[claire]Working on Faith

[Mark Holmes]

Blessed friends,


Here finally is my view on the last week.  It's quite long, so read it
at your leisure.  It also contains descriptions of a pretty graphic
nature; though as you will see, this openness and acceptance of life
and death here in India is precisely one of the reasons that Tara came
to this sacred place, so I think it fitting to simply serve as a
witness to these amazing events and share with you as much of that as
possible.   But I did want to warn you in case you are very sensitive
to these things.


I've poured a lot into this, and will probably go off-air for a bit.=20
Some other personal responsibilities are calling for my attention, and
I still don't feel that I've caught up entirely on my sleep.  I will
send some notes about the pilgrimage, but probably not this level of
detail.  But I will be taking photos and video, as well as writing in
my journal, so in some way the continuation of this journey will come
home at some point. =20


All my love,


Mark




-----------------------------------------



A few days before Tara died, she and I were awake late at night as she
was dealing with a lot of insomnia, nausea, vomiting and seriously
struggling to come to terms with this terrible disease that had so
radically changed her life=97and was about to end it.  It was actually a
very sweet night because it was just the two of us, alone and awake,
as everyone else was sleeping; it seemed as though we had only each
other at that moment.  Tara had really struggled with my behavior at
the ashram; she sometimes focused on any slight infraction of the
rules, or mispronunciation of names, and used it as an excuse to
correct me.  This was sometimes done with grace, often with a
sharpness, and sometimes quite unpleasantly.  I tried hard not to take
these things personally, as I know they weren't meant that way; it was
as if I was one of the only things left to her that seemed in some way
to be in her control, and that became a channel for her frustration,
anger, helplessness, pain.


So there was something different about this night because that
frustration just was not present.  Without the context of the ashram
at that moment, it was just her and I and it was very clear why we
were both there, and I think she recognized that I was just trying to
help her.  At one point after a particularly difficult bout of
coughing and gagging, she was hunched over a bucket slowly shaking her
head side to side and whispering 'why why why why why why why?'.=20
Needless to to say it was a pretty difficult moment for us both,
though in vastly different ways.  And yet in spite of this, at one
point she said 'Penny for your thoughts?'.  We had spent so little of
our time here talking at all, let alone about deeper, more personal
matters, so this really caught me off guard=97though quite pleasantly.=20=

This was right at about the time we were discussing the possibility of
her returning home, and we were researching options for getting her
there: using our original tickets; upgrading to first class; buying a
ticket for a nurse and/or doctor to accompany us; or hiring a private
air ambulance to whisk us away. =20


I told her that I was thinking about what it would mean to go home,
and if it was even possible; I was thinking about our friends and
families, and also that I thought that it would be a good choice if
she wanted to stay here.  I believe she had already decided to stay by
this point, but she'd never asked my opinion before, in spite of the
closeness we've enjoyed in our friendship over the years.  So I simply
spoke for a while about how I was feeling, that I thought we could get
her home in spite of the difficulty, but that in many ways this was an
amazing place to be if she were going to die.  And to be honest, in
spite of all the positive assurances to the contrary by the doctors
and priests here, it was certainly looking like that was rapidly
approaching.


She said something next that really struck me, and has stayed with me;
it really stands out as one of those 'last dying words' that everyone
makes so much of.  They were not the last words I heard her speak
(actually the last thing I heard a few hours before she died was my
name=97only that), but they were what I needed to hear, and said so much
in a couple of sentences. =20


She said: "<bold>I have so much to say, but no energy to say
it.</bold>  <bold><italic>You'll just have to keep working on
faith</italic></bold>."


It was clear at that moment that she recognized how difficult this
situation was for those of us caring for her; and though she couldn't
express it, she was asking us to make a leap of faith that we were
doing the right thing and just needed to 'keep on swimming'.  You'll
just have to keep working on faith.  It's as much a suggestion of a
more general nature about spiritual practice as it's seemingly more
obvious intention of reassuring me to just keep going.  Faith is
always something I've struggled with in my own life being technically
raised as a Catholic (I bolted early), and then run through the EST
and other alternative movements of the 70's that were fashionable at
that time.  My own spiritual allergies were finely tuned by those
experiences, and I've had to work hard over the years to come to a
place of openness about a world that isn't wholly mundane, but
contains in it's essence the possibility for transcendence.  These
words were definitely a cue to continue in that work, and to seek that
which is genuine and true, and not be so judgmental or skeptical about
the sacred in the world.  I hope these words find some place in your
own heart, practice, life; they were pretty powerful for me.



----------------------



It's now the 6th of August, 5 days after Tara died, and I'm just now
getting a moment to sit and write about this last week.  I've been so
busy during this time, and when I haven't had something immediate to
do I've simply collapsed and either slept or just retreated inside.  I
don't think I was a very friendly companion for Corey as I really
needed to pull back a bit and simply withdraw from everyone; the
sustained physical and emotional output of the last couple of months
has been considerable, and I think it's going to take some time to
recover.


I'm sitting once again on our veranda here in Dwaraka building, a new
space created for VIP's and Swamis.  Clare and Corey are gone, and I
am alone in room #2 sandwiched between 1 and 3 in which so much has
happened so recently.  Both of those rooms have been completely
cleaned, top to bottom, and there is a small shrine in Tara's room
where 3 daily rituals take place according to tradition to help the
spirit leave the body and it's connections to the earth, the land,
friends, family and loved ones.  This goes on for 16 days, culminating
in a big puja that will mark the end of this mourning period, and life
returns to normal.  We've given many of Tara's more simple possessions
away to friends here, again according to local custom; some specific
things will be returning home for family and friends as well.


This veranda affords an amazing view across the top of the hill,
across a valley where the town of Neyyar is located, and to the top of
Kalipara, or Kali Hill where yoga vacationers make occasional morning
hikes.  The wind is blowing gently through the mahogany, mango and
banana trees, and the normal proliferation of birds is singing and
flitting through the branches.  I can hear the sounds of the village
below; trucks, loudspeakers, shouts, all softened by distance and
foliage, and I think also by the slightly rarified air here=97though
that last bit may simply be the romantic in me.  The usual motley
parade of insects is out in force: red centipedes, hornets, a baffling
variety of ants, and many other flying critters; though fortunately
almost no mosquitos during the day.


I've spent many and early morning and late night sitting in this
simple plastic chair near Tara's door or window writing to you, all
the time listening for changes in her breathing, movement, sleep
patterns or any slight sound that might have indicated that she needed
something.  Finding a balance between hovering and not smothering was
a constant challenge, mainly because Tara herself was always coming to
terms with the amount of care she needed; and the unrelenting speed of
those changes never left a moment for a breath. =20


Today feels like a good day for breathing, and finally some quiet time
to write; so here now is one of the many stories about how Tara died.



Wednesday, July 28th


This was a hard day as Tara was really struggling with her breathing.=20
It was very rapid and shallow, and she felt that she couldn't get
enough breath in.  I spent the previous day in town getting
supplemental oxygen, but after 1 minute of breathing it she said
simply "It has no prana.  But thank you for trying".  She enquired
that morning about the local hospital, and if it would be possible to
use an artificial respirator.  We were all a little concerned about
this request as the procedure is quite invasive, and really reduces
any freedom the patient would normally have; no speaking, no normal
eating, no rolling over, etc.  We spoke with her about it and told her
we felt it wasn't really a good option, and that it would be unlikely
to improve her situation, and that in fact in may worsen in.  She
accepted this for a few more hours and finally came to a breaking
point.  While we were alone in the room she said "Markey I can't do
this anymore.  Markey please make this stop."  The words themselves
are hard enough to hear, but when she added the endearment of my
name=97which she hadn't done in quite a while=97it really broke my =
heart.=20
She asked again about wanting a respirator, and we had Swami
Sivaswarupananda call the Cancer Center again to enquire.  We found
out that they would honor her wishes and try to secure one, but again
we made clear that the considerable invasion in her body and loss of
freedom would be severe; it was also very unclear that it would
ultimately help. =20


Just the day before a FedEx box arrived from America with a
time-release patch of medication that we'd hoped would be more
tolerable than the morphine had been.  Tara wasn't in great pain by
this point, but she was very anxious and her breathing was quite
troubling.  We told her that in order to go on a respirator she would
need to be heavily sedated, so we suggested that she try the
proscribed patch first to see if that would help with her breathing.=20
She said immediately that she wanted the patch.  As Swamiji applied it
to her right shoulder blade, an area least likely to be slept on,
Clare and I spoke to her about the possibility of this being the final
phase of her life.  We told her again and again how much she was
loved, how she was safe, and how she was also quite free to go when
she felt the time was right.  We spoke about her final wishes for her
modest estate, and she said clearly that she didn't feel that there
were any loose ends in her life; nothing that she felt was going
unsaid.  She then very clearly said to Clare and me "I think you two
are angels", and when I had to have her repeat something a few times,
"I wish you could hear better".  Classic Tara.


We were about to begin Tara's final days, and I'm very pleased to
report that these in some way were some of her sweetest.  Where there
had been a lot of strain and resistance to so many things before,
there was gratitude and understanding.  Over these few days she simply
thanked us a lot, and if we did something that was painful for her,
she would reply to our apology 'That's ok, I know you're trying'.  And
while these were also some of the most difficult days, with a lot of
uncertainty about what we were doing and what she needed, this simple
shift in gratitude was quite beautiful.


Within a few hours Tara's breathing calmed way down, and she slept so
peacefully that night.  We all did in fact, as you may remember from
my e-mail to that effect.  This was to continue into the next day and
night.  The following day we actually were concerned about possibly
having given her too much medication, even though it was the
prescribed amount.  My good friend Thomas who is an expert in these
matters said that a person will often sleep for several days after
there has been much stress and lack of sleep.  But after that second
night we reduced the dosage of the patch by slipping a piece of
plastic between it and her skin, effectively cutting the dosage in
half. =20



Friday, July 30th


By Friday she was definitely more alert, and more restless, often
talking about needing to go somewhere, or wanting to get out of bed.=20
She really had almost no strength at this point, so we weren't worried
about her actually getting up, but rolling out of bed was certainly a
concern.  She was also very talkative this day, though much of it was
unintelligible.  It was as though she was having a continuing dream,
and those dreams were mixing with her speech and movements in this
world.  It was very clear though that she was listening to everything
that we said, because like a child playing quietly in a room, she
would repeat back something we said later, or ask about it.  Sometimes
she would just jump into the conversation then and there.  We spoke
with her and around her as though she was listening, but didn't try
too hard to get much from her; I think this would have been too
frustrating for all involved.


Friday night was pretty tough, as Tara was awake most of the night,
and so were we.  Corey had arrived the night before, and we'd let her
sleep alone in Clare's room as Clare and I stayed with Tara.  This
night all four of us slept in the same room as we were trying to
ensure that we wouldn't miss hearing if anything was needed.  Tara was
beyond using the electronic bell by this point, and her speech was
quite quiet, so in fact we did sleep through a time when she needed
something.  =46rom this night on it was clear that someone would need to
stay up with her all night.



Saturday, August 1st


Saturday was also more restless and talkative, though it was clear
that Tara was slipping further into another world.  She was still
listening, and would speak to us; she was quite insistent with both
Corey and Clare at different times trying to get an important point
across; but they can share those stories.  As Corey reported she met
with Swami Govinda twice, and the second time was pretty amazing
because even with her labored breathing, and the soft sounds she was
making with each exhale, she was listening very closely to every word.=20=

For about 20 minutes he spoke of karma and the workings of the divine
through her friends and loved ones here at the ashram, and how blessed
she was having chosen to come here.  He also said very clearly that
she must surrender to God; this was a very strong statement, and I
think it sunk in pretty deep.  It certainly did for me.  After this he
was able to get her to take the ayurvedic medicines, something she
hadn't done in days.  He said that the surrender and acceptance must
work at all levels so that they all could benefit from the energy and
power of the others.  To not take the medicines would be to limit the
possibility of the prayers, chanting and pujas that were all taking
place on her behalf.  Remarkably she took them easily, peacefully, and
without struggle.  I believe this surrender was the last turning point
for her, and she perhaps recognized that she would soon be free of
this body; hence her resistance dropped away.


For the last few weeks there had been some swelling on the side of
Tara's face which would wax and wane according to some internal
forces.  At one point just before Corey arrived the swelling was quite
pronounced and included the whites of her eyes themselves.  But over
Friday and Saturday the swelling really dropped away, and by that
afternoon had retreated almost completely.  And though there was some
bruising left around her eyes, the size and shape of her face was back
to normal.  I told her she looked beautiful, and she said "Thank you".=20=

Her color was also definitely changing, and her fingers and toes had
started taking on a bluish tint.  Her face was also looking a little
bit grey, and her lips were pale.  Her body seemed to lose a lot of
it's watery mass somehow, and her shoulders, arms and legs became much
skinnier over the course of about 24 hours; it was remarkable to see.


That afternoon we decided to increase the patch dosage a bit, and put
a new one on at 75% strength.  We hoped this would calm her a bit
more, but still leave as much consciousness as she needed to
communicate and be awake for what was coming.  At satsang (held on the
porch outside her window for several days now) in which small Rajesh
sang some very beautiful bhajans, Tara was again clearly paying
attention and enjoying the singing.  Based on Swamiji's medical advice
we had decided to give Tara an enema tonight as she hadn't had a bowel
movement in many days.  She slept through most of it, and it was
painless and slightly amusing in it's strangeness.  And I only mention
this because while it seemed a bit mundane and even slightly obtrusive
at the time, it turns out to have played an important role which
became clear later on.


After that Clare went to join Corey for some sleep, as we'd worked out
a rotating schedule of 2 hours awake each; Durga would take 10 - 12, I
would do 12 - 2, Corey 2 - 4, and Claire 4 - 6.  I had some work to do
on my laptop (the only way I can stay here for an extended period is
to continue to do some work), so I stayed up with Durga for a couple
of hours.  Tara was restless at first, and had rolled much of the way
over onto her back which was unusual.  At one point she distinctly
said my name, but when I came over to ask what I could do, nothing
more came out.  It seemed as though her ability to form words and
slipped further and only the same sound came out.  Durga and I rolled
her back over onto her left side and she immediately became more calm
and peaceful, and seemed to fall directly to sleep.  A little later I
took the same cue and fell into a deep sleep as well.


I don't know what it was, but something in my dream told me that it
was time to get up.  It was about 1:15am, about 1 1/4 hours after
Durga was supposed to wake me and head to bed herself.  I could see
and hear Tara still sleeping peacefully, and Durga was outside on the
porch in the soft red cane chair with an ever-present cat in her lap.=20
She looked a little sleepy, but had stayed up longer to allow me to
sleep.  There was something distinctly unusual about the atmosphere
just then=97both the physical space but also something more subtle.=20
Durga's presence was lovely, and there was something magical about it.=20=

Her involvement with Tara had increased over the past couple of weeks,
and she came to serve a vital role, again just at the right times.=20
And at this early morning hour there was something very perfect about
her sleepy smile and the cat purring softly in her lap.  She rose
quietly, annoying the cat a bit, and I took her place in the chair.=20
The cat considered it for a moment, then took off down the hall after
Durga; there was something very dreamy about her departure, and the
cat following.  I had the sense of some kind of larger appropriateness
to everything, as though there was a huge, invisible knowing smile
taking place; very gentle, unobtrusive, but very comforting at the
same time. =20


It was a full moon that night, and a cool wind was blowing softly as
usual from the end of the veranda.  The sense of simplicity and beauty
was quite strong; there was also a lingering magical quality that
Durga had stirred up, and it remained draped softly over everything.=20
After some quiet time, I fetched my camera out of my room and took
that picture of Tara sleeping that you've all seen by now.  I felt
compelled to do this, to try to share this precious moment with
everyone because it was very tender.  I grabbed my laptop and sat in
Durga's place and began writing the e-mail that I sent out a while
ago.  I also felt compelled to share those last words that Tara had
written, and left uncompleted.  I was also uploading a picture of Tara
on the cover of our DVD to a server in America at this moment; a
magazine wants to run the picture along with an article on yoga, so I
was sending it over.


As I was writing I distinctly heard Tara stop breathing.  It was
amazing how tuned I was to her breath having paid such increasingly
close attention to it over the days and weeks previous.  Adrenaline
rushed through my system and I turned to look through the window; sure
enough, there was a very strange stillness in her breast, and I ran
immediately into the room.  I reached for her arm, practically holding
my own breath, my heart racing.  After some time time she took another
breath and I leapt up and bolted down the veranda to wake Corey and
Clare.  They came awake immediately and I said simply "Come.  Come
now."  The three of us raced back into Tara's room and gathered by her
side; Clare on her right, and Corey and I on her left where she was
turned slightly to face us.  She took one more breath, then a long,
long pause.  Then another breath; her face changed slightly in this
last breath, as though there was some kind of effort, though not
painful.  Her chin rose very slightly, and then she simply stopped
breathing.


We waited for a while as nothing changed.  There was an incredible
stillness to her body that to this moment I find utterly amazing.=20
It's something I'm not sure I could have conceived of or pictured
properly; there was truly no movement whatsoever, and that absence was
stunning.  My heart was still racing and as it slowly calmed down, and
the realization that this was really her moment, I heard Clare
chanting Om Tryambacum under her breath.  After a few moments we
called Swami Sivaswarupananda with the electronic buzzer and he joined
us at her bedside.  We were all holding her gently in some way, and
she had quietly, softly, peacefully died.  Tara distinctly had
goosebumps on her arms; both Clare and I noticed it.


Corey asked if we should be chanting and we began a mala (108
repetitions) of Om Tryambacum.  I'm not sure about the others, but
there were definite breaks in my voice and my chanting as tears would
come and pass.  We were alone in the room, the ashram was asleep, we
were chanting a protection mantra and our friend had passed away
before our eyes.  And during the chanting Tara's eyes slowly yet
distinctly closed further, and her head and face seemed to settle
further down into the pillow.  That stillness in her body actually
became more still, more rested, more peaceful; it happened as I
watched.


At one point Swamiji got up to rouse the ashram so that 12 hours of Om
Namo Narayanaya chanting could begin.  My memory of this time is a
little blurry as things seemed to simply start happening on their own,
following some kind of larger pattern or rhythm that no one seemed to
be in charge of, and no one needed to be.  Durga, Swami Nevedananda
and Raju came in for the start of the chant, and the tone was very
intense, somber, and yet still very right.  Raju was clearly shaken
up, and was barely holding back tears as he struggled his way through
some amazing chants.  These included the 11th and 12th chapters of the
Bagavhad Gita, the Vishnu Sahasranama (1000 names of Vishnu), and then
Om Namo Narayanaya.  Raju had only known Tara for 5 short weeks, but
his love for her was clear and deep.  While I was marveling at this,
something powerful struck me as I was chanting over and over again;
the breath that is necessary to repeat this mantra is almost identical
to the way that Tara was breathing before she died; sharp inhale and
slow exhale over about 4 seconds; sharp inhale again, and repeat.  I
felt as though I'd been handed a torch and was bearing away some of
what she was carrying before she died.  This connection of breath was
quite strong and made it easier to continue through the sleeplessness,
shortness of breath, hoarseness of voice, and simple yet deep sadness
expressed through a choked throat and tears.  Raju could not make any
eye-contact.


Many people came in and out through the night, and I stayed chanting
and crying and chanting for some amount of time; I really don't know
how long.  I looked up after a while and noticed that Clare and Corey
were not in the room, so I went to take a break and be with them.  I
found them up on the roof of our building laughing and looking up at
the full moon.  It was a spectacular moon, shining brightly down
through the trees and lighting up everything around.  Corey and Clare
were sharing stories, and laughing, and crying, and we were all amazed
at what had finally happened, and how very beautiful it was.  I went
down to the veranda and carried all the supplies necessary for making
popcorn back up to the roof; I wondered if people thought I was crazy,
but didn't care.  The atmosphere on the roof was hard to describe.=20
There was a tremendous lightness, porousness, ease and beauty; there
was laughter, sadness, deep gratitude, awe and considerable fatigue.=20
We had the solid foundation of love and chanting and ceremony taking
place with our dead friend literally below our feet, and we were
popping corn and celebrating her incredible life with offerings of the
first hot kernels to the full moon, to our friend, and to our lives
that would go on touched and moved by her presence.  It was silly and
giddy and deeply respectful, mixing tears and sniffles with hugs and
bursts of pure joy and laughter.  We've all commented since that this
was clearly one of the most momentous nights of our lives, and words
simply fail to adequately describe it.


As the chanting continued, more and more people came and went.  The
three of us would spend time chanting, and then retreat for more
laughter and just some quiet, as the atmosphere in Tara's room was
quite intense.  At one point I saw Raju sitting on the veranda just
outside the room and looking very, very sad=97barely holding it
together.  Again he wouldn't make eye-contact, so I walked up and put
my hand on his shoulder.  This simple gesture broke something inside
him and he immediately started sobbing, and we hugged each other and
cried.  Corey saw this moment, and commented later on how intense it
was.


As the sun started to rise, we went up to the top of the ashram on the
highest roof with a box of cookies and continued our wonderful
celebration of our friendship and our friend's life.  Stories and
smiles again flowed freely with moments rendered incapable of speech
by sadness.  But this was pure sadness, not grief; there was no
anguish here, no heavy sense of loss.  I think all three of us were
just expressing all the facets of the joy we have for Tara, which
includes sadness in her passing.  And we were also very, very happy
and excited for her to be continuing her journey, and to leave her
troubled body behind after so much struggle and difficulty.  She flew
freely that night, and we were right there below cheering her on.


More and more people were coming and the room was often filled with
ashram staff, people from the village, and now and again the three of
us.  I almost felt a little strange when we would laugh at something
Tara had said, or shared a moment of our lives together that was
touching; but ultimately we were all expressing our love for Tara in
our own ways.  At some point it became clear that we needed to prepare
her body for the journey to come.  One of the women from the massage
staff came in and took charge at this point, knowing exactly what to
do.  We cleared the room of unnecessary people and asked them to
continue chanting outside on the veranda.  We then spent some time
washing, cleaning, and caring for our friend in a pragmatic and yet
very caring way.  We washed her body and prepared to dress her in fine
white clothes.  Corey had brought over some fresh, comfortable
underwear, and Jennifer had sewn a small red heart onto the side;
naturally these were the right thing to choose.  We rubbed fresh
powder all over her body, put cotton in her nostrils and tied her chin
in a small strap to prevent the jaw from hanging open.=20


Tara's body had started to cool quite a bit, and rigor had set in
making it impossible to bend her arms.  So with apologies and some
absurd laughter we cut the sleeves of her dress so that we could get
it on her without bending her arms.  The color, temperature and
texture of her skin and body were changing remarkably, and these small
details were simply part of our continuing care for her.  Tara had
died, but there was still more to do, and we were happy to do it;
honestly, I think we felt honored and privileged to participate at
this level.  The amount of intimacy between the four of us in her last
days was intense, and it was very fitting to continue that through her
final primp.  We also tied her toes together with fresh cloth, and
draped her body in new dhotis=97both under and over.  We also each took
a turn brushing her hair, something that had calmed her tremendously
over the past weeks.


At this point we let everyone back in and the flowers started to pour
in.  =46rom all over the ashram people brought the most beautiful
flowers and Durga and Raju in particular spent a lot of time arranging
them on her body.  We took pictures and some video to share with
Tara's family back home, and continued chanting.  We got word that
while normally a cremation happens on the same day, as a foreigner
there was a lot of paperwork and police approval to go through so we'd
need to transport her to the Medical College for cold storage until
everything was clear.  In fact the police stopped by to take photos,
measurements, confirm the color of the paint on the walls ('biscuit'
apparently); all the truly important things about her.


There's a ceremony that's done before this journey that involves
putting water from the Ganges in the deceased's mouth, along with rice
and blessings.  Each of us close to her did this in turn, and then we
did a final Arati for her.  The energy in the room was extremely
powerful as so many of the ashram staff had turned out and were
pouring their hearts into it.  The love that everyone felt for Tara
was palpable, and the respect offered was remarkable.  Many people
have since come up and told me how unusual it is for someone to die in
an ashram, and further how unusual it is to receive such honors from
so many people.  And you have to remember that none of this is
planned; this comes simply from the heart, and it is what people feel
is appropriate to do.  Even Swamis do not always receive this kind of
treatment, and it's a further testament to the impact that Tara has
had in her short time with us.


We next carried Tara out to the waiting ambulance and Clare, Corey,
Harilal, Balachandra and I got in with her body draped in flowers and
new white cloth.  We had to stop immediately at the Neyyar Police
Station, and the wait was very Kafka-esque and bizarre.  But our
spirits were quite high, and we knew that Tara was laughing at the
bureaucratic rigamarole that was about to ensue.  I'm sure some bribes
were involved, and off we went into Trivandrum.  Swami Govinda had
returned to Maderai the night before, and upon hearing the news turned
immediately around and came back=97no small journey.  Remarkably we
found him waiting on the roadside with his car and he joined the
caravan to the storage facility.  Upon arrival he solemnly said his
goodbyes to Tara with fresh lotus blossoms and a beautiful flower
necklace draped around her neck.  He was clearly moved by the
experience, and tears were in his eyes as he alighted from the van.


The government Medical College facility had only one thing going for
it, and that was the fact that it was cold.  Beyond that I'll simply
choose not to describe it, as it was simply a necessary part of Tara's
journey.  After leaving her there we went to have a meal in town at
her favorite restaurant, and the mood continued to be light and
friendly.  We were fully aware of the gravity of the situation, and of
our friend's death that morning; but she was still with us in our
hearts, and we enjoyed everyone's company and a fine meal.  During
this meal we somewhat sheepishly told Swami Govinda about the fact
that the last act we performed for Tara was to give her an enema, and
we felt this was a little ridiculous and absurd given what happened.=20
Quite to our surprise we learned that in fact this was exactly the
best thing to do before someone dies, as it cleanses the body and
makes the transition easier, more free.  We thought we'd done her a
disservice, and it turns out we unwittingly did exactly what was
necessary.  Next stop was the crematorium to check up on arrangements
for what we hoped would take place the following day.


But while all the Gods were smiling down, this must have included the
bureaucracy God; alas we spent much of the next day in and out of the
police office and on the phone with the American Consulate in Chennai.=20=

These events were funny, absurd, necessary, and again I believe that
Tara was enjoying every moment, even though her body was waiting
cremation in cold storage.  Ultimately the police were very nice, and
understanding of our situation; also the consulate was very quick to
respond and provide help in moving the paperwork and approvals
forward.  But it became clear as the day wore on that the cremation
would not take place this day.



Tuesday, August 3rd


We gathered outside the front gate of the ashram to make the trip into
town and proceed with the cremation.  We were able to arrange for much
of the staff who were involved in Tara's care to join us, and I think
they were grateful for this.  Also some of the yoga vacationers were
invited, as this was a unique experience to witness, and a part of
spiritual growth as well.  In all there were probably 20 or so of us
who headed out; first stopping of course at the police station in town
for the requisite delay and greasing of palms.


Kerala is a very political state, and strikes of various kinds are
common here.  A few weeks ago an engineering student committed suicide
because she could not afford university fees; huge student strikes
ensued the next couple of days, and there was definitely some
violence.  Interestingly this Tuesday there was a strike called by one
of the political parties, so we had to put black flags on our vehicles
along with signs on the windows indicating our unusual purpose.  And
it was as though the entire route had been prepared for us, as there
was little vehicle traffic, all shops were shut, and most of the local
folks were hanging out on the streets watching us go by.  It made for
an interesting parade.


All the way to the Medical College we chanted Om Namo Narayanaya.  At
the facility itself there were of course more delays during which we
were treated to good views of the autopsy room (we didn't allow this
to happen to Tara), as well as a male corpse being wheeled in for
examination.  It was fairly gruesome, but also simply part of the
experience.  After all the paperwork was settled we removed Tara from
the cold room, transfered her body to the ambulance stretcher, and
drove with her to the crematorium all the time chanting.  We placed
more fresh flowers on her during the drive, and the mood was
purposeful, respectful, even light; but not dire or overly somber.  It
felt that we were doing the right thing and closing this chapter of
her life.


At the crematorium we were met with the head man who has been burning
bodies here for over 35 years.  We brought Tara in and laid her gently
on the floor, again showering her with fresh flowers.  Remarkably much
of her color had returned during her stay in the cold room and she
looked quite natural=97actually beautiful.  We chanted many Om
Tryambacums for her, and lifted her gently from the stretcher and
placed her on the bed of coconut husks that forms the bottom layer of
the the cremation bed.  Next they piled many logs of mango wood and
formed a pyre above and around her body; only small bits of white
cloth were visible between the cracks.  Normally women do not attend
the cremation, but fortunately there was a lot of tolerance as at
least half of our group was women.  As the closest thing to a male
next of kin, the honor of lighting the pyre fell to me.  I was wearing
a fresh white dhoti and stripped to the waist as instructed by
timeless custom.  Small half coconut shells were filled with camphor
and I lit three of these in turn which were covered by more dry
coconut husks.  Each of us placed a small twig of sandalwood on the
pyre as well, and it started to burn.


In the west we really don't ever see this process; yet it is a normal
way of life here.  After the soul has departed the body is just a
body.  It's still treated with respect and honor, but it's just flesh
and bone, and it's finished.  I think we all felt the rightness of
this as we watched Tara's body burn.  It wasn't especially sad, or
overly joyous; just correct.  And watching a body burn down to ash is
pretty amazing, though I will spare you many of the details.  Suffice
it to say that you very clearly see that it's just flesh and bone, and
when it's gone, it's really gone. =20


Tara took almost 5 hours to burn completely.  This is about 2 hours
longer than normal, and apparently the cremators can tell what sort of
illness a person has by how they burn.  At one point the head guy
mused that she probably had cancer; pretty amazing prediction.  And
interestingly Tara was not terribly demonstrative in her cremation.=20
Unlike two others who were cremated later in the day, who went up in a
blaze of glory, fully exposing bones and organs in the process, Tara
showed very little, and stayed nestled in her pyre the entire time.=20
It's said that people die in character, and I think that's true in her
case; but not only did she die in character, she burned in character
too.  She was particularly conservative in her life here in India,
fitting smoothly into local custom and showing a slightly different
side of her personality than she would at home.  And she clearly went
out this way as well, and it sure made me smile.


Since the cremation was clearly taking longer than expected, we walked
up to a government rest house to get a meal, and we were shown into a
private room and fed a free meal.  Apparently the manager was from
Neyyar Dam, and had heard of what we were doing and refused to take
any money from us.  This was par for the course for our entire journey
here; people were repeatedly touched by Tara's presence and gave
freely and generously with their time, energy, advice, medicine, etc.=20
You would simply have to see it to believe it.


Upon returning to the crematorium we could tell that she still wasn't
finished.  She was probably laughing somewhere, taking her own sweet
time and enjoying every moment.  Curiously for the first 2+ hours that
we were there no other people came for cremations.  This is a facility
that is normally jammed with bodies, both dead and living, and
apparently it can be hard to sort out who is with which party.  But
once again the unusual was taking place and we had Tara all to
ourselves for quite a long time.  After lunch a couple of people came
in, and they'd obviously died that day.  Elaborate ceremonies were
performed in the same place that we'd done ours for Tara; but once
these were done, everyone promptly left.  No one stays to watch the
actual cremation, though that's certainly what we did.


Once she was finally finished the attendants pulled out all the
remains, filling a small clay pot with bone fragments.  There are no
ashes in this process; all ash is mostly wood, so small pieces of bone
are all that is left.  And the pot was quite hot as it was presented
to me, tied in a simple piece of white cloth.  Tara rattled around
gently inside... but then again it really wasn't Tara anymore by this
point.  Life's mysteries abound in a place like this, and carrying her
out in a warm little pot after carrying her so many times in the past
weeks was really strange, and yet lovely too.  No tears were shed this
day, as none were necessary.  Her body served it's purpose here on
earth as a vessel for her soul, and once finished, we simply took care
of it in a very natural, respectful way.  And we had a pot of bones
and hearts absolutely filled with memories to show for it.


The return to the ashram was uneventful, though we stopped at a
roadside stall for chai and sweets, laughing easily in each other's
company.  Most of the other staff and friends had returned much
earlier in the day, so it was just us three 'Tara's Angels' as Durga
fondly called us, plus 3 or 4 of our good Indian friends from the
ashram.  The chai was sweet and hot and satisfying, and the desert
filled a small empty place and made us content.  That's an excellent
word for this day, this process, this feeling: contentment.  I'm sure
that Tara was feeling this as well.


Once back at the ashram we had to bury the remains outside of the
grounds lest we contaminate them.  We divided some of the bones into
smaller pots as they will be going to different areas: some to the US,
and the others to a number of places in and around India.  Each of
these we buried in the ground at the base of a jackfruit tree in
special sand; don't ask me why all these specific things were
necessary, but I'm sure there's a thousand years of significance
behind each one.  Next it was a dip in the lake for all who had been
involved in the process; full immersion to cleanse and purify
ourselves before entering the ashram again.  Corey and Clare went
first, and I think were a little shocked by just how transparent white
clothes get while wet.  They were giggling hysterically and covering
themselves with shawls on the way back in; I guess an ashram isn't the
most appropriate place for a wet t-shirt contest.  Next it was Swami
Govinda, me, Suresh, Balachandra and Harilal.  We splashed about and
had a little fun, then trekked back up the hill on our way home.


Back on the veranda we were met by Swami Nevedananda flinging some
kind of milky substance about and practically dancing.  He was acting
giddy like a small orange pixie, and it was really delightful.  We
were a little shocked to learn that what he was flinging about was the
'5 things from a cow'; curd, ghee, milk, urine and dung.  We were a
little more shocked to learn that we were supposed to drink this as
well.  But of course being good sports we put out our hand and got a
few drops each; the flavor was . . . interesting.  But as with
everything here, you simply go with the flow and you'll get to where
you need to go.  In my case it was into the shower for a wash and some
fresh, dry clothes.


This chapter of the story is more or less over, though the paperwork,
legal and financial stuff is still going on.  And then of course
there's the planning for the pilgrimage, as well as a couple of side
trips in the process.  One of the biggest Keralan festivals of the
year, Onum, is coming up soon, and I think I'll be spending it with
Harilal and his family.  He did some great camera work for us at the
cremation, and in general has been amazingly helpful in this whole
journey.


But for those of you who knew Tara, as well as those who have just
come to know her during this amazing time, her story is still being
written.  This is most obvious in the fact that we're taking her
remains north to some of the holiest places in the world; but more
subtly=97and perhaps more profoundly=97she continues to touch and stir =
us
in ways that I think will go on for quite a while.  She's made some
waves, and may they roll on out to the horizon and beyond.


That's probably enough for now.  Tara's empty sandals are out on the
porch, and her suitcase is sitting here empty on my shelf.  There's a
ton of food here that we'd hoped she could eat, and we're slowly
plowing through it=97though the candy seems to be disappearing rather
quickly.  So much of her remains here, and will still remain even
after the noodles, pasta, soy milk, cereal and mexican food are gone.=20
And if you have any doubts about her presence in our lives, I have a
simple quote from a good friend of mine: "You'll just have to keep
working on faith."


Time for popcorn.


With deep love, humility and gratitude,


Mark