Voices in the Burial ground

“To let go does not mean to get rid of.

To let go means to let be.

When we let be with compassion,

things come and go on their own”

                                               Jack Kornfield

I sketch a tombstone, and then some others.

They all front open and empty graves.  I read the testimonies that have appeared on the face of all the tombstones. Sometimes my sketches take on a life of their own and I find I am no longer in charge….

A rather strange looking figure wanders through the graveyard. He is rather rotund, and if you get a good second glance at him, you will discover that the pansies and violets in his hair are, actually, not in his hair. They are his hair. Small leaf-covered twigs dangle from his shirt and jacket pockets, which could better be described as small planters. He appears to be covered with all sorts of growing things, with life itself. If you ask him what his name is and who he is, he will laugh and merrily reply, “Oh bother, I have no name. But I can tell you who I am. I am the voice of the Mystery! And sometimes it is helpful if you listen to me, even if I don’t appear to take you too seriously! You do know, though, that you do take yourself too seriously…at times.” And he proceeded to belly laugh so vigorously that he almost fell into one of the open graves.

“The Mystery has given me the assignment of being the ultimate practical joker. And I am quite good at it. People take all their stuff so seriously, as if they owned all of it. And upon the moment of death, I place a ‘call’ on all their ‘loans,’ and foreclose on everything they think they have.  Some really think they can take it with them. Can you believe such absurdities? I’ll tell you a secret. Underneath all this silliness, humans really think that they are in control, that they are god-like. They think that to own things puts them in charge, when it’s just the opposite. All this stuff really controls them.” And he belly-laughed once again.

“Oh, here comes someone. She appears to be looking for her final resting place. It must be time for her to go.” And he laughs once again in his rolling, boisterous manner. “You must watch this! They are never prepared for what happens next.” And he prances off to confront his next victim with his satchel of practical jokes.

As you look up and find the object of his affection, it appears that she is a very gaunt elderly woman dragging a very large steamer trunk with a thick rope that has been tied all around it. The woman appears to be ready to faint with the effort it has taken to get herself and her trunk into the graveyard. “Good afternoon, my lady, and how are you this fine day?” “Somewhat well,” she responds, “in-spite of my condition. You see, I am quite near death, and I had to pack all my things last night to take with me. And then I come to find out how far away the cemetery is from where I have lived. I am quite exhausted from dragging all this stuff here. Would you be so kind as to point out where my grave is? My goodness I did not think I would find so many open ones. Was there some mass casualty that had occurred recently?” 

The Voice (Yes, we will call him The Voice, so that you will know who is talking and who the quotation marks belong to.) responded, “This activity we call death goes on all the time. So, we have many open graves prepared and ready for this significant eventuality.” 

“Can you direct me to mine, grave, that is?” “Of course, dear lady.” The Voice replied. And they wandered over to her grave. Unfortunately, it was well to the other side of the graveyard. And she had to drag her massive steamer trunk over there without not one iota of help from The Voice, not one!

When they finally arrived, and she was looking like death warmed over, he asked her, “Can I see what’s inside your trunk?” “Only if you help me untie it.” The Voice laughed and said, “I’m deeply sorry, but only you know how the knots are tied and only you know how to untie them. I do not think I could be of any help at all. Sorry.” 

She groaned and looked at him with a significant amount of consternation and began her arduous task. After quite some time she was able to untie all the knots. Then she took a breath, looked up at The Voice and with a sarcastic tone rising in her throat she huffed, “I don’t suppose you’ll be able to help me lift the lid up? It’s not as if I made all the latches.” And, much to her surprise, he replied, “Of course I can be of assistance.” There upon the two of them began to open all the latches (and there were many). When the last was thrown open, they were able to lift the screeching lid up and let it fall back to the ground on its creaking hinges. 

They both slowly peered over the edge of the trunk as a green and yellow parakeet frantically flew the coop. The lady gasped and said, “He must have gotten out of the cage. I didn’t know what to do with him, since all my acquaintances couldn’t be bothered when I sought out their help. I suppose he’s on his own now.” The Voice was so absorbed with what he saw in the trunk that he barely heard a word of what she had just said. “Wow!” said The Voice. “There sure is a lot of stuff in here! What are you going to do with all of this?” She sighed, “These are my most precious treasures. I just don’t see how I can live without them.” The Voice almost choked as he heard these words. “You won’t,” He replied. 

“Excuse me. What did you just say?” 

He gulped back a strangled laugh, “You won’t, live, that is. You do realize where you are?” She slowly nodded as a tear formed in the corner of her eye and leaked down upon her ashen cheek. “There is not enough room in your final resting place for any of this stuff. You must give it all up.” At these words the tears began to flown down both cheeks and she began sobbing uncontrollably. 

This would have been a most tragic ending were it not for the arrival of a second creature amazingly similar in appearance to the first. Only, in this case “he” was a “she.” They looked so much alike that they would appear to be twins. “That’s enough!” she exclaimed to her colleague. “Your tour of duty is over for now. I will take charge.” As she uttered her command The Voice smiled, spun around on the tips of his toes, and disappeared in a puff of smoke. 

Between sobs the elderly lady looked up and was barely able to ask, “Who are you?”

 “I really don’t have a name, but I am your last host. I am here to help you work things out and come to terms with what you just heard from my colleague. Everything he said was true, but he tends not to be gentle in his delivery. He also thinks you understand everything there is to know about your situation. But obviously you don’t, and that’s why I am here. Let’s start with the basics. You said you came here to die. Unfortunately, you already have. And, again, unfortunately, my colleague did not really pay attention and directed you to the wrong grave site. Yours is just over there, the one with the casket suspended over it. Let’s walk over there where we can talk more discretely. You can leave the trunk here in the meantime.”

And so, the newly arrived host raised her elbow to her newly found acquaintance, who thereupon took the kindly offer. They both walked slowly, arm in arm, with a measure of solemnity, to the appropriate grave site, which was, by the way, just a short distance away.

“Now,” the host spoke up, “Where was I? Oh yes, you do realize that you have already died? Quite peacefully, I assure you.”  The elderly woman had a rather blank but distant look on her face when she whispered, “Yes, I guess I knew, but I needed a little more time to have everything prepared and ready.” “Prepared and ready for what?” the host replied. 

“Well, you know, most of my children are not yet of the right disposition to receive the treasures that I will bequeath to them. They exhibit such selfishness and disregard for the value of my bequests. And the grand children are quite young and not quite ready to receive such gifts. And there are a few items, such as my treasured jewels, that I thought I could take with me to bring me some comfort in the hereafter.” 

With a look, softened with sadness, the host replied, “Because you have not been able to let go of that which you describe as your treasure, you will not be able to find comfort and rest in this world and will roam through it tethered for all eternity to this burdensome trunk. Your treasure has become your millstone. It’s weight and burden, then, will never allow you peace and will prevent you from entering your final resting place, which appears, now, in front of you.” 

And as the host walked over to the trunk, and stood next to it, she stated, “None of this is real. Watch!” And the host raised her arm and brought it down as if it were an axe. It passed through the trunk as if it were nothing more than a projection. And then she stooped down upon her haunches and waved her arm in a horizontal manner, and once again it passed, unhindered, through the trunk. “None of this is real. The trunk contains nothing but your imagined treasures to which you have eternally bound yourself. It is time to let all of them go, so that you might find peace and rest.” 

“How might I do that?” She asked incredulously.

“First you must recall and affirm that almost everything you see in the trunk you have already disposed of in your will, which you wrote some time ago. You have listed all your benefactors and what each is to receive,” But the elderly lady cut short the host’s instructions and sorrowfully replied, “But none of my benefactors are disposed to use their inheritance properly. And the children are yet quite young.” 

“You cannot control what others do with the gifts they receive; any more than your parents could control what you have done with the gifts that you have received through them.” 

“If only I had had the foresight to leave some thoughts or instructions, especially for my grandchildren.”

“You cannot control the outcome for those things that you must release to others. But in the case of the grandchildren, perhaps there is something I might suggest we can do…Although it is probably against my better judgement.” And the host pulled out a large sheaf of papers from an enormous side pocket in her apron. “This is your will.” And as she made this statement, she raised her arm once again and slowly lowered it. Gradually the background faded from view leaving the two of them in a grey empty space. “Don’t be afraid. As we have about one hour before your burial service, I have moved us temporarily outside of time, into Sheol, where we can add a codicil to your will, which will be read tomorrow…Your final words to your grandchildren. Let’s sit down while we write.” And, as they sat down upon the elderly lady’s casket, they wrote this exhortation to her grandchildren.

My dearest grandchildren,

You are very fortunate to have such wonderful parents. And you have traveled far and wide and seen parts of the world that most children your age can barely imagine. You have enjoyed the fruits of love freely gifted to you and really want for very little. I would ask you to think carefully upon what you will do with all these gifts, including those I have left to you. And I would ask you, as you grow up and, and, I’m sure, accomplish much, how will you gift forward what you have been given and to whom you will gift it.

I would remind you that the Mystery will review everything that you have done and accomplished and take all these things back, just as you had left them. The Mystery will then leave these things, the residue of your life, for those who follow you.

Finally, remember that you must listen to the whispers that come from the Mystery, which will come to you many times throughout your lives. The whispers are three questions that will be asked of you, over and over again. “How have you treated my gifts?” “Who will you share them with?” “How will you benefit others with these gifts?” To be able to hear these whispers you must learn the skills of empathy and humility. Ask your wonderful parents to teach you

Love,

Grandmother



The note, with instructions was completed. Then the host waived her arm and the graveyard reappeared. “Thank you for your help,” the elderly lady stated. She smiled; it seemed as if it were the first time in an eternity.

“Look,” as the host pointed, “Your trunk has disappeared. You are free! Are you ready now?” The elderly lady looked around and nodded her head in the affirmative. Then the host arranged her body atop her casket and slowly lowered her inside. She lovingly spoke these last words to her as she released her charge, “It is consummated “.