Quest Magazine

By John Algeo

Originally printed in the MARCH-APRIL 2006 issue of Quest magazine. 
Citation: Algeo, John. "Reincarnation's White Crow: Ian Stevenson and Evidence of Past Lives." Quest  94.2 (MARCH-APRIL 2006):47-51.

The psychologist-philosopher and psychic investigator William James famously remarked that, if you want to prove that not all crows are black, you don't have to look at every crow in the world. You only have to find one white crow. Those who have investigated reincarnation, even when they have been professional psychotherapists, have generally been enthusiastic but amateurish and unscientific in their approach. There is, however, one white crow. His name is Ian Stevenson.

Ian Stevenson

Born on Halloween (make of that what you will) in 1918, Ian Stevenson was a native of Montreal, Quebec. His mother was clearly an important influence on his later life. Of her he said, "My mother had believed strongly in the influence of thoughts on physical well-being, and I may owe to her my initial interest in psychosomatic medicine" ("Some of My Journeys"). She is also reported to have had a large library of books on psychic phenomena (Omni 77—8). It is likely that Stevenson's mother was a Theosophist. He says, "From my early childhood reading I had become familiar with the idea of reincarnation. The concept made sense to me, but I never thought until many years later that there could ever be any evidence to support a belief in it. Certainly the theosophists had offered none" ("Some of My Journeys").

Ian Stevenson has had a distinguished, albeit in certain respects unconventional, career. His formal education was at the distinguished old University of St. Andrews in Scotland and at McGill University and its School of Medicine in Montreal. After his medical internship and residence in Montreal and Phoenix, Arizona, he was a Fellow in internal medicine and biochemistry in New Orleans. Then he took training in psychosomatic medicine at Cornell and in Freudian psychoanalysis, which he was later to characterize as "a cone of theory supported by a tiny base of data" and whose originator, Sigmund Freud, he predicted "will one day be considered a figure of fun" (Omni 78). After that, he settled down to professorships of psychiatry at Louisiana State University and the University of Virginia. Thus far, his career had been fairly conventional. But then something happened. He says,

For many years I had a keen interest in extrasensory experiences and kindred phenomena. My dissatisfaction with prevailing theories of human personality led me to extend this interest, and in the 1950s I began to read systematically in the literatures of theosophies and psychical research. ["Some of My Journeys in Medicine"]

About 1960, early in his career at Virginia, Stevenson began serious study of paranormal phenomena, especially reports of memories of a preceding life and related matters. Such study was certainly unconventional for an academic medical man. A turning point in Stevenson's career was a paper he wrote on The Evidence for Survival from Claimed Memories of Former Incarnations for which he was appropriately awarded the William James Prize by the American Society for Psychical Research. Chester Carlson, the inventor of Xerox, was so impressed by this unusual work that he endowed a chair for Stevenson at the University of Virginia and funded additional research (Omni 78).

Stevenson's pioneering first paper on data suggestive of reincarnation was to be followed by a stream of books reporting further research. Best known and most influential was his first collection of case studies: Twenty Cases Suggestive of Reincarnation (1966). It was followed by four volumes of Cases of the Reincarnation Type from India (1975), Sri Lanka (1977), Lebanon and Turkey (1980), and Thailand and Burma (1983). A succeeding general study was Children Who Remember Previous Lives(1987), and another focused on the West was European Cases of the Reincarnation Type(2003).

In addition to those reincarnational case studies emphasizing memories of a previous life, Stevenson published Reincarnation and Biology, a two-volume technical study, and Where Reincarnation and Biology Intersect, an abridgment for the general reader (1997), both dealing with the possible relationship of birth marks and birth defects to previous lives. He also published two books, Xenoglossy (1974) and Unlearned Language (1984), both on the phenomena of people who appear to know languages they have had no exposure to, perhaps as a carry-over from a prior lifetime. He also did a collection of case studies on Telepathic Impressions (1970). In addition to these book-length studies, Stevenson has published some 150 articles and chapters in scholarly outlets on those and allied subjects.

Anyone who reads these case histories and the extraordinary facts that Stevenson has been able to verify must be impressed by his careful research methods and the accumulated mass of evidence. With regard to reported cases of memories of a previous life, Stevenson's procedure is to get down the facts of the child's (or sometimes adult's) memory as soon as possible, to interview members of the family and neighbors to find out what they know about the events of the memory, to investigate whenever possible the scene of the remembered lifetime including persons from it who are still living, and to verify as many specific memories as possible. Stevenson has investigated thousands of cases of presumed memory. Many of these cases are insufficiently detailed to be convincing, but some are remarkably specific.

A typical but complex example is a young Lebanese boy named Imad, who began to talk about a previous life when he was less than two years old. He mentioned names of people he had known, described property he had owned, told of events that had happened. He sometimes spoke of these matters in his sleep, and sometimes in talking to himself he would wonder how those people he used to know were getting along now. He claimed to have been a member of the Bouhamzy family in the village of Khriby and begged to be taken there.

Imad's father scolded him for telling lies about a former life. But one day a visitor from the village of Khriby came to Imad's town, and the young boy was able to identify him on the street. This event caused Imad's family to take his tales seriously. When Stevenson investigated the case, no contact had yet been made between Imad's present and former families. Although the two villages were only about fifteen miles apart, there was little social or commercial interchange between them.

The life that Imad seems to have remembered was that of Ibrahim Bouhamzy. Imad described Ibrahim's mistress, Jamileh, and was able to name and identify many of Ibrahim's relatives and friends. He described in detail a truck accident that killed one of Ibrahim's cousins. Imad described guns that had belonged to Ibrahim, who was fond of hunting. He described the location of Ibrahim's house, two adjacent wells, the garden under construction at the time of Ibrahim's death, three vehicles Ibrahim owned (a small yellow automobile, a bus, and a truck), and a variety of other details. He was able to repeat Ibrahim's dying words. Also significant is the fact that the child Imad often expressed great joy at being able to walk. Ibrahim died at about the age of twenty-five after spending a year in a sanatorium; he suffered from tuberculosis and was bedridden for the last part of his life.

In trying to piece the information together into a coherent whole, Imad's family drew a number of wrong conclusions, which they attributed to young Imad. Because some of his earliest stories were about a man named Mahmoud, a truck accident in which the victim had both legs broken, and the beautiful woman Jamileh (her name being the first word Imad spoke), Imad's family mistakenly thought he was claiming to be Mahmoud and to have died in the truck accident, as well as to have had Jamileh as his wife. They made other wrong inferences about family relationships among the Bouhamzys and about the events Imad mentioned. Paradoxically, those errors are positive evidence in the case, for they show that Imad's family could not have been the source of the information behind his memories.

Many of the cases that Stevenson investigated share some distinctive features. Typically the preceding life ended prematurely, by accident, violence, or illness. The time between lives was relatively brief. (In the case of Ibrahim-Imad, only nine years elapsed between Ibrahim's death and Imad's birth; and the interval is often less than that.) The two lives were in the same culture, often in the same general geographical area. And, of course, the child remembered the former life. These features reinforce one another.

According to Theosophical writers, when a life is completed normally, the experiences the lifetime was intended to give the individual have been fully realized. Then the individual needs a long period between lives to absorb and internalize the results of those experiences. When the individual returns to birth, it is to gain new experiences, and that return occurs after all the specific memories of the old personality have been discarded. There is thus no conscious link between the old and new personalities.

However, if a life is cut short before the individual has gained from it everything that was in the offing, the customary long period for digesting the past life is not needed. Also the hunger for life which drew the individual into incarnation has not been exhausted, as it would normally be during the course of a completed lifetime. Those two factors may lead to a quick reincarnation because there is nothing to keep the individual in the interim state, and the itch for life demands scratching. The individual is likely to be drawn back to the same neighborhood—to the same area and culture—with the aim of trying to complete the interrupted experience.

Normally during the long periods between lives, the old emotions, mind sets, and memories are exhausted and discarded, so that when reincarnation eventually occurs, the former personality has been dispersed, and a new personality begins to develop afresh with the new body. In the case of a quick reincarnation, however, there has not been time for that process of wearing out and dispersing of the old to be completed. And so the individual comes back into birth bringing along some fragments of memory, as well as desires and fears, from the former life.

Stevenson's cases, then, would be abnormal ones from the standpoint of the customary pattern of reincarnation. But it is their very abnormality that makes it possible to identify and study them. The normal pattern of reincarnation leaves no easily identifiable traces of a preceding life; the abnormal pattern does.

Possible Explanations for "Memories"

In investigating his cases, Stevenson considered a variety of possible explanations for the accuracy of the memories reported:

1. Fraud. Deliberate deceit is the least likely explanation in most cases. It would require an elaborate conspiracy between the children, their relatives, neighbors, strangers in other cities, and so on. Furthermore, the presumed conspirators normally had nothing to gain and no other motive. On the contrary, parents were often extremely reluctant to accept such memories.

2. Cryptomnesia. It is possible to believe quite firmly that we have experienced something we have actually read or been told about, but which our mind has converted into a memory. Such hidden (Greek crypto-) memory (mnesia) is also responsible for the phenomenon of unconscious plagiarism: writers may store away a particularly appealing phrase or sentence read somewhere, and then come to think of it as one they themselves composed. Part of what Stevenson investigated was whether anyone in contact with the child knew about the matters the child reported as memory.

3. Telepathy with the living. Possibly the children were reading the minds of living persons who had knowledge of the events and then converting that information into pseudo memories.

4. Retrocognition or precognition. Another possibility is that the child, by some extraordinary faculty, was directly aware of events in the past, before its birth (retrocognition). Or perhaps the child, by an even more extraordinary faculty, was somehow aware of the facts that the investigator would uncover in the future and was predicting them (precognition).

5. Telepathy with the dead. Perhaps the child had entered into telepathic contact with the consciousness of a deceased person and was misperceiving the information thus gained as its own memories.

6. Possession. Perhaps the child was in fact possessed by the spirit of the dead person and the memories reported were the actual memories of that other consciousness who was co-dwelling in the body or who had replaced the original personality. Possibilities 3 through 6 are increasingly improbable from the standpoint of ordinary science and, while not impossible, would require a revolution in scientific thinking just as great as the acceptance of reincarnation as an explanation. Finally, then, Stevenson concluded that the seventh possibility was sometimes the most likely one:

7. Reincarnation. The memories are what they seem to be: recollections of events from a past life of the child. Stevenson never claims that his cases "prove" reincarnation, certainly not in the popular sense of that term. The evidence is hard to come by and hard to evaluate. All Stevenson claims is that these cases suggest reincarnation as an explanation and that there is no more probable explanation available for them. That is a modest claim, but it is still a remarkable one for an academic scientist to make. Since Stevenson's work, it is no longer correct to say that there is no real, solid evidence for reincarnation. That is exactly what he has supplied.

What Does It All Mean?

Stevenson has been notoriously reluctant to draw general conclusions from his formal research, preferring simply to let it stand as evidence. However, in an Omni magazine interview, he was quoted as being atypically free in stating some generalizations. For example, he suggested that some reincarnational memories may be "behavioral" rather than "imaged," that is, not memories of specific names, places, people, and events, but rather of interests, aptitudes, and phobias. He also asserted that the human personality and such behavioral characteristics cannot be explained solely by genetic inheritance and environmental influences, but require some other factor—such as reincarnational memories (78).

In that same interview, Stevenson is quoted as proposing some basic metaphysical propositions. In response to the question, "Do you see in reincarnation a glimpse of a larger purpose," the response was,

Well, yes, I do. My idea of God is that He is evolving. I don't believe in the watchmaker God, the original creator who built the watch and then lets it tick. I believe in a "Self-maker God," who is evolving and experimenting, so are we as parts of Him. Bodies wear out, souls may need periods for rest and reflection. Afterward one may start again with a new body. [110]

Some persons have said it is unfair to be reborn unless you can remember details of a previous life and profitably remember your mistakes. They forget that forgetting is essential to successful living in the present. If every time we walked, we were to remember how we stumbled, we would fall again. [118]

Similarly, in his autobiographical "Some of My Journeys in Medicine," he says, "I am suggesting that instead of a single line of evolution—the one of our physical bodies—we also participate in a second line of evolution—that of our minds or, if you prefer, our souls." And he also says,

There are other means of attaining knowledge besides the scientific method. Art, music, poetry, and other types of literature give us knowledge. I can also believe that in mystical experiences we may have direct access to important truths or, more specifically, to the most important truth of all, which is that we ourselves are part of a Great All. I do not know whether you would call William James' The Varieties of Religious Experience a work of the humanities or one of science. It partakes of the best of both, and for me is one of the greatest books ever written; I know of no better defense of the value of mystical experiences.

Stevenson concludes his autobiographical reminiscences with this evaluation of his own work:

Perhaps my main contribution will be that of making Western persons familiar, not with the idea of reincarnation—it must be one of the oldest ideas in the world—but with evidence tending to support a belief in reincarnation.

Ian Stevenson is thus a white crow among all the blackbirds of both scientists who refuse to contemplate the possibility of reincarnation and of enthusiasts who neglect to examine the subject with appropriate objectivity.

Note: The middle part of this article is drawn from the author's book Reincarnation Explored.

By Betty Bland

Originally printed in the MARCH-APRIL 2006 issue of Quest magazine. 
Citation: Bland, Betty. "A New Life." Quest  94.2 (MARCH-APRIL 2006):44-45.

A part of the human condition is the need to face challenges and disappointments. Whether it is something that could not be averted, such as the natural disaster of Hurricane Katrina, or something caused by human error, bad things happen to everyone. As the politicians say, "Mistakes were made." And usually it is a combination of our actions plus unforeseen events.

These difficulties fill our minds with angst and worry. We may have an equal share of serendipitous occasions, but we tend to quickly forget about those. It is more difficult to let go of the unpleasant. It seems to be built into our nature that when we see a large piece of white paper with one tiny smudge, it is the smudge that catches and holds our attention.

I had an uncle who had worked all his life building up a combination dry cleaning and bakery business. A kind and honest man, he had lived and worked in the same small town all his life. During the process of selling his businesses so that he could retire, he was swindled out of the entire enterprise with barely a nickel to show for all his work. Had he been able to let go of his resentment, he would have had a pleasant existence for the next fifteen years of his life. With full ownership of his house and minimal expenses in the small town, he could have enjoyed his friends, family, and grandchildren. Instead he lived every day of his remaining fifteen years with bitterness.

This is only one of many similar instances in which the ability to begin again with a clean slate would be beneficial. If one could let go of the old attachments, even while remaining in the same situation, there could be a fresh start with renewed possibilities.

When considering the idea of reincarnation, many question why we do not remember past lives. Many not only question but actively seek former identities and relationships. The romanticism of being someone else—preferably of heroic stature—salves the strain of current problems. We may do well to appreciate the value of beginning with a clean slate, viewing our present life and situation with new eyes.

Babies bring with them the hopefulness of infinite potentiality. They arrive without baggage, open to a new world. There is no question that from the beginning they bring a particular personality with qualities of being and preferences. Ah, but how fortunate they are that they can take each new experience with an unfettered approach. Jesus was referring to this kind of attitude when he said, "You must become as a little child to enter the kingdom of heaven."

Reincarnation involves the big picture of new beginnings, but it is something over which we have very little control. In the present, however, we can be born anew. This is not a birth of the body, but one of attitude and spirit. With each new day and in every moment of that day, we can open our eyes to things as they are in the moment—just as Krishnamurti and many other spiritual teachers have reminded us. Then we can have clarity and the space to make wise decisions.

This teaching was expressed by the Buddha when explaining his Noble Eightfold Path. As Madame Blavatsky said: "[The Buddha's] efforts were to release mankind from too strong an attachment to life, which is the chief cause of Selfishness—whence the creator of mutual pain and suffering." (CW VIII, 112)

The word attachment carries many nuances of meaning, but in all it refers to clinging—usually to the past and always to the way we want things to be. The memories to which we cling imprison our greater nature by replaying the past. Possibly the reason our universe is designed so that we have a limited lifetime is to give us the necessary break from the past and to grant us the gift of new beginnings.

This kind of renewal is possible, but as Krishna acknowledges in the Bhagavad Gita, the mind is most difficult to tame. Yet with persistent effort, it can be accomplished. Daily we can practice the idea of experiencing life anew. Every morning that we arise, we can think of the spring daffodils dancing in the breezes of time, beckoning us to try again. We can determine that this is the beginning of a new life with infinite possibilities.

By Eleanor D. Hamilton, Ph.D

Originally printed in the MARCH-APRIL 2006 issue of Quest magazine. 
Citation: Hamilton, Eleanor D. "A Reflection on Death in Life." Quest  94.2 (MARCH-APRIL 2006):53-54.

A current article, by Ravi Ravindra, on his "Twenty-Year conversation with J. Krisnamurti," (Ravindra 2004) called to mind a recent trip to India, particularly to Varanasi. The experiences shared by Ravindra with Krishnaji were touching and profound, especially the time where Krishnaji speaks about the concept of "dying while..living (Ravindra 2004)." To me the article spoke of what Buddhists call letting-go of grasping (attachments to things, ideas and beliefs), that which Krishnaji referred to as " collections—material, psychological, religious." Krishnaji went on to say that "if you can die to all that, then you'll find out what there is after death (Ravindra 2004)."

A recent trip to Varanasi (also known as Kashi—the city of light, the city of Shiva and Banaras) allowed me time to visit the Ghats (stone step entrances) on the Ganges River (or 'Mother Ganga' as she is fondly known by many Hindus). This sacred space affords one time to ponder the questions of life, devotion, death and death in life. It is like no other place one can imagine for such a reflection.

My husband and I were fortunate to be there during the prelude to and celebration of Shiva Ratri, the Hindu sacred holiday that honors the marriage of the Deity Shiva to the goddess Parvati his consort. During our visit we witnessed many pilgrims arriving from all over India to participate in this holiday. We were blessed with a delightful guide to introduce us to the Ganges and its wonders. (Usually we sought the help of guides when arriving into a city to help us become oriented. In this way we were able to make the best use of our time in each place.) Our guide, Devesh Kumar Agarwal, welcomed us to Varanasi, took us on a brief tour in the afternoon and noticed that we were tired from traveling that morning, so he suggested we rest in the afternoon. He also asked if we would like to attend the closing ceremonies at the Ganges that evening, when they 'put the river to sleep' in his words. We both immediately said, "Yes."

Devesh arrived at the appointed time and brought us to the river at Dasaswamedh Ghat (a popular ghat that was filled with people coming and going). We had seen hordes of beggars in Delhi-our first stop on this journey. All along the road to the ghat we saw many more beggars, merchants, Sadhus (holy men) and others. Devesh found one rowboat with an oarsman to ferry us up and down the river. Before embarking we were each given a small dish made of pressed leaves with a small candle surrounded with marigolds. After we were on the water, each candle was lit and we were told that we could float the dish in the water as a prayer, in whatever way we chose. When my candle hit the water, for some reason, unknown to me at the time, I prayed that I would be blessed with a return trip to the Ganges. This act transported me immediately into the sacred space of this amazing river. I looked at my husband, Bill, and his eyes were teary. He was deeply moved by the realization of his dream to visit this holy place. This was a sacred instant that will always be among my most treasured memories.

The oarsman rowed in the direction of the famous Manikarnika Ghat, one of the two burning ghats on the river. At these ghats, Manikarnika and Harischandra, funeral pyres are burning 24 hours a day, seven days a week, non-stop. Our first glimpse of Manikarnika was just before sundown. One could see smoke arising from the ghat from a distance in the boat. We approached as close as possible, but the traffic in the water kept us at a distance.

Then the oarsman turned the boat around and we circled back towards Dasaswamedh Ghat. At this time, the sun hung low on the western horizon like a beautiful, glowing orange disc against a smog-filled blue sky. The priests at the waterfront had begun their ritual with chanting, prayers and burning of ceremonial lamps of different kinds. All of these parts of the ritual are expressions of great devotion to this holiest of Hindu rivers. These ceremonies take place in the morning and evening seven days a week all year round. We sat mesmerized as the Hindu priests paid homage to "Mother Ganga." After the evening observance was over, we came to shore, disembarked and joined thousands walking up the steps and up the road to a place where we found a bicycle rickshaw and driver.

Before dawn the next day we met Devesh and he led us to the river as before. As we walked on the road to the Dasaswamedh Ghat, he told us that there was a rowboat near us the previous evening that was filled with 27 people. (We had four in our boat, and could perhaps have handled five or six more, but these boats do not have all that much room.) The boat, overloaded with people, tipped over and everyone went overboard. By that morning eleven people were found dead and thirteen were missing. The whole city of Varanasi was shocked by so great a tragedy, although we learned that people drown in the river all the time. (There are no life jackets or rules for how many people can fit into one boat.) As we embarked, we saw a place by the shore where police had set-up a base to monitor the recovery operation. Many relatives of those missing gathered by the river awaiting some news about their loved ones.

Our boat set sail in the direction of the Harischandra burning ghat. We learned that Harischandra has a new, modern crematorium that we could see from the boat. Funeral pyres were burning there as well. Although there is a crematorium available, people tend to prefer the traditional wood pyre. Wood is brought into the burning ghats from distant forests at great expense. Those who oversee the funeral process at the river are from a class of people formerly known as untouchables called Doms. The Doms make sure the wood is obtained, supervise the building of the pyres, the burning of the fires, collect fees from the families and provide support for other needs the of relatives during the ritual according to tradition.

For Hindus to die in Varanasi is the highest achievement. To die here guarantees the soul moksha, or release from the cycle of birth and death. Many come here just to die. Some come when they know they are going to die and stay at a hospice-like residence beside the river, where they are tended in the dying process. When Hindus die in this city, the bodies are prepared, wrapped in fabric (color according to status and gender, i.e. white for males, gold cloth for Brahman males, red for women, white for men) and carried through the streets on bamboo stretchers to the burning ghats for cremation. Those with communicable diseases, pregnant women and infants are interred directly into the river without cremation, as are dead animals. While in the boat one could view those wrapped corpses and bloated cow carcasses as they floated by.

We were told that sewage and industrial waste are also dumped into the Ganges, a situation that has many in the region concerned. In the midst of all this death, as we sailed back toward Dasaswamedh Ghat, we could see signs of life everywhere. About two million people call this city of Shiva home and hundreds of people were already out taking their ritual bath in the river. Some were swimming, washing their clothes, washing livestock and even drinking this water that may be some of the most septic in the world. Yet, it does not seem to harm those who do bathe, swim and drink. In fact, people claim that these waters have healing properties.

In addition to the bathers and swimmers, other daily activities were underway: vendors selling food, drink, flowers or clothing. Sadhus were performing yoga, barbers were shaving men with straight razors, masseuses were giving body massages out in the open, right on the steps. As we reached Dasaswamedh, we witnessed the morning ritual chanting and pujas (fire offerings) that were also impressive.

Having had a small taste of life on Mother Ganga, we decided that we would spend an extended period of time quietly becoming participant observers of life on the river. Sometimes together and also alone we allowed events to unfold. At first we watched with a group of Muslims gathered to wait for news of recovered relatives' bodies. Apparently all of those in the boat of 27 that overturned were Muslims. A young Hindu man named Krishna approached us and spoke in a compassionate way about the losses of those gathered. It was gratifying to see that sharing sadness over tragedy can transcend religious differences in a country where Hindus and Muslims have had much conflict and strife over the years.

I wandered down the river toward the Marnikarnika burning ghat. On the way I sat down in the shade to enjoy the balmy river breeze and see what would happen. In the distance a boat filled with Hindu pilgrims arrived (to attend Shiva Ratri) and they disembarked not far from my resting place. Sitting close by were a man and his son. The man was serving his son lunch from a pot on the steps. A family from the boat of pilgrims arrived and insisted that the man feed them. He did so in a very gracious manner. The family behaved in a very rude, demanding manner, but the man who fed them did not seem to be affected by their behavior and was always a gracious host.

My next stop was right at Manikarnika. Not far away it was possible to see a number of burning funeral pyres. One of the Doms approached me and encouraged me to come to a nearby building where one could get a closer look at the pyres. He also pointed-out a building that served as a kind of hospice for those waiting to die. These hospice-like buildings are for those who come to die. In order to stay in the hospice buildings, a person must be near death and believe in the possibility of liberation from the cycle of death and rebirth (Eck 1999). Usually the length of stay is about 15 days, but it can be longer with special permission (Eck 1999). The reason that liberation is guaranteed to all who come to this city (and all living things like animals, insects etc.) is that Yama, the god of death, is not permitted in this city according to Hindu belief.

After giving the Dom a donation, my journey continued in the opposite direction toward Harischandra Ghat, the other burning ghat and the oldest in the city. On the way a large herd of water buffalo crossed my path after a bath in the river. It was rather an amazing sight to see the way the buffalo and the herders negotiated the steps of the ghats out of the river.

Following my arrival at the Harischandra Ghat, I stood silently watching one family bring their loved one to the funeral pyre. Those present were all male because women are not permitted to attend cremations for fear that they will engage in sati (to jump on the burning fire to join their loved one in death). The body was lowered into the Ganges and then placed on the wood pyre. The chief mourner, usually the oldest son (Eck 1999), emerged from the group and then had his head shaved. He was taken to change into a white dhoti (a pantaloon-like garment worn by Hindu men for which Mahatma Gandhi became famous) and white upper garment. He was then given a torch of holy Kusha grass, and led to the place where an eternal flame was burning to light the torch. Upon his return to the pyre, he circled the pyre five times counterclockwise, symbolizing that "everything is backward at the time of death," (Eck 1999) and then lit the fire. The dead thus become an offering to Agni, the god of fire (Eck 1999). The Dom in attendance poured ghi (a liquid form of purified butter) on the fire and it burned very hot and raged. This Dom then threw ground sandalwood on the fire. It is said that the burning bodies do not smell, because the sandalwood dust covers the odor of cremation.

Another Dom then approached me and asked my name. After introductions, he told me that he was in charge of this ghat. We watched as the pyre burned hotter, consuming the wood and the body. The Dom called my attention to the son who had a large bamboo pole as he approached the pyre we had been observing. The son shoved the pole into the fire and cracked open the charred skull of the body, exposing the brain to view. This rite is "called kapalakriya', the rite of the skull" (Eck 1999). At this moment, the soul of the deceased was released into moksha, (liberation from the cycle of rebirth and death). It is believed that the skull must be cracked open in order to liberate the soul from the body. The son then took a large clay pot of water from the Ganges and threw it backward over his left shoulder on the fire as it died down. The son walked away and did not look back. Weeping was not done publicly because it is said that weeping causes suffering for the deceased. The Dom said that the family will conduct rites for their lost loved one for eleven days, making offerings to support the transport of the soul to the other shore and the heavens where ancestors dwell. By the twelfth day the soul of the deceased is believed to unite with the ancestors.

To my amazement, there was nothing gory about this way of death—in fact it all seemed to make great sense. At this time, death was palpable to the family and all of us who were gathered with respect. Yet it was such a natural part of the life cycle. Hindus believe that "death is not the opposite of life," but rather is the "opposite of birth (Eck 1999)."

For some reason I found myself feeling right at home at the burning ghats while being reminded of my own mortality. Someday the shore of transition will become my destination. According to my own Buddhist path it felt congruent with my belief in reincarnation from past lives. There was no doubt that this place was familiar to me. It was possible to imagine myself on such a funeral pyre in the past or in some now unknown future. My soul also resonates with the longing for liberation from the cycle of death and rebirth. The practice of the Dharma path is my attempt to prepare myself for this soul passage by teaching me to let go of my own "collections—material, psychological, religious," so named by Krishnaji (Ravindra 2004).

The opportunity to participate in this approach to a natural letting-go in death, caused me to ponder the way we deal with death in the West. The dying are frequently removed from view in hospitals or nursing homes, isolated, tied to machines and tubes, where they are emotionally or physically abandoned by families, friends and caretakers who have no way to help them deal with dying. Although the Hospice movement has made some inroads in helping people die in meaningful ways, generally fear and avoidance permeate the way of death in the United States. How different is the passage of the deceased through these powerful ceremonies at the Ganges compared to being a corpse in a funeral home where the life-blood is drained from the body. Morticians inject embalming fluid into the body and make every attempt to have the corpse look "life-like." A corpse made to look "life-like" constitutes another form of denial. In Kashi loving families tend the dying and dead throughout each phase of the process. "Kashi promises much more than a good life. This city promises a good death (Eck 1999)."

What a great a privilege it was to join in the soul transit of others at Mother Ganga. While only a distant witness, the events had a way of becoming a major part of my own soul's preparation. Dying and death in India are lovingly approached and tenderly attended by devoted supporters in tangible, meaningful rituals at the banks of the Ganges (and in other parts of India as well). With regard to Kashi, (Varanasi/Banaras) Diana Eck observes:

"The procession of life includes the procession of death. Here death is not denied. Perhaps that is why they can say that death is not feared, but welcomed as a long-awaited guest." She continues: "For over 2,500 years, the people of India have come to this place, which they have described as both the Great Cremation Ground and the Forest of Bliss. Here they have build temples and ashrams, palaces and homes, schools and businesses, transforming the ancient groves and pools of the yakshas (ancient female and male gods) and nagas (serpent gods said to dwell in water) into one of the most awesome cities of the world. It is a city of wealth, exuberance and life. It is also a city of poverty, confusion, suffering and death. But the City of light, they say, extends one's vision across the river of life and death to the far shore of immortality. It is called Kashi, for here the light shines." (Eck 1999)

Varanasi (Kashi/Banaras) and the Ganges constitute the most poignant coniunctio (joining) of opposites—birth/death, suffering /liberation. Here these opposites are all around and are contained not only in powerful sacred rites and rituals, but also in the unfolding of daily life. To be a part of this incredible sphere of transcendence left this writer with a very deep sense of homecoming, and a grateful heart.

Endnotes

1. Ravindra, Ravi. "The Mill and the Millpond: A Twenty-Year Conversation With Krishamurti. The Quest. 92:3. May-June 2004. pp. 93-95.

2. . Eck, Diana. Banaras: City Of Light. New York, NY: Columbia University Press,1999

3. _______ Op. Cit. p.331

4. _______ Op. Cit. p. 331

5. _______ Op. Cit. p. 341

6. _______ Op. Cit. p. 341

7. _______ Op. Cit. p. 341

8. _______ Op. Cit. p. 343

    

9. Ravindra, R. Op. Cit pp. 93-95

10. Eck, D. Op. Cit. p. 343

11. ______ Op. Cit. p. 344

VOLUME 94, NUMBER 2

Contents

A New Life
By Betty Bland

A Reflection on Death in Life
By Eleanor D. Hamilton, Ph.D.

When the Bull Kicks and the Dragon Roars: On Hurricanes
By Edward Tick

Reincarnation's White Crow
By John Algeo

Katrina
By Carol Keay