Worn-Out Garment

“Death is nothing more than the casting-off of a worn-out garment.”

Adi and I witnessed a traumatic event last evening.  The night started off innocently enough.  After a beautiful Sunday of relaxing around the house we decided to grab an evening snack at the Spot on the Seawall in Galveston.  Spending time by the water is healing.  The prana that the ocean offers us is the very energic source that gives our bodies vitality.  An evening snack by the water seemed to be a very fitting way to end a rather serene day.

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I spent most of the day reading Isaac’s Storm, Erik Larson’s epic tale of the Great Storm of 1900 that destroyed most of Galveston and took between six and ten thousand lives in a wake of terror one evening.  Death had been on my mind all day.  Reliving the horror that Galvestonian’s encountered on September 8, 1900 left me in a rather pensive mood.  Getting out of the house to breathe in a little ocean air seemed to be the perfect antidote to the pervasively heavy feeling that I was experiencing from reading Larson’s tale.

Generally, I try to be very mindful of bringing in any energy that doesn’t bring me joy however recently I have acquired a fascination with hurricanes (Hurricane Laura just recently made her way through the Gulf) and the power they bring with them.  In a moment’s notice, everything can be demolished without regard for religious affiliation, color, sex, sexual orientation, economic status or social status at large.  Hurricanes are equal opportunity aggressors that will destroy anything in their path.

The fragility of life was on my mind all day.  In a moment, we can be here and in the next moment we can be gone.  It’s as simple as that.  The preciousness of our experience here on Earth can be gone in a moment’s notice.  Hurricanes remind of us this fact.  Tornadoes, fires, droughts, famine—each of these have the ability to forever alter the lives of entire communities.  They are the essence of life; everything is born into creation, lives for a time, and then dies and recedes back to the Cosmos from whence it came.

Nothing is exempt from this cycle of life.  We all will eventually shed the worn-out garment that we refer to as our body and our mind only to return to our truest nature—pure consciousness.  Whatever things that are not real returns to dust leaving what is real to reunite in communion with the Source.

These thoughts were swimming around in my mind as Adi and I drove to the Spot for our evening snack.  The air was perfect.  The sky was illuminated in pinks, purples and light blues that signaled the end of another day.  We walked languidly to the Spot and took our place in line as we talked about life while we waited.  The line seemed to take longer than normal.  People struggled to make their decisions about what to eat and at one point, Adi said to me, “Does it seem like it’s taking a really long time tonight?”  “Yes,” I responded.  “Maybe the Universe is trying to slow us down.”

I said this more as an afterthought than really believing it at the moment.  I do think that sometimes when little waits occur it may be the very thing that slowed us down enough to avoid a fender bender or some other mishap.  Adi and I talk about this a lot if we find we are being delayed.  Trust, we always say.  We don’t always see the big picture.

Eventually, we ordered.  Just a couple of appetizers, a tea for me and a water for Adi.  We then walked upstairs to the top floor of the Spot and took a seat with a perfect view of the ocean.  NFL football started on this Sunday and this kept most people inside near the televisions to take in the game, leaving the outdoor tables to people not all that interested in football (Adi and I fall into this category).

We sat and talked while we waited for our food and when I looked down at our buzzer that identified where our table was located, I noticed that the number on it was “66.”  I mentioned to Adi, “We are one 6 away from something ominous happening.”  Again, I said this in jest, not really thinking much about it.

As we were waiting for our food to arrive, I glanced at the table next to us and I thought to myself, “Those are fellow children of God.  Although I will never know them, I wonder what their story is.”  It was a passing thought.  I didn’t give it too much of my attention.

Our food eventually arrived, and Adi and I began eating and talking.  We talked about looking forward to when my sister Patti could come to visit.  We discussed projects we would like to start working on.  We talked about how fast our kids were growing up.  We talked, like we always do, with complete ease…until…we heard a loud THUD.

Adi screamed in horror.  I had never seen her react to something like this in the 5 plus years I have known her.  Tears filled her eyes as I turned over my left shoulder and saw what had happened.  A man crossing the street on the Seawall, who was standing in the middle turn lane trying to make his way across the second half of the street, got hit by a car.  Not just grazed by a car—he was clocked by the car at a pretty quick pace.  It happened that quickly.  In the blink of an eye someone’s entire life changed.

Adi instantly began crying.  She witnessed the whole thing.  She told me she was looking at the Ferris Wheel and admiring the colors of the lights on the Pleasure Pier as she watched the man walk across the street.  Tragically, the person who was with him had already made it across the street and turned back to see the entire event unfold before her eyes.  When she turned fully, her partner was sprawled on the pavement in very bad shape.

People below us instantly scurried to help the man lying lifelessly in the street (we still don’t know if he survived).  Cars stopped.  No one hesitated and wondered if they should help this man; no one feared him; they rushed to the scene.  Everyone on the second floor of the Spot stopped and looked on in horror as the events unfolded.  Chaos ensued and everyone watching from above hushed; it became eerily silent.   The fragility of life became ever so apparent to everyone witnessing this situation.

Adi stepped into the restaurant to compose herself and after she was gone, I looked at the table I had noticed earlier as they watched in horror.  These people that I thought I would never speak to now shared an experience with me that neither of us were ever hoping to experience.  We began sharing details of what we saw.  I wasn’t looking to gossip about this tragedy—what I found instead was that I was trying to process what just had happened.  It was all so surreal.  It happened so quickly and the seriousness that enveloped the restaurant was so heavy.  Instantly, everyone in the Spot was brought together, our common humanity linking us through the witnessing of the ephemeral nature of this life’s journey we are all on.  We were unified in a shared and unfortunate accident.

A very heavy sadness filled my heart.  I wondered what the man had been thinking only seconds before he was hit.  I thought of the driver of the car that had only moments earlier been driving to some destination having no clue of what lie ahead.  I thought of the person who was walking with the man who made it across the street before he did, only to turn back and see that both of their lives were forever changed.  I felt hollow.  I thought about the devastation of the Great Storm of 1900 that devastated the entire community of Galveston and I considered how quickly life can change.  In an instant, everything we know to be true and everything that gives us a sense of security can be ripped from our grasp leaving us naked and vulnerable.

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The sounds of sirens filled the air.  For the people arriving on the scene in emergency vehicles this might just be another day at the office; something they deal with every day.  Everyone in the area became engrossed in this man’s story.  Everyone asking the same questions:  why was he in the middle of the street at night?  Why did he wait in the middle while his partner made it safely across?  How did the car not see him?  Is he still alive?  The questions were numerous—the answers few.  For a moment, no one questioned whether we should be interacting with one another or if we should keep our distance.  Tragedy had made us one again.

In Galveston, tourists walk out into the middle of the street all of the time—at night when it is very dark and hard to see.  Many seem to have a feeling of invincibility because they may be drinking and on vacation giving them a sense of carefreeness they normally wouldn’t have.  They may feel they are safe and that it’s the driver’s responsibility to see them.  Unfortunately, people drink and drive.  People also drink and walk across the street as well.  This combination is dangerous.  I have always cringed when I see this happen because I know it’s a recipe for the exact situation I was witnessing as I looked at the people kneeling down beside the man trying to render aid.

Adi and I silently left the restaurant.  Our Sunday had taken a turn for the unexpected.  We were safe.  Our family was safe.  Other souls, however, were experiencing a tragedy.  We didn’t want to gawk or rubber-neck in any way to get a closer look at what was unfolding.   It felt ghoulish.  The man was being tended to by professionals who were trained to handle this situation.  Adi and I went home numb.  I felt such a sense of heavy sadness for this man that I didn’t even know nor ever met.  I carried him in my heart for the rest of the evening.

Worn-out Garment

As I was preparing to end the night, I couldn’t help but remember the words from the Upanishads that filled my mind:

He who perceives the Self everywhere never shrinks from anything, because through his higher consciousness he feels united with all life.  When a man sees God in all beings and all beings in God, and also God dwelling in his own Soul, how can he hate any living thing?  Grief and delusion rest upon a belief in diversity, which leads to competition and all forms of selfishness.  With the realization of oneness, the sense of diversity vanishes, and the cause of misery is removed.

Therefore, Death is nothing more than the casting-off of a worn-out garment.

My sadness came from understanding that the man lying in the road was me.  Although, it was he that was hit it could have just as easily been me…or Adi…or someone we love dearly.  This is why everyone in the Spot hushed when they heard the man get hit by the car.  Hell, anyone of us could have been the unfortunate driver as well.  This is why sadness filled the hearts of everyone watching.  It could have been us.  We could have been the unfortunate stars of this horrific accident.

And, this is true with all things in life.  No matter what someone is going through, no matter how much we might want to judge someone for something they have done or feel that we could have done better in their situation we must always remember—it could be us.  One day, it most likely will be us.  I said a prayer for the man as I drifted off to sleep that night.  I gave thanks for all that I have been given as I realized I needed to work harder to have compassion for everyone; to give everyone the most generous assumption.  This is what we all can do during these challenging times; offer our love and compassion to everyone we encounter.  One day, we will hope they will do the same for us.

May the Light of God Shine on this man today and may that very same Light shine on you.  Kiss your family, hug your friends, shake hands with a stranger—our love for each other is the only thing that will guide us through the turbulence.  In times when we are being told to fear our neighbors or those we know only passingly, we need each other now more than ever.  Because when tragedy strikes, our humanity is what will lead us through the darkness.  Through tragedy we discover our common humanity which is all we truly have.  Together we will rediscover the light that resides within us all.  That very light will dissolve the darkness.

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