Into the Embodied Life - Part One

 

 

THE FOLLOWING IS COPYWRITTEN MATERIAL

NO PART OF IT MAY BE REPRODUCED

WITHOUT WRITTEN PERMISSION FROM THE AUTHOR

 

This is Part 1 of an 11-Part Series

Extracted from Chapter Two of my book The Seven Gates of Soul

 

The Fear of Death in Early Cultures

 

Given the close association between the very concept of the embodied soul and the mystery of death, it is not surprising to find that many of the most ancient religious practices began as funerary rites designed to appease fears that arose in the face of this mystery.  As Joseph Campbell points out, this fear was especially potent among the nomadic hunting tribes, whose livelihood depended upon the art of killing, and for whom death was often a violent act (Primitive Mythology, pp. 125-126).  In such cultures, death was generally attributed to magic, and magic was invoked through elaborate ceremonial rites to ward off death as long as possible.  The dead were considered to be malevolent spirits capable of causing disease, precipitating misfortune, and/or seeking revenge for wrongs committed against them while alive, and precautionary funeral rites evolved to protect the living against the dead.

In excavated Paleolithic burial sites, some estimated to be dated as early as 50,000 BCE, skeletons were often found lying on their side in a crouched position.  Since the posture resembles that of a fetus in a womb, some have interpreted this burial position to suggest a primitive belief in rebirth.  In some crouched burials, however, there is evidence that the corpses were forcibly placed in that position before rigor mortis set in, possibly implying a fear of death, and of the dead and their malevolent power to harm the living (Mircea Eliade, A History of Religious Ideas, Vol. 1, p. 10).  Similar archeological excavations elsewhere in Europe and Africa suggest that significant effort went into binding corpses in ropes, bandages or nets; breaking their bones; stuffing the orifices of the dead body; and/or covering them with heavy stones (Joseph Campbell, Primitive Mythology, p. 126), apparently so that the disembodied spirits of the dead could not return to wreak havoc among those left behind.

In most of these early fear-based religions, death was not regarded as a natural event.  Instead, it was often believed to be caused by the attack of some demonic power or god of death.  In Etruscan sepulchral art, a fearsome being called Charon strikes the deathblow (Mircea Eliade, A History of Religious Ideas, Vol. 2, pp. 130-131).  In Medieval Christian art, still visible in old European churches, death is depicted as a grotesque mummy with entrails hanging out, brandishing a spear (Philippe Ariès, The Hour of Our Death, pp. 115-116).  The Hindus knew death as the fearsome goddess, Kali, with terminally bad hair and a garland of human skulls around her waist.  The Tibetan Book of the Dead warns its practitioners of horrific vision after horrific vision awaiting the dead in the bardo state.  Among them, for example, are the Yama Dharmaraja deities,  “their fang-like teeth protruding over their lips, their eyes like glass, their hair bound up on top of their heads, with protruding bellies, with thin necks, they carry punishment boards and shout, ‘Beat him!’ and ‘Kill him!’ They lick up your brains, they sever your head from your body, and they extract your heart and vital organs.  Thus they arise, filling the world”.  The Book goes on to reassure the by-now quivering soul that “The Yama Lords of Death are but arisen from the natural energy of your own awareness and really lack all substantiality.  Voidness cannot injure voidness!” (Chapter  6: Guidebook to the Betweens, Fierce Deity, 12th Day - translated by Robert A. F. Thurman, p. 163).  But who can fail to appreciate the underlying message within this sacred text that death is a horrible, albeit hallucinatory ordeal.

Proper burial of the dead was deemed essential by many early cultures, to ensure that the dead would depart this Earth and make a successful journey to the underworld where they belonged.  Failure to expedite their departure could have dangerous consequences for those that remained behind, and most early fear-based religions spelled out proper funeral arrangements in great detail.  The Australian Aranda, according to accounts of anthropologists, went so far as to burn the village where a death occurred, refrain from ever mentioning the name of the deceased again, and require elaborate and difficult ordeals of the surviving family to ensure that the dead stayed in their proper place.  The message to the dead that they were no longer welcome among the living was driven home by a ritual dance involving wild shouting and beating of the ground (Joseph Campbell, Primitive Mythology, p. 126).