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    Buddhist Death Rites Paid Member

    Hey, noble one! Now you have arrived at what is called “death.” You are going from this world to the beyond. You are not alone; it happens to everyone. You must not indulge in attachment and insistence on this life. Though you are attached and you insist, you have no power to stay, you will not avoid wandering in the life cycle. Do not lust! Do not cling! Be mindful of the Three Jewels! More »
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    The Last Gift Paid Member

    Ajahn Chah recorded the following talk at the request of one of his students, whose mother was on her deathbed. The student had expected no more than a few words for his mother, but instead Ajahn Chah offered an extended message of consolation, encouragement, and meditation instruction for the mother and the whole family. Now, Grandma, set your heart on listening respectfully to the dhamma, which is the teaching of the Buddha. While I’m teaching you the dhamma, be as attentive as if the Buddha himself were sitting right in front of you. Close your eyes and set your heart on making your mind one. Bring the Buddha, Dhamma, and Sangha into your heart as a way of showing the Buddha respect. More »
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    What to Think About at Death Paid Member

    I want to remind all of you who are presently sick or dying to think about what I have to say and try to change or go on diligently with your practice. The Buddha spoke of “death-proximate karma” (asanna karma). This kind of karma is really powerful. It can lead us to a better or worse realm after we die. If death-proximate karma is good, it will lead a dying person to a good realm, and vice versa. More »
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    Caring for Our Own Paid Member

    But death is real, Comes without warning. This body Will be a corpse —Chögyam Trungpa Rinpoche, The Four Reminders More »
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    The Longest Hospice Patient Paid Member

    When my father was dying, I wanted to practice a “charnel ground” meditation, or the closest version I could offer. I didn’t leave his bedside. I interviewed him for three mornings, taking notes so that I could write his obituary. I stayed as close to his body as possible by setting up his dialysis exchanges four times a day. On the final morning, I was in his bedroom at five a.m., draining liquid out of his abdomen. As the liter of sterile replacement solution flowed into his abdomen, I yoked my breath to his. Every time he breathed in, I breathed in. Every time he breathed out, I breathed out, sighing—“ahh”—as if to confirm that he had lived a long, satisfactory life. When the dialysis exchange was finished, I went back to bed, meditated for a few minutes, then dozed. An hour later, my sister woke me up. Our father was dead. More »