then drag it into the centre of an imaginary circle of love. ‘Perfect love casts out fear,’ writes Saint John. Watch it diminish. Only by journeying to the places of greatest fear will we discover the source of strength that is stronger even than death.
Another face of death is loneliness. This is not the same as solitude, which contains no loss of wellbeing. Some cope by clinging to a person, place or project, but all these will come to an end. Where will we be then?
Others disguise this inner loneliness by whizzing around, getting hooked on virtual reality, or by being glued to chat sites on the web. All these will come to an end. Where will we be then?
Only by journeying into the place of greatest loneliness will we rise above a life of subterfuges. Bring your loneliness into that same circle of love.
A third face of death is anger due to loss of ego control. Abusive, pushy or defensive behaviour is a sign of this. Racism is another sign. Some cope by forming addictive habits, or by making success their god. But these things have feet of clay. When these crumble, where will we be?
Only by journeying into the place of loss of control can we find lasting freedom.
There are other faces of death, such as despair and pretence. These, too, if they are to lose their hold over us, have to be named, owned and brought into the circle of love.
SEE ETERNITY IN A GRAIN OF SAND
One way to befriend death when we are young is to see in the things that are visible intimations of things that are invisible. We need to take time out to do this.
To the north the mountain ranges stood like kings upon their thrones. The sky was an arch of pearl. A cloud city, with towers and battlements complete, went floating by. The mystery of the Infinite was about us. Then the old stalker spoke. ‘Is it not fine,’ he mused, ‘to be abroad on a day like this? For, look you, the high places win the heart to peace, and here a man gazes on the mirror of his own eternity.’ ALISTAIR MACLEAN, Hebridean Altars7
To see a world in a grain of sand,
And heaven in a wild flower,
Hold infinity in the palm of your hand,
And eternity in an hour.
WILLIAM BLAKE, Auguries of Innocence
This approach has been made famous by William Wordsworth’s ode ‘Intimations of Immortality’, which ends with these words:
To me the meanest flower that blows can give
Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.
These intimations often came to Wordsworth as he ‘wandered lonely as a cloud’ among ‘a host of golden daffodils’. They led him to conclude, in the words of his ode:
Our noisy years seem moments in the being
Of the eternal silence.
RAINBOWS
Our hearts do indeed leap up when we behold a rainbow in the sky, yet it disappears as suddenly as it appears. The rainbow seems to say to us, ‘This life is ephemeral, but there is something that lies beyond it.’
HARBOURS AND HORIZONS
Little fishing boats securely tucked up in the safety of a harbour after the ups and downs of their days at sea speak to us of homecoming, and of the final harbour of this life. When we are young it is good to enter wholeheartedly into both the choppy seas and the homecomings of life.
Human beings are touched by the mystery of horizons. As a boat disappears from our own horizon, it may appear on the horizon of people on the other side of the sea. Is it like that with our dying?
BIRDS AND WINDS
Birds and winds come and go, and often we do not know where they come from or where they are going. It is amazing that birds can travel over 3,000 miles from a place, and return to that exact place three years later without map or compass.
The sensation of flying often comes into our dreams. Like the birds, there seems some mysterious instinct in us which calls us to transcend our present limitations. Is this an intimation of immortality?
NATURE’S CYCLE OF REBIRTH
Flowers blooming and fading, the sun rising and setting, animals hibernating and mating – the cycle of dying and rebirth is all around us. Is it not also within us?
When you are bursting with life in the pleasure of bright sunshine, say a prayer like the following, in order to connect your now with your end:
As the sun above pours its love on my body,
So at the hour of my death
Pour your grace on my soul.
Find something that you can place in the palm of your hand and gaze at. Keep gazing until you become aware of the mystery to which this points.
It is not possible to die well if we see life as our unchanging possession and death as its thief.
What then are you, human life?
You are the road to life, not life itself.
You are a real road but not a level one.
Long for some, short for others,
Broad for some, narrow for others,
Joyful for some, sad for others,
For all alike, fleeting and irrevocable.
A road is what you are, a road,
But you are not clear to all.
Many see you
And few understand you to be a road.
For you are so wily and enticing
That few know you are a road.
