Oshan, when I realized that this intriguingly titled piece was written by you and about your Dad, I immediately dropped everything to absorb it. I've read it twice now and will likely read it again (and share it with a few close friends). Your reflections are absolutely beautiful. It's such a meaningful collection of your questions, thoughtful observations, philosophical impressions, and vulnerable moments. It's the most fitting tribute to Rick, whom I loved dearly and wish I could be with again just one more time (the photo at the end of the piece is stunning and I've saved a copy). I know no one like Rick, and you've captured your father's spirit and quirks as only his remarkably perceptive and insightful son could. I'm sure Rick loves this tribute. It's helped me (and Morgan) as we continue to shape and sculpt the loss of such a unique and important person in our lives. Thank you so much for digging deeply and sharing your ideas, love, and caring. It means a lot in so many ways.
Aw man. The comment box doesn’t suffice. Really appreciate the fuller picture of how your family came to be in Vrindavan in 2001. Thank you for sharing it.
I love this sentence: "But staring at his stiff, lifeless body as we wheeled it from the ambulance to the cremation yard, my mind speed-ran his long list of honors and achievements, and, as tends to happen, his lying there, dead, a smile pulled across his cheeks from dehydrating skin, made a number of them seem ridiculous."
I was just re-reading parts of Joseph Henrich's "The Secret of Our Success" and was reminded of the concept of "the extended self." We, as individuals, only live "in part" in our own bodies. We externalize water carrying to flasks and bottles, enabling us to travel long distances without having access to nearby water sources. We externalize our digestive processes to fire and cooking, which "pre-digest" food before it enters our bodies. We externalize our strength and physicality to tools and weapons. We externalize our brains to notes and numerical systems and other people. "We" extend far beyond our physical selves.
And yet, at the moment of the death, all of that vanishes. There is just the physical self, the naked body. We are stripped of all we ever accumulated, all which ever extended beyond the physical self. We return to nature as naked bodies, our physical selves.
Does this mean none of the stuff we lived through mattered? As you note, of course not. It is all either instrinsically meaningful in our lives, or instrumentally useful in yielding more meaning in our lives. However transient that feeling of meaning is, it is nonetheless meaningful while it lasts.
Oshan, thank you so much for sharing such a beautifully written and meaningful article. As its chock-full of inspiration and inquiry, I shall read it more than once. Especially intriguing were your reflections on The Visitor as I was lucky enough to experience the phenomenal installation at SFMOMA many years ago. I, too, was struck with, "Something sacred is present and submersion in a tidal wave of inexpressible sentiment." So fittingly woven in! Your father's passing at this time is shocking, and I understand the stark reality. Along with you, your family, and so many others, I will sorely miss him. He was a phenomenal teacher, masterful at bringing presence to each moment, and his astrological readings were off the charts in accuracy, delivered with enormous skill, precision, and compassion. What a storyteller too! He was a pillar for me and, truthfully, the world feels less comforting and safe without him, his wisdom, and guidance. With heartfelt gratitude, he will forever remain an incredible blessing. The wonderful photo you posted along with this reminded me of his last Fruits of Ananda meeting hosted from India. He appeared amazingly angelic!
Oshan, when I realized that this intriguingly titled piece was written by you and about your Dad, I immediately dropped everything to absorb it. I've read it twice now and will likely read it again (and share it with a few close friends). Your reflections are absolutely beautiful. It's such a meaningful collection of your questions, thoughtful observations, philosophical impressions, and vulnerable moments. It's the most fitting tribute to Rick, whom I loved dearly and wish I could be with again just one more time (the photo at the end of the piece is stunning and I've saved a copy). I know no one like Rick, and you've captured your father's spirit and quirks as only his remarkably perceptive and insightful son could. I'm sure Rick loves this tribute. It's helped me (and Morgan) as we continue to shape and sculpt the loss of such a unique and important person in our lives. Thank you so much for digging deeply and sharing your ideas, love, and caring. It means a lot in so many ways.
Aw man. The comment box doesn’t suffice. Really appreciate the fuller picture of how your family came to be in Vrindavan in 2001. Thank you for sharing it.
Shattering, sacred, sublimely human - your most potent piece yet. I am left defenseless, and grateful to read it. A tribute like no other.
Beautiful essay.
I love this sentence: "But staring at his stiff, lifeless body as we wheeled it from the ambulance to the cremation yard, my mind speed-ran his long list of honors and achievements, and, as tends to happen, his lying there, dead, a smile pulled across his cheeks from dehydrating skin, made a number of them seem ridiculous."
I was just re-reading parts of Joseph Henrich's "The Secret of Our Success" and was reminded of the concept of "the extended self." We, as individuals, only live "in part" in our own bodies. We externalize water carrying to flasks and bottles, enabling us to travel long distances without having access to nearby water sources. We externalize our digestive processes to fire and cooking, which "pre-digest" food before it enters our bodies. We externalize our strength and physicality to tools and weapons. We externalize our brains to notes and numerical systems and other people. "We" extend far beyond our physical selves.
And yet, at the moment of the death, all of that vanishes. There is just the physical self, the naked body. We are stripped of all we ever accumulated, all which ever extended beyond the physical self. We return to nature as naked bodies, our physical selves.
Does this mean none of the stuff we lived through mattered? As you note, of course not. It is all either instrinsically meaningful in our lives, or instrumentally useful in yielding more meaning in our lives. However transient that feeling of meaning is, it is nonetheless meaningful while it lasts.
Oshan, thank you so much for sharing such a beautifully written and meaningful article. As its chock-full of inspiration and inquiry, I shall read it more than once. Especially intriguing were your reflections on The Visitor as I was lucky enough to experience the phenomenal installation at SFMOMA many years ago. I, too, was struck with, "Something sacred is present and submersion in a tidal wave of inexpressible sentiment." So fittingly woven in! Your father's passing at this time is shocking, and I understand the stark reality. Along with you, your family, and so many others, I will sorely miss him. He was a phenomenal teacher, masterful at bringing presence to each moment, and his astrological readings were off the charts in accuracy, delivered with enormous skill, precision, and compassion. What a storyteller too! He was a pillar for me and, truthfully, the world feels less comforting and safe without him, his wisdom, and guidance. With heartfelt gratitude, he will forever remain an incredible blessing. The wonderful photo you posted along with this reminded me of his last Fruits of Ananda meeting hosted from India. He appeared amazingly angelic!