A Mindful Bear and a Rocker

Bit of a jump from Wilko Johnson (my previous post) to Winnie the Pooh - but maybe not as big as it seems.

Hat-tip to Karen for reminding me of a couple of gems from the bear/unwitting philosopher:

"Sometimes, if you stand on the bottom rail of a bridge and lean over to watch the river slipping slowly away beneath you, you will suddenly know everything there is to be known."

"I used to believe in "forever," but "forever" is too good to be true."

"Don't underestimate the value of doing nothing, of just going along, listening to all the things you can't hear, and not bothering."

Side-stepping the whole Pooh industry and its Disneyfication, here is a mindful view of the world, I think. A mindful moment on the bridge, an acceptance of the transitory nature of all things, an emphasis on the here and now in order to avoid the tyranny of The Next Thing...this Bear has more Brain than he realises, or rather, simply more insight into the flow of life.

And Wilko, facing a life-shortening illness, tells us how precious every moment is. After he was diagnosed and given a prognosis:

"And now, suddenly, nothing mattered...and I realised: you are alive and you are existing in the moment. You're not worried about the tax return. And it's a bloody good feeling, being alive. Sometimes this feeling is almost ecstatic, and I can say that I haven't plunged into despair at all."

(from the Guardian's  interview with Wilko, published last Saturday, here: 

http://www.guardian.co.uk/music/2013/feb/02/wilko-johnson-interview?INTCMP=SRCH

I salute the bear and the rocker, with thanks for their insights. I hope that, as he watches Orion and looks for Saturn through his rooftop telescope, Wilko enters the state of being which he knows everything there is to be known. I think we all do, if we give it a chance.

(It must, however, be said that Pooh was a pretty useless guitar player, whereas Wilko's the business!)

CB's dream: funerals and mortality

Cafe mortel? (see http://www.goodfuneralguide.co.uk/2011/01/death-in-the-community-2/) Entirely brilliant idea. Branch near here, please Charles. I used to mention what I did with some hesitation, expecting a bit of a slump in the general conversation. In fact, much of the time, people want to know more about funerals and the work in general, and that will often lead into discussions about death. I think more and more people are finding a big sense of release when somehow there is a way for them to talk about their own mortality and how they feel about it.

I guess any celebrant will own up to a sense of heightened reality, "in tune with the truth," after a family meeting (if it's gone well) and especially, after a successful (define that for yourselves?) funeral. That's our great privilege and reward.

Chap who serviced the car today asked me about my work, and within five minutes I found out that he had an interesting view on the difference between spirituality and religion, with regard to how people view death. I hardly know him, but maybe I slip on a mask, in effect, which says "he can talk about death because he does funerals." Or rather, "he can listen to me ease my mind a bit."

Which brings me to my real point here. Over on Comfort Blanket,
(see http://thecomfortblanket.blogspot.com/2011/01/i-have-dream.html)
there's an entirely admirable post about disseminating and accelerating the change in our culture's attitudes to funerals. This is a big subject that has been knocked around the Good Funeral Guide and its commentators a fair bit. I'll risk a few bossy points, and really I'm talking to myself (no change there, they cried) not laying down the law to one as widely trained and experienced as CB:

1. remember to talk to people about what you do, not just the bereaved and the FDs, and tell them a few salient points, such as: there's no need to rush into a funeral; you have complete freedom of choice, from no funeral at all, through horses and plumes and carriages, to a blinding three-day party; talk to more than one FD; consider the family leading it, or at least select a celebrant/minister who will help the family do what they want - etc etc, you know the stuff. Tell 'em about the GFG and other good books.
   
2. link up, on the net as we do around the GFG, and in person; strengthen and develop your own ideas.
3. talk creatively to FDs; I need to tell more of "mine" that actually I'm OK with the odd hymn, "hippy" (I quote) rituals, bespoke events, we don't have to do the usual "religion sans," as Charles calls it.
   
4. tell everyone whenever the opportunity arises (obviously, not at your nephew's christening...well, not round the font, at least) that funeral ceremonies don't have to be at a crem or a cemetery; wherever the body is to be left can but doesn't have to be the same place as the gathering where people speak of their grief, their love and their joy in having shared a life.
5. encourage people to open up to you about their fears and feelings (if you've the time and energy - ours can be draining work, and we need to take care of ourselves, we're not much use to the local bereaved if we're exhausted, flu-ridden wrecks.)
6. maybe form a local network of FDs, celebrants, whoever: people who are looking to create more meaningful ceremonies and rituals.
   

So all this is about moving forward in and around your working life. That is, I guess, ultimately an evolutionary position. I don't know of any other, really, because what happens at a funeral seems to me to be the tip of an iceberg: which is, our attitude towards human mortality. That is, I think, changing, but I don't see how we can change it deliberately and quickly, we just have to be part of the change, enabling it where we can. The bees in my bonce are beginning to buzz, so I'll totter off now, with this thought - so much of what we see as wrong with our society seems to me to stem from our refusal to live with any genuine understanding of our own mortality. That includes funerals, of course.

A Chilling View of Ageing and Mortality?

Bit of a challenge for you

What do we have here?

a) a fear of ageing and death powerfully but unpleasantly expressed? (i.e. it's the "screaming" he writes of, before he himself reaches that stage - which he never did, he died at 63.)
b) a brave look at truths most of us would avoid?
c) an acceptance of our common human mortality ("well, we shall find out") which he forces on us by the power of his craft?
e) a celebration of life, the "million-petalled flower of being here, " an image that itself suddenly and unexpectedly blossoms in the middle of an otherwise bleak poem - the contrast being the point?
f) a retreat from the sort of maturity and acceptance that would have enabled him to deal with his own mortality, i.e. in a way perhaps it's an emotionally immature viewpoint (not necessarily "his," of course.)
g) nihilistic snivelling?
h) all or none of the above?

Probably not a good choice for a funeral.....

Any reactions to the poem, and musings on ageing and mortality, very welcome, as always.

The Old Fools, by Philip Larkin

 What do they think has happened, the old fools,
To make them like this? Do they somehow suppose
It's more grown-up when your mouth hangs open and drools,
And you keep on pissing yourself, and can't remember
Who called this morning? Or that, if they only chose,
They could alter things back to when they danced all night,
Or went to their wedding, or sloped arms some September?
Or do they fancy there's really been no change,
And they've always behaved as if they were crippled or tight,
Or sat through days of thin continuous dreaming
Watching the light move? If they don't (and they can't), it's strange;
                       Why aren't they screaming?

At death you break up: the bits that were you
Start speeding away from each other for ever
With no one to see. It's only oblivion, true:
We had it before, but then it was going to end,
And was all the time merging with a unique endeavour
To bring to bloom the million-petalled flower
Of being here. Next time you can't pretend
There'll be anything else. And these are the first signs:
Not knowing how, not hearing who, the power
Of choosing gone. Their looks show that they're for it:
Ash hair, toad hands, prune face dried into lines -
                       How can they ignore it?

Perhaps being old is having lighted rooms
Inside your head, and people in them, acting
People you know, yet can't quite name; each looms
Like a deep loss restored, from known doors turning,
Setting down a lamp, smiling from a stair, extracting
A known book from the shelves; or sometimes only
The rooms themselves, chairs and a fire burning,
The blown bush at the window, or the sun's
Faint friendliness on the wall some lonely
Rain-ceased midsummer evening. That is where they live:
Not here and now, but where all happened once.
                       This is why they give

An air of baffled absence, trying to be there
Yet being here. For the rooms grow farther, leaving
Incompetent cold, the constant wear and tear
Of taken breath, and them crouching below
Extinction's alp, the old fools, never perceiving
How near it is. This must be what keeps them quiet:
The peak that stays in view wherever we go
For them is rising ground. Can they never tell
What is dragging them back, and how it will end? Not at night?
Not when the strangers come? Never, throughout
The whole hideous inverted childhood? Well,
                       We shall find out.

Crude Typologies of Mortality Awareness

In the near future, I may get a bit mystical on you, but not quite yet. For now, let's see if this crude typology of responses to our human mortality rings at all true for you:

1. I ignore my death, just shut it down and shout it out, live life to the full, don't look into the future too much if at all, live for yourself, get what you can.If I party a lot and drink too much, so what? Life's short in any case. Sex is great, who cares about relationships in the longer term? I live for my own sensual pleasure. Meet the Witless Hedonist, or WH.

2. I'm not a WH, but I do believe in living for the moment as far as possible, I don't want to think about my death, but I will act responsibly towards others whilst seeking a good time, however that's defined - it might be sailing round the world, listening to and playing music or keeping pigeons, doesn't matter as long as it's relatively harmless to others and I enjoy it. When your time's up, it's up - don't want to dwell on the idea. I'm the Thoughtful Hedonist, TH.

3. I'm not a hedonist. I think we are here to help others, be part of the great human venture, make the world a better place. I fulfill myself by working for the general good. My ambition is that when I die, the world will be a better place than if I had never lived. That'll do for me. I'll face death with that consolation in my grasp. I'm the Servant of the People, SP. (or of the Planet, if I'm as much an environmentalist as a humanitarian. After all, there are too many of us!)

4. I'm a believer in and follower of an established religion. I believe in a literal afterlife, none of your quasi-religious, ultra liberal, in my doubt is my faith-type nonsense for me. I Know That My Redeemer Liveth, I'll see Him after death, and I'll meet up with those of my family and friends who have lived well enough to pass the celestial 11+ run by St Peter's Joint Exam Board. Why should I fear death? (Though I hope it doesn't hurt too much.) I am the True Believer (TB)

5. I'm a reasonably careful and responsible citizen, not a WH, I hate the idea of death because it's a parting with all I love and care about, I dread the pain it will cause to those who are close to me, and I spend a lot of psychnic energy shutting death out of my mind. Mortality is just a polite name for death. I'm Running Scared. (RS)

Any good? No doubt there's lots more, and lots of subdivisions, but these are the ones I most frequently encounter.