PHOWA

Instructions for the about to be not living

Tim Fitzmaurice (Written at the time of the death of my Uncle Vern)

The first day

Beloved, you are surrounded

by another family now,

the family which sees clearly.

We all walk in a fog.

I do and everyone who walks

with me does as well.

We can’t help that.

We can only hope that you know

you are not the author of the fog,

but only a walker, and the world is really

full of light and love.

We have to talk about physical things first.

We have to grab a broom and sweep the doorstep

as clean as we can.

Someone is coming to see us,

Someone who loves us hopelessly.

In her eyes we cannot do a single bad thing.

In his eyes, every petty offense,

even the seemingly most monstrous things

are meaningless because that’s how foolish

lovers are. He is coming to ask for something.

It amounts to nothing more

than smiling at him.

He knows how difficult that can be.

What does he look like?

Well, you know how lovers can try to

be all things to all people. He is.

And build this anyway you can,

whatever makes the most sense.

He can have any face,

any walk, and he can be your father and he can be your mother,

if that is what it will take to be loved by you.

There is someone who loves you

who wants to use this face.

You can drape a white scarf

across his face and he will be satisfied.

This is the hard part:

You must dissolve into fragrance

and fly away from us.

It comes easily to you because

that is what you are preparing for

and your lover is calling you.

We don’t want to make it difficult.

We don’t mean to be possessive. Loving

does funny things and makes every door stick a bit.

With these new wings, however,

you can’t do anything

but climb the air.

O sister/brother of an enlightened family,

the family that we want to be and that you are—

if you look at us from the right angle—

you can open the case we have been packing

for you. It has everything you need in it.

It has soft scarves, food, and thoughtful gifts,

which we knew you would need.

It isn’t selfish to eat them now or

to put on this new clothing.

You are doing it for us

and for everything that lives.

Nothing is confusing about this.

Nothing is hurtful.

And it requires the gentlest movement of a hand

to slip the rope and make the boat float soundlessly

into this quiet lake.

No one will be speaking at this moment.

No one will be distracting you … (pause)

It would be normal to want to look a last time at us,

but everything is in front of you;

We are in front of you,

with all that matters.

We remember how flustered you were

when you heard the children crying

in the museums, in the stores,

in the parks, in the streets.

We don’t hold that against them,

but nothing should shake this boat

at a time like this. If we have the heart,

we can set this boat in the right direction.

O daughter/son of an enlightened family, please listen!

We can only imagine the startling shouts

and noisy winds.

I can see the trees moving right now,

waiting for that rain that just

refuses to come.

Hold onto nothing and let nothing go!

Don’t even think about it, our father/mother,

our pilot.

Don’t worry about what is left behind

or what hitches a ride.

It is all the same to us and to you.

We know that you will see things

that frighten us.

Those are only the things

we have spent too much time

inventing. They aren’t real.

But even those surprising things

tell you something:

Your soul has irresistible music that fills opera houses,

an ocean which you always seemed to hide

in a small package.

Now it spills.

Everyone believes in something,

even if it is shapeless,

In fact, so-called unbelieving

or feelings of uncertainty may be

the greatest piety because it tells us

that you did not want to scaffold your soul.

It does justice to mystery to be mystified.

It isn’t so bad. It does justice to life

to be sorry at going.

Never castigate yourself for loving anything

too much. I need to say listen, please, listen,

please, listen. Hold the image

of the one you love in your heart now.

That’s the best medicine and key to everything.

We are the road.

We move gently and it is us who moves:

to loving.

Someone whisper

the syllable that moves me,

the name of what I love.

Not the smallest thing will

be in my hand. Nothing will be on my lips.

That will be enough and more than enough.

And look what comes from me

At the topmost moment.

Trust yourself now most of all!

There is a small step

from out of one thing into another.

Some people do not pay attention

to that instant of passing

from one room to the next.

But you were always one to keep your balance

And this whisper is a kiss to remind you.

Stop a moment before entering this room

so your lover can look at you.

You were never so beautiful!

And lying in the position of lions when they rest …

The second Day

O friend lover of an enlightened family.

Stepping into the sun, no shadows,

In the mirror, no face looks back,

It can be scary.

Instruction:

When the breathing stops, this

does not mean that the existence

of the soul has ended.

For some believers,

this is crucial moment,

a decisive moment.

Something should be done

by someone. They say

it should be a person

who does not have

the burden of too many sins.

I am not sure; I am not sure

that I agree with all the assertions

about lengths of time involved.

Sometimes they are annoyingly perfunctory,

3 and a half days for this

or that. 

The soul has no watches.

I have read that a day is different for each person.

The day represents the length of time a person

can focus his or her mind

in meditation. If you can meditate for twenty minutes,

then your spiritual day is 20 minutes.

If you can only go for a matter of seconds,

then your day is that long.

It seems like an encouragement

to practice meditation. But I can’t believe

that eternity has much use

for our temporalities, even these.

It may be best to suspend your legalistic mind

and just do the process with eternity providing

whatever background of time it wants.

Still I would obey the advice that you should

be praying with the dying, when they are dying

and you should begin

as they are dying. For people in the west,

it seems a bit extreme to go much beyond

a kind of symbolic period of mourning.

But I do not think there is reason for rushing

through this process. You can spend some time.

I have been fascinated by the 49 days of bardo thodol,

the Tibetan Book of Dying.

But the only goal is to achieve a certain peace.

It would be counterproductive to cling to ritual

after it has accomplished its purpose.

You can only measure this with your soul.

After all the 49 days may be 49 seconds.

Some would say you should look for signs,

the dropping of hair from the crown of the head,

four finger widths back of the hairline,

the raising of a bump,

the escape of some kind of ether or a drop of blood.

I would follow the guidance of my impulse

about when to start or stop. I would ignore any annoying advice

about the limits of time and space.

Do you have to be standing over the body

at the right moment, or can you do the rite

a thousand miles away and a thousand years later?

These are not questions anyone can answer.

But truth is not proximity, as a friend once said.

You can be standing next to truth and not see it.

You can be miles away and see it;

it is facing in the right direction that matters,

no matter how close you are to it, or how far from.

No one should be crying.

This seems like a harsh rule. I wonder what it means.

Sipai:

But let’s talk about weather:

First, there is the rain.

It falls without stopping, in sheets,

a curtain

falls from the eaves of the house.

When you stand on the porch,

it is like a wall. But

you can part it with your smallest finger.

Do you remember the feeling

of wanting to be somewhere else?

Second, the wind can blow so hard

it seems to be going through you.

Tears are blasted from the corners

of your eyes. You want to shout back at it.

Third, a blanket of darkness …

that means not knowing,

the temptation might be to curl up

and fall asleep to think that nothing

can ever be known and that nothing

can ever be unknown.

Fourth,
the noise like the voices

that speak to you in the night

just when you are trying to fall asleep,

those contending voices that keep you up.

Finally,

the collapse into usness.