Pam
10-02-2001, 02:32 PM
From author Carolyn Myss's website, "The Expert Forum""
Peter Occhiogrosso, World's Religion Expert:
- The Afterlife
One of the secret blessings to flow from a tragedy of such massive proportions as the destruction of the World Trade Center, and the attendant loss of life and economic strength, is that it impels us to look at our lives with a heightened sense of urgency. This may manifest on different levels ranging from the mundane to the profound. The entertainment industry, for example, is rightly questioning whether we need to see more computer-enhanced explosions in TV and films. Mainstream religious and political leaders are leaping to embrace religious pluralism and unity in ways that would have been unimaginable just a few years ago. George W. Bush took off his shoes and entered a mosque, and has appeared on national television with Sikh and Muslim clerics. The Muslim call to prayer in ancient Arabic echoed from loudspeakers on the infield of Yankee Stadium, in an unprecedented scene that was witnessed around the world on cable television. Even the divorce rate suddenly plummeted in some parts of the country.
On another level, people seem to be taking their own lives more seriously--which doesn't mean losing your sense of humor, but just appreciating the value of a peaceful moment, a beautiful morning, or a hug from someone you love. On the deepest level, these events may also cause us to reconsider our beliefs about about the continuity of life beyond the physical plane -- the afterlife. As I watched endless replays of the attacks on the Twin Towers -- very near where I lived in Manhattan for nearly 30 years -- I began to identify with the people trapped in those planes, and the horror they must have felt as they began to realize what was happening to them. I imagined myself onboard, rushing inelucatably to my death, knowing that, even worse, I was about to become the unwilling vehicle for the deaths of countless other humans. My sadness grew so intense that I had to turn off the TV and stop listening to the reports even on radio.
And yet we also know from the accounts of people who have survived what seemed like certain death, or who have died clinically and come back to life (near-death experiences, or NDE's), that at the moment just before death some of them--not all, but many--have experienced feelings of profound peace and clarity. Those who have had NDE's also report deep tranquillity as they were greeted by loving beings of light, and sometimes by loved ones who had preceded them to the other side. Many report a 'life review' in which they were shown the key events of their lives without judgment, but with gentle admonitions about how they might better understand those situations. And, yes, some people have described dark or troubling experiences that alerted them to the fact that their own lives had taken a shadowy path and needed to be corrected. Almost all who have returned to life after such an experience have attested to the ways in which their orientation and outlook on life changed for the better. They are more likely to want to be of service to others in some way, and to join groups of like-minded souls whose lives have become much more spiritually focused.
(For further reading on this subject, I recommend 'Life After Life' by Raymond A Moody; 'Hello from Heaven!' by Bill & Judy Guggenheim; and, especially on the subject of soulmates, 'Predestined Love' by Dick Sutphen.)
Remarkable correspondences to these reports of after-death experiences have been found in the ancient text known as 'The Tibetan Book of the Dead' -- or 'Bardo Thodol' in Tibetan. The word 'bardo' means, roughly, 'suspended between,' and refers to various states of consciousness experienced between death and rebirth. The Bardo Thodol, then, is nothing less than a guidebook to help dying and just-departed souls find their way through the potentially tortuous and confusing stages of the afterlife -- or, more properly, between-lives. Reportedly based on the accounts of lamas who had total recall of their own between-life experiences, the text is designed to be studied during life and to be read over the dying or newly dead. The Bardo Thodol gives specific, detailed accounts of the journey from death to rebirth, dividing it into three distinct stages: the Chikhai, Chonyid, and Sidpa Bardos.
(Some of the correlations between the first stage described in the text immediately following death and modern accounts of near-death experiences have been catalogued in Raymond Moody's 'Life After Life.' The best modern translation of 'The Tibetan Book of the Dead' is by Robert A. F. Thurman.)
The major religions of the world tend to embrace one of two basic beliefs about the afterlife. The Western monotheistic or Abrahamic religions--Judaism, Christianity, and Islam--essentially teach the heavenly journey: a single lifetime followed by an eternity of reward in Paradise or some form of suffering in Purgatory or Hell. The Eastern traditions of Buddhism and Hinduism each have slightly different understandings of reincarnation, the belief that each individual progresses (and, at times, regresses) though countless lifetimes. Once enlightenment or liberation is achieved, the soul then either dwells in a state of bliss and the extinction of all cravings (the root cause of suffering according to the Buddha), or chooses to return to work in the disembodied state with those still on earth seeking liberation from what is known as the Wheel of Existence. Taoist beliefs seem to embrace at times both of these paradigms of the afterlife.
I was raised in the Roman Catholic tradition, which, like Tibetan Buddhism, offers funeral services specifically designed to help guide the souls of the departed to the afterlife. The old Catholic notion of Purgatory--a place where souls embarked on their heavenly journey linger to work off the Catholic equivalent of bad karma before moving on--in some ways parallels the Buddhist concept of the Bardos. Although the conventional Christian depictions of heaven as a place where choirs of angels sing endless praises to God always seemed tedious to me (I imagined the Mormon Tabernacle Choir conducted by Mantovani), there are far more profound voices in the Christian tradition. I think of St. Therese of Lisieux, the 'Little Flower,' a 19th-century French mystic who lived nine years as a cloistered Carmelite nun before dying at age 24. 'I will spend my heaven doing good on earth,' she said shortly before she died, satating that the happiness of heaven was 'to love and be loved and come back to earth to win love for our Love.' And Padre Pio, the 20th-century Italian mystical priest, said he often sensed that more souls from 'the other side' than from among the living were present at his masses, because they too need healing.
Therese's vision of an afterlife spent leading those still on earth to a full understanding of Love is again analogous to the Buddhist ideal of the bodhisattva, enlightened beings who heroically defer their own nirvana in order to help free all sentient beings from their suffering. And it is even somewhat reminiscent of the Hindu concept of the avatar -- a deity who reincarnates at a time and place when humankind most needs divine assistance. The terminology of these traditions may be different, but the mystical wisdom is a reflection of the one 'Perennial Philosophy,' as Aldous Huxley called it, that underlies all the great teaching streams of the world. That common reality may be a source of comfort to us all in times of apparent tragedy.
Peter Occhiogrosso, World's Religion Expert:
- The Afterlife
One of the secret blessings to flow from a tragedy of such massive proportions as the destruction of the World Trade Center, and the attendant loss of life and economic strength, is that it impels us to look at our lives with a heightened sense of urgency. This may manifest on different levels ranging from the mundane to the profound. The entertainment industry, for example, is rightly questioning whether we need to see more computer-enhanced explosions in TV and films. Mainstream religious and political leaders are leaping to embrace religious pluralism and unity in ways that would have been unimaginable just a few years ago. George W. Bush took off his shoes and entered a mosque, and has appeared on national television with Sikh and Muslim clerics. The Muslim call to prayer in ancient Arabic echoed from loudspeakers on the infield of Yankee Stadium, in an unprecedented scene that was witnessed around the world on cable television. Even the divorce rate suddenly plummeted in some parts of the country.
On another level, people seem to be taking their own lives more seriously--which doesn't mean losing your sense of humor, but just appreciating the value of a peaceful moment, a beautiful morning, or a hug from someone you love. On the deepest level, these events may also cause us to reconsider our beliefs about about the continuity of life beyond the physical plane -- the afterlife. As I watched endless replays of the attacks on the Twin Towers -- very near where I lived in Manhattan for nearly 30 years -- I began to identify with the people trapped in those planes, and the horror they must have felt as they began to realize what was happening to them. I imagined myself onboard, rushing inelucatably to my death, knowing that, even worse, I was about to become the unwilling vehicle for the deaths of countless other humans. My sadness grew so intense that I had to turn off the TV and stop listening to the reports even on radio.
And yet we also know from the accounts of people who have survived what seemed like certain death, or who have died clinically and come back to life (near-death experiences, or NDE's), that at the moment just before death some of them--not all, but many--have experienced feelings of profound peace and clarity. Those who have had NDE's also report deep tranquillity as they were greeted by loving beings of light, and sometimes by loved ones who had preceded them to the other side. Many report a 'life review' in which they were shown the key events of their lives without judgment, but with gentle admonitions about how they might better understand those situations. And, yes, some people have described dark or troubling experiences that alerted them to the fact that their own lives had taken a shadowy path and needed to be corrected. Almost all who have returned to life after such an experience have attested to the ways in which their orientation and outlook on life changed for the better. They are more likely to want to be of service to others in some way, and to join groups of like-minded souls whose lives have become much more spiritually focused.
(For further reading on this subject, I recommend 'Life After Life' by Raymond A Moody; 'Hello from Heaven!' by Bill & Judy Guggenheim; and, especially on the subject of soulmates, 'Predestined Love' by Dick Sutphen.)
Remarkable correspondences to these reports of after-death experiences have been found in the ancient text known as 'The Tibetan Book of the Dead' -- or 'Bardo Thodol' in Tibetan. The word 'bardo' means, roughly, 'suspended between,' and refers to various states of consciousness experienced between death and rebirth. The Bardo Thodol, then, is nothing less than a guidebook to help dying and just-departed souls find their way through the potentially tortuous and confusing stages of the afterlife -- or, more properly, between-lives. Reportedly based on the accounts of lamas who had total recall of their own between-life experiences, the text is designed to be studied during life and to be read over the dying or newly dead. The Bardo Thodol gives specific, detailed accounts of the journey from death to rebirth, dividing it into three distinct stages: the Chikhai, Chonyid, and Sidpa Bardos.
(Some of the correlations between the first stage described in the text immediately following death and modern accounts of near-death experiences have been catalogued in Raymond Moody's 'Life After Life.' The best modern translation of 'The Tibetan Book of the Dead' is by Robert A. F. Thurman.)
The major religions of the world tend to embrace one of two basic beliefs about the afterlife. The Western monotheistic or Abrahamic religions--Judaism, Christianity, and Islam--essentially teach the heavenly journey: a single lifetime followed by an eternity of reward in Paradise or some form of suffering in Purgatory or Hell. The Eastern traditions of Buddhism and Hinduism each have slightly different understandings of reincarnation, the belief that each individual progresses (and, at times, regresses) though countless lifetimes. Once enlightenment or liberation is achieved, the soul then either dwells in a state of bliss and the extinction of all cravings (the root cause of suffering according to the Buddha), or chooses to return to work in the disembodied state with those still on earth seeking liberation from what is known as the Wheel of Existence. Taoist beliefs seem to embrace at times both of these paradigms of the afterlife.
I was raised in the Roman Catholic tradition, which, like Tibetan Buddhism, offers funeral services specifically designed to help guide the souls of the departed to the afterlife. The old Catholic notion of Purgatory--a place where souls embarked on their heavenly journey linger to work off the Catholic equivalent of bad karma before moving on--in some ways parallels the Buddhist concept of the Bardos. Although the conventional Christian depictions of heaven as a place where choirs of angels sing endless praises to God always seemed tedious to me (I imagined the Mormon Tabernacle Choir conducted by Mantovani), there are far more profound voices in the Christian tradition. I think of St. Therese of Lisieux, the 'Little Flower,' a 19th-century French mystic who lived nine years as a cloistered Carmelite nun before dying at age 24. 'I will spend my heaven doing good on earth,' she said shortly before she died, satating that the happiness of heaven was 'to love and be loved and come back to earth to win love for our Love.' And Padre Pio, the 20th-century Italian mystical priest, said he often sensed that more souls from 'the other side' than from among the living were present at his masses, because they too need healing.
Therese's vision of an afterlife spent leading those still on earth to a full understanding of Love is again analogous to the Buddhist ideal of the bodhisattva, enlightened beings who heroically defer their own nirvana in order to help free all sentient beings from their suffering. And it is even somewhat reminiscent of the Hindu concept of the avatar -- a deity who reincarnates at a time and place when humankind most needs divine assistance. The terminology of these traditions may be different, but the mystical wisdom is a reflection of the one 'Perennial Philosophy,' as Aldous Huxley called it, that underlies all the great teaching streams of the world. That common reality may be a source of comfort to us all in times of apparent tragedy.