Tag: dissolution of the elements

Practising the Art of Dying

On April 27, 2016

In Body, Death, Enquiry, Meditation, Positivity, Practices

“As nothing in this life that I’ve been trying
Could equal or surpass the art of dying.”
– George Harrison, Song: The Art of Dying

This is maybe leaping into the deep end for some of you, I know, but because I’ve mentioned the Dissolution of the Elements practice, a few times, I thought a tiny introduction would be helpful. If it’s not your cup of tea, at least you might be interested to see what some of the other folks are getting up to.

The ‘elements’ talked about, here, don’t just refer to the physical presence of earth, water, fire, air and (physical) space. Those things can be included, but the words also symbolise certain sentient processes: earth = form; water = feeling-tones; fire = sense-perceptions; air = the fashioning tendencies (of experience); and space = the inner subtle levels of consciousness. With the dissolution of these elements, in dying or in meditation, grasping onto body and mind drops away. (I’ll go more deeply into a practical use of the ‘five elements practice’ for beginners, later.)

Let me say, for the uninitiated, that this Dissolution practice comes out of a body of Buddhist teachings called the Mahayana; and, specifically, from the practices called ‘Tantra.’ As far as I can see, from nearly fifty years of practice, this teaching isn’t incompatible with the earlier teachings of the historical Buddha (usually called the Theravada, but which I am in the practice of calling ‘classical’ or ‘early’ Buddhism).

The Dissolution practice is quite in line with the historical Buddha’s teachings on the elements and his advice for dying, as we’ll see later in this project. In fact, there has existed for centuries a lineage of tantric Theravada. (Kate Cosby, 2000; see below.)*

So, back to practical matters: A friend of mine, who had just finished a retreat with the Dalai Lama at the time, told me that the Dalai Lama suggested to the assembled retreatants that they do this Dissolution of the Elements practice every day. Shor versions of the practice are included in other tantric practices, so that’s probably easier than it sounds. Once, in 2010 in Dharamsala, India, he said:

“According to the tantric teachings, at the time of death there’s the eight-stage dissolution of the elements – the grosser levels of the elements of the body dissolve, and then the more subtle levels also dissolve. Tantric practitioners need to include this in their daily meditation. Every day, I meditate on death – in different mandala practices – at least five times, so still I’m alive! Already this morning I’ve gone through three deaths.”

I’ve always included it as regular meditation, during my A Year to Live practice. I’m not as zealous as to practice it daily, because I don’t have that much time to add this on top of my regular meditations; but I do include it and recommend it.

To some, the remembrance of death is an unpleasant thought. Once, a practitioner asked me, “Why would you want to contemplate the Five Remembrances, when you could be practising the great catalysts of Love, Compassion, Joy and Equanimity?” He was contrasting the contemplations called The Five Remembrances with those, also taught by the Nikāya Buddha, called ‘The Four Dwelling-Places of Brahma’ (Pāli: Brahmavihāra).

These are: boundless benevolence, boundless compassion, boundless appreciative joy, and boundless equanimity, and I will give them, also, their own treatment in a later chapter. I listed The Five Remembrances in the introduction to this project. The third and fourth are:

3. I am subject to death. I am not exempt from death.
4. There is alteration in, and parting from, everything that is dear and pleasing to me.

My answer, on that occasion, was that the remembrance of death pricks my bubble of conceit. I think that’s very true; and at the time, I felt it as so true that I decided to put in the effort to increase the frequency of my Dissolution of the Elements practice – to do it at least a modest couple of times a week.

(The version of the Dissolution which I practise is given by Joan Halifax on her CD album, Being with Dying. I’ve put it on my iPod, so it’s always easily accessible. You can get her script here, if you want to get acquainted with it.)

And, of course, I do practise the Great Catalysts (Brahmavihāras) daily. It’s a matter of not leaving out anything which is good for the heart’s development. Perhaps, the question reflected a misunderstanding about ‘positivity.’ Positivity doesn’t exclude things that are unpleasant. It’s about turning the unpleasant to positive advantage.

By having an open heart toward the unpleasant or painful aspects of life, one can have what the Nikāya Buddha called “a pleasant abiding here and now.” Without aversion or fear, an equanimity arises which is not dependent on preferences, which is complete.

I will introduce a meditation, by the end of this project, suitable for beginners, and enjoyable, which will include Brahmavihāras, the elements practice, and the dissolution of the elements – safely.

“Already this morning I’ve gone through three deaths.” – Tenzin Gyatso, the XIVth Dalai Lama.

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* Crosby, Kate. (2000). Tantric Theravada: A Bibliographic Essay on the Writings of François Bizot and Other Literature on the Yogāvacara Tradition’, Contemporary Buddhism 1.2: 141– 198.

Meeting One’s Original Face at the Moment of Death

By admin

On April 21, 2016

In Death, Enquiry, Meditation, Memoir, Practices, Radiant Citta

THE HIDDEN LIBERATIVE ASPECT OF DEATH

The kind of consciousness which we cultivate in preparation for the occasion of our death, depends on how you see the opportunities that dying and death can offer.

One of the benefits of ‘A Year to Live’ practice has to do, not just with a better life while living, and not just with a better dying process, but with awakening to a profound level of human consciousness right there in the process of dying.

And, there is a level of preparation that is possible for that. Of course, living a conscious, compassionate life is an excellent preparation; however, one specific practice that we can do is a Tibetan practice called the Dissolution of the Elements.

This practice involves simulating the inner process of death, in nine stages – gradually losing contact with succeeding levels of experience, from gross to subtle. When mastered, it culminates in a very peaceful state of inner freedom.

I have a story about how this has already helped me, before dying physically. One time when practising this, I discovered that, in all my previous meditations of this type, I had been harbouring an unconscious wish that this practice would help me have a non-painful (and, even a pleasurable) death, when death finally came. I was very surprised by my discovery. I was attached to the idea of a non-painful death. This was several years after I had begun Buddhist death and dying practices.

Many deaths are peaceful and painless. However, death can also be attended by considerable pain. We can’t know how we will die. There are no guarantees. The process of a natural death needn’t be pain-free, even if you have done all your preparations for years on end.

So, seeing directly that I had this longing, my motivation for doing the Dissolution of the Elements practice shifted. I began to simply accept whatever experience was presenting itself during the practice. I shifted to remaining peaceful in my attitude toward experience – a peaceful mind, though I might not necessarily have a peaceful body.

So, I knew, then, that being conscious during death means accepting anything that happens, and it means a vast mind of not-knowing; or, openness. The point is to be with what is happening, because it is happening – it is what is happening!

This approach was helped by the fact that, due to a chronic illness, I never have a body free of pain, anyway. It further deepened my open experience of my chronic pain. As it turned out, this shift was also very helpful, when I was diagnosed and treated for cancer in 2014. I had ample opportunity in that period to accept peacefully, and even gratefully, whatever I was experiencing during my treatment.

The mindful death isn’t for everyone, though. Many would prefer not to know what they are experiencing at the time of death – or, at any time, for that matter. I remember a friend saying to me, decades ago, that she’d rather not know what her mind was doing during everyday experiences, so she wasn’t interested in training to be mindful.

So, I study how death lives in me, as a way to keep my own mind aimed toward the certainty of that event – to be ready, and say “Yes” to death, when it arrives. That’s true. However, I also practice this to get to be familiar with everything about my own mental functioning, while I’m living. It simply enhances self-knowledge, which turns out to be liberating. It cleans up the mind!

But, a really marvellous fruit of this practice is that we can realise the subtle and luminous nature of the mind. Contemplating death makes this more likely, both now and at the moment of death. As we become familiar with death, we explore the deepest levels of the mind – what some call the fundamental mind.

This enriches our living, now, of course. But, then: at the moment of death we have an unfettered introduction to this level of awareness, because – as this practice can verify – all that we identify with during life drops away completely.

This is a difficult-to-talk-about territory, this luminous, boundless awareness, and the ‘deathless’ element. I will address this more, though, as we go along in this project.

Knowing the ground state has many benefits for oneself and others. And, yet, it is also just to be tasted, exactly because it has no benefit. It is just so. Personally, I want to be awake and aware of the changes during death, and taste the beauty of the pure ground state – just because it is what it is – not for any other reason than this: it is worth approaching with love. In this sense, death can be a sacrament.

Practice Dying

By admin

On July 20, 2015

In Death, Mindfulness, Practices, Time, Space, & Knowledge

I’m a fan of rock singer Stuart Davis, and his Practice Dying song is one of my favourites, of course. Here’s my take on a few of the concepts in the song.

Stuart’s lines: “Get high on ether when there’s no one in the house?/pretend it’s the big one at the moment you pass out.”

The other night, I got up from where I was sitting, and I felt dizzy. As I swayed and sought support from a wall, I thought: “This could be it. And immediately I was resting in that which has no up, down, inside or outside. It’s good to be ready for the big one. I remember the flu, about fourteen years ago, that gave me this CFS. (The flue proper passed, but the ‘feeling bad’ part of the flu never went away). During that flu, I passed out twice, and I remember as I went down (slowly, gracefully), I remember thinking: “This could be it. Be awake.” It was a very peaceful experience, at the still presence at the heart of the spinning world. That was delicious. So, at any moment when your body’s disposition passes out of your hands, pretend it’s the big one.

Stuart’s lines: “You know the saying ‘once you learn to ride a bike’/well, that’s what dying’s like.”

Gandhi knew this. The cowardly assassin strikes, and the big one is on him, unexpectedly. The name of Ram comes to his lips. I think it was Stephen Levine that commented that Gandhi’s last words weren’t “Oh, shit!” He’s practised daily in all kinds of situations, and he’s contemplated this moment, and so the name of Ram comes to his lips. He continues his spiritual practice into death It’s no moment for confusion. Learn to ride on uncomfortable situations, now.

Stuart’s lines: ”Don’t feel stupid we’re all scared/no one wants to go to hell”

I won’t be going to hell. However, I expect that the big one will scare me a little. I am open to there being a lot of ‘scared,’ but I expect it will be more likely some ‘Oh-oh.’ Most likely, it will happen at the point where space gets so vast and everywhere-ish – so all-pervading – that fear of annihilation arrives. Practising Dissolution of the Elements is good biking practice.

Stuart’s lines: “Try painting tunnels on the ceiling in your room/imagine your birth backwards with a bigger, better womb”

I love this one, because all spiritual practice, and all death and dying practice, is about accepting that the Spirit – which in the end, is all there is – is as vast as space. At the same time, Stuart brings in the element of creativity and the return home.

Stuart’s lines: “it’s just rehearsal cause that’s all that life allows”

Well, not quite. Then, again, he’s right, too. It’s a hilarious line, because while you’re living, you can’t actually do the dying bit – body and all, that is. (Not even near-death experiences have actually severed the relationship with body.) So, you only practice dying.

And, yet, it also points to the freshness of death. There can be no rehearsal for death; it’ll be as unique and unrepeatable as this moment is. Someone once said, “This is not a rehearsal.” He meant, I think, that this is always fresh, not repeatable.

Practice Dying
– Stuart Davis (from his 1997 album, Kid Mystic)

Get high on ether when there’s no one in the house
pretend it’s the big one at the moment you pass out
That’s just rehearsal, but it’s comforting somehow
to practice dying now

Hang out in funeral homes and make an honest bid
lay in your casket, let them close the lid
abra cadaver, roll your eyes back in your head
practice being dead

Don’t feel stupid we’re all scared
no one wants to go to hell
There’s still time to get prepared
start out now and finish well

Try painting tunnels on the ceiling in your room
imagine your birth backwards with a bigger, better womb

Take little trips out of your body now and then
and if the rapture comes maybe you’ll ascend
You know the saying ‘once you learn to ride a bike’
well, that’s what dying’s like

Don’t feel stupid we’re all scared
no one wants to go to hell
There’s still time to get prepared
start out now and finish well

Get high on ether when there’s no one in the house
pretend it’s the big one at the moment you pass out
it’s just rehearsal cause that’s all that life allows –
to practice dying
‘cos you’re almost dead
practice dying now

Turning Toward the Deathless

By admin

On July 10, 2015

In Meditation, Mindfulness, Practices, Radiant Citta, Time, Space, & Knowledge

Ch’an master Huang-po (died 850 CE) said: When you are suddenly facing the end of life, what will you use to fend off birth and death? Don’t wait till you are thirsty to dig the well. If you neglect to do the work, then when the end approaches your limbs will not be properly arranged, the road ahead will be vague and you will whirl about in confusion bumping into things. How painful. I urge you all to take advantage of the period when you are physically strong to seek and find clear insight. This key link is very easy. It is just that you must mobilize your will to the utmost to do it.

Practising dissolution of the elements this morning, I was aware, during the process of a feeling, just a tad, of claustrophobia. Dissolution of the elements, sometimes called dissolution of the body, is a practice of dying. It simulates the dying process, and naturally, I was going to find my options somewhat narrowed down, heh?

I haven’t suffered seriously from claustrophobia, but sometimes I feel a touch of it, when in movies I see cavers in a tight spot; or when I’ve had to stay put in an MRI – as I had to do last August, to explore my cxancer. At these times, I can feel a touch of suffocating feeling. I can’t imagine what full-on claustrophobia must be like. I’ve met people who can’t get in elevators, for example.

Anyhow, while I was practising dying – as I came to the part where the senses diminish in their acuity, and the body grows weaker, then I began to feel a little of that feeling, the MRI feeling. But I stayed there for it, included it. Why not? It’s just something that moves. And, it passed naturally. Because all things do pass.

Then, as the meditation progressed, at deeper levels where the sankharas diminish, that feeling came back again. How interesting! Sankharas (its Sanskrit, but this will be an English word some day) are mental factors that are constantly at play, fashioning our experience. In their unrefined mode, they are mostly motivated by orienting toward pleasant experiences, and away from neutral or negative ones. When I was in the MRI back in August, my meditative task in there – the mindfulness task – was to not follow those tendencies to dissociate; habitual tendencies to get away from the unpleasant features of the experience. In such circumstances, I usually invite space, so that the unpleasant can be accommodated.

Maybe this description is for another day, though. Right now, back to the Mediation on the Dissolution of the Elements. At the level of encountering the dissolution of the fashioning tendencies, then I began, again, to feel a touch of claustrophobia.

I sensed into the suffocating experience quite directly, including it in awareness. And, later, I was able to recall it, to investigate it further. I felt into it, knowing it from the inside. I could see what was happening with the loss at each level of the meditation: there was a dropping away of familiar behaviour possibilities. This means a loss of sense of a static self. (See this explanation here about the sense of self and behaviour possibilities, if you like.) The familiar sense of a permanent ’I’ constructed on the known behaviour possibilites, dissolves. This disappearance of behaviour possibilities is where the claustrophobia comes from. I’m reminded of something that John Tarrant Roshi said once, about Zen practice. (I’ve looked for the reference, but can’t find it; but it was something like:) In Zen practice, it’s like digging a well, and at some stage you find you have dug very deep, and you realize: there’s not much room in here!

This could be said about any honest self-inquiry, that it’s meant to humiliate my egoic pretension that I am the master of my reality. Actually, that pretension is just the sankharas talking, fashioning their version of mastery, which is false mastery. At this point, lest I give the wrong impression. Not all sankharas are so troublesome. The fashioning processes that were at work in shaping this meditation, and in maintaining my mindful attention during the process, these are healthy sankharas. They aid in the process of turning toward the deathless. Dying practice is good for finding this out. “You must mobilize your will to the utmost to do it.” Neither is all ‘sense of self’ false. (Read that other post.)

However, just now I’m helping us be familiar with the terrain of a mind getting used to its certain death. In the meditation, my thoughts went occasionally to unresolved things, between me and others, and also to some pleasant thoughts. But the fact that there is no room to move in dying, only showed how irrelevant these things were, and how irrelevant having small-minded thoughts will be at the time of death. Yet, isn’t this the habit that we daily foster, by following such thoughts? So, we’re daily, whether know it or not, are training wrongly for death. How so? I’m daily training my mind to follow any old fashioning tendency that arises, in response to pleasant, unpleasant and neutral feeling-tones or experiences. If I don’t daily investigate the nature and condition of this mind, and if I don’t get to know its habits, then – though my digital gadgets, my books, my fave scarf, and even my loved ones can’t follow me into death – the result of my mental habits will accompany me into the dying process, diminishing my capacity for the marvellous discoveries to be made there.

I heard once of men on death row, who who after some mindfulness training, were quite amazed to find their minds were still plotting revenge, plans that were to be fulfilled when they got out! Such scenarios reduce one’s energy for the kind of presence needed, for peace and awakening, at the time of death. Because, regular dying practice is a help to utilise death as an opportunity for awakening.

As the process went to its end, there was the still, silent space of fundamental, boundless, luminous ground. Here exist and not-exist wouldn’t make any sense, if there was any sense of false self left to apply those labels. Because of the accumulation of habit tendencies (sankharas, again), this luminous space is traditionally said to flash by incredibly quickly for those who have not become acquainted with it during life, before the rebirth process occurs. I don’t know about the rebirth process, but if you train yourself in this process, I’m sure you will verify that bit about how quickly the space could pass, if your not familiar with the fundamental nature of the mind. Bounlessness is so intimate that it’s easy to miss. It’s said to be what water is to a fish.

And, even just to relax in the earlier stages of the death process – let alone talk about resting in boundlessness – it’s clear to me that one needs to be like space, at all times. Any identity founded in what comes and goes – that is, built on the five sentient processes (khandhas in Pāḷi) – any kind of identity goes at death.

So, the good news is: Sit out the claustrophobia, and space opens up. I could sense this morning, stronger than usual, in the meditating body, the space element corresponded with a point in the heart. That’s the good news.