Three anti-spells against death

Life is suffering. And the root of suffering is attachment. At least, that’s what Buddhism teaches. I don’t fully accept that, but it’s a good starting point for contemplating our place in the greater scheme of things.

No one wants to die. And contemplating our own extinction is not much fun either. Yet confront the ugly beast we must. The way I see it, there are three ways to deal with the ominous spectre of death: faith, possibility and immersion. Faith is for the believers. I used to be one and I know first-hand the incredible power, and undeniable comfort, of faith. But once it is left behind, or if it is rejected in the first place, religion offers no salve. Beliefs that for some are powerful antidotes to death’s poison chalice are, for others (including me), nothing more than fantasies and delusions.

Atheism – and its regular bedfellow, science – may leave us feeling smugly superior in our intellectual prowess, but it does little to dull the sting of death. At least, so it seems, if we allow ourselves to be trapped by the equally powerful dogma of materialistic, positivist science. If, on the other hand, we open ourselves to the mysteries of science – to the weird and wonderful worlds of quantum physics and to the black holes of still unanswered questions – these swirling frontiers of knowledge and accompanying nebulae of ignorance turn, as if by magic, the dark prison cells of scientific determinism into bright windows of possibility.

This is especially true, I am finding, in the areas of consciousness research, where we still have so many unresolved questions, teasing enigmas that seem only to shapeshift when conventional science prods and probes their edges. And yet, I see evidence building – about the reality of non-local consciousness, of dimensions beyond time and space, of non-material (meta-physical, if you like) connectedness, of self-awareness that exists outside of the body or brain, and so much more. These are not so much definitive answers as intriguing questions – maze pathways of possibility. For me, they offer a tantalising uncertainty about life beyond death. They hint at an as yet poorly understood continuation of consciousness, in some formless form, beyond the grave.

I do not expect or even encourage anyone to accept this possibility on faith, but rather hope that we will all remain open to the surprises and hypotheses that science is beginning to unveil and explore at the edges of orthodoxy. If the evolution of human knowledge teaches us anything, it is that what we know is far more likely to be less than what we do not yet know, or only dimly understand. Living with that uncertainty – resisting the temptation to reach simple conclusions or to adopt fixed views for the sake of clarity – is, I believe, a mark of maturity and a step towards wisdom. Some never manage it at all. Probably because it requires letting go; embracing the chaos.

Which leads me to my third anti-spell against death’s looming threat, although I prefer to think of it as an attitude to life: immersion. Since we only have control over the moment – the fleeting present, which sprouts like new buds on a tree and just as quickly fades and falls like autumn leaves – if this is what our short, precious life consists of, then let us immerse ourselves in the sensuous, sumptuous, exhilarating, agonising experience of it all. Let us become masters of the moment. Such mindfulness is the true art of living. It is far from easy, but when, on occasion, we get it right, the satisfaction it brings makes all of life worth living.

It helps, I find, to set our sights not on happiness, or the absence of suffering, but rather on meaning. The quest for meaning is, as far as I can tell, the most powerful light we can shine in the dark cave of death’s shadow. It is a highly personal journey. Yet, there are common sources of life satisfaction that we would all do well to nurture. They include, for example, creativity, achievement, intimacy, justice, learning (self-development) and altruism (I prefer the word self-transcendence, i.e. doing things that take us beyond our selfish pursuits).

As I said, none of this will take away the anxiety, or decrease the infuriating cruelty, of death’s hard bargain. Nor will it bring easy answers to life’s great questions, far less stay the executioner’s hand. And nor should it, for our fears and the struggle to overcome them are the very grit from which we make pearls of our daily living. In short, there is no existential chill-pill that I know of. And if there was, we should probably refuse to take it. As for Morpheus and Nemo in The Matrix, so for each of us, being alive should mean being awake and aware. That includes the pain and the stress and the worry of life, but equally the ecstasy and the serenity and the hope of life. It includes life’s messy muddle of uncertainty and failure, but even more, life’s wondrous implicate order and the triumphant success that we, as living self-reflective miracles of consciousness, represent.

Let me end on the philosophical note in which I began, by quoting some great (and possibly wise) people. We live in the flicker (Joseph Conrad). The right time is any time that one is still so lucky as to have (Henry James). Better die than live mechanically a life that is a repetition of repetitions (D.H. Lawrence). I shall use my time (Jack London).