doesn't work this way.

Unavoidably, the more you dig, the deeper the hole. Yes, in that sense practice has the risk of only heightening and recycling the same old material, especially when you follow the instruction to follow or focus on what arises. You might experience brief periods of insight, clarity or just relief, but within 10 seconds of leaving the cushion, your mind unfolds as usual... so dispiriting. So what's the point--why not just "think" your way through Buddhism and bypass this pointless technique?

Nevertheless, through many many hours of fruitless goal-seeking meditation, usually years, it becomes possible to witness mind impersonally, an aerial view...things are just as they are without need for explanation. Intellectual analysis may be a handy tool but nothing displaces the futility of mind looking at mind, over and over again. The very mind that created this subject-object/external-internal dualistic perception is also capable of unravelling it, but it needs experiential surrender. Mind can observe that it doesn't even remotely work the way we think it does. It's amazing anything gets done! Once you recognize you aren't needed, everything opens up.

[Trevor Atkinson]

Thank you Margaret, I now see what you mean.

I suppose what I've never really understood is this notion that formal meditation practice is somehow more special than attending to things in our ordinary lives with as much awareness as we can muster. I do appreciate that setting aside a particular time of the day to just sit can be important but it can so easily turn into an obsession I feel.

Oh dear, I fear that Franca's blog has been hijacked too! Sorry Franca.

[Morticia (Not My Real Name)]

As often happens, Trevor, your comment makes me think again about what I said. I don't mean that I take the precepts as absolutes--thou shalt not kill, steal, lie, etc.--in fact I'm very aware of them as situational. But in making my own effort to accomplish something I've said I will do, e.g. meditate at a certain time on a certain day, I don't allow myself to say something like 'Oh, I really tried to find the time!'--either I sat when I said I would, or I didn't; there may have been a good reason (someone called who needed help; an unexpected visitor arrived; the plumbing went critical), but if I just frittered away the time somehow, I won't allow myself to justify my not sitting by saying something like 'I really meant to, but I just got so busy!' I suppose it's a fine point; but it has to do with disciplining myself rather than imposing universal behavioural norms.

The original three Star Wars movies were interesting (and fun) although not great cinema (I've never bothered with the second three, after struggling through about 30 tedious minutes of the first one in the set). Joseph Campbell interpreted them as a sci-fi rendering of the classic mythological Hero's Journey; I think he was right there.

[Trevor Atkinson]

I admire your determination to either "do" or "not do" Margaret and really wish I had your energy and commitment - I'm glad it works for you though!

Personally, I'm just grateful that the precepts are phrased in the way they are - undertaking a training to "refrain from" killing, lying, stealing, etc rather than just being given commandments not to do them, which just sets us up for failure (and guilt), I feel.

I must be one of the few people left on the planet who have never seen any of the Star Wars movies but you've inspired me to take a look!

[Morticia (Not My Real Name)]

In the second Star Wars movie, there's a point where Luke Skywalker wants to leave the swamp where Yoda has been teaching him, but his star-fighter is mired in mud. Yoda tells him he can lift the vehicle out of the mud using The Force, as he's been taught. Luke sweats and strains but the star-fighter only lifts a little bit, then falls back even deeper into the goo. Finally he turns to Yoda and says despairingly, 'I tried, Master Yoda, I really tried!' Yoda just waves his hand at the plane, which lifts smartly up and moves to dry land. Then Yoda turns to Luke and says, 'Do or not do; there is no "try".' I was told this years ago when learning some mind management techniques; I've never forgotten it. I suppose the point is that this approach eliminates the possibility of giving oneself an 'out' by saying 'I really tried' when maybe one simply didn't try enough; I admit it's harsh but it works for me. This is why I phrased things the way I did; but the fact that this is what works for me doesn't mean it has to work for anyone else. Maybe I'm just more stubborn and resistant, so need more of a push!
Thank you for your comments, Trevor, I really appreciate your vigorous participation on the Ning.

[Trevor Atkinson]

Hello Margaret
Thank you for this - it says it all really. It's a tall order though, don't you think ? For me, I would prefer to change your word "never" to the phrase "try not to" as I don't do very well with absolute injunctions!
As you say, sometimes no words are best so I'll shut up now.

[Morticia (Not My Real Name)]

Research into airplane crashes indicate that the last words most frequently recorded by the Black Box are variations on the theme of 'Oh SHIT!'

While it's lovely to daydream about the wonderful, profound, loving, enlightened things we'll say at the point of death to amaze our loved ones with our depth of acceptance and our heights of achievement (I do it a lot, I know), it's more than likely that these touching scenarios won't take place. Death is certain, we are taught, but the time of death is uncertain. You may simply not wake up tomorrow. You may walk out of the office to catch the bus home and be hit by a car. You may be hospitalised in a coma, or in so much pain that the drugs used to manage your pain make coherent thought, let alone speech, impossible.

Here's a practice:

Let's treat everything we say as our Last Words.
When we speak to someone, let's realise that we may never see that person again; this may be our last chance to speak together; so let our words be appropriate, caring, compassionate... we might never have the chance to excuse those words, apologise for them, resay them, clarify them.
Let's never go to sleep without telling our partner that we love them, and never leave someone feeling angry or resentful towards them.
Let's never let our partner, child, relative, friend, say good-bye and walk out the door without some gesture of love--we might never see them again, their death is as unpredictable as ours.

And let's always remember: sometimes no words are best.