A Buddhist View

"When I was a young boy I used to visit my grandmother at her house almost every chance I got. Her home was one of those older clapboard single level houses that had heavy to-the-floor curtains on both side edges of the windows. Covering the window as well was an inner curtain made from a gauze-like material that allowed a sort of diffused sunlight to enter the various rooms in a muted haze. The windows also had opaque yet translucent yellow-brown pull-down spring operated roller shades that worked by pulling a piece of cord hooked to a circular ring that you stuck your finger through. In either pulling the shade up or the shade down it would snap back and flap around and around, over and over unmercifully until it stopped if the ring slipped from your finger. That shade is the same vision that always comes to mind when I conjure of thoughts of what it was like that day so many years ago when I made the conscious decision to let go of my life flapped around and around unmercifully over and over until it ran out of power and just stopped"

From Death Had A Face

"In my case, except for the flatline of the EEG (Electroencephalogram) signals which was duly noted by a number of outside observers and medical attendants and pronounced clinically dead, for me, IF the less than gossamer-thin membrane between the still alive and the that which becomes the now-not-alive was actually crossed or breached, it is not known because no difference was remembered if detected. In what would appear to be an almost diametric opposition to such a scenario, any previous or residual 'fear of death' after being brought back or coming back as the case may be, seemingly dissipated along with the ego --- loss of both ego and fear stemming, it is guessed, from the experience --- in which 'I' was in a totally unflawed flatlined state (or non-state) for close to thirty full minutes, and, except for maybe not being totally zipped up, put into a body bag even longer and stacked in a row along with other corpses." [1]

From ALFRED PULYAN: Richard Rose, My Mentor and Me

David Loy

The Fear of Death is not an instinct: it is a reaction of the animal who is conscious enough to become aware of himself and his inevitable fate; so it is something we have learned. But exactly what is it we have learned? Is the dilemma of life-confronting-death an objective fact we just see, or is this, too, something constructed and projected, more like an unconscious game that each of us is playing with himself? According to Buddhism, life-against-death is a delusive way of thinking it is dualistic: the denial of being dead is how the Ego affirms itself as being alive; so it is the act by which the Ego constitutes itself. To be self-conscious is to be conscious of oneself, to grasp oneself, as being alive. (Despite all their struggles to keep from dying, other animals do not dread death, because they are not aware of themselves as alive.) Then death terror is not something the Ego has, it is what the Ego IS. This fits well with the Buddhist claim that the Ego-self is not a thing, not what I really am, but a mental construction. Anxiety is generated by identifying with this fiction for the simple reason that I do not know and cannot know what this thing that I supposedly am is. This is why the "shadow" of the sense-of-self will inevitable be a sense-of-lack.

Now we see what the Ego is composed of: death terror. The irony here is that the death terror which is the Ego defends only itself. Everything outside is what the ego IS terrified of, but what is inside? Fear is the inside, and that makes everything else the outside. The tragicomedy is that the self-protection this generates is self-defeating, for the barriers we erect to defend the Ego also reinforce our suspicion that there is indeed something lacking in our innermost sanctum which needs protection. And if it turns out that what is innermost is so weak because it is...nothing, then no amount of protection will ever be felt to be enough and we shall end up trying to extend our control to the very bounds of the universe.

If, however, the Ego is constituted by such a dualistic way of thinking, it means that an Ego can die without physical death and without consciousness coming to an end.

What makes this more than idle speculation is that there is ample testimony to the possibility of such Ego death:

NOTE: It should be brought to the attention of the reader that in 1912, at age 32, fifteen years after Sri Ramana's initial death experience, he was once again confronted by death, in his little known Second Death Experience.

A moving example of death and resurrection is of course one of the sources of Western culture; but examples are found in many religious traditions. The problem is demythologizing these myths, extracting the core of psychological and spiritual truth from the accretions of dogma and superstition that all too often obscure their meaning, in order for that truth to spring to life again within our myth--the technical, objectifying language of modern science (in this instance, psychology). Blake's quotation (from The Vision of the Last Judgment) points the way because it implies that we are not seeing clearly but projecting when we perceive the world in terms of the dualistic categories of birth and death.

Precisely that claim is central to the Buddhist tradition. "Why was I born if it wasn't forever?" bemoaned Ionesco; the answer is in the anaatman "no self" doctrine, according to which we cannot die because we were never born. Anaatma is the "middle way" between the extremes of eternalism (the self survives death) and annihilationism (the self is destroyed at death). Buddhism resolves the problem of life-and-death by deconstructing it. The evaporation of this dualistic way of thinking reveals what is prior to it. There are many names for this "prior," but it is surely significant that one of the most common is "the unborn."

In the Pali Canon, what are perhaps the two most famous descriptions of Nirvna both refer to "the unborn," where "neither this world nor the other, nor coming, going, or standing, neither death nor birth, nor sense objects are to be found."

"There is, O monks, an unborn, an unbecome, an unmade, an unconditioned; if, O monks, there were not here this unborn, unbecome, unmade, unconditioned, there would not here be an escape from the born, the become, the made, the conditioned. But because there is an unborn,...therefore there is an escape from the born...."

UDANA viii, 3

Similar claims are common in Mahayana scriptures and commentaries. The most important term in Mahayana is Sunyata, "Emptiness, " and the adjectives most used to explain Sunyata are "unborn, " "uncreated, " and "unproduced." The best-known Mahayana scripture, The Heart Sutra, explains that all things are Sunya because they are "not created, not annihilated, not impure, and not pure, not increasing and not decreasing." This is echoed by Nagarjuna in the preface to his MMK, Muula Madhyamaka Kaarikaas, which uses Eight Negations to describe the true nature of things: they do not die and are not born they do not cease to be and are not eternal, they are not the same and are not different, they do not come and do not go.

Moving from India to China, we read in the "Song of Enlightenment" of Yung-chia, a disciple of Hui-neng, the Sixth Patriarch of Zen, : "Since I abruptly realized the unborn, I have had no reason for joy or sorrow at any honor or disgrace." That "all things are perfectly resolved in the Unborn" was the great realization and later the central teaching of the seventeenth-century Japanese Zen master Bankei: "When you dwell in the Unborn itself, you're dwelling at the very wellhead of Buddhas and patriarchs." The Unborn is the Buddha-mind, and this Buddha-mind is beyond living and dying.

These passages (many more could be added) are important because, although it may not be clear what "the unborn" refers to, in each case it is an immediate experience that is being described (or at least claimed) , rather than a philosophical conjecture about the nature of reality. For a case which combines personal experience with philosophical acumen, we shall turn to Japan's foremost Zen master and philosopher, Dogen:

"For Buddhism, the dualism between life and death is only one instance of a more general problem, dualistic thinking. Why is dualistic thinking a problem? We differentiate between good and evil, success and failure, life and death, and so forth because we want to keep the one and reject the other. But we cannot have one without the other because they are interdependent: affirming one half also maintains the other. Living a "pure" life thus requires a preoccupation with impurity, and our hope for success will be proportional to our fear of failure. We discriminate between life and death in order to affirm one and deny the other, and, as we have seen, our tragedy lies in the paradox that these two opposites are so interdependent: there is no life without death and--what we are more likely to overlook--there is no death without life. This means our problem is not death but life-and-death."

At issue are the boundaries of the Self as a symbolized entity. There is a clear sense of the relationship between awareness of death and a delineated Self. The second is impossible without the first. Even prior to the disturbing syllogism, "If death exists, then I will die," there is an earlier one: "Since 'I' was born and will die, 'I' must exist."

If we can realize that there is no delineated Ego-self which is alive now, the problem of life-and-death is solved. And such is the Buddhist goal: to experience that which cannot die because it was never born.

If our minds have created this dualism, they should be able to un-create or deconstruct it.

This is not a devious intellectual trick which claims to solve the problem logically, while leaving our anguish as deep as before. The examples above make it clear that we are referring to an experience, not some conceptual understanding. It can be no coincidence that the praj~naapaaramitaa scriptures of Mahayana also repeatedly emphasize that there are no sentient beings.

The following are two views of venerated Masters regarding the Ego and any death thereof:

From AZIZ KRISTOF, a non-traditional Advaita-Zen Master:

Enlightenment does not annihilate the ego.  Why would someone want to annihilate something so useful and extraordinary?  It has not been by chance that we have mentioned many times how important the mind and ego are as the creative force of our intelligence.  We need to dissolve this dangerous spiritual conditioning that has taken deep root in our habitual way of thinking.  Irresponsible psychological language has caused a lot of harm to those on the Path.  The ego concept needs to be defined in a way that relates to our everyday experience, and to all those complicated processes in meditation and on the spiritual Path.

In the case of people without insight into the nature of consciousness, the mental activity is in the center of consciousness.  Every thought creates a new center, a new identification which is the ego -- there is nothing else there.  We cannot talk about one ego but rather about a flow of conscious or semi-conscious events, being capable of operating in a relatively integrated way.  This is the function of the ego.

When Enlightenment takes place, the Presence becomes the center, and there is the feeling that all the thoughts are only witnessed objects-events on the periphery of consciousness; they are guests coming and going, having nothing to do with the stillness of our being.  For that reason, it is easy to conclude that there is only Witnessing, and the rest is irrelevant, impersonal and objective.  But this popular conclusion is one-dimensional and is not able to grasp the dynamics of human consciousness.  Thoughts are being witnessed and observed.  The center is empty and uninvolved.  Is that all?  Not fully.  Although the thoughts are witnessed, the intelligence which is using them represents also a parallel center of relative consciousness - it is also the "Me"

We can speak about two centers within us, as manifested beings: one is the Witnessing Consciousness -- a constant flow of presence, and the second is the moving self-conscious center of our personality.  When we see this clearly, there is no doubt that the thoughts, which are being witnessed, are simultaneously an indivisible part of Me, and it is Me who is thinking them!  In the case of an Enlightened being, although thoughts have a different quality, still they remain as a function of consciousness and as a functional self-relating center, which we interpret as "me"; The absolute Me and the relative me are one.  Being and self-conscious expression are one.

The ego concept refers not only to the gross level of thinking or to the gross will.  We have  already spoken about the fact that to divide our consciousness into thinking and not-thinking is far too simplistic.  Consciousness is extraordinarily rich.  There is intuitive knowing, feeling, gentle checking and being attentive to what is happening in our consciousness and surroundings.  This movement of intelligence has a quality of self-referral which is also what we call  -- the ego. The personality without Presence is ignorance of course, but Presence without the personality is like a tree without fruit, the sun without rays or a flower without fragrance.  They are one organic whole.  When we fully understand that ego is "good," the whole issue of eliminating it drops off by itself.  But this is not yet the end.  We are coming now to the next complicated problem: what kind of ego should we have?

From the book Here Lies the Heart in a written response to the book's author Mercedes Da Acosta, from the Enlightened sage Sri Ramana Maharshi:

Bhagavan was asked many times about his egoless state. He explained it and said, "The Gnani (the Enlightened) continually enjoys uninterrupted, transcendental experience, keeping his inner attention always on the Source, in spite of the apparent existence of the ego, which the ignorant imagine to be real. This apparent ego is harmless; it is like the skeleton of a burnt rope--though it has form, it is of no use to tie anything with."






Fundamentally, our experience as experienced is not different from the Zen master's. Where
we differ is that we place a fog, a particular kind of conceptual overlay onto that experience
and then make an emotional investment in that overlay, taking it to be "real" in and of itself.










Philosophy east and west
Volume 40, No.2 (April 1990)
(C) by University of Hawaii Press

David Loy is a tenured professor in the Faculty of International Studies at Bunkyo University in Chagasaki, Japan. Dr. Loy has also served as a Senior Tutor in the Department of Philosophy at the National University of Singapore from 1978 to 1984. Dr. Loy received his BA degree from Carleton College in Northfield , Minnesota, and his MA in Asian Philosophy from the University of Hawaii in Honolulu, Hawaii. Dr. Loy then pursued his PhD in Philosophy at the National University of Singapore. Dr. Loy undertook a Zen journey in 1971 that included attending a sesshin with Yamada Koun-Roshi in Honolulu, Hawaii. Dr. Loy then moved to Kamakura in 1985 to continue Koan study, and in 1987 he completed the formal course of Koan study and was recognized as a Zen sensei. His most recent publications include A Buddhist History of the West: Studies in Lack (2002) and The Great Awakening: A Buddhist Social Theory forthcoming in June 2003. Dr. Loy also sits on the editorial boards of Cultural Dynamics, Worldviews, Contemporary Buddhism, and the Journal of Transpersonal Psychology.

Institute for Peace & Justice
University of San Diego



I was found by a onetime bottom-of-the-line GI everybody called "the Cat" (a play on his name). The Cat, who went on eventually to receive a bronze star, was a former or to-be 1st Air Cav medic on TDY doing routine corpse duty when he came across my partially unzipped body bag. In the process of closing the bag we BOTH somehow discovered I most likely no longer fell into the specifically dead catagory. Months later he told me that sometimes shift workers, when they find that a person has died on their shift, will put the body in the shower and let hot or warm water run on them --- sometimes for hours --- then, just before they go off shift, put the body back where it belonged for the next shift to find and deal with. The only thing is, in my case, this time the GIs who did it were caught. Even though my body had dropped quite a bit less than normal temperature, if not "warm" (because of the hot running water of the shower), my body was still at least supple. In the fact that I had absolutely no vital signs that anybody could tell --- and it had been previously noted that I flatlined --- I was hastily stuffed into the body bag without further checking. Hours later the Cat came across me no longer DOA and helped me out of the bag. (source)

Because the Cat pulled me out of the body bag I ended up back in the military hospital. Having done so put into motion what transpired in the quote below wherein I met a medic as so mentioned. He inturn, during our late night talks, clarified and revealed a number of unknown and interesting facts related to the Roswell UFO, most especially so regarding some controversial remarks made by U.S. Army Colonel Philip J. Corso in his book Day After Roswell (1997) --- of which, during the time period events in the book unfolded, the Dustoff medic had some personal involvement.

"(W)hen I was in a military Army hospital recovering from a stomach wound there was a fellow GI in the bed next to mine, a sergeant E-7 who had been on a mercy mission to retrieve some wounded GIs along with the pilot and crew of a helicopter that was bringing them in when it crashed. The retrieval helicopter he was on was pulled out of the sky as well as they approached the crash site of the downed Dustoff. He ended up in arm and leg tractions and covered head to toe in a plaster cast except for various openings to see, breath, put in food and drink and let it back out when the need occurred. The first few days I was hooked up to a bunch of IVs and unconscious, but after that I was able to get out of bed, walk to the john, feed myself, that sort of thing. I sat next to the bed of the sergeant and read to him and BS, sometimes late into the night. We talked about everything under the sun and, in that I had a background that involved UFO type phenomenon as a boy, including observing the giant unknown airborne object that came to be known as the Battle of Los Angeles: 1942 UFO. that overflew Los Angeles during the early stages of World War II --- an object that was able to withstand the direct hit from 1440 anti aircraft rounds only to escape unharmed --- sometimes our late night discussions circulated around the subject of UFOs."(source)

the Wanderling

the Cat


When the Cat and I crossed paths for the very the first time he was a fresh-faced GI just turned 19 or so with a medic MOS. I think he was OJT with no real assignment, hence the TDY corpse duty. I was several years older and been around for awhile, basically just returning in country after having been in Laos then on into China from Nam Yu with a secret team. It was right after I got back someone, apparently with a bone to pick, decided I should be sliced open.

Because of the unusual nature of our first meeting we kept in contact in the early days, enough so that he followed me to college, attending the same university. In those days we took several classes on and off together and hung out, but as time went on we diverged in interests and went our separate ways. I've only seen him once in maybe 40 years, catching up with him for a few days in some isolated old mining town in Arizona where he ended up living. I Google him every once in awhile. He still seems to be around, but that's about it.


MOS: Military Occupation Specialty

OJT: On the Job Training

TDY: Temporary Duty Assignment