Then, just as Antoninus had done, he prepared for his final
words. His last chance for passing on wisdom to the people he loved,
to the people he knew would face all the difficulties that life throws at
us. “All individual things pass away,” he said. “Seek your liberation
with diligence.”
Then Buddha fell into a deep sleep and never woke again.
It is fitting that between the deaths of these two titans came
Epicurus, the philosopher whose unique way of living almost
perfectly bridges the Eastern and Western schools. In 270 BC, he
also had the self-awareness to know he did not have much more
time. “On this happy day, which is the last day of my life,” Epicurus
began his final letter, “I write the following words to you.” Despite
the considerable pain he felt, his body racked by blockages in the
bladder and bowels, he wrote instead of the joy in his heart, and the
fond recollections he had of conversations with his friends. Then he
got to the purpose of the letter—a set of instructions for the care of a
promising pupil he wanted to make sure was looked after. Within a
few hours and without much fanfare, Epicurus would join Buddha
and Antoninus in eternity, in death.
Three approaches. Different, but in the end the same.
Clear.
Calm.
Kind.
Still.
Each of the domains we have studied addressed in their own way.
The mind.
The soul.
The body.
The mental. The spiritual. The physical.
Three legs in a stool. Three points along a perfect circle.
None of us are long for this world. Death hangs over us all,
whether we notice or not, whether we believe it or not.
Tomorrow, we could discover we have cancer. Two weeks from
now, a heavy branch could fall from a tree and take us with it. The
prognosis is terminal for each and every person and has been from
the moment we were born. Our heart beats without fail for an
uncertain amount of time, and then one day, suddenly, it is still.
barry
(Barry)
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