Sing me a song of death

That I may guide it by the hand…

Dear Friends,

About a year or two ago, during a conversation with a friend who’d just lost a loved one, I found myself reflecting on what I actually believe about what happens after we die. I’m not one of those people who’ll ever believe that death is the absolute end so I take comfort in the belief that the dead, especially if beloved, stay on with the living to act as guides and intercessors, and sometimes return as children or grand children. This belief is a core part of most traditional African worldviews.

For the Africans, death is a separation and not an annihilation; the dead person is suddenly cut off from the human society and yet the corporate group clings to him. This is shown through the elaborate funeral rites, as well as other methods of keeping in contact with the departed.

— John Mbiti, Kenyan Christian philosopher and writer.

This intersects somewhat with my Buddhist inclinations which lean towards the idea of rebirths to different realms depending on one’s actions in the just ended life.

The Bhavachakra, a Tibetan Buddhist representation of the cycle of existence.

The point, for me, is not to decide which belief is true. The point is to figure out which combination of beliefs enable me to deal with the fact of death as a reality we all have to deal with eventually.

I am of the nature to grow old. I have not gone beyond aging. I am of the nature to be ill. I have not gone beyond illness. I am of the nature to die. I have not gone beyond death. All that is mine, beloved and pleasing, will change and vanish.

— Buddhist Daily Recollections

The hoe of death does not weed in one place.

— Akan (Ghana, Ivory Coast) Proverb.

Well, Death, that custodian of change, that constant gardener, visited my family two weeks ago, gathering up my father for his next adventure.

My father wasn’t always an easy person to deal with. We didn’t always have the most comfortable relationship. Anyone who followed my social media a couple of years back, when I was in my angry feminist era, probably remembers the times when I ranted about him and the men from my part of the world…with good reason. What I am profoundly grateful for, however, is that in the last years of his life, we’d worked our way to a place of mutual understanding which minimized conflict. In many ways, we just got to be father and daughter during our conversations.

With my father at my graduation from Nursery School

Grief is an interesting thing. Since I found out about his passing, I’ve cycled through bouts of profound sadness and even more profound gratitude.

Sadness at the realization that I’d not seen him in over six years before he passed, and I never will again…at least in his physical form. Sadness at how much I’ll miss talking to him on Sundays. Sadness at many things left unsaid and undone.

Gratitude for the miracle of his life. My father came from very humble and difficult beginnings but through sheer determination and a tremendous amount of hard work, he ensured the wellbeing of his children, relatives and community. Gratitude for the fact that he was with us for as long as he was. Gratitude that he lived to see his hard work bear fruit. Gratitude for the memory of his care, his playfulness, his love for children and achu, his favorite meal.

The Zulu (South Africa) say that according to the power and authority a forefather had in his lifetime, so it is from the place to which he has gone. I know I have gained an ancestor who will watch over me and everyone he leaves behind with great benevolence and love. If rebirth is to be my father’s fate, I am trusting that he will continue his journey towards freedom, supported by the merits (and they were many) which he gained in this lifetime.

In the meantime, life must continue. I must continue to live and do gentle battle with the reality of life’s imperfection and impermanence. I must continue to celebrate the things that make life worth living — love, joy, laughter, beauty, the possibility of connection with others and the goodness that flows from these connections.

So in that spirit, here are some things giving me joy and goodness recently:

• The connections and conversations we’ve had which you can relive on the MA Podcast.

• The pleasure of connecting with Prof. George Veletsianos and Dr. Shandell Houlden of Royal Roads University to talk about storytelling from the African continent, and the unique ways in which the stories and storytelling styles of African people can inform how we approach learning as a community and collective process. Listen to the conversation here.

• Chatting with Vanessa Rodgers of the Fabric of Folklore Podcast.

• Watching The Little Mermaid and reveling in Halle Bailey’s exquisitely beautiful performance and her chemistry with Jonah Hauer-King (swoon).

And away from the African Mythology and Folklore world, curating this 17-week Women's Meditation Course, designed for women of color who are looking to nurture a meditation practice. More here.

I don’t know what the road ahead will reveal, what other joys or sorrows await me this year and in the coming years. I do know I am grateful to be on this journey with you all.

Thank you for being here with me.

Helen

PS:

I’m still not actively on Twitter, but I plan to return soon.