This week I read yet another story of a five-year-old coming to the unpleasant realisation that there is death, and that she will be separated from those she loves. It sure looks like five years old is the common age for the realisation to hit home; in our culture, at least. By the age of five a child has all the kinds of duality in place which would underpin their anguish over death; particularly, be and not be, and have and not have. The dukkha-version of ‘me’ and ‘mine’ are well and truly in place.
I’m thinking that to a five-year-old death looks the end of love. If I can’t see mummy and daddy, and they can’t see me, how will they find me, how will they love me? It would seem, from some of the reports, that the fear of abandonment is in the mix. (In some cases, once the child gets the idea that if mummy and daddy die, there will be someone there to take care of them, some of the sting is taken out of the thought of death.)
I don’t see that children can escape this, because ego-development is a necessary part of learning to take care of themselves in the world. Hence, it appears at this stage of human evolution, mistaking separation as absolute is inevitable. So, the shock of death is inevitable. The worst part of this is, from my point of view, that they come to an understanding of death, usually, without adult wisdom – they come to their knowledge, either on their own, or with input from confused adults: ”Don’t worry, Darling, you’ll go to Heaven, and grandma will be there.”
The reason for this is that: adults on the whole are not clear about death, either, so they avoid the subject. Adult egos eventually do resign themselves to (as distinct from understand) death. Some egos will romanticise it. Most will absent themselves – dissociate. They’ll abandon their curiosity, so that death can be ‘accepted’ without intimacy with the subject. (Can something that is incompletely understood truly be accepted?) Some will hide behind a rebirth belief, as protection, which brings a comforting dulling of consciousness. (I am not saying that there are no processes in the universe for which ‘rebirth’ might be a useful language. I’m talking about the tragedy of using rebirth and reincarnation theories to avoid feeling, and enquiring into, our fear of death.)
For me, personally, the whole after-death question belongs to the ego-system. It isn’t a practical question. If we can’t find ourselves in the present, what point is there talking about a self after death? To me, the Anurādha Sutta, in the Samyutta Nikāya, says things well. At end of an enquiry, to settle Anurādha’s questions about what might be said about the Buddha after his death, the Buddha says to Anurādha (and this is my loose expression of the conclusion):
“So, if you can’t find the truth of what I am, in all the nameable processes here in this present life, is it fitting, Anurādha, to try and determine the nature of my existence after death?”
“No, Sir.”
“Right. That’s why I only teach dukkha and the ending of dukkha, Anurādha.”
So, to me, it’s more important to apply myself to understanding this mystery of the present life – the mystery of what our Buddhist mob calls ‘emptiness’ – instead of worrying about an after-life. The thought of death sharpens the aspiration to enter into this life with compassion and insight. Here’s Thanissaro Bhikku’s translation.
That child’s grief, however, brings up a different point. The point about death and love. It’s obvious that a child’s feelings about death are mostly mediated by their image system; that is, their attitude is naturally narcissistic, and mummy’s or daddy’s death is about themselves, not about mummy and daddy. Further, for the most part, because we haven’t absorbed the lessons of death, that’s how it is for us adults, too. The Nikāya Buddha has this to say:
From love, sorrow is born. From love, fear is born.
Released from love, there is no sorrow. From whence would fear arise?
– Dhammapada, verse 213. Christopher J. Ash
I’m struck with the necessity to look deeply into the truth (or not) of this. Is it so for mature adults, that from love fear is born? Does the Nikāya Buddha truly mean to suggest that to release from personal love is a state of maturity? What kind of release (in the field of personal relations) could provide a foundation for mature personal love?