What Lies Beyond

One of my oldest and dearest friends has been facing the challenge of cancer that has spread to his bones (bone metastasis or "bone mets") that originated as prostate cancer. He faces this new challenge in his life with a sense of mindfulness, presence, and positive attitude. To those around him his attitude has been a balm for coming to terms with and accepting the (more than likely) inevitable conclusion of the situation. He messaged me this morning with an old quote of his he'd stumbled across. 

“At some point, the neural circuits will shut down, the lights of consciousness will wink out, and the long nighty-night will begin. And we will be freed from all human concerns by the gift of nonexistence. But until that point, we live still. After that point, we will be in precisely the same place we were before we were born. Not there, not anywhere and without a care.”

This is classic thought and attitude of my dear friend. I regret that his quote is spot-on. I regret what it means for all of us who will eventually leave behind those who have loved us and cherished our presence. It conjures questions and thoughts which have been pondered since time began. The curiosity of what lies beyond is titillating to say the least. We want to believe in something more. Everything we do has a beginning and an end. But those ends are always the beginnings of something else. We can't comprehend the notion of nothingness. Countless humans and histories have come before we joined this current one. Countless humans and histories will come after us. To try and wrap our brains around the notion that we will no longer "be" is difficult. To embrace that there may be nothing is onerous. It's not a dark room with no sound and all we have to do is open the door onto "the present." It's literally nothing. Can that possibly be? If we are energy beings in a particular form, and if energy can be neither created, or more importantly hopeful here, nor destroyed, do we transmogrify into something else? Sometime more? Something more "universal"? Are we caterpillars who become other-dimensional butterflies? Will we be able to observe old friends and loved ones "back here"? If "there" exists will we have emotions there? Will we join up with old friends and family who've been waiting for us in our new, possibly higher form? Do our energies attach to one another even in the wherever-that-may-be? I can't imagine that there will be emotions or thoughts as we know them. As sure as his quote says, we will most certainly be without a care. 

Body Buddhism

I was describing to a friend today about how I've started using mindfulness, nonattachment, and principles of Buddhism and mediation in ordinary, daily activities. 

For example, when I get into bed at night I focus on my breathing. I imagine the oxygen molecules coming in through my nostrils and traveling through my nose down into my trachea. I “watch” them entering my lungs and making their way down into my alveoli. From there I observe them exchanging with carbon dioxide returning from my body. I watch as my blood cells pick up the molecules and deliver the fresh oxygen to all parts of my body. 

When I eat I “see” the saliva in my mouth making contact with the food I'm chewing. I feel its presence as it moves down my esophagus and entering into my stomach. I watch as my stomach enzymes begin breaking the food down even further, preparing it for my small intestine. There I watch as the broken down food enters my body, providing nourishment and energy. 

When I workout I imagine the cells of the muscle contracting and relaxing, working in tandem to achieve the repetition. Each rep a harmonious, coordinated dance of my body's muscle working together to achieve a goal. 

Recently I had a particularly nasty chest cold. It was almost impossible to breathe. My chest felt like it was full of cotton that wouldn't budge, and I was sore from all the coughing. During meditation sessions during the day and at night in my sleep I imagined each individual cold virus to be a tiny Brillo pad, a scratchy, ugly irritant that didn't belong in me. Then I would watch as the elements of my immune system engulfed and destroyed each one.

As I do each of these meditations on my body I talk to my body. Literally. “Accept this fresh oxygen in the spirit it is being given.” Or, “Please use this healthy food in the best way you know how.” During workouts I encourage my muscle cells as I'm watching them, “Push! Pull! Feel us all working together!” And as for my illness, “Immune system, please use your abilities to help rid me of this infection.”

Does all that work? Maybe. Maybe not. The point is that it has helped me to have a much stronger relationship with my body and my mind. After describing all this to my friend this morning, he he came up with a fantastic name for it: Body Buddhism. I can't get the phrase out of my head as it describes perfectly what I've been trying to put a name to. Body Buddhism brings a deeper harmony to me that only gets better the more I practice it.