As received
========
Ya ‘Ali Madad
Death in a family is not bearable, especially when a young person leaves us. I hope the following will give you some solace as nothing can replace lose of a family member. I know it is easy to console and be on the other side. But I hope this helps.
There was a young Ismaili lady, 23 years old with two children, in Paris and this was in 1972. She was a Mukhinmaa for L** Majlis and was getting ready for the Majlis with her mother. And right in front of her mother she ‘dropped dead’ for no apparent cause. This was devastating for the mother and so once the mother met Hazar Imam in Paris and she told Him that she had lost her daughter and Imam asked the mother what was her daughter’s name and mother gave the name and the Imam responded that He was aware of that as the Council had noted her daughter’s demise as Mukhiani in their report and that He had conveyed His Blessings for her soul then and was conveying it again. The mother showed sadness and the Imam asked why was she sad and she responded that her daughter was too young and Imam responded that He was young when He lost His Grandfather and then His father and such was life; that in some cases young go, leaving the old back and in some cases the old go, leaving the young back. Out of blue she started to cry and Imam held her and asked why was she crying and she responded with what I believe you all may be going through too. She said that the thought that she will never see her again was a torment to her and Hazar Imam asked her if that was her problem and she responded that she could not sleep at night when this thought rang in her mind. The Imam asked her if she had Faith in Him and she responded in the affirmative.
Now before I proceed, let me recall a Farman of 2005 in Uganda where Hazar Imam reminded the Jamat that those who were not here exits as souls in the other world and that He was conveying His Blessings to them in the Jamat’s presence. In Russia visit, the Imam reminded the Russian Jamat there that even though their parents and grandparents had never seen the Imam physically, the fact that they had pledged physical Bayat to the Imam of their Time once, the link between these souls and the Imam does not break and that in the other world it will become evident for them of their allegiance to the Imam. You may find this in Bayat Farmans, read during a Bayat ceremony, in which the Imam says now that the child has given Bayat, the Imam will hold its hand here and in the hereafter and Imam Sultan Muhammed Shah, alyhis-Salaam, was forceful about it and He used to say that; “you will be sitting much closer to me there than you are sitting now here before me for you have pledged Bayat to Me and I will hold your hand here and in the hereafter”.
Another anecdote before I return to the first one, There was a MukhiSaheb of Baitul Khayal in Kitchener, in 1976, who passed away for a few minutes and then came back and had to be brought to Toronto for a bypass. As he was recuperating in a hospital in Bayview, a friend of mine who is a doctor and a missionary was doing his rounds in this hospital. The Mukhi recognized the doctor as an alwaez and called him over and told him that he has passed out for a few minutes the other day. The doctor replied that was true and the hospital staff had to revive him and were successful. To which the Mukhi said that he was not interested in that but wanted to narrate what had happen to him as he passed out. The Mukhi said that as soon as he left his body, Hazar Imam was waiting for him and held him and took him to a place he could not describe but said it was out of this world. Hazar Imam then asked if he wanted to stay in this beautiful place and the Mukhi replied in the affirmative. Hazar Imam asked him again the Mukhi replied that he wanted to stay. Hazar Imam asked him the third time and he said yes to which Hazar Imam reminded him that he had a daughter of 10 years on the earth and that she would need him. Hazar Imam told him to go back, educate his daughter so that she stands on her own two feet and that the Imam would call him thereafter and offer him the same place or higher. The Al-waez was happy to hear the anecdote and asked if he could narrate it in his waezes to which the Mukhi said OK.
Some 17 years thereafter, the Mukhi came to Toronto from Kitchener and went to see the Al-waez (Doctor), who now had his own practice in Toronto. The Doctor’s secretary informed the Doctor that someone from Kitchener had come to see him and want only 2 minutes of his time and that he was not sick but wanted to convey to him a very short message. The Doctor told the secretary to allow the Mukhi in and so the Mukhi went in and reminded the doctor of the incident some 17 years back and then told him that he was that Mukhi. The Doctor was happy to see him again. The Mukhi informed the Doctor that he had educated his daughter and that she was now a doctor and was on her own two feet. Well, the Doctor thought maybe the Mukhi just came to inform him that the Mukhi had fulfilled what the Imam had told him to do. So the Doctor gave the Mukhi mubaraki for fulfilling the Farman of the Imam. The Mukhi responded by saying that he had not come all the way from Kitchener just to inform him that he had educated his daughter. The Mukhi said that he come specifically to see the Doctor again to inform him that in 3 days time the Mukhi would be returning back to the place the Imam had promised him earlier. The Doctor was stunned and surely 3 days thereafter the Doctor heard an announcement that an Ismaili in Kitchener had passed away and that was the Mukhi. The point to remember is that souls when the leave this world, go to a far, far, far better place to the extent that they forget the ones that they have left behind. The physical relationship does not exist BUT, all souls come back everyday to Jamat Khana, they used to attend, in morning and the evening, to complete their Bandagi. They see their relatives but will not try and make contact as their live in the spiritual world and see us as their siblings with the Imam as our Mother and Father both. If a soul in the physical world has advanced spiritually, they can communicate with these deceased souls that come to Jamat Khana. As for souls coming back to Jamat Khana, well you find this in the Ginans. Having said that, your deceased relatives will intervene with the Imam for you, if you are going through problems. So come to Jamat Khana everyday for these souls become happy to see you!
Another short one; A close friend of mine had a heart attack and was gone for a while. He has advanced in Bandagi and he to told me that he had to come back as he had to complete one task, which he didn’t want reveal, but he told me; “All your friends, relatives and those Ismailis you knew were there but there was no ‘thought’ of the physical relations you had with them but only that you would see them as your spiritual siblings”. Just about when he was to ‘come down’ the guardians of his soul allowed him to witness Imam giving Didar to all these souls and he had the Didar too!
So coming back to the young girl in Paris, Hazar Imam told the mother and I am paraphrasing; “Well then, I promise you that when you leave this world and come to the other world the first soul that will welcome you to the other world will be that of your daughter.” The mother was so relieved and was happy. The Imam let her taken in the good news and then held her and told; “But remember, when you will see her, you yourself will know that she is your daughter no more but that you both are my spiritual daughters!”
Note that HAZAR Imam said, ‘...when you come…’ and not …whe you go…’ for He will be there and you will see Him!
I narrate these anecdotes when ever there is a death in a family and one day I had gone to Kabarstan as a friend wanted me to recite Fateha on his father’s grave. Whilst I was there I saw a lady with her grown up son pouring water on a grave, which I later learned was of her another son. Anyway, I went and started narrating the Paris anecdote and the lady just kept smiling and I was curious as why was she smiling and so I asked her. She said that I was narrating the story of her sister’s daughter! I had heard the story in a waez by Al-waeza Gulshan Allidina. The lady then told me her own story of her husband passing away for a while. When he was there he was told to go back to the earth, in his physical form, but he would fight back as he didn’t ant to come back. His physical mother, who too had passed away and was with him in the spiritual world, told him to go back as his wife needed him. And so he agreed to come back. Mind you we don’t have a choice there! But the point is that we do see our relatives again, Insha Allah, but as our siblings with Mawla as our Father (Shah) and Mother (Pir)!
I trust this helps and gives you solace. There must be a reason for what is happening. My sincere prayers for the rest of the deceased soul(s) in Eternal Peace. Amen!
As for the deceased souls they come to Jamat Khanas they used to go to, to complete their Ibadat. They come to Jamat Khana in full force on the day of the Ziarat. We all know that the Imam is always present in Jamat Khana and we also have been told that the Ruhanis are constantly in the presence of the Imam and there is a Farman of Imam Sultan Muhammad Shah explaining about and it may be recited in Jamat Khana on Saturday. So it only makes sense that the Ruhanis also come with Imam. And the Pirs have confirmed this in the Ginans. Granted if a soul has already come back in the world then of course it is a different case. The Ruhanis will not make contact with their family in Jamat Khana as there is a difference between the Zahir and the Batini and it would very difficult for to communicate with them. But if a family member has problems or is in difficulty, the Ruhani will beseech the Imam to relieve the mushkil faced by a living family member. That you can be assured of and Imam Sultan Muhammah Shah and Hazar Imam both have confirmed it in meeting with the families of the deceased in Mehmanis.
With Sincere prayers for the Deceased Souls. Ameen
Ya ‘Ali Madad
--
Best Wishes for Spiritual Enlightenment
Funeral Traditions and Ceremonies
You Are What You Burn
HONG KONG — When archaeologists started to open up ancient Chinese tombs in the 1930s, they were puzzled to discover items of clay, stone and bone in the shape of gold ingots. Logic suggested that these represented small denominations and were used by the poor — until the same items were found in tombs of the rich. At that point, scientists surmised that the modest replicas were buried along with the dead in the hope that they would count as real gold in the afterlife.
Perhaps the most extravagant example of decking out the dead lies in modern day Xian, where the Chinese emperor Qin Shihuangdi, who died in 210 B.C., had himself buried with an entire terracotta army: full-size clay replicas of several thousand human beings, more than 100 chariots and 600 horses. Some 2,200 years later, a version of this practice is still going strong. Vault-loads of spirit money are burned throughout China and in Chinese neighborhoods worldwide, at funerals, on the birthdays of the dead and during the grave-sweeping holidays.
The selection of burnable funeral goods is especially vast in Hong Kong. In Sheung Wan, a neighborhood just minutes from the Central business district, one of the world’s biggest financial centers, a strip of specialized mini-supermarkets for the departed runs along a winding road, with purveyors selling traditional medicine, dried scallops and birds’ nests. Hanging from the stores’ awnings or standing on the sidewalk, there are watches, phones, laptops, suits, plane tickets, credit cards, McDonald’s Happy Meals, massage chairs, cars, houses, pet dogs, human servants — all of paper and cardboard. Burnable Apple Watches were for sale here months before the real thing.
For many centuries the stock-in-trade of these so-called joss shops (“joss” means “spirit” and is a word, originally Javanese, derived from the Latin “Deus” for God) was money to burn. Some of the special bank notes are imprinted with elaborate faux gold leaf. But then came the 1990s, said Chan Fu Ling, the manager of a store called Tin Chau Hong Worshipping Materials: “Mass production set in, and everything changed.” Creativity blossomed. Much of the design work was done in Hong Kong, and the manufacturing took place in mainland China. A huge palette of trendy consumer goods appeared, many branded: iPads, Louis Vuitton handbags, BMWs, Hennessy X.O. brandy.
Finding itself entirely unregulated (the shops are not beholden to any religious organizations), parts of the industry veered into shockingly bad taste. A few years ago, mainland factories were churning out paper Viagra tablets, paper condoms and paper bar-girls. Some joss shops tried to steal a march on the competition by making cardboard models of the female winners of Chinese musical TV talent shows, so that ancestors could swan around paradise with celebrity partners on their wrinkled arms.
It isn’t always about crass materialism and good times. Some vendors have recently tucked their casinos, horse-racing stadiums, skyscrapers and other outrageously indulgent items at the back of their stores. This year, being fit is in. Forget paper Viagra; think paper vegan. Squash rackets, soccer balls and bicycles are featured prominently, and alongside Apple Watches, so that while exercising, users can monitor their heartbeats (holding steady at zero). Mr. Chan, the shopkeeper, is particularly proud of his paper macaroons, a fashionable and light dessert option he and his team designed to follow the paper zucchini with shredded greens and sliced taro.
Wait. What’s the sense of putting someone who is already dead on a health kick? Is that a bit of schadenfreude? Or is the message that it really is never too late to get in shape? These questions go unasked, since no one expects these rituals to have a coherent theology behind them. “Most people carry out these practices out of custom and without much reflection,” said John Teng, a banker who works not far from some joss shops.
A month ago, Irene Sun, a tall Hong Kong woman of about 40, was browsing the goods at Mr. Chan’s shop. Although she is raising her four children as Christians, she was preparing with her older family members for a grave-sweeping ceremony to be held on April 5. They planned on burning mostly bank notes folded to look like gold ingots and paper shoes. That afternoon, looking around at the shop’s vast inventory, she said, smiling, “How would grandfather even know how to work an Apple Watch?”
Nury Vittachi is a columnist and author based in Hong Kong.
http://www.nytimes.com/2015/04/28/opini ... d=45305309
HONG KONG — When archaeologists started to open up ancient Chinese tombs in the 1930s, they were puzzled to discover items of clay, stone and bone in the shape of gold ingots. Logic suggested that these represented small denominations and were used by the poor — until the same items were found in tombs of the rich. At that point, scientists surmised that the modest replicas were buried along with the dead in the hope that they would count as real gold in the afterlife.
Perhaps the most extravagant example of decking out the dead lies in modern day Xian, where the Chinese emperor Qin Shihuangdi, who died in 210 B.C., had himself buried with an entire terracotta army: full-size clay replicas of several thousand human beings, more than 100 chariots and 600 horses. Some 2,200 years later, a version of this practice is still going strong. Vault-loads of spirit money are burned throughout China and in Chinese neighborhoods worldwide, at funerals, on the birthdays of the dead and during the grave-sweeping holidays.
The selection of burnable funeral goods is especially vast in Hong Kong. In Sheung Wan, a neighborhood just minutes from the Central business district, one of the world’s biggest financial centers, a strip of specialized mini-supermarkets for the departed runs along a winding road, with purveyors selling traditional medicine, dried scallops and birds’ nests. Hanging from the stores’ awnings or standing on the sidewalk, there are watches, phones, laptops, suits, plane tickets, credit cards, McDonald’s Happy Meals, massage chairs, cars, houses, pet dogs, human servants — all of paper and cardboard. Burnable Apple Watches were for sale here months before the real thing.
For many centuries the stock-in-trade of these so-called joss shops (“joss” means “spirit” and is a word, originally Javanese, derived from the Latin “Deus” for God) was money to burn. Some of the special bank notes are imprinted with elaborate faux gold leaf. But then came the 1990s, said Chan Fu Ling, the manager of a store called Tin Chau Hong Worshipping Materials: “Mass production set in, and everything changed.” Creativity blossomed. Much of the design work was done in Hong Kong, and the manufacturing took place in mainland China. A huge palette of trendy consumer goods appeared, many branded: iPads, Louis Vuitton handbags, BMWs, Hennessy X.O. brandy.
Finding itself entirely unregulated (the shops are not beholden to any religious organizations), parts of the industry veered into shockingly bad taste. A few years ago, mainland factories were churning out paper Viagra tablets, paper condoms and paper bar-girls. Some joss shops tried to steal a march on the competition by making cardboard models of the female winners of Chinese musical TV talent shows, so that ancestors could swan around paradise with celebrity partners on their wrinkled arms.
It isn’t always about crass materialism and good times. Some vendors have recently tucked their casinos, horse-racing stadiums, skyscrapers and other outrageously indulgent items at the back of their stores. This year, being fit is in. Forget paper Viagra; think paper vegan. Squash rackets, soccer balls and bicycles are featured prominently, and alongside Apple Watches, so that while exercising, users can monitor their heartbeats (holding steady at zero). Mr. Chan, the shopkeeper, is particularly proud of his paper macaroons, a fashionable and light dessert option he and his team designed to follow the paper zucchini with shredded greens and sliced taro.
Wait. What’s the sense of putting someone who is already dead on a health kick? Is that a bit of schadenfreude? Or is the message that it really is never too late to get in shape? These questions go unasked, since no one expects these rituals to have a coherent theology behind them. “Most people carry out these practices out of custom and without much reflection,” said John Teng, a banker who works not far from some joss shops.
A month ago, Irene Sun, a tall Hong Kong woman of about 40, was browsing the goods at Mr. Chan’s shop. Although she is raising her four children as Christians, she was preparing with her older family members for a grave-sweeping ceremony to be held on April 5. They planned on burning mostly bank notes folded to look like gold ingots and paper shoes. That afternoon, looking around at the shop’s vast inventory, she said, smiling, “How would grandfather even know how to work an Apple Watch?”
Nury Vittachi is a columnist and author based in Hong Kong.
http://www.nytimes.com/2015/04/28/opini ... d=45305309
I wondering if the situation would not be similar to someone dying in an airplane crush or drowned in the sea. The body is not recoverable in either cases.Admin wrote:What happens with Funeral ceremony when a person gives his body to science?
We had a case in last week. The Jamat did Samar and Tasbihs during Mijlas where she was member but the Jamat and the leadership were at lost on how to act following this first such event in our Jamat.
Islam permits body donation or body parts to science. Situation is different from absence of body. I asked a scholar and got immediate clarification.kmaherali wrote:I wondering if the situation would not be similar to someone dying in an airplane crush or drowned in the sea. The body is not recoverable in either cases.Admin wrote:What happens with Funeral ceremony when a person gives his body to science?
We had a case in last week. The Jamat did Samar and Tasbihs during Mijlas where she was member but the Jamat and the leadership were at lost on how to act following this first such event in our Jamat.
His opinion was to perform Janaza Namaaz, have agreement so body is not abused and proper burial of remains after purpose is served.
Why speculate ask Imam or learned representative. Definitive directive will help other like minded families.
Salaam
So what about cremation?zznoor wrote:Islam permits body donation or body parts to science. Situation is different from absence of body. I asked a scholar and got immediate clarification.kmaherali wrote:I wondering if the situation would not be similar to someone dying in an airplane crush or drowned in the sea. The body is not recoverable in either cases.Admin wrote:What happens with Funeral ceremony when a person gives his body to science?
We had a case in last week. The Jamat did Samar and Tasbihs during Mijlas where she was member but the Jamat and the leadership were at lost on how to act following this first such event in our Jamat.
His opinion was to perform Janaza Namaaz, have agreement so body is not abused and proper burial of remains after purpose is served.
Why speculate ask Imam or learned representative. Definitive directive will help other like minded families.
Salaam
Careful how you answer this.
Shams
zznoor wrote:It is not clear for what purpose the donation is made, is it for short term or long term. The whole body could be used for scientific purpose.kmaherali wrote:Why speculate ask Imam or learned representative. Definitive directive will help other like minded families.
Salaam
Of course if the remains are available within a short time frame, then they must be treated with respect and buried accordingly.
See Death as a Triumph, Not a Failure
EIGHT years ago, my sister-in-law suddenly died. Soon after, I began research on a book about attitudes toward death in the Victorian period. The more I learned about the practices of the past, the more I regretted not having known about them earlier, when my bereavement began. I found psychological — and even philosophical — reasons to prefer the Victorian celebration of death.
What I saw in the archives at first struck me as gruesome. Bits of bodies of 19th-century Romantic poets sit in boxes and envelopes in major research libraries. Of Percy Bysshe Shelley’s corpse we find supposed pieces of his skull (Pforzheimer Collection, New York Public Library); a fragment of his jaw (Keats-Shelley House, Rome); and some of his cremation ashes (bound into the lining of a manuscript cover in the British Library).
And then the hair from so many heads! Dozens of locks of Brontë family hair are secreted in various museums and libraries. I once spent a lugubrious afternoon poring over Victorian-era death masks at the National Portrait Gallery in London. In other collections, I gazed at post-mortem photographs. I remember feeling very faint over a tintype of the corpse of a young man whose relatives couldn’t get him to a photographer until about a week after his death.
Yet I began to experience a change of heart. I came upon a brooch with two interleaved curls of hair from different heads with the inscription: “Sir Marc Isambard Brunel, Died Decr 1849. Aged 80. Sophia Brunel, Died Jany 1855, Aged 79.” Often a curl shone there alone with no identification, now an anonymous fragment of mortality. Penciled on the white border of a photograph of a little boy’s straw hat is this explanation: Because no photo was taken of him before he was buried, his hat would serve as a physical memorial instead. A paper band attached to the brim of the hat reads: “In affectionate remembrance Richard Nicholls Milliken Born Feb 11 1857 Died Dec 23 1861.”
What I came to realize was that the Victorians cared about the mortal body; its very mortality mattered profoundly to them. Today we try to deny the body’s movement toward death, its inevitable decay. The Victorians, instead of fearing the process of dying and the corpse, felt reverence. These were stages in the life of a beloved body and should be treasured.
Indeed, the image of the corpse was worthy of fixing with the art of the death mask, painting or photography. A snippet of hair was often turned into jewelry. What was beautiful — and tragic, but more lovely for all that — was the body’s ephemerality, its being always on the way to disappearing. The Victorians recognized that death’s presence was woven into the texture of life, giving that life one of its essential meanings.
Religion, of course, played a role in this attitude. Evangelical revivals early in the 19th century reinvigorated the tradition of the good death, in which God called believers to him. Even the sinful might be saved in the end, and this salvation could be seen in the face of the dying and heard in their words. Dying was something to be watched — a triumph even.
References to the peaceful or rapturous countenances of the dying can be found everywhere in Victorian letters and literature. When the young daughter of Josephine Butler, a feminist social reformer, was dying after a terrible fall, Butler saw in her daughter’s eyes “some glory approaching, and her face bore the reflection of that which she saw ... It was as if she said, ‘Now I see God.’ ” Charles Dickens illuminated the faces of those dying characters he deemed holy, such as Paul Dombey, who exclaims, “The light about the head is shining on me as I go!”
Ghosts were the other side of the Victorians’ preoccupation with death. Spiritualists who communicated with the dead during séances flourished, and mediums “materialized” spirits that moved about and could be touched. Queen Victoria herself conducted such rites to speak to her husband, Prince Albert, after his untimely death. Some believed the wispy forms of the dead could be caught by the new technology of photography.
Even doubters cherished personal relics. After the death of his first wife, Emma, Thomas Hardy, an atheist, discovered a lock of her hair. He marveled in a poem that, while the rest of her was in the grave, this “one curl, untouched of time, / Beams with live brown as in its prime.” He fantasized that he could, even now, “Restore it to the living brow.”
By the beginning of the 20th century, however, these views of the dead body began to change. Doctors and scientists acquired a deeper understanding of bacteria and disease; death became medicalized. God hadn’t called the individual to him; rather, a malady had overtaken the body. Rather than dying at home, the sick were carted off to hospitals.
In addition, fewer people believed in the afterlife. No longer a triumph, death became a failure — of the physician’s skill, of the patient’s will. It was to be avoided at all costs. The mass death of the Great War, which left so many bodies missing, exploded or rotting on the ground, further undermined the view of the corpse as a meaningful stage of life. Cremation grew in popularity as a way to “cleanse” with fire the last shameful disintegration.
What we have lost is not only a savoring of ephemerality, but also an appreciation of the way that time marks the body. We try too hard to keep the terminally ill alive because we can’t admit to finality. This has begun to change with the rise of the hospice movement and the work of a handful of artists, like Ishiuchi Miyako and Sophie Calle, who are interested in documenting the dying of loved ones.
Even so, the philosopher Walter Benjamin’s lament in the 1930s about death still rings true. By avoiding the sight of the dying, he felt, one misses the moment when the meaning of a life is completed and illuminated in its ending. The denial of death then leads to the demise of the art of storytelling. He called his contemporaries “dry dwellers of eternity” because they “live in rooms that have never been touched by death.”
I wished I had saved a lock of my sister-in-law’s long black hair. Not just because I loved her, but also because I am selfish. Will someone feel the same about me? Isn’t that what we all want: to be remembered? And not just as a disembodied soul, but as a breathing being who once walked the earth?
http://www.nytimes.com/2015/05/10/opini ... pe=article
EIGHT years ago, my sister-in-law suddenly died. Soon after, I began research on a book about attitudes toward death in the Victorian period. The more I learned about the practices of the past, the more I regretted not having known about them earlier, when my bereavement began. I found psychological — and even philosophical — reasons to prefer the Victorian celebration of death.
What I saw in the archives at first struck me as gruesome. Bits of bodies of 19th-century Romantic poets sit in boxes and envelopes in major research libraries. Of Percy Bysshe Shelley’s corpse we find supposed pieces of his skull (Pforzheimer Collection, New York Public Library); a fragment of his jaw (Keats-Shelley House, Rome); and some of his cremation ashes (bound into the lining of a manuscript cover in the British Library).
And then the hair from so many heads! Dozens of locks of Brontë family hair are secreted in various museums and libraries. I once spent a lugubrious afternoon poring over Victorian-era death masks at the National Portrait Gallery in London. In other collections, I gazed at post-mortem photographs. I remember feeling very faint over a tintype of the corpse of a young man whose relatives couldn’t get him to a photographer until about a week after his death.
Yet I began to experience a change of heart. I came upon a brooch with two interleaved curls of hair from different heads with the inscription: “Sir Marc Isambard Brunel, Died Decr 1849. Aged 80. Sophia Brunel, Died Jany 1855, Aged 79.” Often a curl shone there alone with no identification, now an anonymous fragment of mortality. Penciled on the white border of a photograph of a little boy’s straw hat is this explanation: Because no photo was taken of him before he was buried, his hat would serve as a physical memorial instead. A paper band attached to the brim of the hat reads: “In affectionate remembrance Richard Nicholls Milliken Born Feb 11 1857 Died Dec 23 1861.”
What I came to realize was that the Victorians cared about the mortal body; its very mortality mattered profoundly to them. Today we try to deny the body’s movement toward death, its inevitable decay. The Victorians, instead of fearing the process of dying and the corpse, felt reverence. These were stages in the life of a beloved body and should be treasured.
Indeed, the image of the corpse was worthy of fixing with the art of the death mask, painting or photography. A snippet of hair was often turned into jewelry. What was beautiful — and tragic, but more lovely for all that — was the body’s ephemerality, its being always on the way to disappearing. The Victorians recognized that death’s presence was woven into the texture of life, giving that life one of its essential meanings.
Religion, of course, played a role in this attitude. Evangelical revivals early in the 19th century reinvigorated the tradition of the good death, in which God called believers to him. Even the sinful might be saved in the end, and this salvation could be seen in the face of the dying and heard in their words. Dying was something to be watched — a triumph even.
References to the peaceful or rapturous countenances of the dying can be found everywhere in Victorian letters and literature. When the young daughter of Josephine Butler, a feminist social reformer, was dying after a terrible fall, Butler saw in her daughter’s eyes “some glory approaching, and her face bore the reflection of that which she saw ... It was as if she said, ‘Now I see God.’ ” Charles Dickens illuminated the faces of those dying characters he deemed holy, such as Paul Dombey, who exclaims, “The light about the head is shining on me as I go!”
Ghosts were the other side of the Victorians’ preoccupation with death. Spiritualists who communicated with the dead during séances flourished, and mediums “materialized” spirits that moved about and could be touched. Queen Victoria herself conducted such rites to speak to her husband, Prince Albert, after his untimely death. Some believed the wispy forms of the dead could be caught by the new technology of photography.
Even doubters cherished personal relics. After the death of his first wife, Emma, Thomas Hardy, an atheist, discovered a lock of her hair. He marveled in a poem that, while the rest of her was in the grave, this “one curl, untouched of time, / Beams with live brown as in its prime.” He fantasized that he could, even now, “Restore it to the living brow.”
By the beginning of the 20th century, however, these views of the dead body began to change. Doctors and scientists acquired a deeper understanding of bacteria and disease; death became medicalized. God hadn’t called the individual to him; rather, a malady had overtaken the body. Rather than dying at home, the sick were carted off to hospitals.
In addition, fewer people believed in the afterlife. No longer a triumph, death became a failure — of the physician’s skill, of the patient’s will. It was to be avoided at all costs. The mass death of the Great War, which left so many bodies missing, exploded or rotting on the ground, further undermined the view of the corpse as a meaningful stage of life. Cremation grew in popularity as a way to “cleanse” with fire the last shameful disintegration.
What we have lost is not only a savoring of ephemerality, but also an appreciation of the way that time marks the body. We try too hard to keep the terminally ill alive because we can’t admit to finality. This has begun to change with the rise of the hospice movement and the work of a handful of artists, like Ishiuchi Miyako and Sophie Calle, who are interested in documenting the dying of loved ones.
Even so, the philosopher Walter Benjamin’s lament in the 1930s about death still rings true. By avoiding the sight of the dying, he felt, one misses the moment when the meaning of a life is completed and illuminated in its ending. The denial of death then leads to the demise of the art of storytelling. He called his contemporaries “dry dwellers of eternity” because they “live in rooms that have never been touched by death.”
I wished I had saved a lock of my sister-in-law’s long black hair. Not just because I loved her, but also because I am selfish. Will someone feel the same about me? Isn’t that what we all want: to be remembered? And not just as a disembodied soul, but as a breathing being who once walked the earth?
http://www.nytimes.com/2015/05/10/opini ... pe=article
A Celebration of Death!
Rumi's favorite flute player, Hamza, happened to die. Rumi sent some dervishes with grave-clothes to prepare the body. He himself came later to the house. As he entered the room, he spoke to Hamza, "Dear friend, get up!" And immediately Hamza sat up saying, "I'm here!" He reached for his flute, and for three days and nights sweet music came from that house. When Rumi left, life went from the corpse again, and he was buried.
Source: Say I Am You RUMI
Poetry Interspersed with Stories of Rumi and Shams translated by John Moyne and Coleman Barkes
Rumi's favorite flute player, Hamza, happened to die. Rumi sent some dervishes with grave-clothes to prepare the body. He himself came later to the house. As he entered the room, he spoke to Hamza, "Dear friend, get up!" And immediately Hamza sat up saying, "I'm here!" He reached for his flute, and for three days and nights sweet music came from that house. When Rumi left, life went from the corpse again, and he was buried.
Source: Say I Am You RUMI
Poetry Interspersed with Stories of Rumi and Shams translated by John Moyne and Coleman Barkes
ATHEIST FUNERAL
Keeping faith: The changing face of religion in Canada
When the sad time came to say good-bye to her late husband, Marie Diane Dodd knew a traditional service in a church wasn't the right fit.
So she arranged a ceremony at the family's lakeside summer home outside Ottawa.
It featured John's favourite memories and music, including a guitar riff by Jimi Hendrix.
There were happy photos from summer holidays and sentimental recollections from friends and his children about a life well lived, before it was tragically cut short by liver disease brought on by Hepatitis C.
What wasn't part of the ceremony was any mention of God or religion.
Words of comfort
"I think John would have loved this because he wasn't a religious man," says Marie Diane Dodd.
"This was just the right fit for him. It was something he could feel comfortable with."
Simon Parcher, an officiant with Humanist Canada, performed the service and says in an increasingly secular world, God is being pushed aside, even in death.
"We don't tell people they'll have life after they die in heaven, but we do tell them they will continue in memories, which they will," says Parcher.
"There's no father up in the sky taking care of things for us," he adds. "We have to take care of ourselves."
The words he chose during the service were designed to bring comfort, he says, but not to suggest there's anything more beyond human existence.
Atheism's rise in Canada
"Life exists in the time period between birth and death," Parcher told those at the cottage that day.
"Life's significance lies in the experiences and satisfactions in that span of time. Its permanence lies in the memories of those who knew us."
Humanists in Ontario perform roughly 1,000 such ceremonies every year in Ontario. That's just two per cent of funeral services in the province, but the number is growing quickly, Parcher says.
Indeed, an online survey on religion released in March by the Angus Reid Institute suggests that the percentage of God-denying Canadians has doubled from six per cent of the population in the 1970s to 13 per cent now — with about one in four Canadians saying they're inclined to reject religion.
The CBC reached out to the Dodd family and several other Canadians as part of an in-depth look at the extent to which Canadians are keeping their faith.
Canadian churches facing uphill battle
The situation facing Susan Jack's Anglican parish in Saint John, N. B., is representative of many Christian Protestant denominations across Canada.
"We have an aging congregation, people who gave money are dying and few people are coming to church," says Jack, standing next to the "For Sale" sign on the lawn of her beloved St.George's-St.Jude's Church.
At 193 years old, it is one of the oldest churches in Canada, but its days as a place of worship are numbered.
The $30,000-a-year heating costs simply made the building unaffordable.
So Jack says the ever-shrinking congregation is looking to reinvent itself.
The church has long served meals to the underprivileged on Sundays in Saint John, so Jack says the focus may shift to doing more such outreach work.
"Now we get a chance to redefine ourselves, to look for more cost-effective worship space and ways to do outreach in the community."
Other Protestant denominations are facing similar, if not more daunting challenges.
In March, a report on the future of the United Church of Canada recommended a dramatic reduction of buildings and overhead in order to save $11 million over the next two years.
Previously, the church had reported that it was either closing or amalgamating roughly 50 churches a year.
Evangelicals, Catholics bucking trend away from organized religion
University of Lethbridge sociologist Reginald W. Bibby has spent several decades surveying Canadians about their attitudes on faith.
He isn't optimistic about a Protestant turnaround anytime soon.
"The United Church, the Anglicans, the Presbyterians and the Lutherans were all being fed with these wonderful immigration pipelines for an awfully long time with people coming from Europe."
"What's happened," says Bibby, "is those pipelines have been shut down. And the reality is unless those groups do some proselytizing, they are going to continue to decline rapidly as far as numbers."
Proselytizing — not to mention their often livelier church services — may have helped some Evangelical Christians buck that downward trend.
The Angus Reid survey, which Bibby co-designed, suggests roughly 12 per cent of Canadians are members of an Evangelical group, and unlike other Protestant groups, that percentage has kept relatively constant with population growth.
Immigrants bringing faith to Canada
Catholics, as well as non-traditional religions in Canada, such as Muslims, Sikhs and Buddhists, have fared far better than Protestants in terms of overall numbers.
Roughly, one in five immigrants — particularly those from the Philippines and South America — come to Canada and bring their Catholic faith with them.
"No question the whole religious scene in Canada has been lit up a lot by immigration," says Bibby.
So, in spite of an overall drift away from organized religion, he notes there are are some religious hot spots.
'He didn't believe in the afterlife. I do.'
And when times are toughest, such as for the Dodd family, the need to seek comfort in spirituality is especially hard to shake.
© Chris Corday/CBC 107 thousand Sikhs immigrated to Canada between 2001 and 2011, according to the latest census data. With a median age of 33, they are one of the youngest religious groups in the country.
At the conclusion of the "godless" ceremony at the cottage that day, both Marie Diane and her 24-year-old son James read poignant poems.
"You are my guardian angel. I don't want to say good bye. But we will meet again one day," she said of her late husband.
"He (John) didn't believe in the afterlife. I do. I hope he'll be with me till my dying day," Marie Diane told us.
Simon Parcher, the humanist officiant, said he understands that some people are comforted by such thoughts, even if atheists reject them.
"But if it makes (those grieving) feel better, we just let it go."
The Angus Reid Institute survey was an online survey conducted from March 4-11 2015, among a representative randomized sample of 3,041 Canadian adults who were members of the Angus Reid Forum.
http://www.msn.com/en-ca/news/canada/ke ... lsignoutmd
Keeping faith: The changing face of religion in Canada
When the sad time came to say good-bye to her late husband, Marie Diane Dodd knew a traditional service in a church wasn't the right fit.
So she arranged a ceremony at the family's lakeside summer home outside Ottawa.
It featured John's favourite memories and music, including a guitar riff by Jimi Hendrix.
There were happy photos from summer holidays and sentimental recollections from friends and his children about a life well lived, before it was tragically cut short by liver disease brought on by Hepatitis C.
What wasn't part of the ceremony was any mention of God or religion.
Words of comfort
"I think John would have loved this because he wasn't a religious man," says Marie Diane Dodd.
"This was just the right fit for him. It was something he could feel comfortable with."
Simon Parcher, an officiant with Humanist Canada, performed the service and says in an increasingly secular world, God is being pushed aside, even in death.
"We don't tell people they'll have life after they die in heaven, but we do tell them they will continue in memories, which they will," says Parcher.
"There's no father up in the sky taking care of things for us," he adds. "We have to take care of ourselves."
The words he chose during the service were designed to bring comfort, he says, but not to suggest there's anything more beyond human existence.
Atheism's rise in Canada
"Life exists in the time period between birth and death," Parcher told those at the cottage that day.
"Life's significance lies in the experiences and satisfactions in that span of time. Its permanence lies in the memories of those who knew us."
Humanists in Ontario perform roughly 1,000 such ceremonies every year in Ontario. That's just two per cent of funeral services in the province, but the number is growing quickly, Parcher says.
Indeed, an online survey on religion released in March by the Angus Reid Institute suggests that the percentage of God-denying Canadians has doubled from six per cent of the population in the 1970s to 13 per cent now — with about one in four Canadians saying they're inclined to reject religion.
The CBC reached out to the Dodd family and several other Canadians as part of an in-depth look at the extent to which Canadians are keeping their faith.
Canadian churches facing uphill battle
The situation facing Susan Jack's Anglican parish in Saint John, N. B., is representative of many Christian Protestant denominations across Canada.
"We have an aging congregation, people who gave money are dying and few people are coming to church," says Jack, standing next to the "For Sale" sign on the lawn of her beloved St.George's-St.Jude's Church.
At 193 years old, it is one of the oldest churches in Canada, but its days as a place of worship are numbered.
The $30,000-a-year heating costs simply made the building unaffordable.
So Jack says the ever-shrinking congregation is looking to reinvent itself.
The church has long served meals to the underprivileged on Sundays in Saint John, so Jack says the focus may shift to doing more such outreach work.
"Now we get a chance to redefine ourselves, to look for more cost-effective worship space and ways to do outreach in the community."
Other Protestant denominations are facing similar, if not more daunting challenges.
In March, a report on the future of the United Church of Canada recommended a dramatic reduction of buildings and overhead in order to save $11 million over the next two years.
Previously, the church had reported that it was either closing or amalgamating roughly 50 churches a year.
Evangelicals, Catholics bucking trend away from organized religion
University of Lethbridge sociologist Reginald W. Bibby has spent several decades surveying Canadians about their attitudes on faith.
He isn't optimistic about a Protestant turnaround anytime soon.
"The United Church, the Anglicans, the Presbyterians and the Lutherans were all being fed with these wonderful immigration pipelines for an awfully long time with people coming from Europe."
"What's happened," says Bibby, "is those pipelines have been shut down. And the reality is unless those groups do some proselytizing, they are going to continue to decline rapidly as far as numbers."
Proselytizing — not to mention their often livelier church services — may have helped some Evangelical Christians buck that downward trend.
The Angus Reid survey, which Bibby co-designed, suggests roughly 12 per cent of Canadians are members of an Evangelical group, and unlike other Protestant groups, that percentage has kept relatively constant with population growth.
Immigrants bringing faith to Canada
Catholics, as well as non-traditional religions in Canada, such as Muslims, Sikhs and Buddhists, have fared far better than Protestants in terms of overall numbers.
Roughly, one in five immigrants — particularly those from the Philippines and South America — come to Canada and bring their Catholic faith with them.
"No question the whole religious scene in Canada has been lit up a lot by immigration," says Bibby.
So, in spite of an overall drift away from organized religion, he notes there are are some religious hot spots.
'He didn't believe in the afterlife. I do.'
And when times are toughest, such as for the Dodd family, the need to seek comfort in spirituality is especially hard to shake.
© Chris Corday/CBC 107 thousand Sikhs immigrated to Canada between 2001 and 2011, according to the latest census data. With a median age of 33, they are one of the youngest religious groups in the country.
At the conclusion of the "godless" ceremony at the cottage that day, both Marie Diane and her 24-year-old son James read poignant poems.
"You are my guardian angel. I don't want to say good bye. But we will meet again one day," she said of her late husband.
"He (John) didn't believe in the afterlife. I do. I hope he'll be with me till my dying day," Marie Diane told us.
Simon Parcher, the humanist officiant, said he understands that some people are comforted by such thoughts, even if atheists reject them.
"But if it makes (those grieving) feel better, we just let it go."
The Angus Reid Institute survey was an online survey conducted from March 4-11 2015, among a representative randomized sample of 3,041 Canadian adults who were members of the Angus Reid Forum.
http://www.msn.com/en-ca/news/canada/ke ... lsignoutmd
I Am a Bigamist
Among the many popular misconceptions about grief and its trajectory, one that particularly rankles widowed people is the assumption that if you’ve found a new love relationship, you’ve “moved on” from your grief. How very tidy.
How very ridiculous. In conversations with hundreds of widows and widowers, I’ve discovered that I’m hardly unique in feeling that those of us who have buried a beloved spouse never stop grieving for our loss. As time passes and life admits new possibilities and opportunities, the intensity of the pain diminishes, becoming more tolerable and less central to the course of most days. But the love doesn’t go away. And count on it, as where there’s love, there’s pain.
More....
http://opinionator.blogs.nytimes.com/20 ... inion&_r=0
Among the many popular misconceptions about grief and its trajectory, one that particularly rankles widowed people is the assumption that if you’ve found a new love relationship, you’ve “moved on” from your grief. How very tidy.
How very ridiculous. In conversations with hundreds of widows and widowers, I’ve discovered that I’m hardly unique in feeling that those of us who have buried a beloved spouse never stop grieving for our loss. As time passes and life admits new possibilities and opportunities, the intensity of the pain diminishes, becoming more tolerable and less central to the course of most days. But the love doesn’t go away. And count on it, as where there’s love, there’s pain.
More....
http://opinionator.blogs.nytimes.com/20 ... inion&_r=0
Sect’s Death Ritual Clashes With Indian Law
PUNE, India — All week, people streamed in and out of the handsome bungalow where the Lodha family lives, eager to witness for themselves the amazing event that was occurring there.
On a bed in a corner of a large sitting room, surrounded by a crowd of reverent visitors, the family’s 92-year-old patriarch, Manikchand Lodha, was fasting to death. It was the culmination of an act of santhara, a voluntary, systematic starvation ritual undertaken every year by several hundred members of the austere, ancient Jain religion.
Mr. Lodha had begun the process some three years earlier, after a fall left him bedridden. First he renounced pleasures like tea and tobacco. Then things he loved, like television. He gave up medicine, even refusing an air mattress to ease his bedsores. On Aug. 10, he took the ancient vow and gave up food and water.
When he died Aug. 16, the house was festooned with orange-and-white bunting. Visitors were offered bowls of sweets bathed in syrup.
“Look at us — do we look like we are in mourning?” said Sunita, Mr. Lodha’s daughter-in-law. “We are celebrating, because one of our family members has achieved something great. We were able to know him. That was our good fortune.”
More....
http://www.nytimes.com/2015/08/25/world ... 05309&_r=0
PUNE, India — All week, people streamed in and out of the handsome bungalow where the Lodha family lives, eager to witness for themselves the amazing event that was occurring there.
On a bed in a corner of a large sitting room, surrounded by a crowd of reverent visitors, the family’s 92-year-old patriarch, Manikchand Lodha, was fasting to death. It was the culmination of an act of santhara, a voluntary, systematic starvation ritual undertaken every year by several hundred members of the austere, ancient Jain religion.
Mr. Lodha had begun the process some three years earlier, after a fall left him bedridden. First he renounced pleasures like tea and tobacco. Then things he loved, like television. He gave up medicine, even refusing an air mattress to ease his bedsores. On Aug. 10, he took the ancient vow and gave up food and water.
When he died Aug. 16, the house was festooned with orange-and-white bunting. Visitors were offered bowls of sweets bathed in syrup.
“Look at us — do we look like we are in mourning?” said Sunita, Mr. Lodha’s daughter-in-law. “We are celebrating, because one of our family members has achieved something great. We were able to know him. That was our good fortune.”
More....
http://www.nytimes.com/2015/08/25/world ... 05309&_r=0
From a spiritual perspective what is the best colour of clothes to wear to a funeral?
http://www.spiritualresearchfoundation. ... thescolour
From a spiritual perspective, any sober colour other than black can be worn by relatives and well-wishers in the event of the death of a person. It is preferable to wear lighter colours such as white and pale blue as they are more sāttvik. Wearing black attire is common in many societies and cultures, however from a spiritual perspective it is most likely to be detrimental to both the family and the person who has passed away.
Since the colour black is tāmasik in nature, it has maximum capacity to attract and transmit negative and distressing frequencies in the environment, i.e. to the extent of 70%. This means, out of all the possible negative vibrations (ghosts included) that there can be in the environment, the colour black can attract up to 70% of them.
Along with this, the surviving relatives who are mourning are generally in a depressed state, also adds to the Raja-Tama frequencies in the environment.
The combination of these two factors makes it conducive for ghosts to possess the mourner through the medium of his black clothing and weakened emotional state. As a result, the overall increase in Raja-Tama also affects the subtle-body of the deceased, increases its distress and impedes its onward journey in the afterlife.
On the other hand, wearing white coloured clothes for funeral repels the Raja-Tama frequencies and attracts sattvik frequencies. This makes it less conducive for ghosts to possess mourners and give the subtle-body of the deceased any distress.
The continued wearing of black throughout the period of mourning only makes matters worse and also prolongs the state of depression. The negative vibrations of black continue to retard the progress of ancestors and aid the activity of ghosts.
The subtle-bodies of the deceased ancestors, who cannot move forward in their journey in the subtle-realm, stay in their family’s homes. They can cause problems for the surviving members of their family. The problems that they cause are a plea for spiritual assistance to help them move on in the afterlife.
Refer to the article – Why would my departed loved ones and my other ancestors want to give me pain?
http://www.spiritualresearchfoundation. ... tortrouble
http://www.spiritualresearchfoundation. ... thescolour
From a spiritual perspective, any sober colour other than black can be worn by relatives and well-wishers in the event of the death of a person. It is preferable to wear lighter colours such as white and pale blue as they are more sāttvik. Wearing black attire is common in many societies and cultures, however from a spiritual perspective it is most likely to be detrimental to both the family and the person who has passed away.
Since the colour black is tāmasik in nature, it has maximum capacity to attract and transmit negative and distressing frequencies in the environment, i.e. to the extent of 70%. This means, out of all the possible negative vibrations (ghosts included) that there can be in the environment, the colour black can attract up to 70% of them.
Along with this, the surviving relatives who are mourning are generally in a depressed state, also adds to the Raja-Tama frequencies in the environment.
The combination of these two factors makes it conducive for ghosts to possess the mourner through the medium of his black clothing and weakened emotional state. As a result, the overall increase in Raja-Tama also affects the subtle-body of the deceased, increases its distress and impedes its onward journey in the afterlife.
On the other hand, wearing white coloured clothes for funeral repels the Raja-Tama frequencies and attracts sattvik frequencies. This makes it less conducive for ghosts to possess mourners and give the subtle-body of the deceased any distress.
The continued wearing of black throughout the period of mourning only makes matters worse and also prolongs the state of depression. The negative vibrations of black continue to retard the progress of ancestors and aid the activity of ghosts.
The subtle-bodies of the deceased ancestors, who cannot move forward in their journey in the subtle-realm, stay in their family’s homes. They can cause problems for the surviving members of their family. The problems that they cause are a plea for spiritual assistance to help them move on in the afterlife.
Refer to the article – Why would my departed loved ones and my other ancestors want to give me pain?
http://www.spiritualresearchfoundation. ... tortrouble
The Rituals of Modern Death
Quote:
"These days only about one in five people dies at home. Most die in hospitals or nursing homes. A unique and telling set of rituals has grown to be associated with death and dying in the hospital."
"Much like the overarching experience of patienthood, the end of life has been sterilized. For most of human history, death has been an intensely spiritual experience. Frequently, some religious figure, a pastor or a shaman, would be at a patient’s side at the end to help make it a deep and meaningful experience not only for the patient but also for his or her family and friends. Studies show that most patients have great spiritual needs and many derive strength from their faith. These days, instead of a shaman, patients are surrounded by strangers in scrubs. Death – one of the most complex events that can occur in a hospital – is usually handled by the youngest physicians."
More....
http://opinionator.blogs.nytimes.com/20 ... d=45305309
Quote:
"These days only about one in five people dies at home. Most die in hospitals or nursing homes. A unique and telling set of rituals has grown to be associated with death and dying in the hospital."
"Much like the overarching experience of patienthood, the end of life has been sterilized. For most of human history, death has been an intensely spiritual experience. Frequently, some religious figure, a pastor or a shaman, would be at a patient’s side at the end to help make it a deep and meaningful experience not only for the patient but also for his or her family and friends. Studies show that most patients have great spiritual needs and many derive strength from their faith. These days, instead of a shaman, patients are surrounded by strangers in scrubs. Death – one of the most complex events that can occur in a hospital – is usually handled by the youngest physicians."
More....
http://opinionator.blogs.nytimes.com/20 ... d=45305309
Finding the Meaning of Death in a Concert Hall
“Death and Transfiguration,” a 25-minute tone poem by Richard Strauss, is the type of entertainment I’ve tried to avoid since becoming a hospice nurse. I worry it will make me feel the job too deeply in my time off. But this performance was by the Pittsburgh Youth Symphony, in which my son plays first violin, so we went.
The conductor, Lawrence Loh, began the concert by excerpting a repeated theme in the Strauss piece that he said represented a dying man’s “irregular heartbeat.” He went on to describe the piece itself, how it is broken into four parts that roughly correspond to a series of steps toward death: A man understands he is dying, he physically experiences the battle between life and death, he sees his life pass before him and, finally, at the moment of death, achieves transfiguration.
Eloquent though Mr. Loh was, at some point I stopped listening, because hearing those evocative measures transported me back to my own repeated theme, from my work as a hospice nurse: a memory of a dying patient, an elderly man in his home, experiencing the battle between life and death not as a move toward transfiguration, toward a more beautiful state of being, but as uncontrollable pain and spitting up of blood.
I knew that memory was close to the surface of my mind, intrusive even, but I hadn’t realized how unresolved it was until I heard the first deep, low notes of “Death and Transfiguration” (in German, “Tod und Verklärung”) and found myself mentally back in that house, on a cold and snowy day, with that dying man and his family.
His hemoptysis — coughing up of blood — had started hours earlier, and his family had cared for him in shifts as his symptoms worsened. His wish had been to die at home, and they wanted to honor that. So they gave him morphine for pain and Ativan for anxiety, even though he was physically so volatile they weren’t sure the drugs could even be absorbed.
They finally called me in early the next morning. Once I saw the patient — who was curled up and helpless — I understood that his wish to die at home was very much at odds with his desire for a comfortable, pain-free death.
This was a moment of real crisis, and I relived it while listening to the second section of “Death and Transfiguration.” The battle between life and death presents as a loud drumbeat introducing a cacophony of moody bass notes, blasting brass and furious, slashing violins.
After that dissonance, though, the piece moves into the third section and becomes melodic and wistful. Hearing that transition brought me back to the concert and the recognition that while it’s important that I acknowledge suffering in my job, I also need to offer people hope. Not hope of cure, of course, but of pain relieved and comfort given.
My task on that particular winter day, then, was to help a well-loved man achieve as peaceful a death as possible. It would have been easy in the hospital. Get a consult for palliative care, start an IV, administer faster-acting narcotics to take care of the pain. Since none of that was available in his home, we decided to transfer the patient to an inpatient hospice unit. All the efficient pain-relieving magic of the hospital would be available there.
The only hitch was that moving him required an ambulance, and the icy roads were keeping emergency medical technicians busy with car accidents. It would be at least an hour before they could arrive, which seemed reasonable, except that the patient’s distress was escalating and the liquid morphine he’d received wasn’t providing relief. I felt useless watching him while waiting. Snow and ice trapped us and I couldn’t soothe his pain or vomiting, couldn’t escape the pungently metallic smell of blood.
However, despite the patient’s physical distress there remained such a feeling of love in the room from his wife, his adult children, even their dog. And the ambulance arrived on time, allowing the patient to get the relief he needed. So the situation was horrible, but not without redemption in the end.
Strauss wrote “Tod und Verklärung” when he was just 24 years old, and on his deathbed, 61 years later, reportedly observed how closely the tone poem captured the experience of dying. From my position as an involved observer I would agree.
But I also learned something important from listening to it. My patient died peacefully, surrounded by his family — the promise of hope was fulfilled. But I didn’t understand that until I heard the final long and aching high notes of the “Verklärung,” or transfiguration, section of the piece. Death, I realized, is often horrible and redemptive, awful and divine.
“Umgekehrt,” another German word, is useful here. It means conversely, or the other way round. Before the concert began I didn’t want to hear “Death and Transfiguration,” and I didn’t want to think about the difficult patient experience I couldn’t forget. But after the performance I sought out the conductor to tell him the Strauss had been a gift. For now I know that the ideal of hospice is to transfigure, however we can.
Theresa Brown is a registered nurse and the author of “The Shift: One Nurse, Twelve Hours, Four Patients’ Lives.”
http://opinionator.blogs.nytimes.com/20 ... ef=opinion
“Death and Transfiguration,” a 25-minute tone poem by Richard Strauss, is the type of entertainment I’ve tried to avoid since becoming a hospice nurse. I worry it will make me feel the job too deeply in my time off. But this performance was by the Pittsburgh Youth Symphony, in which my son plays first violin, so we went.
The conductor, Lawrence Loh, began the concert by excerpting a repeated theme in the Strauss piece that he said represented a dying man’s “irregular heartbeat.” He went on to describe the piece itself, how it is broken into four parts that roughly correspond to a series of steps toward death: A man understands he is dying, he physically experiences the battle between life and death, he sees his life pass before him and, finally, at the moment of death, achieves transfiguration.
Eloquent though Mr. Loh was, at some point I stopped listening, because hearing those evocative measures transported me back to my own repeated theme, from my work as a hospice nurse: a memory of a dying patient, an elderly man in his home, experiencing the battle between life and death not as a move toward transfiguration, toward a more beautiful state of being, but as uncontrollable pain and spitting up of blood.
I knew that memory was close to the surface of my mind, intrusive even, but I hadn’t realized how unresolved it was until I heard the first deep, low notes of “Death and Transfiguration” (in German, “Tod und Verklärung”) and found myself mentally back in that house, on a cold and snowy day, with that dying man and his family.
His hemoptysis — coughing up of blood — had started hours earlier, and his family had cared for him in shifts as his symptoms worsened. His wish had been to die at home, and they wanted to honor that. So they gave him morphine for pain and Ativan for anxiety, even though he was physically so volatile they weren’t sure the drugs could even be absorbed.
They finally called me in early the next morning. Once I saw the patient — who was curled up and helpless — I understood that his wish to die at home was very much at odds with his desire for a comfortable, pain-free death.
This was a moment of real crisis, and I relived it while listening to the second section of “Death and Transfiguration.” The battle between life and death presents as a loud drumbeat introducing a cacophony of moody bass notes, blasting brass and furious, slashing violins.
After that dissonance, though, the piece moves into the third section and becomes melodic and wistful. Hearing that transition brought me back to the concert and the recognition that while it’s important that I acknowledge suffering in my job, I also need to offer people hope. Not hope of cure, of course, but of pain relieved and comfort given.
My task on that particular winter day, then, was to help a well-loved man achieve as peaceful a death as possible. It would have been easy in the hospital. Get a consult for palliative care, start an IV, administer faster-acting narcotics to take care of the pain. Since none of that was available in his home, we decided to transfer the patient to an inpatient hospice unit. All the efficient pain-relieving magic of the hospital would be available there.
The only hitch was that moving him required an ambulance, and the icy roads were keeping emergency medical technicians busy with car accidents. It would be at least an hour before they could arrive, which seemed reasonable, except that the patient’s distress was escalating and the liquid morphine he’d received wasn’t providing relief. I felt useless watching him while waiting. Snow and ice trapped us and I couldn’t soothe his pain or vomiting, couldn’t escape the pungently metallic smell of blood.
However, despite the patient’s physical distress there remained such a feeling of love in the room from his wife, his adult children, even their dog. And the ambulance arrived on time, allowing the patient to get the relief he needed. So the situation was horrible, but not without redemption in the end.
Strauss wrote “Tod und Verklärung” when he was just 24 years old, and on his deathbed, 61 years later, reportedly observed how closely the tone poem captured the experience of dying. From my position as an involved observer I would agree.
But I also learned something important from listening to it. My patient died peacefully, surrounded by his family — the promise of hope was fulfilled. But I didn’t understand that until I heard the final long and aching high notes of the “Verklärung,” or transfiguration, section of the piece. Death, I realized, is often horrible and redemptive, awful and divine.
“Umgekehrt,” another German word, is useful here. It means conversely, or the other way round. Before the concert began I didn’t want to hear “Death and Transfiguration,” and I didn’t want to think about the difficult patient experience I couldn’t forget. But after the performance I sought out the conductor to tell him the Strauss had been a gift. For now I know that the ideal of hospice is to transfigure, however we can.
Theresa Brown is a registered nurse and the author of “The Shift: One Nurse, Twelve Hours, Four Patients’ Lives.”
http://opinionator.blogs.nytimes.com/20 ... ef=opinion
Waez on Death by Abualy Missionary
AS RECEIVED
Death and the Journey to Eternity
(Excerpts from waezes by the late Missionary Abu Ali Alibhai)
There is no subject that holds greater mystery and greater fear than the that of death. It is a day that terrifies some. Others await it with great anticipation. If you want to gauge your iman, ask yourself do you fear death. If you do, your Iman and love for your Mowla is deficient, if not completely lacking. The degree to which you fear it is the level of your Iman.
For a momin, death marks the transition to meeting your Mowla. Mowlana Sultan Muhammad Shah has frequently said that on the day you die, He will personally come to meet you and hold your hands. He promised he will do that for His momins. Do you realize the honour of being born in this exalted faith? It marks the day the soul meets its mother after all the wanderings and sorrows of the earthly existence.
Upon death, remember that only your body is destroyed or decays away. Your soul is eternal. It is Allah’s spark inside you and that spark is eternal, never to diminish, tarnished or destroyed.
For a momin it is of rejoicing. For a momin, Allah sends his angels who come and ask you if you are ready. They pay great respects to you. You can ask them to come back another day and they will listen (In the ginan Jirewalla dhanre ghadi, Pir says “Jamda rahiya jakhmari”). Jamda is the Angel of Death. Jakhmari means “to be stalled”. The angels can be stalled in their mission to take you. How wonderful to be Mowla’s momin.
If you are sinful, the angels take you against your will. You will go screaming for the retribution that awaits you. For you become aware of all your existence at that time including all your deeds.
When a person dies, the soul stays with the body until it is buried. When a momin is buried, the soul leaves him/her gently. There is the fragrance of Allah’s Noor at his gravesite. The angels smile as they wait to take him on the journey to eternity. Angels attend this happy occasion. A kafir (non-believer, non-momin) suffers a great distress. As his body is lowered into his grave, he screams at the pall-bearers not to bury him. He trembles at the judgment that await him. He suffers the unspeakable agonies of a personal hell.
The reckoning of a person can start at any time before or after his death. It is Allah’s prerogative when this starts and what stages of agony or bliss one goes through. The agonies of death for a kafir are very bitter and Mowlana Sultan Muhammad Shah has narrated them as more bitter than any poison and more taxing than any pain.
Immediately at death, a sorting happens.
The first type of persons are the complete momins. If you are a complete momin with no deficiency in your deeds and Ibadat, you soar to your final abode, the oneness with your Creator. You will be accorded the funeral and journey of a prince. Angels accompany you to your final abode.
The second type are the relatively pure but deficient in some ways, including your Ibadat. In this case Allah forgives your deficiencies and you are incarnated again in an astral body. You become young and healthy again like you were in early twenties, but in an astral body. In this first stage, you stay and complete your ibadat so you can then proceed to higher stages. You stay there as long as necessary to complete your ibadat. You live without the agonies and sorrows of earthly existence. There is no sorrow there, no disease, no calamity, no greed, no sin, no aging. Just time spent in ibadat for your ultimate destiny.
These astral body ruhanis do visit families in JK. They come where there is smell of lobaan (not agarbati which drives them away). Lobaan gives an antiseptic vapour. It emits no smoke.
There is a third type of people. The kafirs and the sinful. They are immediately sent back to earthly existence. Depending on your level of sin, you receive a relatively good existence or a horrible existence. There are those who have committed cardinal sins and they are mostly sent to the cycle of 8.4 million births and deaths (lakh chorasi na fera).
It is perhaps opportune to add here that when Pir Hassan Kabirdin met Imam Islam Shah, the Imam asked him what did the Pir want for all the seva he had made for the Imam. The Pir did not ask for wealth. He asked the Imam that in exchange for his seva to the Imam, he wanted the Imam to grant salvation to unlimited momins. Mowla gave him the promise to last into eternity. That is why in our ginan Ashaji, at one point Pir says “teel dharma anne hasti paap, sohi Gur paar utare). It means that if you have one good deed, Mowla will forgive you a warehouse-ful of misdeeds. Alternately, it means that Mowla, because of his promise to Pir Hassan Kabirdeen., looks for EVERY excuse to forgive you and to take you with him on your long journey. We are indeed on a long journey and our existence here is a VERY short part of it.
Imam Sultan Muhammad Shah once said that as a result of this promise to Pir Hassan Kabirdeen, he is obliged to liberate countless souls; and if he will not find enough, he will give souls to the leaves on the trees and liberate them rather than the kafirs who have wronged him and others through a life of sin and greed..
If you are a higher momin, with minor deficiencies in deed and ibadat, Mowla may forgive these deficiencies and propel you to the highest abode you deserve. If you are a momin and you have done your ibadat, you will become aware of the mysteries of creation and death DURING your lifetime. You will know what you were thousands of years ago beginning with the time you were a stone. Ibadat will tell you where you’re going after death. Your brain has stored within it, your WHOLE existence, its mysteries and its stories. Your brain knows everything since it has Mowla’s light in it. You can unlock its mysteries if you do Ibadat.
Ibadat is the ONLY reason why you were born Ismaili. There is NO other reason. Being born an Ismaili means you are nearing the end of your 8.4m lives and deaths. You are one jump away from eternity and the oneness with your Creator. You are very close. Allah has granted you the blessing of a living Imam and with his blessing, you will obtain salvation if you strive. In the ginan Duniya sijine Shah mo-re, the Pir says “Kaho re jeev tame, kis karan aviya ji, jo na kidhi Sahebjini sreva”. Sreva here means Ibadat. Pir is asking us “Oh momin, ask yourself why you were born, if not to do Ibadat”.
If you do Ibadat, no sorrows, calamities or disease will affect you. You may become ill or diseased, but you will be happy. Allah’s Noor will light your days and nights. There will be His fragrance around you. His Hand will always hold yours. You will never be lonely for He will be your companion. You will fear no one for He will take your fears away. Your wealth, possessions and children will not bite you. You will sleep easy. You may be poor (like all our Pirs were) but your life will be easy. You will have a purpose in life. You will never be despondent or lack a purpose. Ibadat is a an expression of yearning for your Creator. When you yearn for Him, you will yearn for nothing else. Everything in life pales in comparison to this divine yearning. You will be the prince that can own it all and yet you want nothing of the worldly possessions.
Back to the moments before our demise. Everyone becomes aware of their death before their actual passing. But people become aware of the time at varying periods before their passing. A momin is aware of it for a much longer time than others. Mowla gives a lot of time for the Malik Ul Maut (the angel of death) to prepare a momin for his journey into the hereafter. The momin can talk to the angels. They explain to him his journey. He understands his destiny and is eager to embark on it. But his lips are sealed. He cannot relate this knowledge to anyone. The ginans say our lips get locks put on them. This knowledge of your demise is a spiritual knowledge and mere lips cannot convey that to others.
When your time is up, you become aware of your entire existence and all your account of deeds done. You may tremble at this awareness but you cannot tell anyone. You can make others aware of your knowledge of your time by deed, but not tongue.
My grandfather, I must add, came to know of his time at least 8 hours before his passing. We know now because at that time he packed an overnight bag and walked over to his son’s home (our home) and asked to sleep over. He had never ever done this before that day. And it was about 2am in the morning the same night that he passed away in his son’s home. He was a good man, so kind, generous and above all, honest. He was indeed Mowla’s good momin, as no doubt was my father, my father-in-law and his father too.
To those that have lived a life of sin, these moments are excruciatingly painful. They are filled with fear and trepidation. Their journey is into an unknown as the Malik Ul Maut shuns them. Their soul is very agitated. They cry. In one ginan, Pir tells us that you may be very wise, accomplished and wealthy, but you will cry on your death bed if you have lived a life of sin. And for him, the time to repent is long past.
The accounting for your deeds starts at different times for different people. It is also of different duration for everyone. If you are His momin, your accounting is very quick. No momin is perfect. A momin however has good character. And Mowlana Sultan Muhammad Shah said once, on the Day of Judgment, you will be questioned about your character and if it is pure, your sins will be pardoned. Mowla will forgive you of ALL your sins but the cardinal sins (discussed later). If you have committed cardinal sins, you MUST come back on to another existence to remedy them. After your accounting is done, you receive your judgment from Allah.
There is one special kind of death and that is death by suicide. It is the most tragic and ruinous act you can inflict on yourself. Suicide is committed by people who find their existence has lost meaning. A momin who does Ibadat will NEVER commit suicide as a momin’s life has a noble and divine purpose. A momin is never despondent. For Ismailis, suicide is a cardinal sin. And suicide offers no respite from anything. You switch one hell for another. Prophet Muhammad (SAWS) refused a Muslim funeral for such people. Muslims bury such people far from others. Ismailis do not deny burial privileges to such a person. Such a person has failed to see Allah’s gift and grace and he goes to what we call Dozakh or hell where the punishments are very severe.
Mowlana Sultan Muhammad Shah has told us that on the day of judgment, you will be asked about your character. If it is pure, your since will be pardoned by Allah. Your Mowla waits for you all day and night for you remember Him. He wants to use every excuse to send you up on your exalted journey.
Cardinal Sins
If your character is pure, Mowla will pardon all your sins, save the cardinal sins. There are sins that are so heinous and Mowla metes punishment to you depending on the level and who you committed those acts on. If you wrong a human being you have to ask that person for forgiveness. Allah will not pardon, what you did to someone else.
Some of these sins are suicide (discussed above), murder, attempted murder, bringing sorrow to your parents, sorrow to others, break Mowla’s bayat (which means leaving the faith), rape, false testimony/framing, take what was not yours, especially from those weaker than you, give pain to others weaker than you including your family and spouse
Other related thoughts
Your life does not begin at birth. Your soul is a fully matured Light at every stage of your existence in your long journey of births and deaths. As a fetus, you are fully developed spiritually. You have a complete knowledge of the lives that went before the current one. You talk with your Creator, you pray. Most of all, you give a promise to your Creator that you will be faithful to His bayat and that you will be pure of character. Pir has told us that “Kol dai-ne kaljug mahe aviyo”. You were let into this existence only after giving kol or promise to your Creator.
The fetus is fully aware of what the mother thinks and prays. It becomes agitated if the mother is upset. It is happy when the mother is happy. And MOST of all, it prays when the mother prays. Expectant mothers must try and remember Mowla as often as possible (see tasbis below). That way, your child will be blessed with a gentle soul and be Mowla’s momin to the last breath. For without that, your child and others like him are not worth the dust on the road.
Every day is to be used for preparing for your long journey to your original exalted destiny.
How do you prepare yourself?
1. Be pure of heart. Banish hatred and greed. Greed and hatred are horrible traits. The greater your love for material possessions, the smaller your Iman. In a heart with hatred and greed, there is no divine light. There is darkness. There is sorrow and fear in that heart. Love Allah’s creatures. The love for Allah starts here.
2. Help those that are in need. Not necessarily with money. You can help with your time or a kind word. Look around you for the needy. The needy are sent to you so you are purified helping them. Allah comes to you only ONE way: through a needy person. Hold their hands and you are holding Allah’s hand. No less. Hold them and Allah will hold you. No less. Do you want to meet your Creator? Do you want to smell the fragrance of His Noor? This is the ONLY way.
3. The above two points are the FOUNDATIONS of your faith. Without them, all your prayers are worthless. You can pray and prostrate until your forehead bleeds, but those prayer are not accepted by Mowla.
4. Recite tasbi’s every free moment you get. Inside your car, on a beach on a vacation, on a line-up, at a check-out, waiting for the bus or subway. If you remember your Mowla, he will remember you, walk beside you and fill your life with happiness and His Fragrance.
5. The highest tasbih is the Salwaat. Recite it slowly and with love and emotion. Just like the way they recite it in the presence of Hazar Imam. If you recite 20 salwaats, you will feel elated. After 50, you will feel liberated from the sorrows and fears of life including your work, your superiors there, your tormentors. At 100 you will feel exalted. There will be continuous melody in your heart and soul and nothing will touch you. No death or calamity will affect you. But you must of course satisfy or strive to satisfy the first two points. Do NOT let one day go by without remembering this tasbih
6. The next are
Bibi Fatima’s tasbihs,
Al Hamdullilah – All praise is due to Allah,
Allahu Akbar – All is great,
Subahan Allah – Allah is Glorious
Ya Ali tun Rahem Kar ya Mowla tu fazal kar (Oh Ali, have Mercy and forgive my sins)
7. The Kalma (Ash-haduan Laillaha illalah…..)
If you remember these tasbihs every day, your existence will be wonderful. Mowla will walk beside you. You will NEVER be alone
8. Remember any of these tasbihs before sleeping and your whole night will be spent in Ibadat. Mowlana Sultan Muhammad Shah has told us that if you fall asleep taking His name (saying tasbi), then He will stand beside your bedside all night.
9. Pray for your children, parents, family, friends, a needy person (not necessarily Ismaili). Praying for others is an act of great charity. It is better than giving anything else.
10. If you are retired, use this excellent opportunity to catch up on the deficiencies in your faith.
11. Attend Jamat Khana daily or as often as you can. JK is the house of the Imam and His Noor and Light will make you pure, clean and happy.
12. Remember, there is no sorrow or happiness or any incident in your life that is not sanctioned by Allah. Not one leaf on a tree moves without Allah’s sanction. So when you have happiness in your life, thank your Mowla. If you have sorrows, thank your Mowla too. No sorrow is undeserved. But ask your Mowla to lessen the burden of your sorrow. Everything in your life is a result of Mowla’s justice. For nothing happens outside His Will. Ask for His Rahem (mercy) when in difficulty. If your heart is pure, He MUST listen to you. He will listen if you ask. For He is nearer to you than the fragrance is to a flower.
Appreciate Life -- And Be grateful.
"Let us make one point, that we meet each other with a smile, when it is difficult to smile. Smile at each other, make time for each other in your family." - Mother Teresa
Death and the Journey to Eternity
(Excerpts from waezes by the late Missionary Abu Ali Alibhai)
There is no subject that holds greater mystery and greater fear than the that of death. It is a day that terrifies some. Others await it with great anticipation. If you want to gauge your iman, ask yourself do you fear death. If you do, your Iman and love for your Mowla is deficient, if not completely lacking. The degree to which you fear it is the level of your Iman.
For a momin, death marks the transition to meeting your Mowla. Mowlana Sultan Muhammad Shah has frequently said that on the day you die, He will personally come to meet you and hold your hands. He promised he will do that for His momins. Do you realize the honour of being born in this exalted faith? It marks the day the soul meets its mother after all the wanderings and sorrows of the earthly existence.
Upon death, remember that only your body is destroyed or decays away. Your soul is eternal. It is Allah’s spark inside you and that spark is eternal, never to diminish, tarnished or destroyed.
For a momin it is of rejoicing. For a momin, Allah sends his angels who come and ask you if you are ready. They pay great respects to you. You can ask them to come back another day and they will listen (In the ginan Jirewalla dhanre ghadi, Pir says “Jamda rahiya jakhmari”). Jamda is the Angel of Death. Jakhmari means “to be stalled”. The angels can be stalled in their mission to take you. How wonderful to be Mowla’s momin.
If you are sinful, the angels take you against your will. You will go screaming for the retribution that awaits you. For you become aware of all your existence at that time including all your deeds.
When a person dies, the soul stays with the body until it is buried. When a momin is buried, the soul leaves him/her gently. There is the fragrance of Allah’s Noor at his gravesite. The angels smile as they wait to take him on the journey to eternity. Angels attend this happy occasion. A kafir (non-believer, non-momin) suffers a great distress. As his body is lowered into his grave, he screams at the pall-bearers not to bury him. He trembles at the judgment that await him. He suffers the unspeakable agonies of a personal hell.
The reckoning of a person can start at any time before or after his death. It is Allah’s prerogative when this starts and what stages of agony or bliss one goes through. The agonies of death for a kafir are very bitter and Mowlana Sultan Muhammad Shah has narrated them as more bitter than any poison and more taxing than any pain.
Immediately at death, a sorting happens.
The first type of persons are the complete momins. If you are a complete momin with no deficiency in your deeds and Ibadat, you soar to your final abode, the oneness with your Creator. You will be accorded the funeral and journey of a prince. Angels accompany you to your final abode.
The second type are the relatively pure but deficient in some ways, including your Ibadat. In this case Allah forgives your deficiencies and you are incarnated again in an astral body. You become young and healthy again like you were in early twenties, but in an astral body. In this first stage, you stay and complete your ibadat so you can then proceed to higher stages. You stay there as long as necessary to complete your ibadat. You live without the agonies and sorrows of earthly existence. There is no sorrow there, no disease, no calamity, no greed, no sin, no aging. Just time spent in ibadat for your ultimate destiny.
These astral body ruhanis do visit families in JK. They come where there is smell of lobaan (not agarbati which drives them away). Lobaan gives an antiseptic vapour. It emits no smoke.
There is a third type of people. The kafirs and the sinful. They are immediately sent back to earthly existence. Depending on your level of sin, you receive a relatively good existence or a horrible existence. There are those who have committed cardinal sins and they are mostly sent to the cycle of 8.4 million births and deaths (lakh chorasi na fera).
It is perhaps opportune to add here that when Pir Hassan Kabirdin met Imam Islam Shah, the Imam asked him what did the Pir want for all the seva he had made for the Imam. The Pir did not ask for wealth. He asked the Imam that in exchange for his seva to the Imam, he wanted the Imam to grant salvation to unlimited momins. Mowla gave him the promise to last into eternity. That is why in our ginan Ashaji, at one point Pir says “teel dharma anne hasti paap, sohi Gur paar utare). It means that if you have one good deed, Mowla will forgive you a warehouse-ful of misdeeds. Alternately, it means that Mowla, because of his promise to Pir Hassan Kabirdeen., looks for EVERY excuse to forgive you and to take you with him on your long journey. We are indeed on a long journey and our existence here is a VERY short part of it.
Imam Sultan Muhammad Shah once said that as a result of this promise to Pir Hassan Kabirdeen, he is obliged to liberate countless souls; and if he will not find enough, he will give souls to the leaves on the trees and liberate them rather than the kafirs who have wronged him and others through a life of sin and greed..
If you are a higher momin, with minor deficiencies in deed and ibadat, Mowla may forgive these deficiencies and propel you to the highest abode you deserve. If you are a momin and you have done your ibadat, you will become aware of the mysteries of creation and death DURING your lifetime. You will know what you were thousands of years ago beginning with the time you were a stone. Ibadat will tell you where you’re going after death. Your brain has stored within it, your WHOLE existence, its mysteries and its stories. Your brain knows everything since it has Mowla’s light in it. You can unlock its mysteries if you do Ibadat.
Ibadat is the ONLY reason why you were born Ismaili. There is NO other reason. Being born an Ismaili means you are nearing the end of your 8.4m lives and deaths. You are one jump away from eternity and the oneness with your Creator. You are very close. Allah has granted you the blessing of a living Imam and with his blessing, you will obtain salvation if you strive. In the ginan Duniya sijine Shah mo-re, the Pir says “Kaho re jeev tame, kis karan aviya ji, jo na kidhi Sahebjini sreva”. Sreva here means Ibadat. Pir is asking us “Oh momin, ask yourself why you were born, if not to do Ibadat”.
If you do Ibadat, no sorrows, calamities or disease will affect you. You may become ill or diseased, but you will be happy. Allah’s Noor will light your days and nights. There will be His fragrance around you. His Hand will always hold yours. You will never be lonely for He will be your companion. You will fear no one for He will take your fears away. Your wealth, possessions and children will not bite you. You will sleep easy. You may be poor (like all our Pirs were) but your life will be easy. You will have a purpose in life. You will never be despondent or lack a purpose. Ibadat is a an expression of yearning for your Creator. When you yearn for Him, you will yearn for nothing else. Everything in life pales in comparison to this divine yearning. You will be the prince that can own it all and yet you want nothing of the worldly possessions.
Back to the moments before our demise. Everyone becomes aware of their death before their actual passing. But people become aware of the time at varying periods before their passing. A momin is aware of it for a much longer time than others. Mowla gives a lot of time for the Malik Ul Maut (the angel of death) to prepare a momin for his journey into the hereafter. The momin can talk to the angels. They explain to him his journey. He understands his destiny and is eager to embark on it. But his lips are sealed. He cannot relate this knowledge to anyone. The ginans say our lips get locks put on them. This knowledge of your demise is a spiritual knowledge and mere lips cannot convey that to others.
When your time is up, you become aware of your entire existence and all your account of deeds done. You may tremble at this awareness but you cannot tell anyone. You can make others aware of your knowledge of your time by deed, but not tongue.
My grandfather, I must add, came to know of his time at least 8 hours before his passing. We know now because at that time he packed an overnight bag and walked over to his son’s home (our home) and asked to sleep over. He had never ever done this before that day. And it was about 2am in the morning the same night that he passed away in his son’s home. He was a good man, so kind, generous and above all, honest. He was indeed Mowla’s good momin, as no doubt was my father, my father-in-law and his father too.
To those that have lived a life of sin, these moments are excruciatingly painful. They are filled with fear and trepidation. Their journey is into an unknown as the Malik Ul Maut shuns them. Their soul is very agitated. They cry. In one ginan, Pir tells us that you may be very wise, accomplished and wealthy, but you will cry on your death bed if you have lived a life of sin. And for him, the time to repent is long past.
The accounting for your deeds starts at different times for different people. It is also of different duration for everyone. If you are His momin, your accounting is very quick. No momin is perfect. A momin however has good character. And Mowlana Sultan Muhammad Shah said once, on the Day of Judgment, you will be questioned about your character and if it is pure, your sins will be pardoned. Mowla will forgive you of ALL your sins but the cardinal sins (discussed later). If you have committed cardinal sins, you MUST come back on to another existence to remedy them. After your accounting is done, you receive your judgment from Allah.
There is one special kind of death and that is death by suicide. It is the most tragic and ruinous act you can inflict on yourself. Suicide is committed by people who find their existence has lost meaning. A momin who does Ibadat will NEVER commit suicide as a momin’s life has a noble and divine purpose. A momin is never despondent. For Ismailis, suicide is a cardinal sin. And suicide offers no respite from anything. You switch one hell for another. Prophet Muhammad (SAWS) refused a Muslim funeral for such people. Muslims bury such people far from others. Ismailis do not deny burial privileges to such a person. Such a person has failed to see Allah’s gift and grace and he goes to what we call Dozakh or hell where the punishments are very severe.
Mowlana Sultan Muhammad Shah has told us that on the day of judgment, you will be asked about your character. If it is pure, your since will be pardoned by Allah. Your Mowla waits for you all day and night for you remember Him. He wants to use every excuse to send you up on your exalted journey.
Cardinal Sins
If your character is pure, Mowla will pardon all your sins, save the cardinal sins. There are sins that are so heinous and Mowla metes punishment to you depending on the level and who you committed those acts on. If you wrong a human being you have to ask that person for forgiveness. Allah will not pardon, what you did to someone else.
Some of these sins are suicide (discussed above), murder, attempted murder, bringing sorrow to your parents, sorrow to others, break Mowla’s bayat (which means leaving the faith), rape, false testimony/framing, take what was not yours, especially from those weaker than you, give pain to others weaker than you including your family and spouse
Other related thoughts
Your life does not begin at birth. Your soul is a fully matured Light at every stage of your existence in your long journey of births and deaths. As a fetus, you are fully developed spiritually. You have a complete knowledge of the lives that went before the current one. You talk with your Creator, you pray. Most of all, you give a promise to your Creator that you will be faithful to His bayat and that you will be pure of character. Pir has told us that “Kol dai-ne kaljug mahe aviyo”. You were let into this existence only after giving kol or promise to your Creator.
The fetus is fully aware of what the mother thinks and prays. It becomes agitated if the mother is upset. It is happy when the mother is happy. And MOST of all, it prays when the mother prays. Expectant mothers must try and remember Mowla as often as possible (see tasbis below). That way, your child will be blessed with a gentle soul and be Mowla’s momin to the last breath. For without that, your child and others like him are not worth the dust on the road.
Every day is to be used for preparing for your long journey to your original exalted destiny.
How do you prepare yourself?
1. Be pure of heart. Banish hatred and greed. Greed and hatred are horrible traits. The greater your love for material possessions, the smaller your Iman. In a heart with hatred and greed, there is no divine light. There is darkness. There is sorrow and fear in that heart. Love Allah’s creatures. The love for Allah starts here.
2. Help those that are in need. Not necessarily with money. You can help with your time or a kind word. Look around you for the needy. The needy are sent to you so you are purified helping them. Allah comes to you only ONE way: through a needy person. Hold their hands and you are holding Allah’s hand. No less. Hold them and Allah will hold you. No less. Do you want to meet your Creator? Do you want to smell the fragrance of His Noor? This is the ONLY way.
3. The above two points are the FOUNDATIONS of your faith. Without them, all your prayers are worthless. You can pray and prostrate until your forehead bleeds, but those prayer are not accepted by Mowla.
4. Recite tasbi’s every free moment you get. Inside your car, on a beach on a vacation, on a line-up, at a check-out, waiting for the bus or subway. If you remember your Mowla, he will remember you, walk beside you and fill your life with happiness and His Fragrance.
5. The highest tasbih is the Salwaat. Recite it slowly and with love and emotion. Just like the way they recite it in the presence of Hazar Imam. If you recite 20 salwaats, you will feel elated. After 50, you will feel liberated from the sorrows and fears of life including your work, your superiors there, your tormentors. At 100 you will feel exalted. There will be continuous melody in your heart and soul and nothing will touch you. No death or calamity will affect you. But you must of course satisfy or strive to satisfy the first two points. Do NOT let one day go by without remembering this tasbih
6. The next are
Bibi Fatima’s tasbihs,
Al Hamdullilah – All praise is due to Allah,
Allahu Akbar – All is great,
Subahan Allah – Allah is Glorious
Ya Ali tun Rahem Kar ya Mowla tu fazal kar (Oh Ali, have Mercy and forgive my sins)
7. The Kalma (Ash-haduan Laillaha illalah…..)
If you remember these tasbihs every day, your existence will be wonderful. Mowla will walk beside you. You will NEVER be alone
8. Remember any of these tasbihs before sleeping and your whole night will be spent in Ibadat. Mowlana Sultan Muhammad Shah has told us that if you fall asleep taking His name (saying tasbi), then He will stand beside your bedside all night.
9. Pray for your children, parents, family, friends, a needy person (not necessarily Ismaili). Praying for others is an act of great charity. It is better than giving anything else.
10. If you are retired, use this excellent opportunity to catch up on the deficiencies in your faith.
11. Attend Jamat Khana daily or as often as you can. JK is the house of the Imam and His Noor and Light will make you pure, clean and happy.
12. Remember, there is no sorrow or happiness or any incident in your life that is not sanctioned by Allah. Not one leaf on a tree moves without Allah’s sanction. So when you have happiness in your life, thank your Mowla. If you have sorrows, thank your Mowla too. No sorrow is undeserved. But ask your Mowla to lessen the burden of your sorrow. Everything in your life is a result of Mowla’s justice. For nothing happens outside His Will. Ask for His Rahem (mercy) when in difficulty. If your heart is pure, He MUST listen to you. He will listen if you ask. For He is nearer to you than the fragrance is to a flower.
Appreciate Life -- And Be grateful.
"Let us make one point, that we meet each other with a smile, when it is difficult to smile. Smile at each other, make time for each other in your family." - Mother Teresa
Pre-Death Dreams Aren't Hallucinations
During their final days, people commonly report having extraordinary dreams and visions. While there’s an extensive record of these pre-death experiences, little formal research on them exists. Researchers from Canisius College, however, recently conducted the first such study, published in the Journal of Palliative Medicine and found that end-of-life dreams and visions (ELDVs) are an intrinsic and comforting part of the dying process.
The study, according to a press release, included 66 patients receiving end-of-life care at the Center for Hospice and Palliative Care in Cheektowaga, NY. On a daily basis, researchers interviewed patients about their dreams and visions, specifically asking about their content, frequency and comfort level.
More than anything else, patients said they dreamt of deceased relatives and friends. While dreaming of the departed may sound saddening, patients said the experiences, which grew more frequent as they neared death, brought them significantly more comfort than dreams concerning other topics.
Study authors say it’s important that doctors understand ELDVs as cathartic, comforting and natural experiences. Too often, according to the press release, doctors and nurses dismiss ELDVs as delusions or hallucinations that require fixing. But the end of life dreams and visions differ from delirium in a significant way: People who are delirious have lost their connection to reality and cannot communicate rationally. Because delirium poses risk and causes distress, it merits medical treatment. ELDVs, per this research, don’t warrant the same cautious response; they’re meaningful and healthy, and can affect quality of life for people nearing the end of theirs.
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/van-winkl ... 89566.html
During their final days, people commonly report having extraordinary dreams and visions. While there’s an extensive record of these pre-death experiences, little formal research on them exists. Researchers from Canisius College, however, recently conducted the first such study, published in the Journal of Palliative Medicine and found that end-of-life dreams and visions (ELDVs) are an intrinsic and comforting part of the dying process.
The study, according to a press release, included 66 patients receiving end-of-life care at the Center for Hospice and Palliative Care in Cheektowaga, NY. On a daily basis, researchers interviewed patients about their dreams and visions, specifically asking about their content, frequency and comfort level.
More than anything else, patients said they dreamt of deceased relatives and friends. While dreaming of the departed may sound saddening, patients said the experiences, which grew more frequent as they neared death, brought them significantly more comfort than dreams concerning other topics.
Study authors say it’s important that doctors understand ELDVs as cathartic, comforting and natural experiences. Too often, according to the press release, doctors and nurses dismiss ELDVs as delusions or hallucinations that require fixing. But the end of life dreams and visions differ from delirium in a significant way: People who are delirious have lost their connection to reality and cannot communicate rationally. Because delirium poses risk and causes distress, it merits medical treatment. ELDVs, per this research, don’t warrant the same cautious response; they’re meaningful and healthy, and can affect quality of life for people nearing the end of theirs.
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/van-winkl ... 89566.html
Ghosts in the Machine
Social media has changed the way we mourn, for the better.
http://www.nytimes.com/2015/12/27/magaz ... d=71987722
Excerpt:
The near pervasiveness of social technology has delivered death back into our daily interactions. With the exception of our friends and closest kin, we typically encounter news of deaths through social media. The same feed that informs us about sports scores and plot twists on ‘‘Empire’’ also tells us, without any ceremony, that a life has come to an end.
This could be a blurring of a sacred line, the conflation of the profound with something profane. But this flattening has a benefit: We can no longer avert our eyes from tragedy. We have seen how people used social media to ensure that Americans did not ignore the deaths of people like Freddie Gray, Walter Scott and Sandra Bland, amplifying them into a rallying cry for justice. The mass shootings in Paris and San Bernardino felt, somehow, closer to our lives because they played out on our screens and in our browsers.
Social media has changed the way we mourn, for the better.
http://www.nytimes.com/2015/12/27/magaz ... d=71987722
Excerpt:
The near pervasiveness of social technology has delivered death back into our daily interactions. With the exception of our friends and closest kin, we typically encounter news of deaths through social media. The same feed that informs us about sports scores and plot twists on ‘‘Empire’’ also tells us, without any ceremony, that a life has come to an end.
This could be a blurring of a sacred line, the conflation of the profound with something profane. But this flattening has a benefit: We can no longer avert our eyes from tragedy. We have seen how people used social media to ensure that Americans did not ignore the deaths of people like Freddie Gray, Walter Scott and Sandra Bland, amplifying them into a rallying cry for justice. The mass shootings in Paris and San Bernardino felt, somehow, closer to our lives because they played out on our screens and in our browsers.
-
dawlatshahchitrali
- Posts: 48
- Joined: Fri Oct 02, 2015 1:18 am
Just information:
Namaz e janaza of Mowla Murtaza Ali was performed by Hazrat Hasan with
4 Takbirs. ( Tarikh Hazrat Ali Murtaza, written by Khwaja Sultan Ali Fidai, Karachi, p-270)
During Fatimi Caliphat 5 Takbirs were said. ( Fatimi Tariqa )
In 20th century MSMS allowed 4 Takbirs according to Sunni Hanafi Tariqa.
In late 60's Hazar Imam again ordered 5 Takbirs according to Fatimi Tariqa.
At present eastern part of world jamaits say 5 Takbirs and western part of the world jamaits say 7 Takbirs ( Canada,USA, Europe, African jamaits )
Question is when Imam is one basic Tariqa should be one.
Note: Please discard above half post, mistakenly pressed the wrong button.
Namaz e janaza of Mowla Murtaza Ali was performed by Hazrat Hasan with
4 Takbirs. ( Tarikh Hazrat Ali Murtaza, written by Khwaja Sultan Ali Fidai, Karachi, p-270)
During Fatimi Caliphat 5 Takbirs were said. ( Fatimi Tariqa )
In 20th century MSMS allowed 4 Takbirs according to Sunni Hanafi Tariqa.
In late 60's Hazar Imam again ordered 5 Takbirs according to Fatimi Tariqa.
At present eastern part of world jamaits say 5 Takbirs and western part of the world jamaits say 7 Takbirs ( Canada,USA, Europe, African jamaits )
Question is when Imam is one basic Tariqa should be one.
Note: Please discard above half post, mistakenly pressed the wrong button.
Songs of Transition
“Have you ever been there when someone dies?” people ask when they find out I play the harp and sing for dying patients. It is the same tone I hear when someone asks, “Do you think you will have more children?” They want to talk about it, but they worry that the answer might be a secret. When I tell them I have been there at the moment of death, though not as often as they might suppose, they ask, “What is that like for you?”
I tell them it is intense. I wait to see if they would like to hear more, or if they have their own story to tell. I am a music thanatologist, trained to offer music in a prescriptive way, to create a calm space for dying patients and their families. I focus on the patient’s breath as I play the harp and sing. With this rhythm as my guide, music can echo and reflect the dying process. The patient leads the music vigil with his or her breath, right in the middle of the hum of machines, the trill of cellphones, and the voices and nose-blowing of family. It often feels to me as if the room becomes larger, warmed by music and filled with the courage of families preparing to say goodbye.
The people I play for are incredibly gracious. They say the music is relaxing and beautiful. They invite me in to their moments of vulnerability. I once played for a patient who was struggling with complicated symptoms. She was uncomfortable and having difficulty speaking. But she asked me to stay, and at one point during the music vigil she mouthed the words, “You are blessing my soul.”
The first time I was there when someone died, I was surprised by how peaceful it felt. The patient was on hospice in a nursing home, and we were alone in the room. I sat at her bedside and sang while resting my hand lightly on hers. Her breath slowed.
When I moved my hand away to reach for my harp she made a small movement. I returned my hand and continued to sing as her breath slowed, then stopped. It was just the two of us, in the late afternoon silence of her room. I did not feel frightened or distraught. I felt honored to be there and humbled by her connection to the music. I sat with her until a staff member walked in and spoke, and the bustle of phone calls began.
I feel pure astonishment in the presence of death. Who am I to be there? I feel the stillness of time and also its relentless push forward. As they leave, these patients remind me of my own body’s fragility and willfulness. By inviting me to witness their death, they teach me to live, to craft a life with joy and attention. They call me to be bold. What are you waiting for? I imagine them asking, as the door of their life gently closes.
My wonder and bewilderment at death has evolved. Thanks to good training and my practical nature, I do not get freaked out. But I am not entirely comfortable either. Even with years of experience, it doesn’t get easier to confront mortality, my own or that of the patients I meet. I never stop feeling like a beginner. Perhaps we are all beginners in times of profound human transition, no matter how much we have seen it before.
The cycles of human mortality seem especially vivid at this time of year, as the tide of the past year sweeps out and the new one is about to be born.
One thing I know for certain is that the presence of another person, even a stranger, can be transformative during transitions. It can turn an unendurable moment into an opportunity for meaning and awe. This is not something I could have learned in my training, or even in years of music vigils. I learned it giving birth to my son.
When my water broke three weeks before my due date I was on vacation with my family. We talked to the doctor at the local hospital, then made the three-hour return trip to Boston. My husband ordered Chinese food and my stepchildren binged on “Buffy the Vampire Slayer.”
After I checked into the hospital, my husband slept while I tried to cope with the contractions. This was my first pregnancy and I assumed it would be a long labor. When the pain became overwhelming, our doula arrived and began to coach me to breathe slowly and deeply. She made low noises along with me, showing me how to relax. When the contraction finished, she said, “Now lower your shoulders, and let a deep breath out. Let that contraction go.”
Her attention to my suffering calmed me down and made me feel deeply cared for. I focused on her quiet voice and clear instructions. Breath by breath, the doula accompanied me. This dynamic was familiar from my role in end-of-life care. She was an outsider providing help and experience at an intimate, vulnerable time. But I had never been the patient before. It was my first time as the one in the hospital bed.
I needed my husband’s love, kindness and good humor in order to endure the pain. But I found I also needed the doula’s confidence and wisdom. She had seen birth before, and knew strategies that could help. She couldn’t take the pain away, but she stayed with me. This companionship gave me the courage to relax and accept a process that was already underway, until my son was in my arms.
In those first days home from the hospital, I understood something new about my work with the dying. I realized that when families express their gratitude, when they say they feel blessed or that they will remember me, they are not just talking about the music. They are also grateful that I was with them through their suffering, as a witness to their grief.
Playing music for dying patients is not about giving a concert to distract them, or even trying to make them feel better. Perhaps it is not about music at all. It is about cradling a family with beauty as they end the conversation with someone they love. It is about helping them bear an impossible transition which — like labor — is both painful and unstoppable. It is about staying close and trying to do something useful, until they have the courage to say goodbye and leave that room, into a world where one precious voice has gone silent.
Jennifer L. Hollis is a music thanatologist and the author of “Music at the End of Life: Easing the Pain and Preparing the Passage.”
http://opinionator.blogs.nytimes.com/20 ... d=71987722
“Have you ever been there when someone dies?” people ask when they find out I play the harp and sing for dying patients. It is the same tone I hear when someone asks, “Do you think you will have more children?” They want to talk about it, but they worry that the answer might be a secret. When I tell them I have been there at the moment of death, though not as often as they might suppose, they ask, “What is that like for you?”
I tell them it is intense. I wait to see if they would like to hear more, or if they have their own story to tell. I am a music thanatologist, trained to offer music in a prescriptive way, to create a calm space for dying patients and their families. I focus on the patient’s breath as I play the harp and sing. With this rhythm as my guide, music can echo and reflect the dying process. The patient leads the music vigil with his or her breath, right in the middle of the hum of machines, the trill of cellphones, and the voices and nose-blowing of family. It often feels to me as if the room becomes larger, warmed by music and filled with the courage of families preparing to say goodbye.
The people I play for are incredibly gracious. They say the music is relaxing and beautiful. They invite me in to their moments of vulnerability. I once played for a patient who was struggling with complicated symptoms. She was uncomfortable and having difficulty speaking. But she asked me to stay, and at one point during the music vigil she mouthed the words, “You are blessing my soul.”
The first time I was there when someone died, I was surprised by how peaceful it felt. The patient was on hospice in a nursing home, and we were alone in the room. I sat at her bedside and sang while resting my hand lightly on hers. Her breath slowed.
When I moved my hand away to reach for my harp she made a small movement. I returned my hand and continued to sing as her breath slowed, then stopped. It was just the two of us, in the late afternoon silence of her room. I did not feel frightened or distraught. I felt honored to be there and humbled by her connection to the music. I sat with her until a staff member walked in and spoke, and the bustle of phone calls began.
I feel pure astonishment in the presence of death. Who am I to be there? I feel the stillness of time and also its relentless push forward. As they leave, these patients remind me of my own body’s fragility and willfulness. By inviting me to witness their death, they teach me to live, to craft a life with joy and attention. They call me to be bold. What are you waiting for? I imagine them asking, as the door of their life gently closes.
My wonder and bewilderment at death has evolved. Thanks to good training and my practical nature, I do not get freaked out. But I am not entirely comfortable either. Even with years of experience, it doesn’t get easier to confront mortality, my own or that of the patients I meet. I never stop feeling like a beginner. Perhaps we are all beginners in times of profound human transition, no matter how much we have seen it before.
The cycles of human mortality seem especially vivid at this time of year, as the tide of the past year sweeps out and the new one is about to be born.
One thing I know for certain is that the presence of another person, even a stranger, can be transformative during transitions. It can turn an unendurable moment into an opportunity for meaning and awe. This is not something I could have learned in my training, or even in years of music vigils. I learned it giving birth to my son.
When my water broke three weeks before my due date I was on vacation with my family. We talked to the doctor at the local hospital, then made the three-hour return trip to Boston. My husband ordered Chinese food and my stepchildren binged on “Buffy the Vampire Slayer.”
After I checked into the hospital, my husband slept while I tried to cope with the contractions. This was my first pregnancy and I assumed it would be a long labor. When the pain became overwhelming, our doula arrived and began to coach me to breathe slowly and deeply. She made low noises along with me, showing me how to relax. When the contraction finished, she said, “Now lower your shoulders, and let a deep breath out. Let that contraction go.”
Her attention to my suffering calmed me down and made me feel deeply cared for. I focused on her quiet voice and clear instructions. Breath by breath, the doula accompanied me. This dynamic was familiar from my role in end-of-life care. She was an outsider providing help and experience at an intimate, vulnerable time. But I had never been the patient before. It was my first time as the one in the hospital bed.
I needed my husband’s love, kindness and good humor in order to endure the pain. But I found I also needed the doula’s confidence and wisdom. She had seen birth before, and knew strategies that could help. She couldn’t take the pain away, but she stayed with me. This companionship gave me the courage to relax and accept a process that was already underway, until my son was in my arms.
In those first days home from the hospital, I understood something new about my work with the dying. I realized that when families express their gratitude, when they say they feel blessed or that they will remember me, they are not just talking about the music. They are also grateful that I was with them through their suffering, as a witness to their grief.
Playing music for dying patients is not about giving a concert to distract them, or even trying to make them feel better. Perhaps it is not about music at all. It is about cradling a family with beauty as they end the conversation with someone they love. It is about helping them bear an impossible transition which — like labor — is both painful and unstoppable. It is about staying close and trying to do something useful, until they have the courage to say goodbye and leave that room, into a world where one precious voice has gone silent.
Jennifer L. Hollis is a music thanatologist and the author of “Music at the End of Life: Easing the Pain and Preparing the Passage.”
http://opinionator.blogs.nytimes.com/20 ... d=71987722
To Be Happier, Start Thinking More About Your Death
WANT a better 2016? Try thinking more about your impending demise.
Years ago on a visit to Thailand, I was surprised to learn that Buddhist monks often contemplate the photos of corpses in various stages of decay. The Buddha himself recommended corpse meditation. “This body, too,” students were taught to say about their own bodies, “such is its nature, such is its future, such its unavoidable fate.”
Paradoxically, this meditation on death is intended as a key to better living. It makes disciples aware of the transitory nature of their own physical lives and stimulates a realignment between momentary desires and existential goals. In other words, it makes one ask, “Am I making the right use of my scarce and precious life?”
In fact, most people suffer grave misalignment. In a 2004 article in the journal Science, a team of scholars, including the Nobel Prize winner Daniel Kahneman, surveyed a group of women to compare how much satisfaction they derived from their daily activities. Among voluntary activities, we might expect that choices would roughly align with satisfaction. Not so. The women reported deriving more satisfaction from prayer, worship and meditation than from watching television. Yet the average respondent spent more than five times as long watching TV as engaging in spiritual activities.
More....
http://www.nytimes.com/2016/01/10/opini ... ef=opinion
WANT a better 2016? Try thinking more about your impending demise.
Years ago on a visit to Thailand, I was surprised to learn that Buddhist monks often contemplate the photos of corpses in various stages of decay. The Buddha himself recommended corpse meditation. “This body, too,” students were taught to say about their own bodies, “such is its nature, such is its future, such its unavoidable fate.”
Paradoxically, this meditation on death is intended as a key to better living. It makes disciples aware of the transitory nature of their own physical lives and stimulates a realignment between momentary desires and existential goals. In other words, it makes one ask, “Am I making the right use of my scarce and precious life?”
In fact, most people suffer grave misalignment. In a 2004 article in the journal Science, a team of scholars, including the Nobel Prize winner Daniel Kahneman, surveyed a group of women to compare how much satisfaction they derived from their daily activities. Among voluntary activities, we might expect that choices would roughly align with satisfaction. Not so. The women reported deriving more satisfaction from prayer, worship and meditation than from watching television. Yet the average respondent spent more than five times as long watching TV as engaging in spiritual activities.
More....
http://www.nytimes.com/2016/01/10/opini ... ef=opinion
In India, Dispensers of Balm Travel to Death’s Door
http://opinionator.blogs.nytimes.com/20 ... ef=opinion
Excerpt:
"Upasarna, a tiny woman wrapped in a cotton sari, sat at Karathattya’s bedside, holding his hand and assessing his pain. Working with a nonprofit in the Ernakulum district called Apium, she is one of 15,000 volunteers in Kerala who assist a network of physicians and nurses in extending palliative care to tens of thousands of people who are incurably ill, bedridden or nearing the end of their lives. Upasarna said this work was not only a service to her community, but a way to overcome the loneliness she experienced after her husband died last year.
“It doesn’t feel like work,” she said. “It’s just something I want to do.”
Volunteers like Upasarna are the linchpin in Kerala’s palliative care system — one that was singled out as “a beacon of hope” in The Economist’s “Quality of Death” study in 2010. Kerala’s achievement is especially significant at a time when richer Indian states and wealthy countries like the United States are struggling with the same challenge: How can health systems offer the possibility of a dignified death to everyone?
Most people want to die the same way — pain-free and at home, surrounded by family. But in reality, most people in high-income countries die in a hospital, while in many lower-income countries they suffer in pain without medicine or facilities.
Countries take different approaches to their chronically or terminally ill. In Britain, ranked highest this year in The Economist’s “Quality of Death Index,” the government has invested $703 million on palliative care. In the United States, starting this year under the Affordable Care Act, doctors will be paid for time spent in conversations with patients about end-of-life care. And in Uganda, the health system has invested in nurses, instead of doctors, for pain management and hospice care.
........
In “Being Mortal,” a manifesto on how to take care of patients at the end of life, Dr. Atul Gawande, a physician and journalist, writes: “The only way death is not meaningless is to see yourself as part of something greater: a family, a community, a society. If you don’t, mortality is only a horror.”
For families like the Karathattyas, it is the ability to live together, sharing occasions like the Muslim festivals of Eid with their friends and serving snacks to their neighbors, that make the heavy shadow of illness and death more bearable. Rather than being a moving hospital, the little van that comes to their house every month is a reminder that they’re not suffering alone.
“There’s always pain,” Karathattya said, leaning back on his bed. “But there’s always happiness.”
http://opinionator.blogs.nytimes.com/20 ... ef=opinion
Excerpt:
"Upasarna, a tiny woman wrapped in a cotton sari, sat at Karathattya’s bedside, holding his hand and assessing his pain. Working with a nonprofit in the Ernakulum district called Apium, she is one of 15,000 volunteers in Kerala who assist a network of physicians and nurses in extending palliative care to tens of thousands of people who are incurably ill, bedridden or nearing the end of their lives. Upasarna said this work was not only a service to her community, but a way to overcome the loneliness she experienced after her husband died last year.
“It doesn’t feel like work,” she said. “It’s just something I want to do.”
Volunteers like Upasarna are the linchpin in Kerala’s palliative care system — one that was singled out as “a beacon of hope” in The Economist’s “Quality of Death” study in 2010. Kerala’s achievement is especially significant at a time when richer Indian states and wealthy countries like the United States are struggling with the same challenge: How can health systems offer the possibility of a dignified death to everyone?
Most people want to die the same way — pain-free and at home, surrounded by family. But in reality, most people in high-income countries die in a hospital, while in many lower-income countries they suffer in pain without medicine or facilities.
Countries take different approaches to their chronically or terminally ill. In Britain, ranked highest this year in The Economist’s “Quality of Death Index,” the government has invested $703 million on palliative care. In the United States, starting this year under the Affordable Care Act, doctors will be paid for time spent in conversations with patients about end-of-life care. And in Uganda, the health system has invested in nurses, instead of doctors, for pain management and hospice care.
........
In “Being Mortal,” a manifesto on how to take care of patients at the end of life, Dr. Atul Gawande, a physician and journalist, writes: “The only way death is not meaningless is to see yourself as part of something greater: a family, a community, a society. If you don’t, mortality is only a horror.”
For families like the Karathattyas, it is the ability to live together, sharing occasions like the Muslim festivals of Eid with their friends and serving snacks to their neighbors, that make the heavy shadow of illness and death more bearable. Rather than being a moving hospital, the little van that comes to their house every month is a reminder that they’re not suffering alone.
“There’s always pain,” Karathattya said, leaning back on his bed. “But there’s always happiness.”
Unequal Lives, Unequal Deaths
In my first year of practice in palliative medicine, I made house calls to patients in South Los Angeles. My patients all lived in neighborhoods that ranked among the city’s lowest in both income and life expectancy. In these neighborhoods, people die an average of 10 years earlier than those who live less than 10 miles away. Many of my patients felt that they had barely lived their lives when I showed up, ostensibly to help them “die with dignity.”
Death may be humanity’s great equalizer, but the inequalities suffered in life – leading to a shorter life expectancy – become inequalities in the experience of dying as well.
More....
http://opinionator.blogs.nytimes.com/20 ... d=45305309
******
Is It Better to Die in America or in England?
WE frequently hear complaints about how people near the end of life are treated in America. Patients are attached to tubes and machines and subjected to too many invasive procedures. Death occurs too frequently in the hospital, rather than at home, where the dying can be surrounded by loved ones. And it is way too expensive. Each year, the care of dying seniors consumes over 25 percent of Medicare expenditures.
Death in America is frequently compared unfavorably with death in other countries, where people may not be as focused on extending life with every possible intervention. As Ian Morrison, the former president of the Institute for the Future, once wrote: “The Scots see death as imminent. Canadians see death as inevitable. And Californians see death as optional.” He added, “Americans and the American health care system are uncomfortable with the inevitability of mortality.”
But is it actually true that end-of-life care in America is more invasive and expensive than in other countries?
More....
http://www.nytimes.com/2016/01/20/opini ... d=45305309
In my first year of practice in palliative medicine, I made house calls to patients in South Los Angeles. My patients all lived in neighborhoods that ranked among the city’s lowest in both income and life expectancy. In these neighborhoods, people die an average of 10 years earlier than those who live less than 10 miles away. Many of my patients felt that they had barely lived their lives when I showed up, ostensibly to help them “die with dignity.”
Death may be humanity’s great equalizer, but the inequalities suffered in life – leading to a shorter life expectancy – become inequalities in the experience of dying as well.
More....
http://opinionator.blogs.nytimes.com/20 ... d=45305309
******
Is It Better to Die in America or in England?
WE frequently hear complaints about how people near the end of life are treated in America. Patients are attached to tubes and machines and subjected to too many invasive procedures. Death occurs too frequently in the hospital, rather than at home, where the dying can be surrounded by loved ones. And it is way too expensive. Each year, the care of dying seniors consumes over 25 percent of Medicare expenditures.
Death in America is frequently compared unfavorably with death in other countries, where people may not be as focused on extending life with every possible intervention. As Ian Morrison, the former president of the Institute for the Future, once wrote: “The Scots see death as imminent. Canadians see death as inevitable. And Californians see death as optional.” He added, “Americans and the American health care system are uncomfortable with the inevitability of mortality.”
But is it actually true that end-of-life care in America is more invasive and expensive than in other countries?
More....
http://www.nytimes.com/2016/01/20/opini ... d=45305309
How to Speak of the Dead
A MINOR media kerfuffle followed the recent passing of the Eagles guitarist, songwriter and co-founder Glenn Frey.
Amid the admiring assessments and farewells, Gersh Kuntzman declared in a column in The Daily News, “No disrespect to Glenn Frey — whose death this week is a cause for genuine mourning — but the Eagles were, quite simply, the worst rock and roll band.” Mr. Kuntzman proceeded to score Mr. Frey and company as too mainstream, too soft, too generic.
The backlash was immediate. A day later, Mr. Kuntzman reported receiving an “avalanche of hate mail” and even calls for his own death.
This took place atop the dissing of another acclaimed and departed musician. Even as David Bowie’s life and work were being celebrated, a friend of mine noted online that some Facebook acquaintances felt obliged to say in effect, “I never cared/listened/understood the attraction.”
Is it O.K. to publicly dump on the newly deceased — or for that matter, to offer them not-quite-heartfelt praise? It’s a tough call. No one likes a hypocrite. Just the same, there is surely a time and a place for everything.
More...
http://www.nytimes.com/2016/01/30/opini ... d=45305309
*****
Give the Dead a Break
the Editor:
Just before reading “How to Speak of the Dead,” by Thomas Vinciguerra (Op-Ed, Jan. 30), I was reviewing the second eulogy I have written recently.
While the public-private distinction is considered by Mr. Vinciguerra, the private world is where the grieving and the comments reside for most of us.
And in that world we should airbrush out the foibles and inadequacies that exist in those who have left us to consider their former being. It is one thing to kick a man when he is down and wholly another to do so when he is forever out.
There will be time in later days and years to paint a fuller image, to bring back in the warts and the scars on the face of our departed friend or relative. But there is that moment where they deserve their peace, not a piece of your mind.
So my words are the best I can offer for each of those of whom I speak. And for you who find Glenn Frey of the Eagles unworthy of your praise, take a few days off and consider the possibility that silence is sometimes golden.
ROBERT S. NUSSBAUM
Fort Lee, N.J.
http://www.nytimes.com/2016/02/02/opini ... ef=opinion
A MINOR media kerfuffle followed the recent passing of the Eagles guitarist, songwriter and co-founder Glenn Frey.
Amid the admiring assessments and farewells, Gersh Kuntzman declared in a column in The Daily News, “No disrespect to Glenn Frey — whose death this week is a cause for genuine mourning — but the Eagles were, quite simply, the worst rock and roll band.” Mr. Kuntzman proceeded to score Mr. Frey and company as too mainstream, too soft, too generic.
The backlash was immediate. A day later, Mr. Kuntzman reported receiving an “avalanche of hate mail” and even calls for his own death.
This took place atop the dissing of another acclaimed and departed musician. Even as David Bowie’s life and work were being celebrated, a friend of mine noted online that some Facebook acquaintances felt obliged to say in effect, “I never cared/listened/understood the attraction.”
Is it O.K. to publicly dump on the newly deceased — or for that matter, to offer them not-quite-heartfelt praise? It’s a tough call. No one likes a hypocrite. Just the same, there is surely a time and a place for everything.
More...
http://www.nytimes.com/2016/01/30/opini ... d=45305309
*****
Give the Dead a Break
the Editor:
Just before reading “How to Speak of the Dead,” by Thomas Vinciguerra (Op-Ed, Jan. 30), I was reviewing the second eulogy I have written recently.
While the public-private distinction is considered by Mr. Vinciguerra, the private world is where the grieving and the comments reside for most of us.
And in that world we should airbrush out the foibles and inadequacies that exist in those who have left us to consider their former being. It is one thing to kick a man when he is down and wholly another to do so when he is forever out.
There will be time in later days and years to paint a fuller image, to bring back in the warts and the scars on the face of our departed friend or relative. But there is that moment where they deserve their peace, not a piece of your mind.
So my words are the best I can offer for each of those of whom I speak. And for you who find Glenn Frey of the Eagles unworthy of your praise, take a few days off and consider the possibility that silence is sometimes golden.
ROBERT S. NUSSBAUM
Fort Lee, N.J.
http://www.nytimes.com/2016/02/02/opini ... ef=opinion
Last edited by kmaherali on Tue Feb 02, 2016 6:51 am, edited 1 time in total.
To zznoor:Ya Ali madad.
My question is ,Does a living tree which gives oxygen,shade, fruits to human knows what side or direction it is facing,there is no value of a dead stone or rock block piece to any human in for use.
Does it know what direction is is facing?
.
Ismailis do not have specific direction as I have seen personally.
Remember value of a rock or a stone is as what they are (nothing much) and VALUE N RESPECT living on what they are.
My question is ,Does a living tree which gives oxygen,shade, fruits to human knows what side or direction it is facing,there is no value of a dead stone or rock block piece to any human in for use.
Does it know what direction is is facing?
.
Ismailis do not have specific direction as I have seen personally.
Remember value of a rock or a stone is as what they are (nothing much) and VALUE N RESPECT living on what they are.
MSMS once remarked that it does not matter whether the body is fed to dogs.zznoor wrote:In Ismaili burial tradition, which direction body faces?
Do they follow Muslim tradition of facing Kaaba or could be any direction!
Mowlana Rumi in his poem says:
When I Die - Poem by Mewlana Jalaluddin Rumi
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/when-i-die-76/
you'll only see me
descending into a grave
now watch me rise
how can there be an end
when the sun sets or
the moon goes down
it looks like the end
it seems like a sunset
but in reality it is a dawn
when the grave locks you up
that is when your soul is freed
A New Vision for Dreams of the Dying
Excerpt:
For thousands of years, the dreams and visions of the dying have captivated cultures, which imbued them with sacred import. Anthropologists, theologians and sociologists have studied these so-called deathbed phenomena. They appear in medieval writings and Renaissance paintings, in Shakespearean works and set pieces from 19th-century American and British novels, particularly by Dickens. One of the most famous moments in film is the mysterious deathbed murmur in “Citizen Kane”: “Rosebud!”
Even the law reveres a dying person’s final words, allowing them to be admitted as evidence in an unusual exception to hearsay rules.
In the modern medical world, such experiences have been noted by psychologists, social workers and nurses. But doctors tend to give them a wide berth because “we don’t know what the hell they are,” said Dr. Timothy E. Quill, an expert on palliative care medicine at the University of Rochester Medical Center. Some researchers have surmised that patients and doctors avoid reporting these phenomena for fear of ridicule.
Now a team of clinicians and researchers led by Dr. Kerr at Hospice Buffalo, an internist who has a doctorate in neurobiology, are seeking to demystify these experiences and understand their role and importance in supporting “a good death” — for the patient and the bereaved.
These events are distinct from “near-death experiences,” such as those recalled by people revived in intensive care units, said Pei C. Grant, the director of the research team. “These are people on a journey towards death, not people who just missed it.”
More....
http://www.nytimes.com/2016/02/02/healt ... 87722&_r=0
Excerpt:
For thousands of years, the dreams and visions of the dying have captivated cultures, which imbued them with sacred import. Anthropologists, theologians and sociologists have studied these so-called deathbed phenomena. They appear in medieval writings and Renaissance paintings, in Shakespearean works and set pieces from 19th-century American and British novels, particularly by Dickens. One of the most famous moments in film is the mysterious deathbed murmur in “Citizen Kane”: “Rosebud!”
Even the law reveres a dying person’s final words, allowing them to be admitted as evidence in an unusual exception to hearsay rules.
In the modern medical world, such experiences have been noted by psychologists, social workers and nurses. But doctors tend to give them a wide berth because “we don’t know what the hell they are,” said Dr. Timothy E. Quill, an expert on palliative care medicine at the University of Rochester Medical Center. Some researchers have surmised that patients and doctors avoid reporting these phenomena for fear of ridicule.
Now a team of clinicians and researchers led by Dr. Kerr at Hospice Buffalo, an internist who has a doctorate in neurobiology, are seeking to demystify these experiences and understand their role and importance in supporting “a good death” — for the patient and the bereaved.
These events are distinct from “near-death experiences,” such as those recalled by people revived in intensive care units, said Pei C. Grant, the director of the research team. “These are people on a journey towards death, not people who just missed it.”
More....
http://www.nytimes.com/2016/02/02/healt ... 87722&_r=0