compiled by Evelyn Ruut
Evelyn Ruut was a longtime presence on talk.religion.buddhism, known for her practical warmth and careful curation. She also participated in a group that cared for Alzheimer's sufferers. When one of those patients died, she would post this compilation to the group — a gathering of Buddhist and secular wisdom on death and grief that she had assembled over years of practice and reading.
The document is not an argument. It is a threshold piece: texts and poems gathered to help people cross from the acute moment of loss toward something steadier. Its range is wide — Ecclesiastes and Shakespeare alongside Tibetan masters; Lincoln and Mark Twain alongside the Buddha's last words. That range is the point. Grief does not stay within a tradition.
This anthology was originally posted to talk.religion.buddhism, alt.religion.buddhism.tibetan, and alt.zen in February 2004. It is preserved here as an example of the practical spiritual work that happened in these communities — not philosophy, but care.
I have mentioned that I participate in a group that cares for Alzheimer's sufferers. When someone dies, I often post this compilation of thoughts, Buddhist and otherwise on death. Many people have enjoyed these thoughts, and I hope you do too. Some of you may recognize your own quotes or contributions.
"In this sad world of ours, sorrow comes to all, and it often comes with bitter agony. Perfect relief is not possible, except with time. You cannot now believe that you will ever feel better. But this is not true. You are sure to be happy again. Knowing this, truly believing it, will make you less miserable now. I have had enough experience to make this statement." — Abraham Lincoln
"Vanity of vanities, all is vanity."
What does man gain from all his labor in which he labors under the sun? One generation goes, and another generation comes; but the earth remains forever. The sun also rises, and the sun goes down, and hurries to its place where it rises. The wind goes toward the south, and turns around to the north. It turns around continually as it goes, and the wind returns again to its courses. All the rivers run into the sea, yet the sea is not full. To the place where the rivers flow, there they flow again. All things are full of weariness beyond uttering. The eye is not satisfied with seeing, nor the ear filled with hearing. That which has been is that which shall be; and that which has been done is that which shall be done: and there is no new thing under the sun...
— Ecclesiastes
From Cymbeline — William Shakespeare
Fear no more the heat o' the sun,
Nor the furious winter's rages;
Thou thy worldly task hast done,
Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages:
Golden lads and girls all must,
As chimney-sweepers, come to dust.
Fear no more the frown o' the great;
Thou art past the tyrant's stroke;
Care no more to clothe and eat;
To thee the reed is as the oak:
The sceptre, learning, physic, must
All follow this, and come to dust.
Fear no more the lightning flash,
Nor the all-dreaded thunder-stone;
Fear not slander, censure rash;
Thou hast finish'd joy and moan:
All lovers young, all lovers must
Consign to thee, and come to dust.
Do not stand at my grave and weep;
I am not there. I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn's rain.
When you awaken in the morning's hush,
I am the swift uplifting rush
of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry;
I am not there, I did not die.
— Mary Frye
From the Vimalakirti Nirdesa Sutra:
"Friends, this body is so impermanent, fragile, unworthy of confidence, and feeble. It is so insubstantial, perishable, short-lived, painful, filled with diseases, and subject to changes. Thus, my friends, as this body is only a vessel of many sicknesses, wise men do not rely on it. This body is like a ball of foam, unable to bear any pressure. It is like a water bubble, not remaining very long. It is like a mirage, born from the appetites of the passions. It is like the trunk of the plantain tree, having no core. Alas! This body is like a machine, a nexus of bones and tendons. It is like a magical illusion, consisting of falsifications. It is like a dream, being an unreal vision. It is like a reflection, being the image of former actions. It is like an echo, being dependent on conditioning. It is like a cloud, being characterized by turbulence and dissolution. It is like a flash of lightning, being unstable, and decaying every moment. The body is ownerless, being the product of a variety of conditions."
Requiem
Under the wide and starry sky
Dig the grave and let me lie:
Glad did I live and gladly die,
And I laid me down with a will.
This be the verse you grave for me:
Here he lies where he long'd to be;
Home is the sailor, home from sea,
And the hunter home from the hill.
— Robert Louis Stevenson
Life is pleasant. Death is peaceful. It's the transition that's troublesome. — Jimi Hendrix
Men fear death, as children fear to go in the dark; and as that natural fear in children is increased with tales, so is the other. — Francis Bacon
If man hasn't discovered something that he will die for, he isn't fit to live. — Martin Luther King
I didn't attend the funeral, but I sent a nice letter saying I approved of it. — Mark Twain
I have never killed a man, but I have read many obituaries with great pleasure. — Clarence Darrow
To be idle is a short road to death and to be diligent is a way of life; foolish people are idle, wise people are diligent. — Buddha
For what is it to die, but to stand in the sun and melt into the wind? And when the Earth has claimed our limbs, then we shall truly dance. — Kahlil Gibran
Only nature has a right to grieve perpetually, for she only is innocent. Soon the ice will melt, and the blackbirds sing along the river which he frequented, as pleasantly as ever. The same everlasting serenity will appear in this face of God, and we will not be sorrowful, if he is not. — Henry David Thoreau, on the death of his brother
Nothing whatsoever to do with it. — W. Somerset Maugham
It is foolish to be afraid of death. Just think — no more repaired tires on the body vehicle, no more patchwork living. — Paramhansa Yogananda
"I don't mind dying, I just don't want to be there when it happens." — Woody Allen
"It's foolish to fear the loss of something, the loss of which you'll never regret." — Unknown
From The Wheel of Life by John Blofeld:
"I tried with indifferent success to follow his parting advice to me. 'Do not grieve, Elder Brother. We shall miss each other, but let it not be too much. As the Preceptor said yesterday, you and I and all beings are animated by the One Spirit. No parting and no meeting ever really takes place. When we rejoice at a meeting or grieve at a parting, we are allowing false understanding to take the place of truth. Wherever you go, in this life and in lives to come, I shall be with you. The Light which shines deep, deep within your own heart is my Light, the Light of all. And when at last we have gained the object of our great search, even apparent differences and divisions will melt away. You and I will know ourselves for the One that we have never ceased to be.'"
— John Blofeld, The Wheel of Life, pp. 173–174
[Evelyn's compilation also included "In Dead Earnest (Lee's Compost Song)" by Lee Hays and Pete Seeger (copyright Sanga Music Inc.), a light-hearted ecological meditation on death as composting — the body returning to earth to "feed the trees and little fishies in the seas."]
The Story of Kisa Gotami
When the Buddha was alive, a young mother named Kisa Gotami lost her only child. Because of her intense love and affection for the child, she lost her mind. In that state, she believed that the child was just ill, and she was determined to find a cure. She carried the body on her shoulder and roamed the city, asking each person she met to heal her child. A wise man who understood her distorted emotions sent her to the Buddha.
Holding the corpse in her arms, she arrived at a beautiful park where the Buddha was teaching. The moment she saw the Buddha, she appealed to Him to heal the child. The Buddha compassionately understood her emotional state. Without mentioning anything about a cure, the Buddha said: "Your child has died, but before I do anything about it, please go and collect some mustard seeds from a house where no one has ever died."
Happily she thanked the Buddha and took off on her mission. Her mind now filled with hope, she went from house to house asking for mustard seeds. Every house she went to had mustard seeds, but she could not find a single house where there had been no death. Eventually the truth dawned on her. The grief and the pain of losing her beloved child faded away.
She understood her own insanity. That deep awareness of death brought her not only emotional healing of her personal trauma but also an understanding of the true nature of life. The awareness of death gave her a sense of peace and harmony. She properly disposed of the corpse of her child and came back to the Buddha.
The Buddha knew of her transformation. He counseled her and delivered a dharma discourse on the nature of things. Inspired by the wisdom of the teachings, she asked the Buddha to ordain her as a nun. After becoming a nun, she meditated on death and, realizing the impermanent nature of all existence, she attained enlightenment. For twenty-five hundred years, Kisa Gotami has been one of the most famous enlightened nuns in Buddhist history.
We too must train ourselves to awaken to the profound lessons about the realities of life that are hidden within the experience of death. These lessons are waiting to lift us from the grief that is sapping our energy; they are there to nurture us and to make our continuing journey, and that of those around us, joyous and meaningful.
— Retold after Bhante Y. Wimala, "Lessons of the Lotus" (Bantam Books, 1997)
The Last Words of the Buddha
O bhikshus! Do not grieve! Even if I were to live in the world for as long as a kalpa, our coming together would have to end. You should know that all things in the world are impermanent; coming together inevitably means parting. Do not be troubled, for this is the nature of life. Diligently practicing right effort, you must seek liberation immediately. Within the light of wisdom, destroy the darkness of ignorance. Nothing is secure. Everything in this life is precarious.
Always wholeheartedly seek the way of liberation. All things in the world, whether moving or non-moving, are characterized by disappearance and instability. Stop now! Do not speak! Time is passing. I am about to cross over. This is my final teaching.
The Mother of Jigten Sumgon
Entering the house of the master, the wailing woman first encountered the master's aged mother. The old lady told her grief-stricken neighbor, "I am sorry, dear sister, but this is the way of all composite things. Don't take it to heart; rather, meditate on the inevitability of death and impermanence, and from your present misfortune happiness will come."
The widow, however, continued to weep and tear her hair. The old lady then said, "Listen, it's no use to dwell on your husband's death. Don't keep thinking about it; let your tears fall like rain now, but remember that this experience will soon pass, just like everything else. If you dwell on it, you will continue to suffer. I am rich with years, and my advice is don't take anything to heart!" Thus the wise old woman consoled her friend.
The widow immediately experienced consolation and peace. She forgot about Jigten Sumgon and went home; she completed her mourning period in the traditional way, yet without excessive misery and despair. By reflecting upon the themes that her neighbor had suggested at the critical moment when her anguish was most intense, she vastly developed in both virtue and insight, and her spiritual practice progressed enormously.
Months later, Jigten Sumgon, the second Nagarjuna, was giving a series of profound Mahamudra teachings in central Tibet. He spontaneously sang: "I am the carefree yogi who has realized the inseparable unity of the Buddha, the guru, and my own heart and mind — happy am I! There is no need for artificial devotion. As the Hevarjra Tantra says: 'Samsara and Nirvana, good and evil, have no real concrete existence. Everything is relative. To realize the true nature of samsara is to attain Nirvana.'"
The next day he cheerfully recounted the story of his aged mother's intercession, stating that to his way of thinking there was no non-dual Mahamudra teaching superior to that bit of motherly advice: to recognize the impermanence and unreality of all things and to take nothing to heart.
"It is not death itself we fear, but the idea of death, based on mental impressions we formed during our years of thinking on the subject. Death is in fact the most certain and natural consequence of our life, observable all around us, all of the time, at the close of each day or the end of the season. Yet within our personal field of reference, personal death has taken a shape of its own, an illusory monster. Living as we do in the parameters of our thought, we cannot face the unknown. The unknown can never be understood because the very process of understanding implies that it is within our field of reference, which personal death clearly is not. The one defining element within this field, its regulator and structure, is psychological time. It is the notion of ending time, losing the handrail of our continuity that renders death unthinkable."
— Krishnamurti, paraphrased in Star of the East
A Poem on Impermanence
Life is unpredictable and uncertain in this world.
Life here is difficult, short and full of pain.
A being, once born, is going to die,
And there is no way out of this.
When old age arrives, or some other cause,
Then there is death.
There is no way out of this.
Both the young and the old,
Whether they are foolish or wise,
Are going to be trapped by death.
All beings are moving towards death.
Look: while relatives are watching,
Shedding tears and moaning,
People are carried away one by one,
Like cattle being led to the slaughter.
So death and old age are part of life.
Therefore, when the wise see how the world is,
They do not grieve.
You cannot know where the dead will go,
Nor can you know where the living have come from.
So it makes no sense to grieve.
Peace of mind cannot come from weeping and wailing.
On the contrary, it will lead only to more pain.
The person who cannot leave sorrow behind
Only travels further into pain.
Mourning makes one a slave to sorrow.
What people expect to happen
Is always different from what actually happens.
This fact leads to great disappointment.
This is how the world works.
So we can listen and learn from a wise person
As he gives up his grief.
When he sees that someone has passed away
And left life behind,
He says: "I will never see this one again."
— Translated from the Buddhist canon; comment added by Dayamaati Dharmachari (Richard Hayes)
Of course, when someone we love very much dies, it is very difficult to say goodbye. It is not easy to say "I will never see this one again." We want very much to think that the loved one is still alive somewhere. For this reason, in many cultures, survivors will offer prayers for the deceased person, wishing that he or she will be born again in good circumstances.
Colophon
Compiled by Evelyn Ruut and posted to talk.religion.buddhism, alt.religion.buddhism.tibetan, and alt.zen in February 2004. Evelyn introduced this compilation: "I have mentioned that I participate in a group that cares for Alzheimer's sufferers. When someone dies, I often post this compilation of thoughts, Buddhist and otherwise on death. Many people have enjoyed these thoughts."
Sources include: Abraham Lincoln; Ecclesiastes; Shakespeare's Cymbeline; Mary Frye; the Vimalakirti Nirdesa Sutra; Robert Louis Stevenson; Jimi Hendrix; Francis Bacon; Martin Luther King; Mark Twain; Clarence Darrow; Kahlil Gibran; Henry David Thoreau; W. Somerset Maugham; Paramhansa Yogananda; Woody Allen; John Blofeld's The Wheel of Life; the Kisa Gotami story as retold by Bhante Y. Wimala; the last words of the Buddha; the consolation of Jigten Sumgon's mother; Krishnamurti; and a Buddhist canonical poem on impermanence with commentary by Richard Hayes (Dayamaati Dharmachari).
Original Message-ID: [email protected]
Preserved from the Usenet archive for the Good Work Library by the New Tianmu Anglican Church, 2026.
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