Mortality

     By the time we're eight or ten, most of us figure out that we are not immortal.  And, if we still think we're immortal, we've run smack into the realization that at least some others are not.  But, beyond that, we don't give it a whole lot of thought.  In fact, if we DO give it a whole lot of thought, we'll have been told not to be so morbid and to be happy.   So we toodle along, content in the notion that while death may indeed exist, it exists only for the old or those far away from us.  For the most part.

     There are a few words out there that can change that in an instance, a prime one being biopsy.  Biopsy, along with it's fellow traveler cancer, can bring mortality, personal mortality, into very clear and immediate focus.  There you were, toodling along with your life; working, playing, laughing, loving, wasting WAY too much time on the computer and WHAM you are pulled up short by a six letter word and all the baggage it carries with it.  No more, "don't worry, be happy" because worry has just taken up residence in your brain and whether that residence is permanent or not remains to be seen.

      And so it begins, the biopsy, the inconclusive results, the referrals, the scheduling of surgery, the pre-op check ups and the terror.  No matter how calm, cool, collected, even sanguine one thinks one is, there is a time around 2:45 in the morning when the terror is undeniable.  No one else may see it.  You may even try to convince yourself that it isn't there.  But it is.  And no one, not your mother, not your spouse, not your friend, not even the very nice surgeon that you just met, can say anything to make that go away.  Because while they hope for the best, and can quote statistics, and can assure you it will be fine; ultimately, they can't know that to be the fact until you've moved through the entire experience.

Of course, all of this takes time.  So you have a lot of time to think.  And think. And think.  You realize rather quickly that you are not where you'd always thought you'd be by whatever-this-point is in your life.  You then begin to wonder IF making plans for the future is some sort of magic you are invoking to get through the situation.  Or if, perhaps, you are just whistling past the graveyard and which graveyard is it going to be.   One sinks to the forbidden morbid regions rather quickly.

Before too long, you realize that even IF this isn't going to be whatever it is that will spell your demise, something will and that every day lived is a day closer to that day.  And you begin to wonder what that means for your life going forward.    Between blood tests and CAT scans and this and that, you have quite a bit of time for reflecting.  

And, if you're me, you wonder if any insights you garner through all of this reflecting will be carried through should the surgery and the pathology reports say that the end isn't coming in that particular way in this particular year.  

Mercifully, the pathology reports came back "negative for malignancy."  Now it's time to see how many of the insights remain and where they lead.

Interpretations

The breeze at dawn has secrets to tell you.
Don't go back to sleep.

You must ask for what you really want.
Don't go back to sleep.

People are going back and forth across the doorsill
Where the two worlds touch.

The door is round and open.
Don't go back to sleep.

-- Jalaluddin Rumi.

A friend gave me a copy of this poem several years when I was on the cusp of a major change in my life. She'd seen me going back and forth; making up my mind and then trying to talk myself out of it for many months. It was a timely gift and it has hovered in the back of my mind ever since. It held great meaning for me then and, as time has gone on, it continues to, but the meaning has shifted for me a couple of times.

Originally, it reminded me not to go backwards and to awaken to new possibilities. The repeated line of "don't go back to sleep" became a kind of mantra for me during that time. Later on, when I was wrestling with an internal change, the line "you must ask for what you really want" became very important and it still reminds me of things I sometimes forget. And then, more recently, the concluding line of "the door is round and open" has moved into my consciousness as an invitation to move actively towards those things that I want in my life.

I fully realize that Rumi's poetry is primarily mystical, but interpretation is in the eye of the beholder. There are other poems of his that do touch me on a spiritual level, but this one speaks to an approach to everyday life for me. And the meaning shifts as I evolve.

It seems to be a given that this applies to any text with which we find meaningful. For those following an organized religion, I'm certain that their holy books must act this way as the individual progresses through life. Whether it be the Bible, the Torah, the Qur'an or the Gita, a person's understanding must change as he grows older and views them through the lens of different experiences. This is not limited to accepted texts, any writing that is meaningful to the individual can hold such a place in their life.

It is in the varying interpretations that problems arise, or rather in the rigidity of some interpretations. When we believe that what has meaning in our lives must be universalized to everyone else, it can only lead to conflict. All Christians hold the Bible as their sacred and most meaningful text and yet there is a plethora of differing interpretations that has resulted in who-knows-how-many different denominations. I imagine something similar must be going on in other religions that have had splits within the group.

Many adherents of the various interpretations and sects truly have considered their beliefs and the understanding of their texts. Others, however, may be just following tradition or the preaching of someone else rather than asking themselves what has meaning for them. And some must hold on to the rightness of their understandings with anger and violence toward anyone who disagrees. This is evident in the intra-religious conflicts throughout history. It is very rare for people to split from an established group without a great deal of conflict or violence from one side or the other, if not both. It is also obvious in the conflicts between totally different religions. As long as people must have the market cornered on The Truth, mutual respect is impossible. Perhaps it is just the human condition to do this, but it is ironic in the extreme and terribly sad. Many seem incapable of recognizing that most people are following whatever light has been given them and respect the effort. There is no need for absolute agreement because every person is living a different life and, therefore, has different understandings about how to do that and understand it.

It could be that I am quite odd, but I've come to accept the shifting sands of meaning and approach them with a measure of curiosity. Certainly, I go through periods of comfortably toddling along with little thought or self-examination. Inevitably, however, something new will pop-up in my awareness and require that I give it attention. It may stick with me or I may reject it, but it is unavoidable that it will come. The only consideration is what to do about it when it happens.