XIV
Death is easily ignored until it appears like a black sun created by an eclipse, casting a shadowy glow upon the world, chilling body and soul alike. Being young and too full of life, Christine had never thought much about death. When the little Mexican man held a knife to her throat, she was too frightened to contemplate her death, and even when she tried to take her life, she was filled with thoughts of living, not death. Death is ignored until it speaks through the living, whether the living be a human being, a tree, or a rock. It is the shadow of absence that follows unnoticed every being until its time has come. Death speaks through the absence of things once known. It speaks in whispers so can be heard only by those who wish to hear. Ruth is such a person, and of course Mr. Rieneau, who sees life as a dream coming from and returning to nothing. Thus to him life is both a dream and a nightmare. No wonder he wishes to spare Christine his vision of things. Through Robert invisible, whispering death has begun to reveal itself to Christine, and from this time on she will continue to see and hear it in all things. The experience has been an epiphany of sorts, the meaning of which she does not yet fully understand. What is there to understand about death? is a reasonable question. Things are and then cease to be. It all seems very simple. Yet, it isn’t, or at least human beings have been unwilling to accept the simplicity of ceasing to be. Just consider how dramatic the word death is compared to the phrase ceasing to be. And given their stake in process who can blame them? If there isn’t some deeply important meaning to be found in that dark abyss, if dying is nothing more than a natural occurrence, then what would that say about the meaningfulness of human existence? Is it any wonder then that most flee from contemplating death. Some simply do not accept it; others ignore it. Christine will not flee from it, not because she is fascinated by death but because she cares about the living. What I mean of course is that the fascination with death is rooted in love—not indifference, not hate, but love.
Death—the word is forbidding like a strange, mysterious looking hooded man dressed in black standing in a darkened doorway. People fear him because his appearance is menacing.
“Keep away from him!” children
are told.
“Who is he?” they ask.
“He is the one who kidnaps the
living.”
“Where does he take them?” asks
the child.
“We don’t know but we pray it’s
a good place.”
“But if it is a good place,
then what is there to fear?”
“You ask too many questions. It’s not good to even think about him. He will come soon enough. That’s all we really know.”
The
mysterious taker of life, death, the one who takes what only God can give. Is
it any wonder that people avoid even the thought of death, fearing, I suppose,
that just thinking about him will attract his attention. He will come soon
enough, yes, so why let him spoil today? And if he doesn’t know you, perhaps he
will forget about you for a long while. One day he’ll arrive like an intruder, either
as a thief in the night or a party-crasher. So it’s best to avoid his doorway.
Avoid even his street and you will forget about him—at least until he pays a
visit to someone near you. But death is restless, ever prowling about,
unexpectedly showing up where he is not wanted. One hopes he is just passing
by, but then he decides to move in the apartment next door and everyday one
sees him standing at the door as if contemplating what he will do next.
And
isn’t that what has happened to Christine. Death has entered Robert’s apartment,
a terrible uninvited guest. His presence is tormenting to Robert and depressing
to Christine, yet he is there to neither torment nor depress. He simply is what
he is, but now cannot be avoided. So from this moment on when Christine comes
home she will see death standing at Robert’s doorway. She hates his presence
but is also fascinated by him, and so will begin Christine’s conversations with
death. She knows she should ignore him, put him out of her mind, but she
cannot. And as the conversation progresses she will feel herself falling, not
as if into a dark hole, as Alice in Wonderland does, because it is not she who
is falling. It is the old securities and certainties of childhood, or what is
left of them, that are falling away from her, leaving her disoriented. Perhaps
that is the reason children are kept away from death, because to look upon his
face causes one to suddenly become old. And once that happens, there is no
going back. In the Book of Genesis isn’t mortality one of the truths Eve learns
from the Tree of Knowledge. And once she does there is no returning to
Paradise.
Eve
was warned not to seek knowledge, to be content with appearance, but hers was
an inquisitive and courageous nature, and in that way Eve and Christine are
sisters. Christine could never be satisfied just with the appearance of death
and leave it at that. It would be unfair to the dead and dying. She is too
loyal to abandon Robert, yet she is also a seeker of truth, and for that reason
as well will not abandon the conversation with death. It seems as if death has
come to speak with Christine, almost in a kindly way because he knows she will
listen. And why not speak to Robert? Death will do that as well, but in a
different voice. Isn’t it odd that death speaks to everyone in the same voice,
but is heard differently. To Christine his voice will be solemn, but terrifying
to Robert. It is easier to contemplate the terrifying aspects of life from a
distance. The poor man does not want to know the meaning of poverty but to
escape from it. The sick man does not want to know the meaning of illness but
to recover from his illness. And the lessons of death are of greater value to
the living, especially the young, than to the dying. So death will linger a
while in hopes of perhaps befriending Christine in exchange for dispossessing
Robert of life. Ironically, death is a friend of the living to whom its
existence is unavoidable. Death takes forever that which is valued
most—existence. It’s a very high price for knowledge, but the price is even
higher for ignorance. The old fisherman believes that the Greek gods were
incapable of fully appreciating life because they were immortal.
So
the conversation has begun and Christine’s journey now includes an excursion
into the meaning of death, not just for Robert but for all things. She will not
choose to exist in forgetfulness. She will not be false to Robert or to
herself, even though the cost to her will be the loss of a happier state of
mind. But perhaps happiness is not in every case the greatest good. Can one,
for example, ever fully grow up without confronting the significance of death? Much
of the happiness of children is based on the false belief that the world is
better and kinder than it really is. So if that childlike happiness is to be
preserved, one must remain ignorant of life’s painful truths.
Christine,
however, is one of the inquisitive souls who understand that the price for
complete happiness is self-deception, a price most people are more than willing
to pay, but one that is too dear to those who value truth. However, there is a
danger here because not everyone is ready or capable of enduring the truth, just
as a child of six is not ready for the truth that death awaits all things. So
it seems that the quest for truth should be a quest for personal enlightenment
that respects others’ right to remain ignorant or deceived, as long as their
ignorance or self-deception doesn’t interfere with the lives of others. I think
that is why Mr. Rieneau is reluctant to be Christine’s mentor—though he is
unable to refuse an inquiring mind. He has been a truth seeker most of his
life, yet sometime during that quest he came upon what he considers to be a
truth more valuable than truth itself, which is to avoid causing suffering
because there is already in the world too much unavoidable suffering. As you
have already discovered, the old fisherman is a fan of Buddha, who seemed to
believe that lessening suffering was more important than acquiring
enlightenment. Yet, Buddha came to this understanding as a seeker of truth, and
his enlightenment into the nature of things was the foundation of his
altruistic moral philosophy. This seems a paradox to me, one that I will let my
reader unravel for I have allowed this philosophical rambling to distract me
from my main concern, which is not death but the life of Christine, so I shall
return to her.
As I have said before, Robert will not be forgotten by Christine. She will not simply continue on her way. Like all romantics she is overly preoccupied with her own feelings and thoughts, but also like them she is drawn to the suffering of others. As she says in the letter, Robert is her friend; she likes him. And yet he has become more. He has become death standing at the door, beckoning Christine to enter, but doing so will require leaving outside the last happiness of her childhood. Christine will enter because life itself seems to be telling her that it is time to seek something more than happiness. It is time to seek wisdom if she is to make sense of a life that is rapidly becoming more confused and enigmatic—her own. It’s time for her to enter the very heart of things, even if it be a dark, lonely place. The journey will not be pleasant. Already she is beginning to feel that she is falling. And what truths will she find? Many, one of which is that God is powerless to protect his creation from death, at least in this world. And perhaps death even waits at God’s door.
From Frank Kyle’s not yet published novel Christine’s Journey to Enlightenment.
