‘Death is just a change in lifestyles’

How do we approach the Unknowable? asks Rico Provasoli.

Death is just a change in lifestyles.
– Stephen Levine

I came across this quote yesterday. It struck me as quite poignant. Especially at my age where I am invited to more funerals than weddings. I was raised in an Italian Catholic home, educated by the nuns who brooked no patience with wise guys, beating us into obedience. Part of the day was dedicated to hellfire and eternal damnation. And a good dose of guilt, if you please.

In my older, present-day self, no matter how many thousands of hours sitting in meditation, an echo of the perils of Judgement Day niggles at my peace of mind on the cushion. It’s like an old ghost story, a pull of gravity back to my roots. In spite of the spaciousness of Eastern wisdom encountered in meditative states as well as in daily life, the Bible’s demons of old still whisper in my ear.

So, how do we navigate the days remaining to us? Do we succumb to the legend of Eternal Damnation? Is there an afterlife where we hang with our friends and family in Eternal Bliss? I have read countless histories of the Holy Wars, the Crusades sanctioned by Papal decree to guarantee Paradise to all who die in the name of spreading the One True Faith. But the Infidels were promised the same. How could anyone be inspired to slaughter those believing a different myth? Killing in the name of their version of God?

So, through exploration of a more expanded view—a non-view more accurately—I have come to the place of dissecting all beliefs, all opinions of creed, of allegiance to limiting positions of faith, of identity, of all my history which has formed my current world view. It takes a brave willingness to dissect those traits which appear to define my core. One by one, I sit with each aspect of my conditioning, those parts which surprise me how tenaciously they disguise themselves to make up the construct of my personal self.

Okay, that seems like a reasonable endeavor of inquiry. Where does that leave us? Every major religion has a different version of the afterlife. Can they all be true? Is there a separate Heaven for each faith? Can they visit friends from the other version? Or are we prisoners of that narrative? Even Buddhism has widely different views. The Dalai Lama was chosen among other candidates by demonstrating his familiarity with objects used by the previous incarnation of the leader of the Tibetan faith. Many believe that Karma determines one’s next life and choose to be strict vegetarians to avoid an unhappy reincarnation. Other Buddhists eat plenty of meat. How can they all be true?

In the Zen tradition there is little speculation about the afterlife. At the same time, there is deep respect for all religions, vowing not to speak ill of any beliefs. It’s not that in Zen we abdicate any conviction about the metaphysics of the question, more like it’s not helpful as we navigate being present to this very life we are granted. We choose to live our own direct experience. We have been trained to assume nothing, believe nothing.

So, at the end of the day, how do we approach the Unknowable? There are countless stories of those who have been declared clinically dead and returned to consciousness, claiming a broad range of indelible experiences: Light at the end of a tunnel. The merging with the Absolute Benevolence. The Union with The Almighty. A Supreme Peace.

I have come to see that a supreme curiosity might be the best way forward. There are no conclusions in this. No dogma-spitting righteousness. No answer written in stone. Sorry, Moses, no disrespect. No black and white answers as taught in Sunday school. Can we learn to be okay with uncertainty? Can we be comfortable in not knowing? In our society, you must always have an answer to avoid looking like a dupe. But I have sat with not knowing about many aspects of life. Of death. And that might just be the ticket to give the gatekeeper when it’s our time to leave this world. Oh, happy glorious unknown. Here I come with an open heart, an open mind, ready for any mystery which might be waiting just over the horizon.

As Mary Oliver says,