On the Urgency of Practice

by Kalu Rinpoche

All phenomena are impermanent. Our body too is the result of a collection of different elements: good and bad karma, the father's semen and the mother's egg, the elements, and, of course, the primary consciousness. All beings in the universe are mortal. Those of the past have died; those of the present and future will also die. Year by year, day by day, hour by hour, moment by moment, we all move closer to the moment of our death, and, no matter how brave or strong we are, we cannot deter it. No matter how fast we run, we cannot flee from death. However vast our learning, our keen erudition changes nothing. Not the heroism of an army, the influence of the powerful, the best-trained troops, nor the ruses of clever people-nothing can stop death, just as nothing can keep the sun from sinking and disappearing behind the mountains.

No one knows how long he or she will live. Some die when they're still in the womb, others at birth or before they can even stand on their own two legs; some die in youth, others in old age. We also have no idea what the cause of our death will be; no one knows whether it will be by fire, water, wind, lightning, falling off a cliff, an avalanche or landslide, the collapse of a house, an army, poison, a sudden attack, or an illness. How fragile we are, like a candle in the wind, a bubble, or a dewdrop on a blade of grass.

When death comes, even though we don't want it, we have to let go of all desire and abandon absolutely everything: land, house, wealth, parents, children, family, spouse ....... leaving even our body, we go alone, with no freedom and no friends, to this fearsome place, which is the bardo. That is everyone's lot sooner or later. When we see someone die, hear of someone's death, or think about it, it should serve as a reminder that we too will definitely die. As long as we are strong, radiant, and happy, we don't think about it, but when a terminal illness descends upon us, we lose all strength, our colour fades, we take on the peaked aspect of a corpse, and we become unhappy. Then, when all the medicines, treatments, and rites turn out to be ineffective and nothing else can stave off the torments of disease, we know we will die. We will be terrified of it and will suffer terribly, desperate at having to go alone, leaving everything behind.

When we whisper our final words, we realise at last that there is no escape from mortality. After we die, even those who loved us will not want to see our corpse remaining among them for even a day or two. Just looking at it disgusts and frightens them. Crossing the threshold of the house one last time, our body is removed by the undertakers and either deposited in a cemetery or incinerated. No one will ever see us again. When we see, hear, or think about death in our day-to-day life, however we may be exposed to it, we should apply these thoughts of death to ourselves, to remind us that we too are of the same nature.

Our life is like an hourglass that never stops. Each moment follows the next without respite. From minute to minute, life exhausts itself. we are babies, then adults, then old, then dead. One instant follows another relentlessly. If we become conscious that death is inevitable for all of us, shouldn't we strive to practice Dharma from this very moment on?

This precious human body we have right now can communicate, can understand the teachings, is endowed with all the necessary faculties, and has met with Dharma. If we fritter it away, not only will we have to endure the reign of samsara's suffering, but we will not have a chance of finding a similar opportunity. That's why we must firmly resolve to use this life well, by practising Dharma enthusiastically during the time that remains in this life-this quick, bright moment, like the sun piercing through clouds.