Suffering Begins and Ends with our Stories

A Short Reflection on Birth and Death

Every day I eat a meal in a little patio area outside of the house I live in. There are two song birds that built a nest in a tree just above the table I sit at. It continually brings me delight to listen to their unique songs, to see their beautiful plumage and observe their life together as they come and go. Sometimes I whistle melodic notes to them and I wonder if their calls are singing back to me. Recently I heard the sound of a newborn chick and it brought me such joy, almost as if I was part of their little family.

Yet today I came across two Blue Jays who were hovering above the nest, no parent song birds in sight. My heart sank. After politely asking them to leave, I approached the nest from underneath and listened to see if I could hear the chick. No sound. In all likelihood, they killed and ate the chick (something I only recently learned that Blue Jays do).

I felt heartbroken. I imagined all the hours these birds spent building their nest, singing their songs together, caring for the egg and raising the new chick, all gone in a matter of seconds. I felt grief for these birds, that their little one that was no more. I felt angry at the Blue Jays, though who in all honestly, I also deeply love and I understand that they were just following their predatory genetic programing.

How to make sense of this cycle of birth and death, joy and sorrow, celebration and grief?

Sitting with the sadness, anger and confusion, I noticed that all of these emotions were connected to the story in my mind. Where is birth without mental images? Where is death without mental images? Where is all the time spent offering nurturing love and care without mental images? Experiences happen and then they are gone, as if they never happened at all. It is only the mind that keeps past experiences alive.

The inquiry brings my attention to the present moment, observing with curiosity what is actually here right now?

What is this that sees the ever changing cycles of life? What is aware of beginnings and endings? What is it that notices the stories about past and future, that is here before they even arise? The mental story attempts to fix reality into contained moments, to create something solid that can be grasped and identified with. When the story is believed and focused on, it appears to be real; it seems meaningful, important, significant to who I am.

Without a story though, what is it that is here right now? Is it presence, awareness, beingness, the Self, God, consciousness? The names just seem to point to a direct experience that can’t really be comprehended or understood - it precedes mental concepts. The Present Moment simply is. Perception is. Presence is. This depth of looking isn’t a way of avoiding the pain of the mental story, it’s rather a way of deeply engaging with the emotional aspects of reality and discovering our true nature.

The stories and their emotional counterparts come and ago but Presence remains. When I’m identified with a story, life becomes a dramatic struggle of emotional ups and downs. When I recognize the Presence that precedes and supersedes all stories, there is profound peace.

Today may we remember this miraculous eternal Awareness that can never be touched by birth and death. For with remembering Presence, we can cherish the cycles of life without attachment.

Art by Gaia Orion