Quest Magazine

What I Don’t know about Death: Reflections on Buddhism and Mortality

C.W. Huntington Jr. 
Somerville, Mass.: Wisdom Publications, 2021; 167 pp., paper, $16.95.

Death would seem to be the greatest human mystery, although it appears to be only a bit more mysterious than life. C.W. (Sandy) Huntington Jr. acknowledges that in the first sentence of his book: “I know next to nothing about death.”

Written during the six months Huntington had left of his life after being diagnosed with stage four pancreatic cancer in January 2020, this book is his final gift to those of us who are left pondering the meaning of life and its end, death. “Science can tell us a great deal about dying and death from an objective point of view but nothing at all about what it means to directly face one’s own imminent demise,” he writes.

Huntington grew up in East Lansing, Michigan, and attended Michigan State University. He earned his PhD in Asian languages and cultures at the University of Michigan. Living in India from 1976 to 1979, Huntington studied with the teachers Ambika Datta Upadhyaya and Ram Shanar Tripathi. He traveled to India many times in his life, taking students in his Buddhist studies program (first at the University of Michigan and Denison College, and then to Hartwick College in Oneonta, New York), to experience that country.

The life of the Buddha and the nature of the spiritual path are the subjects of the beginning chapter of Huntington’s work, in which he notes that the spiritual path is often rooted in discontent, as was the Buddha’s. When the questions loom large in our minds, the search for answers begins. Most of us seek to know why. How can we attain happiness? The search is often a struggle to find the meaning in what confronts us in life, and “how ultimately futile our struggle for control” is.

Some people are critical of Buddhism’s seeming obsession with death and dying, which, as Huntington observes, sees “spiritual work as preparation for death . . . obvious in the case of the Tibetan Book of the Dead,” in which “the message is communicated . . . throughout Buddhist teachings, where meditations on death are commonplace.” But there likely is no more profound teacher of suffering and the way out of suffering than being given a terminal diagnosis of a “dis-ease,” as Huntington terms it in the chapter of that title. Wanting life to be other than it is brings on suffering “whenever our experience runs counter to our desires. What I don’t get what I want, or when I get what I don’t want, I become restless, worried, fearful.”

That reminds me of the phrase in a song by Sheryl Crow: “It’s not having what you want; it’s wanting what you’ve got.” That’s true even if what you’ve got is a terminal diagnosis. This quality—wanting nothing more than what you are given—is called desirelessness in Buddhist philosophy, as Huntington notes as one of the lessons of living and dying. It’s the only way out of suffering.

Huntington explores waking up and what it means as we move through life seeking enlightenment, which more often than not eludes us. His chapter on “A Pathless Land” also discusses waking up. We try too hard to attain enlightenment, which is our greatest impediment: “The harder I twist and pull, the tighter the knot gets. At some point my only choice is to give up trying to not try.” Does waking up (enlightenment) come gradually, through our own efforts, or in a sudden insight? He quotes J. Krishnamurti, who said that “‘truth is a pathless land’ . . . some problems will not yield to rational analysis, so there are skills that cannot be learned by mastering a formula.”

While most of Huntington’s insightful book is focused on the basics of the Buddhist philosophy of living, including nonattachment, equanimity, and desirelessness, ultimately one must learn to let go. “Letting Go” is his final chapter, both literally and figuratively. “I am dying, and what I don’t know about death has become a metaphor for what I don’t know about life. As I’m compelled to give myself over to this darkness of unknowing, I’m finding a new and deepened understanding about what it means to come to terms with what I’ve been given—with what Buddhism calls the ‘suchness’ (tathata) of things.”

Learning nonattachment and the practice of letting go is a lifelong effort, but one that finally gives us the peace and courage required to die. As my late partner, Brent, said to me in one of his last lessons to me: “Dying is easy; it’s living that’s hard. Dying is so easy.”

Huntington died on July 19, 2020, at 1:45 p.m., says his epilogue. “It was an entirely quiet passing. He simply let go.”

Clare Goldsberry’s latest book, The Illusion of Life and Death, was reviewed in Quest, spring 2022.

Printed in the  Spring 2023 issue of Quest magazine. 
Citation: Keene, Douglas,  "Seeking Evidence" Quest 111:2, pg 9      

By Douglas Keene

When contemplating the divine, whether personal or impersonal, some see evidence everywhere, and others cannot. This depends, of course, on the nature and quality of such evidence. To some, a field of blooming lavender, a blazing sunrise, or an exploding nebula is all that is needed to inspire and help them know that we are not alone. Others want measurable, material, and irrefutable proof in the divine before acknowledging it.

Historically, the role of an Almighty Being has served different purposes. One was to explain the unexplained. Eclipses, weather events, wars, plagues, and even personal prosperity or penury were attributed to “the will of God.” A pantheon of gods evolved that were worshiped by the Hindus, Greeks, and Romans. The birth of Christianity led to the spread of monotheism, but there was still a plethora of saints to help with day-to-day concerns.

In 1768, Voltaire famously wrote, “Si Dieu n’existait pas, il faudrait l’inventer” (“If God did not exist, it would be necessary to invent him”). But is this as true in the twenty-first century as it was in the eighteenth? As science has advanced, it has explained many of our progenitors’ perplexities, but in doing so, it has raised a myriad of new questions and challenges.

Nevertheless, with this accumulated knowledge, many have drifted to a more secular understanding of the universe. Neil deGrasse Tyson, the American astrophysicist, pointed out in a 2011 talk that roughly 90 percent of the general public believe in a personal God. This number drops to 60 percent among those with postgraduate college degrees, then to 40 percent for those with degrees in science, and finally to 7 percent of those considered “elite” scientists: members of the National Academy of Sciences.

This correlation is quite curious, as it implies that the more we know about physical existence, the less we believe in (at least a personal) God. This suggests a competition of these two worldviews rather than a melding. Is there any reason that being able to calculate the orbits of the planets and measure the distance of the stars should render their creation and placement any less miraculous? Does splitting the atom into quanta cause it to be any less mind-boggling? Is life after death any more difficult to comprehend than life before death?

Another role of faith in a divine presence is the word of God, which is in part instruction in moral development, presumably leading to eternal life. Undoubtedly, this has uplifted and given hope to millions of devotees, but is it essential in the modern world? In his book Beyond Religion: Ethics for a Whole World, the Dalai Lama has written, “What we need today is an approach to ethics which makes no recourse to religion and can be equally acceptable to those with faith and those without: a secular ethics” (Dalai Lama, 5). He makes a strong argument that if all people live by the highest ethical principles, whether within religious structures or outside of them, many aspects of our lives will improve, regardless of national or political affiliation. Respect, compassion, charity, unity, and humanity are not the province of any one tradition.

There are those who have had direct spiritual experiences (or believe they have) through revelation, clairvoyance, astral projection, near-death experience, and other nonphysical phenomena. Although some instances may have other explanations, they usually lead the experiencer to a deep conviction that an alternative reality exists. Frequently, the fear of physical death dissolves as the body is seen as a mere cloak for a limited time in a specific incarnation. Theosophy regards dreams as excursions into other realms that we will one day experience more fully. Deep meditation allows some to see behind the veil of illusion of sensed physical solidity. Yogis appear to defy laws of physiology, time, and space.

We should remember that the lack of evidence for a divine hierarchy (if one chooses this belief) does not in any way constitute evidence against it. Love cannot be measured by a yardstick, and empathy does not show up on a chest X-ray. Yet who would deny their existence?  It might be helpful here to recall the words of Mabel Collins in her book The Idyll of the White Lotus: “The principle which gives life dwells in us, and without us, is undying and eternally beneficent, is not heard or seen or smelt, but is perceived by the man who desires perception” (Collins, chapter 8).

Sources

Collins, Mabel. Idyll of the White Lotus. London: Theosophical Publishing Society, 1885.  

The Dalai Lama XIV. Beyond Religion: Ethics for a Whole World. Boston: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, 2011.

Tyson, Neil deGrasse. “Religion versus Science: Can the Two Coexist?” Lecture, YouTube, 2011.

Voltaire. “Epître à l’auteur du livre des Trois imposteurs” (“Epistle to the Author of Three Impostors”). Voltaire Society in America website.

Douglas Keene, vice president of the Theosophical Society in America, has been a member since 1980, first joining in San Antonio, Texas, while in medical school. He has served for several years on the TSA board of directors, initially as eastern director. Doug has presented at a number of lodges in the eastern U.S. as well as at the Ojai Valley TS Lodge and at the Summer National Convention. A practicing doctor for over thirty-three years, he is currently the medical director at an extended care facility and lives with  his wife, Risa, in New Hampshire.

Printed in the  Summer 2023 issue of Quest magazine. 
Citation: Smoley, Richard,  "From the Editor's Desk" Quest 111:3, pg 2

The theme of a brotherhood that works in secret for the advancement of humanity has fascinated people for centuries.

Stephan Hoeller’s article in this issue ably outlines the history of this idea, including the role of the Theosophical Society in advancing it. Some have thought of this brotherhood as a kind of secret government of humanity. But as Hoeller notes, there is one definitive objection to this belief: “The sorrowful course of history, the fierce expressions of a ‘blind world-creating will’ . . . does not intimate the handiwork of such intelligences. If there is an ‘inner government’ or a ‘secret directorate,’ it would have to be a rather ineffectual one.”

One might counter that these adepts are working with the raw material of human nature, which includes not only free will but a compendium of instincts that are often violent and cruel. Yet even if we set aside the notion of some unseen directorate of humankind, there may be more to the concept of hidden brotherhoods than meets the eye.

Ernest Scott’s book People of the Secret discusses the history of this idea. He makes a striking comment about the brotherhood’s use of telepathy: “Telepathic powers are currently used, and have been used throughout the whole of human cultures in such a way that tension and rivalry are maintained. This offsets natural inertia and ensures that cultures attain their norm of productivity over an historical period.”

Scott adds something even more startling. He quotes one anonymous adept: “Since we have prescience as well, it can be stated that the necessary effort and ingenuity to accomplish the art of telepathy will not be marshalled during the entire foreseeable period of generations in which this power could be a significant aid to humanity.’”

Are some occult brotherhoods working against a widespread belief in—and use of—human psychic powers?

If we tentatively accept this idea, it brings many otherwise inexplicable things into focus, notably the obstinate resistance of the scientific community and the mainstream intelligentsia to accept the reality of psychic phenomena, even though it has been repeatedly demonstrated scientifically. (For more on this topic, see Quest, winter 2023, containing Mitch Horowitz’s article and my editorial.)

Putting this into perspective, we can suppose that there are at least two hidden brotherhoods: one familiar from Theosophical and similar literature, which is working ceaselessly to advance human evolution, and another, which is equally set on retarding it.

To look at this possibility in a reasonable way, it would be useful to set aside preconceptions of “light” and “dark” brotherhoods, good and evil respectively. Rather it would make more sense to see these two hidden forces as resembling an automobile, which has to have both an engine for moving it forward and a braking system to stop when necessary. We could also consider that this tension may account for the convulsions of history.

Historical events are often naively categorized into Good Things and Bad Things, but a closer look reveals that they are nothing of the kind. Some of the greatest atrocities have had beneficial results. The horrors of the two world wars are well known, but they did break the backs of the colonial empires under which much of the human race had been suffering. Similarly, some of the greatest advances have been accompanied by ruinous side effects. The scientific revolution of the past 250 years has provided countless medicines and increased food production to a level that would once have been considered miraculous, but has also brought about environmental desecration on a global scale.

One esoteric name for the earthly level on which we live is the mixtus orbis: the “mixed globe,” where good and evil are inseparable. It is said—and I believe it myself—that there are other realms and dimensions where this dynamic does not apply, but whatever and wherever they are, they are not here.

You may feel outraged by the thought of a secret brotherhood that is trying to impede humans’ awareness of their own potential. Consider this: at this point it is by no means clear that humanity can use nuclear energy wisely and responsibly. What, then, of the power of the mind, which is infinitely superior? To put the matter more concretely, do you want everybody going around able to read everyone else’s thoughts and move objects by the sheer force of will? For that matter, do you yourself really want to know what’s going on in other people’s minds? Maybe you do, and maybe you don’t.

In the end, I come down on the side of the existence of hidden brotherhoods—one or many—as long as we can accept that their views of what is good and bad, wise and foolish, may have little resemblance to ours. As we read in Isaiah 55:8, “My thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, saith the Lord.”

Richard Smoley