Death

Life cannot exist without Death, and one could easily say, “The cause of death is birth”. The drive for life contains within it a fear of death, and throughout the ages we humans have struggled to make sense of this. From the Mahamrityunjaya Mantra that appears in the Rig Veda to Gautama Buddha’s being sheltered from the sight of death as a child to Krishna’s teachings in The Bhagavad Gita, the wisdom to come to terms with death is foundational to Yoga. Yet in society death is largely kept at bay through fear and taboo, especially in the West where we have conveniently segregated and sanitized death away to hospitals and institutions. No matter how well hidden it is, every one of us will indeed meet our death. When death comes knocking at your door you cannot tell it to hold on a minute while you get a few things in order: once it arrives, it is final, absolute, and what you have created with your life is done.

If you peel back the fear and taboos, you find that death can be utterly sacred and beautiful, and it helps to make friends with death to prepare. Part of that means embracing it, not as some distant potentiality over the horizon that you can deal with later but as something present right now. Through Yoga you come to understand that what dies is not all of who you are: when you are melted into infinite love through the grace of your Guru, or enter the deepest meditation and experience your immutable and eternal consciousness, or even moved to tears by the overwhelming magnificence of Nature, the matrix of everything which you are a fundamental part of, you know that you are far greater than the dimensions defined by the ego, senses and physical body. Your sadhana may bring you in touch with devas that dwell beyond this physical plane and you may become familiar with those realms. The ecstasy of chanting and puja can put you in a transcendent trance state where you understand the vast truth of who you are. And the path of living your life in service to God, in service to humanity, in service to Creation, will assure that, when death arrives, you can feel complete; you embrace it and will not suffer for what you failed to do with your life. You understand that Shakti lives on, and you do not fear merging into the great consciousness.

Let the prospect of death be your Yoga teacher. Ask yourselves, how are we living right now? Are we withholding ourselves in any way? Are we loving as fully as our hearts yearn to and have the capacity for? Are we truly giving our gifts to the world? Are we leaving anything unspoken, unrealized, unshared? If I or my beloved were to die tomorrow, would I feel complete? Are there unresolved wounds that have not been forgiven?

We have beheld those who died a truly good death, who indeed felt complete in their giving and purpose in this lifetime, who understood the beauty of the full circle of life, and who embraced entering their next adventure with grace, gratitude and surrender. Conversely, we have beheld those who died feeling incomplete, lost, and with unresolved regrets. None of us can predict how we will greet the moment, and it is for each of us to enter that transition in our own unique way, but we can prepare ourselves to meet death. We can embrace the sacredness of death, the whole circle, and welcome the teachings that it will bring us.

Ego Death

Regardless of whether you follow a Bhakti Yoga approach to melting the ego at the feet of the Lord, a Raja Yoga approach of quieting the ego through meditation, or a Tantric approach of expanding consciousness to transcend the ego, Yoga seeks to loosen the grip of your limited individual identity and bring you into full identity with Brahman, All-That-Is, Shiva-Shakti. From the point of view of the ego itself, it is not a pleasurable process: the classic accounts from disciples of gurus are replete with tortuous humiliation and testing which only later are revealed to be essential steps in the disciple’s expanded love and surrender to God. In modern times we have seen the flip side of this, reflected in stories of teachers becoming abusive to their students. But setting aside the discussion of the line between beneficial and harmful harsh teachings, we can also appreciate marriage as a perfect vehicle where your ego can be tempered and its grip on your being can be loosened and even transcended.

It is good to remember that like your mind and body, your ego is an essential part of being embodied in this world and you could not live without it. You cannot get rid of your ego any more than you can get rid of your face, and speaking of “ego death” is only metaphorical. The question is not one of getting rid of your ego but rather one of identification, of whether your ego controls your experience of life, preventing you from knowing the infinite love that you are. It is also good to remember that the very prospect of marriage means that through your love, the two of you are bringing your distinct egos into close proximity and therefore frequent conflict. There is no wrong or right ego, no defending or justifying: your ego – and your partner’s ego – will always be present. The question is, can you behold the vastness of your partner’s being, do you have the capacity to hold the enormity of love that your hearts can invoke, and to surrender your small identity to that vastness?

In our own marriage, having a near death experience brought the issue into sharp clarity and loosened the power of our egos to control us: the little skirmishes and bewildering conflicts and petty needs became minor ripples compared to the preciousness of life and the finality of death. Life may be messy, but it sure beats the alternative, and it becomes much easier to say, “Let’s just agree that you’re right” than it is to squabble over our differences. I like to say, I would rather be in love than be right.

Regard your ego differences as necessary and insignificant parts of life, like your hands which get dirty and just need to be washed again and again and not be dwelt upon. Be powerful in your use of words with respectful dialog, to not mask your feelings but to meet one another fully and then move on. What matters is your collaborative dance of love, devotion, and creative engagement with the powerful and potent space that you share.

Death of Your Partner

Most of us ignore the fine print on our figurative marriage contract, that in all likelihood one of you will die before the other, and yet it is likely to happen. It can be a wrenching and traumatic experience, even if you think you are prepared for it, and you will embark on the journey through grief, stripped of your consort and beloved companion. Like so many other juxtapositions contained in marriage, death is a paradox worth considering. How is it that entering into this rich and beautiful and life-affirming engagement necessarily invites so painful and woeful a parting? Why work so hard at building a powerful vessel for love when, surely, it will be broken apart in the end?

We have known widows and widowers who proceeded in life with holes the size of their lost partners beside them like an unwelcome guest, and they had to endure its ache day in and day out. We have also known those who have made that hole a fertile space in which something can grow, something new can emerge; the pain can evolve and ripen into something potent. We have even known some for whom the death of their partner was a transcendent experience, seeing them as luminous, beautiful, complete, even in their disembodied state.

This rupture of your vessel can be a catalyst for profound spiritual transformation. We have heard it said that when you bear the unbearable something inside yourself may die, but even then, if you can keep your heart open to God, your soul will find its own intuitive way through this journey of loss to find a space of love that is unperturbable and eternal, and that you can learn to love as God loves. By this we do not mean to preach a sanctimonious and convenient shortcut around the passage through grief but rather suggest that your partner’s death is another sacred teaching that can bring you to a deeper kind of love and wisdom.