In the flow of modern life, we step through life with a rhythmic beat of normalcy. From our daily work, to our family life, we have the background music enveloping our state of mind with a upbeat temp in a seemingly infinite loop. Each day, with the background music played beneath of our consciousness, we make choices and plans, from this week’s grocery list to this year’s work projects. Our state of minds largely pivot around the tangibles of here and now.
Until suddenly the background music stopped, the color bleached into black, white and gray, one is suddenly stuck by the smallness and incongruence of one’s intangibles. Such as a grave illness sneaked up like an insidious thief, and all of our apparent health robbed clean. Also changed is our relationship to our own work, and with other people. This “background-music-stopped” state of mind is the main theme of this book. Our author found himself suddenly facing near-certain death by cancer in his middle fifties.
“It had always been there, the music of daily life that is constantly going, the music of infinite time and possibilities; and now suddenly it is gone, replaced by nothing, just silence.”
Only when we are left in an acutely felt “self-smallness” , we can begin to appreciate the otherwise archaic “starkness” of Biblical reference and contemplation of the spiritual world. Modern life has tamed much of the ominous superstition of the Old, yet it has made death a social taboo and a psychological horror. The “starkness” of modern life suddenly leap upon us when apparent wellness becomes grave illness. Men and women are often left in comfortless modernity, while the God of the Old has more to offer in such state of mind, as we can learn how to fit one’s “smallness” into the world when the infinite time collapses in such moment for one individual.
A few insightful notes from the book:
Page 16: What Koheleth in “catalogue of times” (Ecclesiastes 3:1-11), misunderstood by King James Bible version. It should be “although we may be aware of the changing seasons in a human life, we never quite succeed in holding the whole thing together in our minds.”. This segment reminds me of T.S. Eliot’s Four Quartets in its rumination of one’s time and one’s work in the infinite space and time.
Page 34: the “sense of self” changes over time, making the old porous communal experience of life (and thus death) into the new hard-shelled cell of modern self. Through grave illness, spiritual growth happens “perhaps it all has to do with a certain sense — in a privileged moments, a physical bodily sense — of what one’s own self really consists of, and where it leaves off.” We had actually very little control of our bodily function and how sensory inputs are process by our brain. How much confidence we can call “self” as the material stuff encapsulated in this skin?
Page 53: the baseline religious consciousness comes from the great, looming Outside, a God Undifferentiated. Our modern mind is protected from the big Outside but it cracks through in moments.
Page 55: “Et en Arcadia ego” (Death said, even in Arcadia, I am). Is there a neurological base for religious consciousness? Is there a “God Spot”, an intriguing implication from V.S. Ramachandran’s
research. Whether such experience is engendered by a “malfunction”, a diseased state of the brain, or a glimpse of untapped locus of transcendence, is a matter of debate.
Page 62: Life as body on rent. “The soul was God’s pikkadon (Jewish sage word for “deposit”) entrusted for the human being for the duration of his life, but never really the person’s possession, since it was in any case slated to return to its rightful Owner after death.”
In summary, the modern world has “enlarged” human life to the level of excessive inflatedness. We are ill-equipped to cope with life’s inevitable demise and what does it mean to lead a meaningful life, and prepare for a meaningful death. This artificial “largeness” packaged in a impermeable hard-shell of “me self”, can only break through when we suddenly, and often unwillingly into a stark place where our own very “smallness”, disconnected encapsulated “me self”, out cold and naked in the immense, indifferent, unmovable Outside. Without a readiness to understand the non-self, the Outside, and to gain a mountain-top view of one’s position in time and space, we are left in our own anguish of not able to fit one’s life into the world as a whole.
(Page 205 has a beautiful paragraph to illustrate the purpose of viewing one’s life in the bigger scope of religious contemplation.)