Wednesday, July 18, 2012

Last Words, Lastly.

This post is for Eric Aadhaar's soul ceremony, held on Wednesday, July 18, 2012 in Australia, and in various corners of our little blue and green planet. 

(J.S Bach Prelude in C-Major from Bagdad Cafe soundtrack)



Hello from the past, and thank you for being here right now in the present. Thank you for bearing witness to my passing, and to hearing these final few words I wish to let go out into the world.

I am aware that I do not wish to shape your memory of me by what I say here and now. You will remember me the way you want and need to. And I love that. So this short speech today is not really about me.

As I sit here, in the past, writing this, I am imagining the future; this present of yours, and what I am feeling is immense gratitude.

Really, I just want to thank you.

I would like to think I made my love for you well-felt enough when I lived, but of course we never can, as humans, ever love enough to satisfy ourselves. Such is our desire for love, for each other, for the amazing sense of oneness we share as people, that I spent most of my entire life trying to have others see my love. Perhaps, that I might see it in myself. Where I was remiss in seeming to love you, I am sorry; it was not for lack of love, just a flaw in me.

But like I said, this is not about me.

In life I had the immense good fortune to have loved and to have been loved, and eventually to have let myself feel that love properly, truly, deeply, too. This; despite my own best efforts at sabotaging my own happiness. You, my family of man, have constantly embraced me. You have allowed me to feel the love of the universe through you. You have taught me, finally, one of the Great Life Lessons it seems I most needed to learn: to trust. Through you I have learned to have faith, purely, not in any single or particular thing, but to allow the feeling of faith to be real. In the end I did get what those spiritual masters and prophets who have gone before have said on the subject of faith and belief, and in the end, it was you through whom I awakened to it. Nature, Godhead if you will, spoke to me in great part through you. This is true of my closest companions and the most random strangers.

What happened? How did I come to feel so changed and loved when at times in life it seemed so much suffering and pain was stacked against me? When the world around in itself could seem so torn and broken and wretched with needless agonies and destruction?

Well, I don't know.

But it's something to do with nature, and spirit. You see, I say that all this love has come through you, and this is true, but deeper still, I feel this love as that of the love of all creation, the pure light of some divine reality. The same stuff you get from properly just sitting and being with a tree, or a cow, or whatever. The what is unimportant. The just being is the thing, the place at the edge where it all happens. For what it's worth, I came to see it more and more around me, and as my days faded the light I saw, the glimmer of man slowly but inexorably returning to Nature, reconciling with itself, grew greater and clearer. I don't think it was just me. I think we really are changing.

I am pretty sure I did not die perfect. But I am even surer that I died pretty damn well, and for the opportunity, the great good fortune to do that; the enormous luxury of time to truly suffer and deeply experience the lessons my oh-so-slow mind insisted on trying to grasp and speak out loud, I am thankful. For letting go and going past that, I am more thankful still. To have found release, to have glimpsed the Oneness of death and life, at least in some small way.

It might be fair to say that today your life has more death in it than the average day.

Let us then celebrate the gifts of life, but also those that death brings us; closure, relief, renewal. Letting go. The cleansing power of grief to shift our energies, to stretch us and our ability to love and grow. But let us never forget to equally honour the darkness, the hurt, the pain. These things are OK. Really, I promise.

That death and disruption strike at every hour, yet we continue to behave as though we were immortal; this is the greatest mystery.

I shall not seek to ask your blessing, or that you remember me well, or even at all. I do not seek to have the last word, and given my form in life it's a fair cop that so many of you would at least inwardly chuckle at that' but seriously, I trust you to let me go the best way you know how, in the way that makes it feel rightest - that is, the most right - for you. Because learning to trust in life has given me a great faith in what is happening, or has happened, since writing this and in dying.

How can we decide to trust life and not trust its equal and necessary partner, death?

I am not going to ask you not to grieve, I do not want to try and deny you the needs of your pain, as can be such a fashionable thought these days, to quarantine all the 'negative' thoughts and feelings and – in the case of death – celebrate the good things only. Let us celebrate the grief and the growth from pain, as well as the joy.

But let's DO celebrate, for my life has been simply the most fabulous fucking thing ever.

I could write a list. It would be really, really long. But I shan't, for the time of counting blessings is past now too. The blessings are in totality; alongside my old self, all become one.

Music has been the closest thing in my life to religion.

Earlier you heard a scant two minutes of a simple piece of Bach, played by a young amateur actor, on a nearly clapped-out old upright piano, that touches for me every single aspect of human experience worth having. It is a magick. One single note at a time, the entirety of life and all eternity held up to the light and exultant. So if you wish to know what I think about the afterlife, or what is here for me now, beyond death, listen to music. Music will tell you. Art is here for us that we may have some way of understanding that which logic can never touch.

There is so much I could say to and of each and every one of you, but that time is gone now too. Still, there are those to whom I wish to dedicate a special place in the heart of this day.

The first, my mother Betty, father Michael, and sister Bronnwyn, for bringing me into being and shepherding me through the first years of my life. And the last, my partner, comrade, lover and friend, Meeta. For all that we have done and shared and been. And for being here to help me go in the way that you have. There are not words for how grateful I am to you Meeta, for there is no edge to my thankfulness and love. It's OK though, because I know that you know that I know what had to be known in the end. We knew.

Posterity, it turns out, isn't something I ended up being overly concerned about. It feels to me now like I did what I wanted and needed to do in life. And that, the sense held deep in my very marrow that I went where I needed to go, faced the challenges and learned from the failures and hurts as much as from the joys and cheers, is the blessing I wish for everyone on earth.

I wish that you find a place of true contentment, a safe and sacred space inside, a connected space that holds you snug in the embrace of nature and light, yet a space that carries always the memory that death is just … right … here. All the time. That is the way for us to heal; to heal ourselves, each other, and most vitally, our planet. To heal our Nature. However you do that, as long as it's real.

Goodbye then.

Please go deeply into your day today, whatever that means and however that goes for you right now. Look around, look at the person either side of you for a moment and remember their faces, with love. Before you take your leave today and go back into your own private day of life, remember to take the moment to feel the love of everyone here, and everyone touched by knowing you, or even just meeting you for the very first time. Remember I loved you, and knew well of your love for me. Remember we are all the same. We are all the same thing. Even as I am dead and gone now, we are still one with matter and energy, in entropy, and in the light that shines through us.

Thank you not just for your love in my life, but for your love in letting me – helping me – to go.

I will leave you with one more piece of music, which I hope you will like. It is I guess a little parable about the power of love and togetherness; to grow we humans well, as a part of nature, accepting all that comes, beyond judgement.

It is called “One Voice,” performed by the Wailin' Jennies.


video

This is the sound of one voice
One spirit, one voice
The sound of one who makes a choice
This is the sound of one voice

This is the sound of voices two
The sound of me singing with you
Helping each other to make it through
This is the sound of voices two

This is the sound of voices three
Singing together in harmony
Surrendering to the mystery
This is the sound of voices three

This is the sound of all of us
Singing with love and the will to trust
Leave the rest behind it will turn to dust
This is the sound of all of us

This is the sound of one voice
One people, one voice
A song for every one of us
This is the sound of one voice
This is the sound of one voice


(from the album "40 Days")

7 comments:

  1. My world is better having had you in it. Thank you for allowing so many people to know you and for touching so many of us so deeply. I feel so lucky to have met you and fortunate that you took the time to talk to me in a way that other people usually don't - down to the SOUL. I will never, ever forget you.

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  2. I can't say it better than Jen has above. I agree with every word.

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  3. Godspeed Eric! You were an amazing help when I was trying to figure out how best to feed my son when he needed a feeding tube. My son died just a few weeks ago , he had so much in common with you, including his love of music, so we are doing a concert for his memorial service- the best way we know to honor him and share his 'religion' as it were. Reading this is just perfect!

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  4. Beautiful words. Thank you for your humor, your courage, your witness to life.

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  5. oh eric. i really miss you. (((love to you, wherever it is you are)))

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  6. I don't have words to explain what just happened. I found someone whose texts sound to me like myself thinking. and I can't speak to him and tell him i believe in the same things....

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  7. I miss you too. It's wonderful to have this blog to come back to. With thanks for your existence

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