“We come, we go…” That’s the nature of life. Death or translation, just as birth, is as sure as the sunset or sunrise, for as long as the earth endures.
In my younger days, growing up in the village, death was rare, not so often– but when it occurs, it brings out a grotesque picture of life.
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The
mourning is usually heavy, the mood melancholic and scary. Scary, not of death
or dying itself, since it’s always the elderly that dies, but scary because of
the perceived thought that the ghost of the departed will be hovering around
the village. The fear was always so strong that I could hardly sit at the end
of the long bench which served as our chair in the village. I had to sandwich
myself in between others. Of course, you dare not send me on an errand in the
night outside the circle of where other people are. Death scared me silly. I
was not alone.
These days, not anymore. Not for me anymore because I’m now spotting gray hairs. Age has taught me better.
But what of the young ones these days? In my village, they see it as a carnival, an event for celebration, one that brings so much food, wine (palm wine), gin (ogogoro), soft drink, and most importantly, music and dancing. A Celebration of Life.
The growing population, our lifestyle, and careless attitude, to life have come together to make death an everyday event for all age classes. Sometimes death happens in hundreds; and the mass media, especially the electronic media reports them into our homes and offices. Films and home video movies add to the communication and the stripping of death of its fearful nature.
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Death
has become commonplace and accepted part of our everyday event.
This
represents a marked change in consciousness, an apt one too. Mostly though, out
of indifference and helplessness rather than conscious understanding of the
nature of death. Such nonetheless, is for our own good. From one that sees
death as a specter that buries life to one that celebrates it when it does
come, in thankfulness to God. That way, death continues to lose its choke and
fearful hold on the human consciousness.
Why grieve for too long? Or allow something over which you have no power to deny you the joy of living, and in fact, the daring spirit of life?
Even with the emerging facts about the reality of death, we cannot divest ourselves easily from the emotions that come when someone so close and dear succumbs to it. Separation even temporarily, talk less of on account of death is usually comes with emotional anguish.
There used to be this culture is my place. When a girl marries, the day she is leaving finally to her husband’s place the mother would cry herself out. It’s supposed to be a happy occasion but her estrangement draws heavy negative emotions, especially for the mother. The daughter is going away and soon she would not be able any more to sleep with her, discuss with her, eat with her, not to talk of seeing her regularly as she would have wanted.
The weeping is sometimes so serious that sometimes other women neighbours, friends and relatives have to console and cajole her in this moment of her apparent loss.
Nature has ordained marriage. It ensures the continuity of this universe. The mother of the fiancée can cry or brood for a whole year but that cannot change anything. Today, that culture is almost extinct, save in the privacy of the heart. All is now what it should be, celebration.
Has this culture any semblance of death? What’s the difference? Both have this element of separation which draws our emotions. In the case of death it represents a complete lifetime disruption, and most would, in that wise, argue that the comparison is but a trifle. However put under a bird’s eye, one is just a reflection of the other, the lesser mirroring the greater truth.
Soul, which is our reality, never dies. It is eternal, beyond the hands of death. As one wears off an old cloth, or discards even a new one which is no longer wanted, so does Soul discard the body it has worn but which is no longer suited. Like Johnny Walker, Soul just keeps moving, living on, in many a lifetime succession of bodies.
When water changes into vapour upon heating, we no longer see it. But that does not mean its extinction. We only cannot see it with our foggy and groggy eyes where it has ascended into the ether. It will stay there to cool off, and with time condenses, and eventually falls back to earth as droplets of rain. It recycles. Nature has it all worked out.
Further, we can translate Yoruba to English, Igbo to French, Arabic to German; but that does not take away the substance of the message, only the code or vehicle of preservation has changed.
That’s what death does to all of us. It takes away the form, leaving us in even better and more suitable clothing. Each time enhancing our nature and brilliance as Soul, the immortal self.
Why then do we cry upon the translation of a loved one? Obviously it should not be from the standpoint that life has been swallowed in death. Rather we should cry, that is if we want to, because a loved one, a companion, confidante, a co-traveler, someone you used to laugh, and sometimes quarrel, with, has, like in marriage, decided to leave, for good. Unavailable anymore for those intimate relationships. These reasons are enough, even for the strongest of us, to break our hearts.
However, we have to pass over that as quickly as possible.
Why?
Death, like marriage, is natural. It is significant to life and plays a noble role in creation. Without it, change or regeneration would be near impossible. For that we all do go through death or encounter death every day, in one way or the other. The magnitude of deaths around us is too much, only we don’t recognize it as such.
Your old ideas must die, or repressed deep in your subconscious-inactive, for new ones to find a place to anchor and thrive. Time cycles in successive deaths for the next one. Old banana tree gives way for new shoots to take over; same with other trees and even whole species. Civilizations die, and upon it grow new ones; the day dies for the night and is renewed, reincarnated, the next day; seasons go, seasons come; if your crops does not die you would have nothing to harvest, and ultimately have nothing to plant for the next year; even buildings-old and new-are brought down to give way to a more improved models. The list and ramification of death are endless. Death of a kind, death of many kinds.
Death therefore represents a doorway or provision for transition, from an old and or unsuitable mode to another, from one form to another- most of the time to a better one.
Should death within the human specie be any different?
Life mirrors life. Truth mirrors truth. Discover one and you discover all. Nature being an executive force, with an all encompassing intelligence, could never have contemplated anything less valuable for its human specie which stands at the apex of creation.
Death should therefore be seen in its proper light. Life gives and takes. But it gives again. Most of the time in a new and better form. Thus if you want to be a winner in health-body and mind, you have to change your death philosophy now.