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Blackberry-Picking, by Seamus Heaney
Late August, given heavy rain and sun
For a full week, the blackberries would ripen.
At first, just one, a glossy purple clot
Among others, red, green, hard as a knot.
You ate that first one and its flesh was sweet
Like thickened wine: summer’s blood was in it
Leaving stains upon the tongue and lust for
Picking. Then red ones inked up and that hunger
Sent us out with milk cans, pea tins, jam-pots
Where briars scratched and wet grass bleached our boots.
Round hayfields, cornfields and potato-drills
We trekked and picked until the cans were full,
Until the tinkling bottom had been covered
With green ones, and on top big dark blobs burned
Like a plate of eyes. Our hands were peppered
With thorn pricks, our palms sticky as Bluebeard’s.
We hoarded the fresh berries in the byre.
But when the bath was filled we found a fur,
A rat-grey fungus, glutting on our cache.
The juice was stinking too. Once off the bush
The fruit fermented, the sweet flesh would turn sour.
I always felt like crying. It wasn’t fair
That all the lovely canfuls smelt of rot.
Each year I hoped they’d keep, knew they would not.
Humans like certainty. We like the narrative that we are in control. Loss of control sets our fears off. Hypotheticals are often framed in the negative. What if the stock market crashes/ my home is in the Tsunami zone/a wildfire decimates my neighborhood...and I lose everything? What if I get Covid? What if I lose my mind?
In the yoga tradition, all these questions are rooted in ego attachment, whether our ego is attached to our physical possessions, our health or our sense of personal narrative and dignity. And so deeply rooted and ancient are our narratives, that there are Sanskrit concepts that categorize five specific mental states that are obstacles to enlightenment and the foundation of human suffering. These are called kleshas roughly translated as “poisons”.
The five kleshas are avidya (ignorance/lack of awareness), asmita (attachment to a personal narrative/sense of self), raga (attachment to pleasure), dvesa (aversion or anger) and abhinivesha (a desire to live, fear of death and a clinging to life) .
Of these, perhaps the hardest to overcome is abhinivesha.
All sentient beings manifest this fear of death. Even plants produce thorns and emit toxins to avoid uprooting. Animals, including humans, have evolved to survive. We have created weapons, medicines, shelter, clothing all in the pursuit of survival. We mourn our dead. We pride ourselves on survivorship. Is anyone quite ready to throw in the towel and enter the great mystery of shedding our human form?
The human brain is programmed to fear. The amygdala (the reptile brain) feeds off fear. And we feed our amygdala daily. Economic crises, global pandemics, war in the Middle East, rising interest rates, population inequalities and injustices, polarized politics and the fentanyl crisis is presented to us daily in the form of a 24/7 graphic media cycle and AI-generated messages that adapt very quickly to our subtle fear-based perceptions.
Our unconscious brains are primed for fear. The fear of death is the ultimate fear. We have created lots of “bubble wrap” to protect us from death but, spoiler alert, there is nothing more certain than death.
How do we lessen our suffering then by “lightening up” about death?
When we practice yoga regularly, we contemplate our own death. The practice of savasana (corpse pose) at the end of a hatha yoga class is an opportunity to remind our selves that we will one day leave this human form. When we practice mindfulness or focused meditation, we begin the discipline of quieting the mind and developing the “witness,” an inner state that recognizes “you” are not “your thoughts.” Sometimes we even enter states where we see our body as a simple vehicle, that all creation is a unified field of consciousness and we are both the wave and the particle-the ocean and a drop in the ocean.
The Tibetan Buddhists believe that the soul leaves the body upon death and lingers in a “bardo” state of luminosity, akin to the dream state we experience during REM sleep. If we have clung too hard in this human existence to fear, greed and self-importance, the bardo state will continue to torment us with more of the same and we will reincarnate with these same lessons to overcome. It is through kindness, compassion for others and the practice of non-attachment that we reduce our “karmic debt.”
Whether we live till we are 20 or 95, the essential to living well is developing practices to consciously choose love over fear, to embrace the unknown, enjoy the roller coaster that is human life. A mile that takes twelve minutes to run or a mile that takes 6 minutes to run is the same distance.
Regardless of whether you believe in reincarnation or even God, the recognition that all things are impermanent helps lessen the grip of Abhinivesha. One day we will all shed our skinsuits, our earthly responsibilities and loved ones, and we will mourn those who pass before us in recognition that they too have been great gifts in our lives.
Recently, I have started asking myself every day “Is this how I want to live my life?” And then I meditate on the answer.
Every day is a gift. How are you unwrapping this daily gift, using the gift, and expressing gratitude for the gift?
Namaste,
Kristin
I invite you to join me this coming April in Sayulita, Mexico for a week-long exploration into quieting your mind and learning more about the yogic discipline.