I come home from the
funeral and sit and stare at the walls. I look over to the corner of the room.
What good is that candle? What use is that incense? Will it relieve my pain? It
is only the understanding of the teachings that can ease my mind; knowing what
is and knowing that as one journey ends, another begins. Decay and renewal. Death
comes to all of us. Perhaps it is not death itself that scares us, but knowing
that it is inevitable. We see signs all around us. We see it in nature, and
then when we grow old we begin to see it in ourselves. The wind blows a little
fiercer, the river to cross grows wider, the colors become muddled. We know it
is coming for us and we can run, but we can't hide.
In autumn rain, the
grasses rot and die,
Below the steps, the
jueming's color is fresh.
Full green leaves cover
the stems like feathers,
And countless flowers
bloom like golden coins.
The cold wind, moaning,
blows against you fiercely,
I fear that soon you'll
find it hard to stand.
Upstairs the scholar
lets down his white hair,
He faces the wind,
breathes the fragrance, and weeps.
-Du Wu Sighs of Autumn Rain
