In British culture the idea of
celebrating death is very alien, our cemeteries tend to be places of quiet,
places where exuberant joy is considered inappropriate, a subdued manner is the
expectation. Here is the Philippines the culture is very different.
1st and 2nd
November are days which belong to the dead. Virtually everyone goes to the
cemeteries to visit their deceased relatives. During the days either side transport
networks are at their busiest with people travelling back and forth, to and
from their family homes and family places of burial.
The atmosphere in the cemeteries
is not of mournful lament and quiet weeping. 1st and 2nd
November are days of celebration. Families are reunited over the graves of
their common dead. The whole day is spent in the cemetery, prayers are shared, picnic
food is eaten, barbecues are lit, board games are played.
In the cemeteries of the better
off tents are set up over the graves sheltering the living from the sun. Fast-food
franchises set up temporary branches, vendors wander around selling flowers, candles,
balloons, ice-creams and even rubber skeletons. Children play ball games in the
roadways.
The atmosphere in the poorer
cemeteries is much the same sense of festivity only there is less space. Above
ground concrete ossaries, sometimes two stories high, stack mortal remains four
or five people high. Families are squashed together trying to find the space to
decorate their family graves with paint, candles and flowers.
These two days are very special
days of festival but they are only the pinnacle of an ongoing devotion to the
dead that exists here. Daily prayers are prayed for, and asked of, those who
have died. A very immanent sense of relationship is maintained with those who
have died. Death is talked about freely, it is certainly not a subject that is feared
or hidden away from.
The experience of visiting the
cemeteries has been fascinating but also strangely disconcerting. My European mindset
shies away from focussing too much on the subject of death at times when it
doesn’t have to. Perhaps I maintain some less than fully conscious superstitions
about death which my mind prefers to leave hidden? Death is usually a subject I
prefer to keep away from normal life in a walled off space different from the
rest of life.
The practises here are both an
inspiring eye-opener and a deep challenge.
Sounds like an incredible experience. So are people more alive for this way of life? Do people fear death less? Is it a healthier way, this obsession (for want of a better word)? I've often thought confrontation of death is the surest way to feel alive. In myself, I have a definite and oft experienced morbid curiosity, but, despite my admitting it here, it is a rather secretive curiosity. That's the way it feels. It is a personal activity. Sounds sinister, I'm sure, but I guess this reflects things from our side of the world.
ReplyDeleteLew
As yet I can't really answer as to whether they are more alive here. Nor whether it is healthier.
ReplyDeleteThey do certainly confront the subject of death much more readily. Discussing the subject does not incite fear. They wouldn't interpret death (or the confrontation of it) as something sinister.
Perhaps they could be accused of not taking death seriously enough. But then their devotion to their dead (in a general sense) is much more committed and public than is ours.
It sounds like a wonderful occasion, they have the joy and laughter of a family reunion and celebration and include their dead in it. Also making the effort to be together at this time of year must be a comfort to those grieving.
ReplyDeleteThinking about your discussion, maybe it is easier to confront death when you have faith that there is something after this life. They are surrounded by the certainty of others that they will all be reunited and death is not the end.
I agree that it does seem a nice occasion. And the communal effort seems quite beautiful.
ReplyDeleteIn light of the recent passing of my dad, I find myself musing upon the afterlife on a daily basis. Sometimes I sense dad, but I rationalise it as knowing him and knowing what he'd think about the decisions I make or the things I say or write or feel. When I consider other possiblities I suppose it makes me fearful, in a superficial sense. At times I want so much to believe in something and recently my thoughts are directed towards aspects of Hinduism or Buddhism. Seeing life as a way to improve oneself spiritually seems integral in these religions (not that it isn't in other religions) and it is something I have always felt, but, if I'm honest, done very little about. I'm at a turning point right now, and I'm hoping (it consumes me really) to approach my existence in a more holistic manner. I can't help but question my motives for feeling this way, but perhaps this is of very little importance, and perhaps this is something I should remind myself. (sorry to get so self-indulgent on your blog, Matt).
Also, I have to ask then, is death serious? I mean a in spiritual sense?
Lew
No worries on the self-indulgence front, it is good to have incited a debate, and it is reassuring that people are actually reading what I post.
ReplyDeletethis is an attempt at a response but may well turn into a ramble.
I think that it is a very western mindset to think in terms of individuals. We think ask the question 'where has this individual gone to?'; we ask questions about life after death in a very individual way. In our western worldview everyone is a distinct separate being.
Outside of the modern western world the mindset is much more community orientated. The death of an individual is a significant and sad event but the emphasis is on the community and the community continues. The individuals life continues in the sense that their community continues. It is not really a question of them going to another place, the idea of heaven is not somewhere far away, they remain present in the midst of their continuing community.
This idea only makes sense if you have a strong sense of community, which we do not have in the west. So it can seem very negative to us because we attach so much value to the individual and thus the idea of an individual ceasing to exist really depresses us. However in the non-western mindset it is not really the individual ceasing to exist but that they were always part of a greater whole. If this greater whole is not present then what?
Modern Western Culture has (be it rightly or wrongly) de-constructed the idea of community in favour of individual freedom. We can now choose our religious beliefs individually, not have them chosen for us as part of a community. Along with this deconstruction we have also deconstructed our old ideas about death.
In the light of this new individual worldview we have yet to re-construct new ideas about death. We do not have a common understanding of death. Our culture deals with death in a very erratic un-systematised way. We will always fear that of which we don't have any cultural understanding.
Perhaps we have always been in process of deconstruction and reconstruction and to look back on a past idyll is to mythologise. I don't know. Likewise perhaps things here are also much more complex? Probably.
I am not sure any of that makes sense but that is how it seems to me.
I hope my response didn’t come across as flippant and insensitive, in struggling with my own uncertainties about what comes next after life here I can appreciate the comfort certainty can bring.
ReplyDeleteI agree with you Matt, when you talk about being part of a community but any one individual has to cope with the every day reality of life without their loved ones. The very real emotions of pain and loss, which can’t be avoided despite being part of a community.
It was poignant today when Sue and I went to Jonathan’s grave, the family of another young man were at his graveside nearby, they had come together with balloons to let off to celebrate his birthday, it looked very similar to your photos and if the weather had been better I’m sure they would have stayed for a picnic! There was also a comfort some how that maybe Jonathan was celebrating with him. I know the variety of things left at Jonathan’s grave by his friends are a comfort to Sue when she sees them, to know he’s not forgotten and his friends still see him as part of their community.
That's a very interesting premise about the difference between the West and other parts of the world. It's kind of hard to take in, in a way, although I've also come to that conclusion myself, only from my armchair, of course. With the exception of a few Arab countries, I've never been outside of the Western world. In Morocco (which may well be construed as Western) I got a sense of dog eat dog, but on the other hand we (Ol' Weaver and me) were welcomed into the home of somebody we met and helped translate a postcard into English for, and they were very poor and fed us - this was very unusual, even though I had read about it.
ReplyDeleteOn the one hand it is hard not to think in the terms of an individual, on the other hand I think a lot of us crave community (something that was more apparent in our history and particularly in times of crisis). In the West, are we presented with a way of life that makes us less in need of community? Because even if we crave it, it is less manifest nowadays?
Here's Shopenhauer's thoughts on it: a number of
porcupines huddled together quite closely
'in order through their mutual warmth to prevent themselves from being frozen. But they soon felt the effect of their quills on one another, which made them again move apart. Now when the need for warmth once more brought them together, the drawback of the quills was repeated so that they were tossed between two evils, until they discovered the proper distance from which they could best tolerate one another. Thus the need for society which springs from the emptiness and monotony of men’s lives drives them together; but their many unpleasant and repulsive qualities and insufferable drawbacks once more drives them apart. The mean distance which they finally discover, and which enables them to endure being
together, is politeness and good manners. Whoever does not keep to this is told in England to keep his distance.'
Whilst this may be perceived as pessimistic, the last line gives it some credence and it in some way corroborates your thoughts on the West. I have little first hand experience of the rest of the world, but from what I have and what I've read, I'm not sure it is so monumentally different. Individual freedom, yes, the 'American dream' too perhaps. Schopenhauer speaks of the monotony and emptiness of men's lives as being something that draws them together, temporarily, but I think crisis, poor lifestyle and troubled times bring people together too. I think people the world over are essentially the same and that the will of man will prove to be inevitably too strong for a country's governing. If this is the case, Schopenhauer may well be right, perhaps that is what evolution has in store for us (which if we think in terms of spirituality, does not necessarily have to be a bad thing), but certainly in our lives and lifetime, life is hard for a number of reasons so we require community, but it is harder in some parts of the world than others, and, from my armchair, there often seems to be more community spirit in troubled parts of the world.
Lew
(Sorry to turn this into a essay)
ReplyDeleteMy thoughts evolve very quickly, I must add. In the light of my recent thoughts on religion and enlightenment, it seems to me at this moment in my life, that this could be the path, which is very individual but also about abandoning the individual.
It is interesting thinking about religion and having the right to choose. Being forced to have faith like being in a forced relationship, has its advantages. I speak of my father, we had a very difficult relationship, but taking it as a duty, as I did in his last years, I came to feel a true sense of love (that I could conceptualise for the first time), and I imagine the same can be said of religion. But this forced relationship also showed up the weaknesses in my own character, because I was forced to be my-lowly-self at even my worst times (irritabilty, jealousy, ego and laziness). This is why I've always had a difficult relationship with religion: how could I allow myself to believe these beautiful truths, which always seemed true from the deepest part inside me, when it was so obvious that I was being a hypocrite, and couldn't help but be? By not believing or investing the time to try to believe, I was allowing myself to be human. Of course, I've always had a tendency to be very hard on myself, but it is only now that I've begun to see spirituality as a process. Perhaps a process of abandoning the ego, becoming self-less.
I've strayed from the path somewhat, but what I'm trying to say is I believe it is wrong to be forced to believe or forced to take part in a religion, even in spite of the advantages. I didn't explain it very well, I guess I need to air this stuff. But to follow on, thinking about my father, I started thinking about being in a relationship with a partner in the future, and possibly marriage, which in our world is now not forced, as it once was, and the conclusion I came to is that this is an evolutionary step forward brought about by the will of a people (whether you agree with the sanctity of marriage, which is perfectly fine, of course, or not). Thinking about this made me realise I am not ready to be in a relationship, to find a soulmate, because I unfortunately have a habit of judging people by my own standards. I need to learn to accept rather than expect and then perhaps I will be able to accept myself, too.
So, to follow on from all this, perhaps, if anything, community could be construed of as a warning, a sign of difficult times. I will add, as it stands, I crave community, but then this is a reflection of myself.
I'm sure this will come across as an utter ramble and I've strayed far from the path of death. But I guess this is my world view. People are essentialy the same; governments will evolve, eventually, in the light of the will of man - and the will of man is expressed in all religions, which, at the heart of them, are essentially the same, it is just perhaps a process of coming to understand this, which is often difficult, because life gets in the way.
You didn't come across as insensitive, Clare. I think about Jonny quite often, and I didn't know him as well as some of my dearest friends. I know that many, many people think about him regularly. He was a truly genuine and sincere person, which is why he was so loved. He was, and certainly still is, part of a community.
Lew