“Though lovers be lost love shall not;
And death shall have no dominion.” ~ Dylan Thomas.

Like most children raised in a Christian home, my encounters with death included the reassurance of heaven and an afterlife.  Three of my four grandparents had died either before or soon after I was born, so I grew up only knowing my paternal grandmother.  The others were up there somewhere, beyond the clouds, able to see everything that was going on down below.  Which was a little spooky.  I have never liked the idea of the popular ‘elf on a shelf’ at Christmastime, which seems to me like the embodiment of a stalker spy, more like a snitch on a shelf!  But that was also how I saw my dead ancestors. 

Having developed my own theory of the afterlife (not original, but influenced by a wide variety of spiritual thinkers and authors), I was a little disconcerted a few years ago, when a pastor at a funeral I attended reminded us that the ‘dead are dead!’.  According to this preacher’s teaching, the dead remain dead (‘in the ground!’), subject to the normal laws of nature, until the day of the rapture, when only those who died in Christ will be taken up to heaven.  Which was certainly not as comforting as the thought of those recently departed being immediately transported to a heavenly mansion, being reunited with the rest of those who had already ‘crossed over’. 

The theory that I have long preferred is the one from physics (more particularly, Albert Einstein) which states that energy is neither created nor destroyed, which makes far more sense to me.  That although at some point in the distant future (even though the number of years ahead of me are far less than those behind, I’m hoping it is far distant!), this physical form that enjoys to dance, that loves nature, that laughs and loves and eats and drinks will no longer be posting on Facebook, there will be some essence of my energy that will continue. 

This concept is only marginally comforting to those who grieve, and experience the pain that comes with loss, especially when that loss is sudden, or unexpected.  The current war in Iran and the middle East has had me thinking about the loss that comes with conflict.  Who pays the price?  Who has to cope with the hole left when bombs and missiles rain down?  How do you rebuild in rubble, recreate when all your worldly possessions have been crushed into rubble?

So how do we live in this mad world, a world in which bombs may rain down, earthquakes may shake us out of our beds, sudden death, illness, accidents can change the whole trajectory of our lives?  I recently read a novel set in Haiti after the 2010 earthquake where an estimated 300,000 people died, one million were left homeless, and only 100 people were pulled alive from the wreckage in the immediate aftermath.  How do you recover from that?

The answer has to be to appreciate life while we are alive.  Last weekend I attended a concert that was the brainchild of the drummer of Third World band (Willie Stewart).  Of the six original members, I believe he is one of only two members who are still alive, despite the fact that none of those who died made it to 75.  The largest part of the concert was comprised of a group of perhaps 20 high school students who drummed their hearts out, demonstrating skill, heart, and passion, even though some of them had never picked up a musical instrument before.  With Stewart’s guidance (and no more than thirty rehearsal sessions), the group presented as true professionals on the stage, poised, attentive, and engaged.  After their performance they supported all of the other well-known artistes and musicians on the stage, sometimes moving and clapping in rhythm, sometimes waving colored swimming pool noodles (at least that’s what they looked like!), or just dancing in their seats in a coordinated wave. 

The theme of the concert was ‘Rhythms of Africa’, and woven through each of the performers’ routines were the stories of the music which traveled from Africa, through the Caribbean and South America, to the United States.  I recently read that Nina Simone strongly objected to her genre of music being named ‘Jazz’ (which was, she said, a demeaning and limiting term for ‘black’ music) and preferred the term ‘Black Classical music’.  There is much to be admired in all of the variety of music that has evolved from its origins in Africa, and there is wonder in the way it survived the brutality of the middle passage and enslavement to emerge, survive, and thrive through the descendants and the ages.

But the drums, the percussion session, are the heart of that music.  Literally! You can hear the ‘lub-dub’ rhythm, you can feel it in your chest, you can feel the mood of the beat that it sets, even when you don’t hear the lyrics.  I have had discussions with friends over the years, as to whether it is the lyrics (the story) or the sound that makes a song meaningful.  For myself, it has always been the beat, the sound, the thrumming of the bass guitar that gets me rocking, even before I have made out the first line or lyric.  And so it was with the concert.  Those drums spoke to us for the first twenty minutes or so, no melody, no harmony, just rhythm and passion and heart. 

In the midst of this wildly unpredictable life, where death stalks each of us, we must live.  We have to come to terms with that fact of life, that unpleasant reality that none of us will escape this life alive.  We also must have tough, realistic conversations with those we love, about death, about our finances, about end-of-life care.  We need to put in writing our wishes, whether it is a Living Will (do you wish to live your last days on life support?) or who gets your treasures.  And, by the way, if you haven’t purchased some life insurance to at least pay for your going-away party, let me know, I have a friend!

On this Friday morning, in a world where men wage war, where nations ignore the reality of climate change and our contribution to it, where Mother Earth sends earthquakes and floods and hurricanes our way to remind us of her fragility, it is good to stop and give thanks for all we have.  It is necessary to love each other, despite all of our faults, and to recognize our common humanity, and whenever possible, to dance to the rhythm of life.  So that Death shall have no dominion!

Have a wonderful weekend, Family!

One Love!

Namaste.