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First Thoughts / Last Thoughts
‘Tis but a day we sojourn here below, And all the gain we get is grief and woe, Then, leaving our life's riddles all unsolved, And burdened with regrets, we have to go.
The Rubaiyat by Omak Khayyam (c. 1120 C.E.).
Darkness Approaches
How does an aging Boomer find a lifestyle which is meaningful and enjoyable in the final phase of life? Both Omar Khayyam and the unknown preacher of Ecclesiastes complained about the futility of a life that ends too soon and accomplishes too little. The preacher called life vanity of vanities. “All things are wearisome; more than one can express.” Why did anyone go to the trouble of hand-copying and preserving such ancient downers? Perhaps cathartic negativity appeals to the human mind, because our species has endured wars and rumors of wars throughout history. As generations go, we Boomers are a fairly cynical crowd. We’re the people who snickered as Queen chanted, “Another one bites the dust!” Yet, we never felt the lyrics applied to us personally, never suspected the dust-biting was coming our way.
Oh, certainly, everybody knew we were mortal. We laughed and proclaimed that nothing was certain but death and taxes. Then the Reagan revolution told us that taxes were optional, and science began to find ways to prolong life…so who knows? Some of us jogged. Some weight-watched and took multi-vitamins. Lots of us gained weight and fought alcoholism and smoking addictions, not to mention lingering drug relapses here and there. AIDS terrified everyone for a decade or so, then better medicines removed the inexorable death sentence from HIV-related illness, and we relaxed into fantasies about immortality once more, even while people continued to die.
But as the drama of our generation moved from scene to scene, we began to realize the final curtain was coming. Act One took some people who should still be here. Not expendable redshirts in a Star Trek movie, main characters who fell by the wayside. Some of them were born a few years before the official start-up dates for the Boomer Generation, but their music and words powerfully influenced us—people like Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin, Elvis Presley, Rickey Nelson, Karen Carpenter, John Lennon, John Denver, and Jim Henson. The casualty list continued to grow in Act Two, sometimes claiming figures of great vitality, like Aussie Crocodile Hunter Steve Erwin, pop icon Michael Jackson, and my youngest half-brother, Darryl John Carter.
We know when the final curtain will fall. Statisticians estimate we’ll all be gone by the 2060s. Somewhere in the misty distance, a member of our parent’s generation, Peggy Lee, is crooning, “Is that all there is…?”
My own existential awareness of looming death occurred in one of the most youth-centered locales imaginable. I was teaching eighth grade at Spirit Creek Middle School in Hephzibah, Georgia, a few miles southwest of the azalea-splashed city of Augusta, which is best known for the Masters’ golf tournament. Students had gone to Unified Arts and Physical Education, leaving our hallway empty and giving us teacher-time to prepare lessons or play catch-up on the ten million other tasks required in public schools. I remember thinking about the strange silence of that wing of the building. Suddenly, I flashed on the idea that, just as UA/PE happens every day with clockwork regularity, so will I follow my ancestors into the approaching shadows of death.
It was an organic realization, not an abstract concept. It wasn’t about death as a subject to be considered; it was about death as an unavoidable event which I must one day experience. Not, “All people are mortal and will one day die,” but rather, I am mortal; I am going to die. The big dirt nap approaches. Everything will go black, and that will be it. Lights out. Sayonara. Another one bites the dust. Gone. Blackness.
It scared the bejesus out of me. I rushed into the hallway, desperate to see someone alive, wishing my irascible middle schoolers would return from UA/PE, so that some of their immortality would rub off. Of course, it did. Activity spun me away from the brink, and the only panic attack of my life passed into legend. Telling you about it helps, too. Community is a healing experience.
These thoughts are not designed to bum you out, just to make it clear that we are all in this together. Life’s end approaches, but it isn’t here yet. The only question facing us is how shall we live while approaching the still-distant but unavoidable dark wall of death? A good life always leaves many things undone, yet living a full life before your exit is entirely optional.
If you were asked to identify a common, central theme required for a good life in the religions and philosophies of humanity, you might respond, “Love.” And you’d be right. However, love is a generic term which every faith defines differently. The Dalai Lama’s Buddhism understands love as compassion for all sentient beings and, paradoxically, detachment from desire itself. Judaism is also a religion of love, expressed through covenantal relationships, mercy and justice; God’s steadfast love outpictures as patience in the face of human shortcomings. Christian love is about forgiveness and selflessness; there is a self-sacrificial tone to the love of God in Jesus Christ. Muslims surrender themselves in passionate devotion to the Divine; by definition, Islam means submission to the Will of God. And the oldest continuously practiced religious tradition on the planet, Hinduism, offers spiritual concepts about love which cover almost every aspect of human devotion, to include contemplative, sacrificial, familial, romantic and erotic love.
It’s obvious that love, although universally admired, is far from uniformly understood. So, without attempting to diminish the power of love over the human mind and heart, perhaps there is another benefit which the established religions of humanity have offered their adherents, something central to the process of effective living in every age and culture, something a bit more coherent and simple than the vast, complex category of attitudes and emotions loosely labeled love.
To be truly universal, like love, this quality should flow from any sensible philosophy, not just religious thought. TV talk show hosts and university professors should express this trait; wise seniors and bright youngsters should exude it with abandon. It should be an identifiable quality in successful people from all careers, arts and sciences. Athletes should have it, and school teachers, bus drivers, and soccer-and-football moms and dads. In fact, like love, it should be indispensable for a happy, balanced life.
Of the many possible candidates for this universal trait of effective living, expressed in all the religions of humanity and echoed so brilliantly by the Dali Lama, I submit the name of a dark horse: confidence. The elements which comprise confidence include trust, assurance, and certainty. There is a sense of self-sufficiency in confidence, a deep belief that any crisis or circumstance can be met and successfully handled. The key, which Buddhists totally get, is this: A confident yet compassionate response to life is more important than the cards we’re dealt. In the words of a Country Western song by Kenny Rogers:
Every gambler knows that the secret to survivin'
Is knowin' what to throw away and knowing what to keep
'Cause every hand's a winner and every hand's a loser
And the best that you can hope for is to die in your sleep. [1]
An avalanche of ideas follows, beginning with mundane thoughts and expanding outward. As this volume’s subtitle indicates, I have organized the material into a series of paths to Confident Living in the Long Autumn of Life, drawn from resources found among the great religious traditions, schools of philosophy, poets and thinkers of the human race. Some essays are stuffed with practical suggestions. Others are thought-pieces. Hopefully, all are hopeful. I will be sharing a few of them in this Theo-blog.
We’ll begin then with a short list of thoughts about living with confidence and joy until you enter the final darkness which leads to…well, who knows, for sure? Maybe eternal dreamless sleep, maybe some new existence. While the topic of this book isn’t death but living confidently until we get there, any discussion of the last phase of life must at least consider whether the door leading to what happens “next” is leaking light. All the publications from popular atheist writers notwithstanding, Raymond L. Moody’s 1975 runaway bestseller about near death experiences, Life After Life, raised enough questions to keep the door at least slightly ajar.
But relax. Although am a clergyperson and we will be discussing ideas which have flagrantly spiritual implications, this book tries hard not to peddle any brand-name religious doctrine. We’re approaching the mountain range of life remaining before us as fellow explorers, not as itinerant missionaries. Anything said in the course of these explorations that doesn’t work for you, feel free to toss it aside.
St. Paul wrote to the Thessalonians: “Do not despise the words of prophets, but test everything; hold fast to what is good.” [2] Buddha said it this way: “However many holy words you read, however many you speak, what good will they do you if you do not act on upon them?” [3]
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[1] Kenny Rogers, “The Gambler,” http://www.elyrics.net/read/k/kenny-rogers-lyrics/the-gambler-lyrics.html (accessed 08-30-11).
[2] I Thessalonians 5:20-21, NRSV.
[3] Buiddha, cited atvBuddhist Tourism website: http://www.buddhist-tourism.com/buddhism/buddha-quotes.html
