The Mystery of You. Adin Steinsaltz
we shun not only disapproval, but even indifference. This, I believe, is one of the strongest forces we encounter within us throughout our lives. It is also one of the most dominant and potent forces that constantly influence our perceptions, reactions, relationships and behaviour. The reality of our physical survival is driven by our emotional control system.
An important part of ageing is “finding ourselves” and resolving issues. Ageing should involve reconciliation of our unresolved issues and coming to terms with ourselves.
Not too many people actually achieve this during their lifetimes – so few of us do really become serene within and saintly towards those around us. Most people simply continue to go through the motions of living – merely existing, without developing or growing as human beings. Most people also fail to realise their true potential, or understand the forces that help or hinder true growth.
Some people even have vivid memories of having crossed that mysterious boundary between life and death and having returned to being alive again.
The decision when it is time to “cut the silver thread” (see Ecclesiastes 12:6) is not made in the physical realm. Death is the discontinuation of bodily life as we experience it here on earth. But for the soul there is no death, since it is connected with the eternity of spiritual existence.
Each living person knows when they have completed their earthly existence and it is time for their soul to be freed to continue in another realm of existence. There is final peace and acceptance.
For those who are close to the departed and are “left behind”, there are questions, uncertainties, longing and, often, much sadness and feelings of emptiness. And there’s also guilt: did we really do everything we could? Did the departed suffer, or did they make their peace?
Being given time to prepare for death is a blessing and a most precious gift, since it enables us to leave no “unfinished business” and no “unreconciled issues”. Even in life, we all need time and space to bid our farewells. Belief in the hereafter offers great comfort and many advantages in confronting death; but even for those lacking this dimension of belief, a final opportunity for reconciliation is most important.
Too many people are full of regrets and uncertainties. An unfulfilled need for parental approval often develops into a general need for approval. We are governed by our perceptions and even more often – by our misperceptions, which so strongly influence our externalised behaviour. Our behaviour, in turn, influences the behaviour, reaction and responses of third parties.
Ageing is a fact of life. It is inevitable. It is simultaneously positive and negative. Life is not only about living: it is about how we live and how we age. We grow older, but our persona does not feel older.
The main question is, do we confront ourselves? And if so – how? Even more importantly: have we found ourselves in a true sense, by overcoming our own deep personal issues and resolving our inner conflicts?
This is ageing.
This is death and this is life.
Something stirred me. I was dozing; or was I dreaming? No, it felt as if I were floating, weightless. I must have been asleep. The sensation was unbelievable. Never before had I felt like this.
I looked around me. There was a strange kind of light glowing all around me. It wasn’t bright, but it wasn’t dark either. It felt serene. Somehow, I felt secure. I was floating weightlessly and could sense familiar sounds drifting softly around me.
As I looked around I saw a kind of a silvery thread, or was it some kind of a cord? I didn’t know. This was all so new. Where was I? There was a sense of familiarity and comfort, but this floating, dreamy sensation was unfamiliar.
The silvery, string-like thread was also very gently and very softly drifting about. I was watching it. It seemed to be floating upwards towards me. It was joined to me. As I focused more on this silvery string I started to notice people.
I looked. I could feel. I could sense and comprehend. These people were familiar to me, but there was this strange kind of a haze between us. I looked closer. What was happening to these people?
They were crying and whispering and holding onto each other. They laughed and then were quiet. They looked and they closed their eyes. There were tears. It was sad but it was also happy.
There was someone else there with them. I couldn’t see. Who was this? They were close to this other person and it was all so blurred.
I continued to feel myself floating. I was floating very close to these people.
My silvery string was attached to me, but there were two “me”. There was a “me” there together with the people and there was “me”, myself, floating around “me and my people”.
The silvery string floated. I felt weightless. I didn’t need to look or listen: I could perceive. I was somehow connected to their feelings and thoughts. It all felt so effortless and natural, so strange yet so comforting and whole.
I kept on floating weightlessly above them and was able to float closer and further away at the same time. There were others floating close to my space; I could sense them. There was serenity and familiarity.
My silver string was thinning, but still perceivable. There was no space or time. I existed, but did not have any form or substance.
Two worlds – two separate dimensions in space/time – two energies: the infinite coexisting with the finite, each with its own unique dimensions within one continuous existence.
I remember so well that first night after my first minyan (prayer quorum) as a mourner.2 We had buried my late Mother a few short hours before and I found myself sitting shiva3 for the first time in my life.
2 A Jew who lost a member of his/her immediate family (parent, spouse, sibling or descendant) is commanded to “sit shiva” – namely, stay at home for a week, usually the home of the departed and observe certain customs. Wherever possible, all their daily prayers are conducted in a minimum quorum of ten at the house of mourning.
3 Shiva – literally, “seven”, in Hebrew. To “sit shiva” is to observe the Jewish law of the first seven days of intense mourning after the death of a close relative: parent, spouse, brother, sister or child.
I have helped many people bury their loved ones and I have attended and participated in many minyanim. Each was familiar to me; each had its own uniqueness.
This was different.
It was around 9:30 at night in early winter. Hundreds of people had come to pay their respects. Their warmth and well-wishing were a tremendous source of comfort.
Now there was a strange kind of loneliness: a bit intimidating, a bit frightening, a bit overwhelming, a bit comforting.
My mobile phone had been switched off for most of the day. There was someone who I knew was in crisis and would need my advice. This image came into my mind as I sat in the darkness of our lounge room on the low mourners’ chair, in my socks,4 alone for the first time that day, thinking thousands of thoughts and only now becoming aware of the moonlight softly seeping into the room through the window.
4 Mourners are prohibited from wearing leather shoes.