David Childs (1946 - 2011): A Tribute
And so, full of his life, came
not to the falls, the whirlpool or the cliff
but to the brim
and held a moment above it
seeing everything.
From ‘Notes’ by David Childs (2010)
How do we, or indeed, do we, prepare, or think about our own deaths, as Buddhists? Having a life threatening illness may trigger thoughts about dying. But we all face death at some point. It is our common humanity.
David was not a Buddhist. Having said that, he studied more Buddhist texts than I ever will. He sat in meditation regularly. He had a deep, enquiring mind. He faced his coming death. Towards the end of his life David began to write a series of ‘Consolations’. A total of twenty five thoughts to prepare and steady him in the process of dying ahead. These remained unfinished and in note form. They may be helpful in aiding us to think about death with eventual acceptance, as David did. Many of the ‘Consolations’ are immediately accessible and need no added comments, like the following, very touching attitude to dying:
Just be Brave
Attractively simple, like relaxing in the face of something too massive, mixed and complicated to work out. From a little child I knew how to do that and it’s something a little child can do. Just be brave.
And, simply:
The relief of getting rid of things.
In other consolations, David seems to be helping turn the mind in such a way that death appears to be quite natural. This helps to protect us against what David refers to as the ‘No, please no’ attitude to death:
Imagining an extreme future where you would never have been
Or that the next generation will die and the one after that – However much you wish not to die, its naturalness is shown by the idea of children dying before you. Or your grandchildren.
Linked to this, in some ‘consolations’, he imagines life continuing, much as ever, but without him there...
Love the tenderness of youth
As what you know and is now independent of you. A couple turned and smiling at each other. Although out of your life, the loveliness of that is going on.
Most of us have, at some time, recognised a fear of death, and David, in his early life, used to experience this as a kind of existential panic. However, with his typically curious attitude, David wanted to explore and investigate, despite the apprehension:
This is a special chance to find out and say something about death. Its happening is different from the knowledge that might be experienced earlier in life as panic realisation (though that panic is also still there). The earlier question is largely to do with how to live with fear; this is about how to face an imminent ending. It’s a new discipline, an unavoidable need for working out something new. Even if, as usual, it can be neglected like a long night’s sleep before the dawn execution.
What follows on is his attempt to work through this ‘new discipline’. In doing so he seems to discover how death and life and awareness are intimately connected, how holding on to life and its possessions, results in a panicky terror of dying, and visa versa:
Death(s) and live(s) corresponding. A tender sadness in death, gentle and regretful, but ‘carried’ corresponds to having achieved a love for the freshness and vitality, the waking of living (and so the terror of everything wrenched away parallels the business of living for the collection of attributes or stuff.)’
Awareness seems pivotal in living and dying. Indeed, central to the function of our lives. The very first ‘consolation’ expresses our intrinsic function of awareness in the world:
Mind without object is dreaming. Mind with its own objectives is egocentric, self-creating, fantasy. Object without mind is indeed objective. Lump. Animal awareness brings the world to light. Human awareness to knowledge.... Perhaps it is only we who can bring things out in this way so they are known, present rather than just happening; noise, fire and blood perhaps but still happening. Those words are not a proposition or a dogma, but an instruction how to be, so that the description is always true. Of course the world exists without us but it cannot shine out.
I recall here Dogen’s Self-receiving Samadhi:
Grass, trees and walls bring forth the teaching for all beings, common people as well as sages. And they in accord extend this dharma for the sake of grass, trees and walls. Thus, the realm of self-awakening and awakening others invariably holds the mark of realisation with nothing lacking, and realization itself is manifested without ceasing for a moment.
In his final days in intensive care, wired up to many monitors and mains oxygen, David was trying hard to communicate something to his children. No one really understood what he meant when he said ‘I don’t need to protect myself ’. Only later, reading these ‘consolations’ did I finally understand that he was referring to letting go of any self concern. This is expressed as:
So there is something like discernment which must develop through practise and experience but also needs balance that comes with not needing to protect oneself and being able to have a general good natured sympathy to everyone else.
Finally, the very last ‘consolation’, hastily scribbled on a memo note perhaps captures the essence of David’s thought best of all:
All this talking misses the real point. Just go outside into the weather where the air is moving and something lives and grows.
