The First Tale of the Dying Soul of Tashi Def – Chapter 1.4

Tashi Def, you must listen very attentively.

Death has arrived. Do not feel lonely—this is a journey every being must undertake. No one escapes it.

You will encounter voices, sounds, and lights, but do not cling to them. Do not hold on to this world—there is no staying here. Those sights and sounds are illusions, nothing more…

(At that moment, it seemed as if Tashi’s soul was flung outward, his mind casting it free.

Layers of film-like images unfolded, one atop the other, as though the essence of his being was slipping beyond. Master’s instructions became too intricate for me to follow further.)

For the first time, tears nearly overwhelmed me.

For the first time, I felt as though I had glimpsed the secrets of a soul departing my world—of tales that had ended, of lives that had come and gone. Including those of the masters before me… and my father.

Alas! I had missed one crucial part of the instructions—I heard three long, labored breaths from Tashi’s nose—the longest I’d ever witnessed (not that I had witnessed that of my deceased father's, mind you).

The final exhale stretched painfully, until people would say his breath had ceased—or perhaps, that he had taken his last. (Some even told me that there might be gurgling gasps before the final breath.)

Tashi had finally passed away.

I remember Master told us that, after their demise, they wouldn’t know they had already died.

They could see their family members, but they could not see him, and his film like state of being changed rapidly to many expressions filled with emotions, sad, confused and surprise when either lights or dark forces suddenly appeared, approached; and the forceful darkness would feel like excruciatingly fearful attacking.

Tashi Def, you could see your family members crying, you come to your bed side, but you do not have to lie there anymore, you could only see a corpse, you can see family and relatives cried for you name, but, no matter how hard you try to touch them, no one can ever feel you. That is the moment that you feel sad.

……Then you see lights……

As such, you should immerse onto the bright light. The light has no color nor smell; but pure, void, yet filled with joy.

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That is a river of spirit that will lead you to transcend the life and death. To liberation. That is the shining moment of souls.

I cannot go into any more details. That was all I could remember and relate. Perhaps later, when I grow older.

Anyway, this is most important, when Master raised his eyebrows, opened his eyes widely and suddenly raised his voice rather sternly:

“No! Tashi Def, you do not enter the forest! It’s a passage to the soul lives of animal.

“No! Not the dark hole too. Pull yourself away, now! That would be the worst!”

Eventually, Master concluded the session.

The family, witnessing the outcome, approved with quiet reverence. They believed that Tashi Def’s soul—or consciousness—had gained the necessary insight to guide his own rebirth to a more auspicious place.

“Master,” I said, as if I had suddenly grown wiser, answering my own initial question before we had crossed the mountains to find Tashi Def. “I feel that life isn’t something to cheer for.”

Master regarded me with an expression of quiet awe.

“I’ve often said that death does not truly bring sorrow, just as life does not truly bring joy.”

The words struck me. No sorrow in death? No joy in life? And, I supposed, no joy in birth either.

I tilted my chin, blinking at the thought.

“Then, Master, why did my mother, grandmother, and siblings mourn for forty-nine days? Why did they sit on the floor against the mud walls of our stone kitchen, surrounded by huge cooking utensils and smoky fireplaces?”

Without waiting for his answer, I declared, “Oh, I know, Master. It’s because they never heard you teach this.”

Master nodded. “Yes, my dear novice. You are becoming wiser. But the question you should ask is: how can we understand the meaning of death and life?”

At first, the words seemed like a well-worn cliché, but coming from Master, they resonated deeply.

“So, Master,” I ventured, “is it true that there’s no meaning in life or death?”

Master’s lips curved into a slight smile.

“It’s not ‘life and death.’ It’s ‘death and life.’”

Not life and death, but death and life? It seems so trivial. Does it matter?......

I should have been confused, but instead, I felt it might be a question for another time.

I hurried to keep up with Master, who continued walking briskly as if there were important matters awaiting him at his Practice House, up in the mountains.

It was so isolated that few could visit, and gaining admission to sessions and paying homage was difficult.

The admissions came with stringent requirements, and peers had confided that these were tests to determine whether pupils were truly sincere in their search for practice and respectful of both the esoteric philosophy and their masters.

I paused for a moment, trying to catch the sound I thought I had heard.

"Master, did you hear anything?"

He nodded and smiled, as if he knew exactly what it was.

Soon, from around the corner of the hills, laughter echoed, growing louder as a procession appeared.

Master paused, his smile broadening.

A bride, radiant with joy, rode a donkey toward her bridegroom’s abode. Perhaps this marked the start of a new life, possibly one involving children—though the extent of this new beginning would depend on the enforcement of the local one-child policy and the whims of corrupt officials.

The bridegroom stood waiting, his elderly father leaning on a walking stick beside him, flanked by drunken best men.

The scene felt fluid, like a shifting play reflecting the nature of life itself.

Master’s smile deepened, though I wondered: was it for the procession, the marriage, or something more?

I was only in the third grade—or at least, I should have been. Instead, I stood with Master in a snowy field so white it resembled a paddock beneath a dome of midday blue.