My Buddhist Ceremony to Commemorate the Anniversary of My Grandmother’s Passing
Over the last year, I’ve been slowly processing my grandmother’s passing. There are times when her spiritual presence is very strongly with me. And other times, like when I want to call her and tell her about my day but then I remember she’s gone, when I’m painfully aware of her physical absence. With each day, it gets easier.
My grandmother and me.
When she was diagnosed with cancer in August of 2010, I began a quest to understand the nature of death…and life. One of the things I like about Buddhist philosophy is the idea that death is not an end; instead, it’s more of a transformation.
For Buddhists, this physical body is a constant river of change. As we go about our day, eat, and interact with our environment, our moods, emotions, ideas, and energy all change. Old cells break down. New cells form. Very simply put, we are constantly changing in a way that, moment-by-moment, makes us never the same person. Death is just a continuation of this transformation. And while the person may physically be gone, their presence is still very much with us.
This weekend marked the one-year anniversary of my grandmother’s passing. So on Friday night, just as I was last year, I decided to stay up with her–except this time, instead of my grandmother being sick and me crying, I wanted us to cook and share a meal. The Buddhist Ceremony for the Deceased helped me do that.
Ok, so the ceremony just covers the being together part. During the ceremony, you’re supposed to offer the deceased some food they liked when they were alive. Since my grandmother loved it when I cooked for her, I wanted to share that experience again. And I often feel her presence when I cook, especially when I’m sauteing onions and garlic, one of her favorite smells.
My grandmother loved my greens. She also liked spicy foods and sweet potatoes. So for the meal, I created a Winter Green Soup with kale, spinach, beet greens, sweet potatoes, lemon, and a hint of jalapeno. It was amazing. (Maybe I’ll post the recipe one day 
)
For the ceremony, according to Buddhist tradition, you put a picture of the deceased and the food at the family altar. My buddhas and saints are kinda tucked away on a shelf in my home office, so I brought a few of them to the kitchen table. For the photo of the deceased, I chose a picture I took of my grandparents while we were in Paris in 2001:
The ceremony takes about an hour. After honoring your ancestors and spiritual teachers, there are some discourses on the true nature of life and physical existence, followed by repentance for “unskillful” actions and a commitment to compassionate, mindful living. The ceremony concludes with thoughts of gratitude for the deceased. It also reminds us to look for the departed in everyday life.
Here’s a variation of one of the prayers from the ceremony (I actually recite this one every morning):
No Coming, No Going
This physical body is not me.
I’m not limited by this body.
I am life without limit.
I have never been born, and I have never died.See the ocean and the sky filled with stars,
manifestations from my wondrous True Mind.Since beginningless time, I’ve always been free.
Birth and death are merely doors through which we pass,
sacred thresholds on our journey.
Birth and death are a game of hide-and-seek.So laugh with me and take my hand.
Let us say goodbye to meet again.We meet today.
We meet tomorrow.
We meet at the source in every moment.
We meet each other in all forms of life.
After the ceremony, I sat down at the table and ate in silence, smiling with my grandmother. Overall, it was a beautiful experience that reaffirmed life while celebrating my grandmother’s memory. I went to bed feeling peaceful and liberated.
[More pictures of my grandmother here.]
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Resources
- No Death, No Fear: Comforting Wisdom for Life by Thich Nhat Hanh – A book that really explains the Buddhist philosophy on dying, it teaches us that letting go of our fear of death can help us live in peace.
- Chanting from the Heart by Thich Nhat Hanh – This book is full of Buddhist Ceremonies and Discourses by the Monks and Nuns at Plum Village. Because there isn’t any supplemental discussion to help frame understanding, I recommend this one for more advanced practitioners of Buddhism.
Charley, you will be missed.
I took this picture of one of my best friends, Charley Evans, when we were 17. He was always so ethereal, and this photo captured, to me, his other worldly essence. He passed away on Sunday, and I feel like he finally returned home. My prayers to his wife, Andrea Klaas, and his son.
Life is so short and fleeting. Live every moment like it’s your last. Love your family and friends. Tell them you love them. Pursue peace, joy and true happiness with all your heart.
So very thankful to have met so many beautiful people in my life. Thank you all for the joy you bring me.
<3
When times are tough, do you check your personal instruction manual?
Since my grandmother’s death last month, I’ve been slipping in and out of sadness. Last week was really rough. And although I know she is still with me, it sent me a jolt.
Jolts aren’t always bad things–and I’m learning a lot. But during this processing time, I need some guidance to help me do the things that are best to keep me at a day-to-day functional level. When times are tough, I turn to my personal instruction manual.
I wrote the first draft of my instruction manual in Berlin. Leaving the city I love to help my brother and deal with my own depression after I’d had everything stolen, I decided to make a list of accomplishments in Berlin, including things I’d learned about myself during while there.
The list ended up being 5 hand-written pages of insight. And instead of feeling like my time there had been full of failure, I felt like I’d actually accomplished something. I’d also discovered the basic needs to keep me physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually happy.
A lot has changed in the 6 years since I drafted that list–but many of the elements still hold true. I’ll spare you the 5 pages and will instead share my most recent revision. Let’s call this the Reader’s Digest version of what makes me tick.
My Personal Instruction Manual
- Maintain a regular schedule.
- One hour before bed, switch off the computer and put on some calming music. This is my time.
- During that hour, straighten up the house: Put dirty clothes away, clean or rinse dirty dishes, etc.
- Drink a glass of water during that hour.
- After those tasks, start my series of yoga stretches, thinking about nothing but the movements, really reeling my body and become one with body and mind. Feel the spirit shine.
- Brush teeth, wash face, smile.
- Be thankful you survived another day.
- Once in bed, meditate on a glowing white light.
- Sleep 7 hours minimum.
- Wake up thankful: “Good morning, world. Thank you for letting me survive another night.”
- Eat breakfast, lunch and dinner (when hungry).
- Drink plenty of water throughout the day.
- Your best at morning exercise–but afternoon or evening exercise is good, too.
- Do intensive cardio like interval training or cycling when you are feeling anxious, stressed or panicky.
- Eat a good mix of food. My body is best suited for: more veggies; little to no sugar; no wheat; nice amount of healthy oils; relatively low carbs and an even amount of protein.
- Tell people thank you when it’s deserved.
- Tell people why what they are doing is good–and how it made you feel.
- Talk to good friends frequently.
- Spend time with people who make you feel good, accentuate your positive qualities and stimulate you.
- Disregard the negative people–laugh off their silliness.
- Always remember to ask: What can I do right now to improve my state of mind? What can I do right now to better my standard of living?
- Remember: Being alive is a beautiful gift.
- And don’t forget to say hello to the trees.
Yeah, so that’s my list. Some of the things are particular to my health issues (bad heart, celiac’s disease). Because I tend to slip into bad habits when I’m depressed, a lot of the items try to rewire those habits through behavioral reprogramming. Sometimes starting a few of these, it moves me in the right direction.
When was the last time you made a list of your accomplishments instead of looking at defeat?
When was the last time you listed your strengths instead of honing in on your weaknesses?
What do you do when times are tough?
Do you have a personal instruction manual?
My grandmother has lung cancer–but death doesn’t scare me anymore.
I’ve been holding off on posting this, because I wanted to make it thoughtful; however, since I’m still developing my thoughts, I realized a complete post on may never come to fruition. So, this email I wrote to a friend will just serve as a brief update until I can write something more thoughtful:
My grandmother is on pain medicine and she’s doing chemotherapy. She has lung cancer. It’s been such an interesting experience for me since I found out in August.
It was weird. One Wednesday I had the urge to book tickets to see her for a weekend visit. I called her on Thursday to tell her I was gonna be there on Friday. On that call she told me she had just been diagnosed with lung cancer. It didn’t freak me out–it was like my spirit already knew.
When I went down there, we spent a lot of time just doing nothing. She lives in an assisted living apartment near a beach, so when I was driving to my aunt’s beach house at like 1.30 in the morning after hanging out with my grandmother, I pulled the car up on the beach all the way to the waves and I started crying.
That night, what I realized is that death is nothing to be scared of. It’s just the next phase. I started reading Buddhist texts about Death and Dying, and I’ve started to understand that there is no end and no beginning. It’s just transformation of form. My grandmother is starting to understand this, too.
My grandmother didn’t want to do chemotherapy. She wanted to just accept this as another stage of her life. She told me she has had 87 years of beauty and love–something most people don’t get to ever experience. She was happy just taking pain medicine until the end.
We do so much in life to try to run from death and aging–but it’s part of this existence. We can’t hold on to memories or people or things. Everything changes and transforms–but people we love and moments we love are always there, it’s just our perception of their form that has changed.
Anyway, later in the month, I’m bringing lots of good food and champagne to my grandmother, and she and I are going to have a party to celebrate the time we shared together on this beautifully twisted roller coaster ride called life.
Ever since I realized that life is just transformation of state, I’m not scared. I’m happy to understand that everything is interconnected and woven into the underlying fabric of the universe. You and I–all of us–are always changing state and are always a part of everything.
I’ve always been one to say I’m not scared of death. The last 18 years of Buddhist studies helped mold those ideas. And although I suffered a lot of loss early life, it was the underlying youthful fearlessness that propped up my lack of fear towards death. As I’ve gotten older, however, I’ve become more aware of the value of life, and the concept of death being an “end” started to form.
It’s that notion of an end that we are scared of. We run from it and pretend that death won’t happen to us–but it will: Like a slasher film, no one leaves this place alive.
The thing to know is that there is no beginning or end. There’s no coming or going. There’s just transformation. The right circumstances arise and we are blessed with a human manifestation. Like a wave, we have our own form, but its underlying essence of ocean or water is unchanged. When a wave crashes against a shore, it doesn’t end, it just transforms. It is always water.
I’ll explain the esoteric stuff in a later post. This is just an update. Most of my personal writing lately is happening in a hand-written journal. I’m thinking about scanning the entries and posting those raw. Maybe I’ll transcribe them. In any case, I hope to have that up before the New Year 
<3 + V + \m/
ca
Took this photo at 1.30 in the morning the weekend we found out. Both of us are smiling.
Box of memories.
Several months ago, my mom brought down a box of stuff that I’d left at the house about 10 years ago. It includes stuff from Junior High, High School and College. When she brought it down, I barely dipped my toe into it; I couldn’t really handle all the emotions it might release.
I’ve always been kind of obsessed with Alice in Wonderland. In a box somewhere, I have some large reproductions of John Tenniel‘s illustrations from the 1st edition (1865) of Lewis Carroll’s classic novel. Wasn’t sure if it was the box that mom dropped off, so I started digging through it.
I eventually want to photographically chronicle some of this stuff, but for now I’m just going to list a few things I’ve found.
- A t-shirt I painted when I was 13. It’s so tiny–a boy’s medium. I remember it being way oversized. It has a yin-yang on the back.
- Contact sheets of the first modeling pics I took when I was 19. A famous photographer took them. They are in black and white. At the time, I didn’t understand why anyone would want to take my picture. Typical teenager, I didn’t think I was attractive. I was really happy and care-free, although in some pictures I’m def self aware. I still look basically the same except now my face is thinner and my body is not quite as cut LOL
- My photo scrap book from Senior Year in HS and the first 2 years of college. So young!
- 8th grade year book (1991). Shoved inside were 3 sets of matted photos from our district winning cross country and track teams. Someone’s parent took a lot of time to take the photos of us out on the track or on the cross country course. They also matted the pictures. Unlike the actual yearbook pics, these pictures are candid and feel more like real memories. I look at the pics and I can feel the polyester shorts, the cold wind and my tight lungs. Funny: I was so intimidated by most of the other guys on the team. Looking at them now, I realize how silly that was. I look sad and very unsure of myself. I started crying looking at these pics and thinking about how much I was going through at the time. Shocks me that that little boy was me.
- One of my sketchbooks from when I was 20. I was going through a cubistic phase.
- Le Journal de Mickey – a French comic book from 1988 in which Mickey and crew go to the Olympics!
- An autograph from 1990 from Jim Wright, former speaker of the US House of Representatives. When I was a kid, I loved him because he was from Fort Worth, went to my mom’s High School and went to UT.
Yeah, so that’s just a small sampling. My mom is going to bring another box down soon. Hoping it has those Alice in Wonderland prints. If it does, that will also include all my wall decorations!!
Six pictures of my grandmother.
Just got back from spending several days in Galveston for my grandfather’s 90th birthday. While there, I shot several pics of my grandmother. Thought I would share them with you!
My grandmother is the person who has inspired me the most. She has always been there to give me the emotional support and courage I’ve needed on my many voyages throughout life. A truly classy lady, she taught me to respect people regardless of their race, religion, social status or sexual orientation. She’s also extremely compassionate, which is why she was a superstar nurse before she retired.
A few years ago, she and my grandfather moved from their home in Dallas to an assisted living center in Galveston. Before the move, she had a very active life: personal trainer, book club, shopping at Central Market and eating healthy food. Her life is completely different now. Not sure whether it was leaving her friends, downsizing from a house into an apartment or the stress of watching my grandfather suffer through Parkinson’s disease, but she’s been off-and-on depressed since the move.
When I was living in Berlin, she used to call me every day to chat. Those calls got me through the severe depression I suffered after having everything stolen. Now I call her almost every night with the hopes that I can lift her spirits.
While depressed, she had gained a lot of weight. A couple of months ago, she decided she needed to lose the weight so that she could regain a little esteem. Over this last visit, she looked like the granny I grew up with: active and fit. For a woman in her late 80′s, she looks amazing. I couldn’t stop taking pictures!
This one is probably my favorite of all the photos I took. We were in the elevator heading out to grab dinner. Surprisingly, the light was amazing. She looked strong.
This is obviously not the best quality picture–but the situation was so beautiful. We were walking to her car. It was sunset, and the sky was flushed with pinks and purples. We stopped to admire the splendor. When I turned to look back at her, she was bathed in the pink light reflecting off the sky, as if she was glowing. Behind her, a bush with pink flowers was blowing in the breeze. I snapped this picture to remember the moment.
This is a picture of my grandmother dressed to go to dinner. She loves pink and purple, and this outfit looked great on her!
This was her outfit for my grandfather’s birthday dinner. She reminded me of a Spanish Catalan woman.
This is my grandmother with Tennille, a family friend. I love this picture because this is her natural smile. It’s so peaceful and happy. It was the only time I captured it during the trip. The joy of having everyone there for my gfather’s b-day kinda shines through. And she loves Tennille.
This is my grandfather. He is also one of my heros. He taught me that I can create my own world.
Even though he’s 90, I think he still looks very handsome. I snapped this picture before we headed to the Lone Star Flight Museum. Because of the Parkinson’s, it was tough to take a picture of him. For this one, I hopped in front of him and said “Smile, Bobby!” He smiled, and I snapped the pic!
My grandfather is the love of my grandmother’s life. They’ve been together for 65 years. The compassion she has for this man is amazing. I can’t imagine what it’s like to watch as your loved one slowly deteriorates in front of you. But they have each other. And their love is so beautiful.
This is the best picture I think I’ve ever taken of them. My grandmother looks devoted and strong. <3
The writing process–Starting the idea generation cycle for the next series of stories.
Today was the first day working on the next series of fiction writings. It basically involved immersing myself in the subject during what I call the “sponge phase” of the idea generation cycle.
The sponge phase involves filling your head with as much information as possible until you reach the point of sensory overload. For all of you athletes, it’s kind of like when you are loading up on carbs before a marathon. In the case of idea generation, you are loading up on information, images, writing styles and experiences that will help push you through the story writing process.
When you’re training for sports, you don’t want to fill you body with junk. Same goes for the creative process. Here are some of the things I do during my media diet:
- Limit Facebook and other social media use.
- I’m already filling my head with tons of things–and I dont really need to be exposed to all the extra stuff facebook pushes out. Plus, it’s a huge time suck.
- Limit my personal interaction to people that are positive influences.
- The creative process is like giving birth, and you don’t want your baby to be exposed to negative things. Some people also can be a drain, stressing me out or weighing me down.
- Limit movies, novels or short stories to things that I’ve already read, focusing on those works that resonate with the story I want to tell.
- It comes down to too much stimulation. It also helps put you in the right state of mind or mood to match your story.
- If you’ve already read/seen the work, you know what to expect. I don’t like outside influences affecting my writing in unexpected ways <—This goes for all of the above.
The last novel was very dark and semi-autobiographical. It was also kind of avante garde. This new series of short stories (or maybe a novel) goes back to being true fiction based on several ideas I’ve had over the last few years during my travels.
As most of my faithful readers know, I had 4 years of journals and photos stolen while I was living in Berlin. I can’t look at pictures, drawings or writings from those times. All I have are memories:
- Iceland: wall of snow advancing across a sunny field from purple mountains; fairy villages in a tree stump and stones; glaciers
- Camping in a cabin in a valley outside of Heidelberg with Jasmine. Hiking to the city through the forest in the morning and then back to the cabin at night. Trees had eyes. Spawning white bugs swarming us. Castles, fountains, fairies, flowers.
- Watching shooting stars from high atop a mountain in North Carolina
- Dancing naked in a summer storm
As much as I’d like to go back to those places and immerse myself, I can’t right now. Thankfully, the memories help recall parts of stories that I wrote at the time.
Here are some snapshots of what I’m filling my head with I’ve also been watching different movie versions of Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream and Alice in Wonderland (not the new one). Can you guess what I’m writing about?
A flash of lightning–or why I’m trying hard not to be a zombie.
My grandparents at my grandfather's birthday in June 2009.
Just got off the phone with my aunt. My grandfather is in the hospital again. He was up all night vomiting, so they rushed him to the ER. At the hospital, they put a tube in his throat, but he pulled it out. He’s telling family members that he’s going to die.
My grandparents raised me. My grandfather taught me about being a man. My grandmother taught me how to love. They’ve been together for more than 60 years. When my grandfather passes, it’s going to break my grandmother’s heart.
It’s been a rough 2 weeks. My stepfather went into the hospital a couple of weeks ago with a kidney problem. He’s going to be in a nursing home for 3 months on dialysis recovering. And while I wasn’t as close to him as I am to my grandfather, it still makes me reflect on mortality and death.
On top of that, all of my material objects have decided they want to break: My laptop randomly reboots whenever it feels like it; my still camera’s lens grinds when I turn it on; my phone’s screen and volume are broken–and it drops calls; one of my flip cameras has a broken, unusable screen; AND my soap dispenser is no longer pumping. Top that off with a week long stomach bug, and it’s hard to feel like I’m not drowning.
I’m trying hard to understand my emotions right now. I can’t let myself go numb, and I can’t escape into depression. I know I should feel this. I need to be in the moment, acknowledging what’s happening and understanding that it’s life.
People die. We all die. It’s written into the contract of life. Nothing lives forever. Things change. Things break. Nothing is permanent–especially flesh. It’s hard idea to swallow–and it sounds cold–but it’s the only truth in life.
photo by Loerex. The city is Cologne. <3
The seasons always change. Summer doesn’t last forever, and neither does the winter. We have to enjoy every moment during the summer: bask in the sunlight, complain about the heat, and fill our hearts with swimming and sunsets. But we always know that fall will come. And then winter. No matter how hard we try to hold on to summer, it still goes. So it must be with people and things.
People come into our lives. They share time with us. They touch us. They affect us. Sometimes they hurt us. Sometimes they love us. In the end, they all pass out of our lives. Impermanence is the only constant.
As much as I want to fight the death of my grandfather, my brother, my grandmother, my good friends, it’s futile. This life is a flash of lightning, a summer rainbow, a flower in bloom: beautiful, ephemeral, precious. We can’t be scared or sad. We can’t control the future. We can only enjoy our time now.
Cherish it, my friends. Love your life. Love your friends and family. Take note of every moment: the light, the dark, the smell, your feelings (good or bad), the sounds, the colors and tastes. At the same time, know it’s all fleeting.
All of this is easier said than done. Small steps. Remember: It’s a miracle each morning when we wake up and are still breathing.
Thank you all for the joy you bring me.
V + <3
Transformation.
I’m about to transform. I’ve been here before. I can feel it.
I’m so full of restless energy. I’ve been stuck in my cocoon and I want to burst out of this shell–but I havent finished forming. And I can’t write because I have too much to say. I don’t know where to start.
Things are about to crystalize. In this moment, all I can do is absorb the energy of the universe. Absorb places, people, stories. Flashes of memories. Moments of inspiration.
It’s always hardest right before it comes. The transformation. So for now I have to be patient and let my conscious finish growing. Stay in the now. For tomorrow everything will come together and with a BANG the new ideas, my new self, the next chapter will emerge.
I’m ready to soar. Are you?
On the nature of being humble.
I used to think that being humble meant being subservient–kinda like a dog with its head bowed and its tail between its leg. A sort of posturing, it was more of an act rather than an action.
Being humble means:
- Not talking about things that might make someone feel inferior.
- Listening with all your heart and not thinking about what to say.
- Respecting relationships.
- Not always having the spotlight or being the alpha dog in the room.
- Doing things that might be “beneath” you out of respect or love.
- Patience.
- Losing your ego.
Because I had a low self esteem, I used to feel like i had to prove myself by talking about places I’ve been, things that are successful, etc. Now that I’m comfortable with myself, I don’t want to talk about myself. I just want to be in the moment with my friends and the people around me. I want to help them be the best they can be–and I can’t do that if I’m always talking about my own successes or thinking about what to say next.
Being humble means letting go of yourself so that someone else can have a moment to shine.
I’m learning.
