Kushinagar
081212.2049
"Gone, gone, gone beyond, gone utterly beyond enlightenment, hail!" Heart Sutta
The Buddha in the Nirvana Stupa is in an unusual reclining position. On his face is a smile, a serene smile with eyes softly, softy closed. Buddha's head is resting on his right hand, while the left is placed on his thigh. There is no trace of fear or regret from things unsaid or undone. At the ripe old age of eighty, the Buddha knew his time had come, and he faced it with wisdom and equanimity. In contrast, the front of the 6 metre long statue of the Buddha carved out of sandstone, are carvings of three figures. Two are kneeling and weeping, and the one in the middle is sitting in a calm, collected meditation pose.
The story goes the Buddha ate his last meal on the outskirts of a village known as Pawa. In a field, a smith who heard of the Buddha's presence brought him some "pork's delight". The meat was already rancid, and despite knowing this, the Buddha still ate the offering by the devout follower so as not to disappoint him.
“However, [the Buddha's] own stamina was now considerably reduced by age and a recent severe illness, and soon the bad food brought on a violent attack of dysentery".
There were piles of dried cow dung all around, and as I approached flies buzzed and fled. The place where the Buddha had his last meal is marked with a white rectangular block. There were a number of burnt-out incense sticks, and scattering grains of rice, around which giant black ants busily scurried. Except for a small sign that marked the site as a protected monument, where the Buddha had his last meal today lies on the side of a dirt path almost hidden in obscurity by overgrown weed and the passage of two and a half millennia.
The Buddha and Ananda, his most loyal attendant, managed to walk for another twenty kilometer or so to the banks of the Hiranyawati River by Kushinagar. There, lying on his side in between two sal trees, The Enlightened One peacefully passed into Final Nirvana. Just before passing peacefully, the Buddha consoled Ananda:
“Enough [...] do not weep and wail. Have I not already told you that all things that are pleasant and delightful are changeable, subject to separation and becoming other? So how could it be [...]—since whatever is born, become, compounded is subject to decay — how could it be that it should not pass away?” (Excerpt From: Ajahn Sucitto & Nick Scott. “Rude Awakenings.” )
The Buddha's final words reminded the monks and laity who had gathered: "...all conditioned things are subject to decay; strive on with diligence!" For true freedom, true happiness and true peace can only be discovered within when one strives to lower the self, lower one's desires, and strives to cultivate kindness and compassion.
I sat in the Nirvana Stupa next to the reclining Buddha for some time. Groups of pilgrims led by monks came in and out, chanting, praying, some even weeping. It was an emotional scenery, and the culminating aura of sadness, combined with the fatigue of traveling and side effects, manifested in nausea hallucinations, of malaria medicine I took in preparation to enter the lower regions of the Himalayas, made me cry. I got out the picture of my mum, which after hundreds of kilometers of traveling looks a little worn and crumbled, and placed it on the glass railing an arm's length from the Buddha's feet. The feet and parts of Buddha's head is shiny and smooth from the touch of millions of pilgrims who have come in search of peace, in the hope of blessings.
The picture of mum was taken by me on the day of my brother's engagement. From her rosy complexion and beautiful smile, it is impossible to tell that just the day before, she had been in hospital for chemotherapy. That was my mother, ever so brave, ever so dear to me. This is my mother, who will always be with me, be a part of me, for as long as I live and breathe... With closed eyes, I wished:
"Mama, may you be free, truly free from suffering..."
Almost six months after mum passed away peacefully in my arms, I can't say for sure whether she reached "nirvana". But I remember on her face was a serenity almost as gentle and beautiful as the one of the face of the Lord Buddha lying before me. And I did not weep, did not feel sadness or much pain, at least not at that very moment when mum left this world. She knew, and I understood well, that her life, her life well lived, was coming to an end. The body had decayed, grown frail and wrinkled, grown weak and tired from age and illness. She knew, and I understood well, that death would be a liberation from this world, from this body of pain and suffering. With the knowledge and understanding came a strange calm and peace, a calm and collected composure that carried me for days and weeks after mum was gone...
Since then, the pain of loss and images of events over the past few years have appeared to haunt my waking and sleeping mind. Tears would just come unexpectedly, even at the office, in front of friends, or most often alone in bed at night. Tears triggered by the memory of mum's hand holding onto mine when I was young, or set off by the memory of the sound of her voice whenever she used to tell me off for not dressing warm enough. But the strength of the pain and sadness is growing ever weaker with time, and this trip to the Middle Land has helped to bring closure and helped me to learn to let go.
Let go, for mum is already gone, so what or who am I clinging onto? Let go, for only be letting go and freeing the mind from grief and pain can there an unexpected freedom to pursue the dreams and goals I've wanted to follow. Let go of sadness, and let the love and kindness of the world guide me to further places...
This long, long journey following the footsteps of the Enlightened One marks a new beginning. Hopefully, it will give mum's soul even greater peace and sense of bliss in the hereafter. It is the one last thing I can offer her: the blessings of the sacred places where the wisdom and serenity of the Buddha can still be felt... This trip also marks a new beginning in the sense that personally it has been spiritually and emotionally cleansing.
Sadhu, sadhu, sadhu...
081212.2049
"Gone, gone, gone beyond, gone utterly beyond enlightenment, hail!" Heart Sutta
The Buddha in the Nirvana Stupa is in an unusual reclining position. On his face is a smile, a serene smile with eyes softly, softy closed. Buddha's head is resting on his right hand, while the left is placed on his thigh. There is no trace of fear or regret from things unsaid or undone. At the ripe old age of eighty, the Buddha knew his time had come, and he faced it with wisdom and equanimity. In contrast, the front of the 6 metre long statue of the Buddha carved out of sandstone, are carvings of three figures. Two are kneeling and weeping, and the one in the middle is sitting in a calm, collected meditation pose.
The story goes the Buddha ate his last meal on the outskirts of a village known as Pawa. In a field, a smith who heard of the Buddha's presence brought him some "pork's delight". The meat was already rancid, and despite knowing this, the Buddha still ate the offering by the devout follower so as not to disappoint him.
“However, [the Buddha's] own stamina was now considerably reduced by age and a recent severe illness, and soon the bad food brought on a violent attack of dysentery".
There were piles of dried cow dung all around, and as I approached flies buzzed and fled. The place where the Buddha had his last meal is marked with a white rectangular block. There were a number of burnt-out incense sticks, and scattering grains of rice, around which giant black ants busily scurried. Except for a small sign that marked the site as a protected monument, where the Buddha had his last meal today lies on the side of a dirt path almost hidden in obscurity by overgrown weed and the passage of two and a half millennia.
The Buddha and Ananda, his most loyal attendant, managed to walk for another twenty kilometer or so to the banks of the Hiranyawati River by Kushinagar. There, lying on his side in between two sal trees, The Enlightened One peacefully passed into Final Nirvana. Just before passing peacefully, the Buddha consoled Ananda:
“Enough [...] do not weep and wail. Have I not already told you that all things that are pleasant and delightful are changeable, subject to separation and becoming other? So how could it be [...]—since whatever is born, become, compounded is subject to decay — how could it be that it should not pass away?” (Excerpt From: Ajahn Sucitto & Nick Scott. “Rude Awakenings.” )
The Buddha's final words reminded the monks and laity who had gathered: "...all conditioned things are subject to decay; strive on with diligence!" For true freedom, true happiness and true peace can only be discovered within when one strives to lower the self, lower one's desires, and strives to cultivate kindness and compassion.
I sat in the Nirvana Stupa next to the reclining Buddha for some time. Groups of pilgrims led by monks came in and out, chanting, praying, some even weeping. It was an emotional scenery, and the culminating aura of sadness, combined with the fatigue of traveling and side effects, manifested in nausea hallucinations, of malaria medicine I took in preparation to enter the lower regions of the Himalayas, made me cry. I got out the picture of my mum, which after hundreds of kilometers of traveling looks a little worn and crumbled, and placed it on the glass railing an arm's length from the Buddha's feet. The feet and parts of Buddha's head is shiny and smooth from the touch of millions of pilgrims who have come in search of peace, in the hope of blessings.
The picture of mum was taken by me on the day of my brother's engagement. From her rosy complexion and beautiful smile, it is impossible to tell that just the day before, she had been in hospital for chemotherapy. That was my mother, ever so brave, ever so dear to me. This is my mother, who will always be with me, be a part of me, for as long as I live and breathe... With closed eyes, I wished:
"Mama, may you be free, truly free from suffering..."
Almost six months after mum passed away peacefully in my arms, I can't say for sure whether she reached "nirvana". But I remember on her face was a serenity almost as gentle and beautiful as the one of the face of the Lord Buddha lying before me. And I did not weep, did not feel sadness or much pain, at least not at that very moment when mum left this world. She knew, and I understood well, that her life, her life well lived, was coming to an end. The body had decayed, grown frail and wrinkled, grown weak and tired from age and illness. She knew, and I understood well, that death would be a liberation from this world, from this body of pain and suffering. With the knowledge and understanding came a strange calm and peace, a calm and collected composure that carried me for days and weeks after mum was gone...
Since then, the pain of loss and images of events over the past few years have appeared to haunt my waking and sleeping mind. Tears would just come unexpectedly, even at the office, in front of friends, or most often alone in bed at night. Tears triggered by the memory of mum's hand holding onto mine when I was young, or set off by the memory of the sound of her voice whenever she used to tell me off for not dressing warm enough. But the strength of the pain and sadness is growing ever weaker with time, and this trip to the Middle Land has helped to bring closure and helped me to learn to let go.
Let go, for mum is already gone, so what or who am I clinging onto? Let go, for only be letting go and freeing the mind from grief and pain can there an unexpected freedom to pursue the dreams and goals I've wanted to follow. Let go of sadness, and let the love and kindness of the world guide me to further places...
This long, long journey following the footsteps of the Enlightened One marks a new beginning. Hopefully, it will give mum's soul even greater peace and sense of bliss in the hereafter. It is the one last thing I can offer her: the blessings of the sacred places where the wisdom and serenity of the Buddha can still be felt... This trip also marks a new beginning in the sense that personally it has been spiritually and emotionally cleansing.
Sadhu, sadhu, sadhu...
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