How Do You Talk To Your Kids About Death?
June 16, 2006 @ 3:28 pm
I have a request for a discussion topic. From Hifi:
I would be interested in hearing here from anyone else as to how they approach the subject of death with their children. How do you do it? If you don’t have children, what is your own view?
I would be interested in hearing here from anyone else as to how they approach the subject of death with their children.
So far in previous comments on my blog and in my article, only Jen, Hifi, and I have shared what we say to our children about death. This is probably our most difficult task. I, myself, would like to hear more thoughts.
Currently AgnosticMom gets about 80 individual readers a day, so I know there are lurkers out there who have dealt with this. Please share!
Anyone? Anyone?
June 16th, 2006 @ 6:27 pm
My kids are 6, 3 and 3 months. We kind of just stumbled through the topic with our first and it seemed to work for her so that’s what we’ve continued with the second. Fortunately, we’ve not had any deaths in our immediate world so our discussions have been sort of abstract for them. My best friend passed away 10 years ago and my daughter (the oldest) is named after her so we do talk about dying, it’s just never been about anyone they actually knew.
We’ve been pretty matter-of-fact. Things like:
Someday we will all die. Your body stops working and that’s just the end. Yes, it’s very sad for those who remain. But you keep your memories of your loved one and they live on in your heart. We kind of use it as a way to teach them to live the best life possible while they have it–to love, to be kind, to take care of the world, etc.
The ‘living in your heart’ seems to be enough for them, for now anyway. If they catch me having a sad moment about my friend, they remind me that she’s in my heart. It’s really cool to be comforted by them in such a way.
Our next door neighbors are borderline fundamentalist and they have actually talked to our son (3) during playdates and carpools about Jesus bringing people back to life when they die. UGH. We had to explain to him that you don’t actually come back to life and that mommy and daddy don’t believe that. We were so upset about the comments that it was hard not to say that’s total BS, but instead we focused on each person having different beliefs and that none of them were more right than others. That you have to figure out in your own heart and your own head what makes sense to you.
On the plus side (well to me anyway), when he was telling us about Jesus’ powers, (and before we had a chance to respond) DD said, “That sounds like magic. There’s no such thing as magic. I don’t believe it.” I’m sure that’s not the result our neighbor was after when she started preaching to my kids, but I was really proud to realize that DD made up her own mind without any influence from us. Ultimately, that’s really all I’m hoping to accomplish with them and their beliefs. Expose them to ideas and beliefs and them figure it out for themselves.
Not really sure if I’ve added anything remotely insightful to the conversation, but I do want to tell you how much I enjoy your blog. I’ve been lurking for a couple of months and it’s led to some great discussions with my husband.
June 17th, 2006 @ 1:05 pm
My older daughter is four and has asked very few questions about death. We’ve tried to answer honestly while not giving more detail than she’s requested. Her questions come from a very scientific point of view, so we answer in kind - when someone dies, their body doesn’t work anymore. Their heart stops beating, they stop breathing, and they can’t do anything else either. And they’re never able to do anything else again.
She’s had very little exposure to the idea that somehow you live on after you are dead, so we haven’t had to answer those kinds of questions. She has taken our answers at face value.
June 18th, 2006 @ 12:07 am
Hi Noell
And sorry to have dropped off the face of the Internet for a while! Did you ever try the books I recommended?
My boys are aged 11 and 7.
We’ve tried to share with them the beliefs of some key religions regarding death, including heaven/purgatory and reincarnation. We don’t try to influence them toward any one belief, we just explain. Like mothergoosemouse, we’ve also explained to them the physiology of death, using the analogy of a battery-operated toy in which the battery is irreplaceable once it runs out of juice. We’ve explained what it means to be “brain-dead.” We’ve been honest about the possibility of death for the young (not just the aged) and about death from unnatural causes.
I lost my father last July. He was 64. Amol (11) told me that he’d learnt at school that energy never dies but can only be converted from one form to another. When told us he believed that “Grandpa has converted into a form of energy somewhere in the universe.” I was blown away. Gaurav (7) said he thought Grandpa’s body was just a “shell” and that Grandpa decided to find a new shell because the old one was run down.
I had to deal with the hardest thing last April. A good friend committed suicide by consuming barbiturates (yeah, it was a bad year — my granddad too passed away in December.) Anyway, her husband decided NOT to tell their daughters, aged 4 and 7. He told them mommy had “had an accident.” We have a policy of honesty with our kids, but I had to respect the fact that our friend didn’t want his kids to learn about it, and they often hang out with my two. I had no choice but to maintain the fiction with my boys. Being older, and well-informed about various religious beliefs and practices, he was very, very curious to know why there was no church service (she was a catholic), and why she was cremated rather than buried. We were at a loss to explain, saying only that it was her family’s choice.
Subsequently, though, we did bring up the topic of suicide, and Amol asked me whether that wasn’t “like murdering yourself” and said he found it unfair that such a “murderer” escaped punishment. He then concluded that death itself must be the punishment, but wondered whether death was then a “punishment” for everyone in general. We’re still working through the “death as punishment” theme with him.
June 18th, 2006 @ 6:20 am
Suman, it’s nice to talk to you again! I plan to order the books from Amazon (I haven’t looked to see if they have them yet). My kids bought a bunch of books at their school fair, so I’ve been waiting a bit. But I plan to make a nice order of books in the next week. I promise I will report back on them.
As for the suicide: We had a close family friend who tried unsuccessfully to commit suicide a year and a half ago and has been brain-damaged ever since until he died a couple weeks ago.
His estranged family chose to give him a religious funeral, which was frustrating for some of us who were close to him because he rejected religion. But then, it was none of our business. I would have preferred they told stories about his life (he was a funny person) but instead they talked about religion. I guess it is their choice, afterall.
Regarding your son’s idea of suicide, have you talked to him about mental illnesses? A mentally ill person cannot control how they feel. We tell our kids that sometimes people’s brains don’t work quite right and they feel and think things they can’t help. Suicide is not an “immoral” or “evil” or even selfish choice. It is a last-resort effort to escape pain when the person was not able to find the help they needed to escape it any other way.
Our good friend was such a fun person to be around. It was not obvious that he had serious mental and emotional difficulties (although we knew). His pain ran deep, despite how he was the life of the party. He was a tormented person. I am thankful for the way he always made me laugh and how he and I stood side-by-side on certain political issues that the rest of the extended family disagreed with. We had fun partnering up during those energetic debates.
I am sorry for your friend, Suman. I hope you have memories to write down and pictures that capture who she was.
June 18th, 2006 @ 4:43 pm
Funny you should ask this question. Last night, my husband, stepdaughter, her friend and I, were eating dinner at a local restaurant. The friend, “s”, said out of the blue; “what happens when you die?”. Now, she’s 10 years old and being that her parents are from the middle east, I figured she had some kind of spiritual education. I answered, “no one knows”. She replied; “not even GOD?” I just said, “no. No one has ever come back to tell us about it.” She just shrugged and said, “I guess not.” My husband said, “as far as I know, you go in the ground.” No one asked any more questions, so I guess that answered it.
June 18th, 2006 @ 9:16 pm
Its very interesting, and I think telling, that the child felt that suicide - when considered self-murder - was deserving of punishment. I’m sure this innocent, honest assessment was part of the origin of such beliefs in different faith systems. I think Noell knocks that nail right on the head to focus on the subject of mental illness.
I, too, have experience with suicide. I had a good friend who killed himself, and I have a very close friend who attempted. When the friend died - I was attending my wife’s church, and I stood during prayer request to ask for people to pray for him. I was moved to tears, and was met with cold dark stares - and harsh silence. There was judgment in that room that I’ll never forget. After the service - I got comments that steered mighty close to “gee, sorry your friend is in hell”.
Its pretty rare to encounter suicide without a connection to mental illness. My friends both had cases of it. Its very hard to relate to that issue unless you’ve lived close to it.
There is also the question of choice - a person in their right mind can choose to end their life on their own terms, and it can be done rationally and with integrity. Anyone else here a fan of “Harold and Maude”? Great movie.
I like that the subject of acknowledging death with celebration of life has been broached. Its something we are all going to do, after all! I’d much rather that my end be marked with joy, recognition of life, and profound appreciation of natural cycles - than pain for my loved ones. I know of folks who specialize in funeral services marked with happy activity and laughter. Funny and joyful stories are requested from all in attendance.
Creating ways of celebrating the life of those who’ve died, with our children - encouraging all the self-expression they can muster, and providing avenues for this - could only be a healthy aspiration.
Choosing or creating a memorial object, scrap book, or journal for all family members to participate with (using leading questions like, ‘my favorite memory of X is…’ - a rememberance holiday for that person or pet (where you eat their favorite meal, donate to a related cause, or other acknowledgement)- etc.
For the found butterflies, roadkill squirrels, and other things our kids are bound to focus on occasionally - - a planted butterfly bush, a squirrel feeder, a day spent watching living animals - these can turn the experience into something of lasting value.
June 18th, 2006 @ 9:35 pm
Ron, I am really enjoying your comments. I’ve read all three that you posted this evening. Just wanted to say thanks.
June 19th, 2006 @ 12:04 pm
My daughter is nine. For several years I’ve watched her make the transition from Center Of Her World to the realization she’s existentially powerless against big changes like death. I think it started when her grandma, my MIL, died.
When she asks me there is a Heaven, I tell her I don’t know. When she asks if I *believe* there is a Heaven where souls go, I tell her it’s very hard for me to imagine, which is why I concentrate on the here-and-now.
Sometimes she describes what she thinks Heaven might be like. FYI, it’s a lot like Yosemite except not as much litter.
Then we talk a lot about the love and support we cherish during our lives; the family who would consider it an honor to raise her if I died; the natural sorrow we feel for the loss of our loved ones; the people who went before us; the types of people we will seek out and love in our future. I let her set the tone and length of time we talk about life and death, knowing that the impact will be felt years from now and it will be a cumulative effect.
It is my fervent hope she will learn to accept death and embrace life without having to turn to religious dogma for “answers”.
June 20th, 2006 @ 6:27 am
This is a great topic. My boys are 3 1/2 and 21 months, so we haven’t run into death with them yet. Like others have said, we are fans of being completely truthful, no matter the subject. We will probably tell them something similar to what mothergoosemouse said: The body dies, and it doesn’t work anymore.
I am a gardener, and my boys are around plants and in the garden a lot. I have them help me weed and clean up sometimes, and we compost. I’ve explained dead plants and leaves to my 3 year old, and what composting is about (in simple terms of course). I think that comparing the death of a person or animal to plants and composting may be the way we handle things when that subject comes up.
June 20th, 2006 @ 3:55 pm
Yikes! I didn’t realize there was another post on the last subject here until I added comments to the last one. Thanks for bringing the topic current. I hope it won’t be confusing if I repost my comments here.
I’d like to add, first, that I find the “body stops working” commonly used here unecessarily narrow and reductionist. Just because you throw out the soul half of Cartesian dualism, it does not mean that you are left with the material side - it’s not the right system to begin with, so why keep half of it?
So on a more philosophical and scientific note, I’d like to see the scope of the discussion broadened and bring the concept of death up to date according to our modern understanding of life.
There is an operating assumption in evolutionary science that the potential for life is inherent in the physical properties of the material universe. We would expect to find it anywhere conditions allowed it (what those conditions are is still an open question). It follows that consciousness is a similarly emergent property life and of our the universe/our world.
Consider an apple tree. It produces apples. Is the apple part of the tree? Imagine looking at it in compressed time. A tree, apples falling, trees growing from them, snaking, “branching” away from the original location, intertwining with lines of pollination from other trees: a continuum of apple tree across time and space. It may be a practical illusion for our type of survival (just as it is not seeing in the ultraviolet or hearing in the ultrasonic), but is it a factual view when we “slice” things up so as to break the continuum of an apple tree into separate entities of trees, blossoms, pollen, apples, seeds, branches and leaves?
Isn’t it a fallacy to view seeds as a quality of only the apple and not of the tree? Zoom out from this view. The earth produces life, us… is it accurate to say that consciousness is a quality of only us and not of our earth?
As for death: Is it a valid concept outside of metaphysics? To return to the analogy, at what point does the apple tree end? Does the growth or breakdown in structure of a leaf, apple, seed or parent tree end it? Believing so seems to me based on a serious misunderstanding of the physical processes of life, arbitrarily chopping up things that never had, nor ever will have, independent existence.
If we are going to explain death: that something is disappearing forever (from what the universe?), then I think we first need to start with a comprehensive understanding of what life is. Can someone tell me, then, when a person dies, what exactly do you think is ending?
Noell, you tell your kids it is when an organism’s brain no longer works? (One could ask how does that apply to plants?) But more importantly, how is a butterfly’s demise different than that of a tree’s leaf? How can you logically explain to kids that one is an example of death (the butterfly’s) but the other is an example of life (the tree’s)?
P.S., Noell, how is educating your kids pounding ideas into them? Parents have an absolute responsibility to inform their kids and give them the critical thinking skills to go along with it. Religious people are certainly not shy about it. In our home, we try to give an hour a week to read and discuss in the areas of mythology, evolution, science and critical thinking. I wish it was more methodical, but themes and patterns are emerging. I believe a lot of this needs to be done early on, I would say at the point of language acquisition. Obviously, kids don’t grow up to suddenly be able to work it all out on their own - at least, not without the pain many of us here went through.
Also, Noell, why do you think it would be beneficial for your kids to think their mother does not have unambiguous ideas about things, while everyone else expresses absolute confidence? Unintended ambivalence is a virtue you would seek to impart to your kids. We know that at a young age, it give kids confidence and security when things are clearly defined. This should apply all the more to existential confidence and security.
June 20th, 2006 @ 4:19 pm
Hifi, share your views of the universe as a continuum of … life. (I put the hesitation there because I suspect that our definition of “life” which is constructed from the narrow confines of our own understanding doesn’t even approaching the concepts that are out there. We can’t even conceive of the right questions to ask … But in any case, I find that the beauty and mystery of the universe is the “universality” of life - its intertwining and continuance, in whatever form it may be. This is why I call myself a pantheist, because that definition comes the closest to describing how I feel spiritually.
That’s the kind of view I would love to teach my children, but it’s not an easy concept, especially when they are focused on the immediate pain that comes with missing a loved one. I’m trying to influence them in small ways. For instance, when our beloved pet dog died last fall, I had her cremated. Our plans are to take those ashes and mix them into the ground in a memorial flower bed for her. I want them to see how life continues and shares.
I’ve also heard life/death described as waves of the ocean crashing onto the beach, and I find that particularly beautiful. I love the fluidity of water, and the concept is one of vastness. Each wave is an individual for a brief moment. As it crashes onto the shore and moves back into the ocean, it may lose its temporary identity, but remains part of the whole, in a completely different form.
Jen
June 20th, 2006 @ 4:21 pm
Ugh - I wish I could go back and edit my comments. That last one should begin “Hifi, I share your views…”.
It makes much more sense that way.
Jen
June 20th, 2006 @ 6:25 pm
Hifi–As I said before, our agreement on what death means is not important to me. I am only posting this because you addressed me specifically and because you have requested this debate.
I disagree with your belief that our concept of death is narrow and unnecessarily reductionistic. My (and the others’) description of death is all that science has observed.
If there any more to it than that, we have yet to observe it. Therefore, to me, whatever else someone believes in addition is just made up. I could call it “unnecessarily frivious”.
It’s not about “keeping half of the Cartesian dualism.” It has nothing to do with that at all. It is just about a decision to base understanding on what we can observe. That is my choice and that is what I reduce my own understanding of life and the universe to. If you want to reach out for something that is beyond what science can observe, that is fine by me. Understand, though, that that is what a Deist does.
I realize you will disagree with the comparison to deism because of the apple tree analogy. I just don’t make the connection. An apple is no longer a part of the tree when we pluck it off. There is no longer any connection between the apple and the tree. The tree still has what it needs to continue its life (photosynthesis and all that). The apple, on the other hand, has been cut off from its life source and will begin the process of dying.
If I cut off my hand, I would continue to live. But my hand, now cut off from its life source (the brain, heart and blood flow) will die. There is no continuation of consciousness between myself and my hand.
Consciousness is a make-up of chemical processes within the brain. I do not see any reason to believe that it continues somehow from the earth.
Hifi, you said: “If we are going to explain death: that something is disappearing forever (from what the universe?), then I think we first need to start with a comprehensive understanding of what life is. Can someone tell me, then, when a person dies, what exactly do you think is ending?”
Your statement demonstrates our core difference of understanding here. Nothing disappears at death. You seem to be viewing consciousness as a separate entity from our bodies and brains. It’s the Ghost In The Machine concept. I do not hold this concept. Our consciousness is physical. It is brain activity.
Thus, when the brain stops, so does consciousness. It’s done.
When I die and my family cremates me (because, like Cassandra, I prefer the idea) my ashes will go back to the earth and will become a part of the makeup of the soil or whatever is growing there. But my consciousness, which is a product of the brain, is gone.
How does that apply to plants? Obviously plants have a different source of life, just as they have a limited level of consciousness. Plants die when their life source gets cut off. Same with a leaf when it separates from its limb, same as a butterfly when its “brain”, or whatever it has, dies. It’s all the same.
You asked me two more questions:
“Noell, how is educating your kids pounding ideas into them?”
Also, Noell, why do you think it would be beneficial for your kids to think their mother does not have unambiguous ideas about things, while everyone else expresses absolute confidence?
Well, now, Hifi, you’re putting words in my mouth again. Did I say I don’t educate my kids? Did I say I project myself as having ambiguous ideas?
Come on . . . if you read my blog at all then you know that is not the case. I do educate my kids, and I tell them what I believe with complete confidence. But I do not pound my beliefs into them. I don’t make sure they agree with me on everything.
I let them know that it is their choice to disagree with me. I let them know that it will not ruin our relationship if they have a different opinion than myself. I want to empower them to have confidence in themselves and their ability to think things through logically.
When they form a belief based on emotions, I challenge them on it. I help them identify that their belief is not logical, but emotional. When they acknowledge that fact, I tell them that it’s their right to make that choice. What is important to me right now is that they learn to identify the difference between gut-preferences and logical reasonings and summations of data and observations.
I am more concerned about helping them with the processes of learning right now. I am confident that if I help them to be skeptical thinkers, they will reject superstitions and supernatural ideas. They will also have confidence in those ideas because they grew up without worrying whether Mommy approved of those ideas or not.
June 20th, 2006 @ 8:47 pm
Noell, it is a pleasure reading your views on death. I was almost convinced I was the only one that thought that way too. I just don’t see any reason to think there is something else. No, I won’t miss my friends or relatives or seeing the future or anything else. The consciousness referred to as “I” will simply no longer exist any more than “I” did when the dinosaurs roamed the Earth or when Egypt was in all its glory.
On the other side of the coin, I would be hard pressed to define the state of “living”. Many “Scientific American” articles have addressed the subject and I have yet to see a firm definition by the experts.
June 20th, 2006 @ 9:19 pm
Gregg 100-I just have to quote you here:
“The consciousness referred to as “I” will simply no longer exist any more than “I” did when the dinosaurs roamed the Earth or when Egypt was in all its glory.
Yes! Well said!
I don’t mean to knock down Hifi’s or anyone else’s idea of death or consciousness. I would have preferred to let everyone share their ideas. But Hifi asked for dialogue on the subject quite a number of times. I hope nobody reads it as me being intolerant of it, nor of deism. Hifi demanded a response so I gave my piece. It all comes with the highest respect for intelligent and freethinking pantheists.
June 21st, 2006 @ 2:17 am
I want to interject here, as someone who calls herself a “pantheist”, that I do not think my view of death is really any different from yours, Noell - not at all. My talk of the “universality of life” is kind of beyond the consiousness of we humans - I mean only that we are part of the huge story of the universe, and that my molecules continue to participate in the dance after this individual is gone. I’m not trying to claim that our essence as souls or consiousness somehow continue on for infinity. My views, at least, are simply a way of thinking of our stay in the universe as a small piece of the larger story. I’m trying to think of myself as beyond an individual, and part of the whole.
Just wanted to to clarify that. I’m a scientist, and can’t help myself from thinking like one. There’s nothing “mystical” about our souls. I don’t believe in ghosts. Pantheism is a very scientific set of beliefs - Carl Sagan was essentially a pantheist.
Gregg - you made the comment I was going to make but forgot to. It was quite painless for me to not exist before I was born, so there’s no reason to fear the second time, after death.
Jen
June 21st, 2006 @ 2:42 am
I want add that my use of “pantheist” to describe myself could very well be a misnomer. I’ve never liked to call myself an atheist since that is a description of what I *don’t* believe, rather than an affirmation of what I *do* believe. I found some descriptions of pantheism that went into reverence for nature and the universe and seeing ourselves as a part of the universe, rather than the focus of it, so I adopted that term for myself. I don’t take the definition “All is god” to meaning anything supernatural, but a redefinition of what “god” means. I revere and worship nature and the universe and “life” as a whole, so that is my “god”.
I am very likely confusing the matter by continuing to discuss it, so I’ll take a break now.
Jen
June 21st, 2006 @ 7:00 am
Jen, you didn’t confuse it, you cleared it up. You’re right, you and I have the same understanding. It is actually what I first thought you to meant until Hifi’s comments. Then I took it all differently. Is it possible Hifi is trying to express what you just did? He seems to think consciousness extends beyond ourselves, so I think not.
I have never fully understood the term, pantheism, so I have no idea whether you use it correctly or not. In a different post Hifi said his view of life and death is pantheistic. So I was just going off that.
June 21st, 2006 @ 6:27 pm
Noell, I an always glad to have you join in. But you misunderstand me completely. Nowhere did I say I was a pantheist or that there is a universal consciousness that people draw from. Rather, the cultural influence of Cartesian duality has created in most Westerners a social construction of reality leading to a distortion of the actual holism of reality. It does not help that our language contrives to modularize actions (verbs) so as to apply to vaguely associated things (nouns). The “running” of a dog and a horse are analogous at best. The scientific description would be that the running of a dog is unique and inseparable from it, sharing some mechanics with a horse, fewer with an insect and none with a train. It is certainly practical to be able to conceive of running as a quality that can be applied like paint to disparate things, but it is not scientific.
These two cultural distortions lead people to slice up things in time and leads to the conception that people, somehow, can exist independently as machines (with ghosts in them if you are religious) on the planet as well as if they were suspended in space!
Observable science demonstrates that we exist in a temporal and spatial continuum with the world, itself (and more distantly the universe). For instance, there is no definable boundary at the molecular level of root and earth. Nor is there in the composition of a human body feeding from and symbiotically composed of that same plant. It is a cultural fantasy to feel that the air of the atmosphere that flows through you and permeates every cell, that comprises a vast volume of your body, is not also you. Same with water. If you are separate from these 3 flows, I’d like to know how you do not consider yourself the ghost in the machine. Conversely, there is no scientific way to define air as you not being part of it!
Why do you say the apple begins to die off of the tree? The fact is that it extends the life of the tree. It carries the trees genes, virtually immortal from the first living cell, to their next location where they will construct the next vehicle for themselves. Again, if you are not clear on what life is, what can you confirm of death? If you insist that a leaf has life on the tree but not off, then you would have to say that you died when your body replaced all of its cells that constituted you 7 years ago. It may be cultural convention, but it is not reality to separate an entity from its processes, life is not isolatable in a slice of time.
Nor in a slice of space. As with a continent of pathways, practical as it may be, it is a conceptual error to think that there are individual life forms - just the same as if you believe each named road is a separate entity. Road and life are each a continuum that keeps crossing and doubling back on itself. Sure, one avenue may be cut off or blocked from time to time, new paving laid down, but if something ever had any definition at all as road or alive, it was as part of the whole. (There are no useful roads, or livable lives that are non-continuous.)
Cultural distortion blinds the eye to seeing that the branches of a tree are not individual, or that when they vie with each other in the wind and in their rush to the sun that they are not in conflict.
Noell, I find it telling that in order for you to conceive of you hand as independent from you, you literally need to imagine it sliced off. You actually make my point, your hand has no life independent of you. It is you. Really, is it you or is it your hand that grasps things? By the same token, is it the world or is it you that realizes herself? These are false choices because of the identity that exists in them.
It takes a post-religious, post-supernatural person, with a scientific and a-cultural thought perspective (the kind that anthropologists or linguists work to develop) to discard the conventions of culture and constraints of language to see it. But I hope you can glimpse what I am getting at a little better now when I say we are the life of the world, that we are its grasping and its consciousness. In fact to get back to the dog, the quality of its running is an inherent property of it…whether the dog runs or not. Likewise with a hand’s grasping or an animal’s consciousness regardless the state of evolution of a world. All of these things we would expect to be emergent, and eventually found expressing, in live worlds with similar conditions to ours.
I admit that it is perhaps a contradiction to say that we come from the world and we go back to it. As a poetic conceit, it works for kids but can be dangerous. More accuurately, we are the world and, as such, there is nowhere to have come from or go back to. And yet, my kids seems to comprehend the matter correctly even with the poetic bow to the distortions in the language:
My daughter, after nearly spilling her water the other day, asked a riddle. “Can the world spill water?” Giggling, she followed up, “It just did.”
June 22nd, 2006 @ 4:15 am
Hi
I don’t know about anyone else — but I’d be chronic hard-pressed to find a way to explain the concept of life as a part of a temporal and spatial continuum to either of my kids — and they are both intelligent and very well-read.
HiFi — I find it interesting that your views seem to dovetail with the Hindu concept of “oneness” or indivisibility, which I described in an earlier post. Are you familiar with this concept at all?
Regarding mental health and suicide: I suffer from chronic clinical depression, so in our home, mental health is discussed the way any other disease would be. Losing my friend cut too close to the bone, reminding me of how easily it could have been me.
June 22nd, 2006 @ 8:34 am
I think I need re-read most of the comments here to “kinda” understand what everyone’s trying to say. I envy everyone’s vocabulary. It makes me want to improve mine. *tip* Mozilla web-browser has a great tool (maybe Internet Explored does too) where you can highlight a word then double-click and you automatically get a definition of the word in a pop-up box. Very handy! Go to Mozilla website and download Dictionary Tooltip.
My mom dying in 2004 was probably the worst experience in my life. Although it seemed at the time that my family was on the verge of collapse we managed to pull through and became stronger because of the experience. I’m still not close to my dad but at least we both know we still love and support each other in our own ways. I know deep down my mom would be happy if she knew that her family was intact. But after climbing this mountain I’ve come to realize that it was only just a mountain and there’s still more to climb. I don’t know if my mom has the ability to “see my every move” now that her body is buried in the ground. The soul dying when the brain/body dies is a new concept for me. It seems to make sense. It’s comforting actually. If it wasn’t for my childhood brainwashing by the Catholic Church I prbably wouldn’t have a clue what a soul is anyway. I still don’t fully understand it. It exists in the mind right? But its really just a word to me now. Another word in my vocabulary whose definition unlike other words seems to evolve when new knowledge comes filtering in my mind. Well its easy for me to believe that when my brain dies my soul dies. But I also found believing in prayer and worshipping in a god pretty easy to do at one point but that didn’t get me very far. My gut instinct tells me that the soul exists in the mind the same way god, ghosts, goblins, etc. exist there as well. But even with that explanation I’m still a little skeptical to a degree because I am after all A-gnostic.
I’ve learned so much more about life since my mom passed away. It really did change my life. I knew which general direction I wanted my life to go before that experience but her death created that crucial ingredient in my life mission…..a deadline. Now that I’m finding inner peace in my life through knowledge and understanding I’ve grown extremely confident. Still I have to remind myself that part of my strength lies in the fact I don’t know. I just don’t know.
Personally, I hope that when my brain dies the universe will be revealed to me. Maybe it would be in a new form of consciousness. No I don’t want to be an angel because I think they’re boring. I always liked the Marvel Comics character the Silver Surfer. He was this weird looking space alien that rode a surfboard around the universe all day long. I never cared to read his origins or stories but the idea of being able to travel the universe like that made a huge impact on me. That’s what I always imagined happening to me when I die…surfing the universe. Does our fascination and wonder end when we die? I really hope not.
June 22nd, 2006 @ 3:41 pm
Suman, the big essay about continuum was posted to help out people here who weren’t presented with it as a fundamental aspect of things when they were young. Whose mentors used language carelessly and believed it represented actual as opposed to interpreted reality. But it’s an easy concept to explain to kids if you aren’t trying to undo years of talking about things the wrong way around. I’ll quote the bit that Noell put in her article, that works for us:
“I tell my kids that they do continue, not only in the life matter and lineage cycle, but as part of the world/universe per se. The world produced life and us along with it. We are not separate from it. Like a drop of water taken from the ocean and re-turned, when we die we return to the world. There is no place else to go (the world is a materially closed system); whatever we are has been and always will be a part of it.
If you asked either one of them [my kids] what happens when they die, they will tell you, ‘We go back to the world.’”
They are 5 and 7 and have understood the basics of the concept for well over a year.
Rudolfo, I found this lengthy article, Is God an Accident? helpful in explaining why there is nearly universal belief that the soul can exist without the body, which comes from this intuitive feeling that your body is inhabited by your consciousness.
Excerpt
“The separateness of these two mechanisms, one for understanding the physical world and one for understanding the social world, gives rise to a duality of experience. We experience the world of material things as separate from the world of goals and desires. The biggest consequence has to do with the way we think of ourselves and others. We are dualists; it seems intuitively obvious that a physical body and a conscious entity-a mind or soul-are genuinely distinct. We don’t feel that we are our bodies. Rather, we feel that we occupy them, we possess them, we own them.”
Coincidentally, this theory also explains the practical value for slicing up time and space, for being able to remove process (verbs) from their things (nouns) in language. And so we end up with false paradoxes and being confused about reality (like, how is it a heart if it doesn’t beat.) In fact, to take my point about language a little further, “Dogs can run”, or “The sky is blue.” are redundant and absurd statements about reality.
I recommend everyone read Benjamin Whorf’s “Language, Thought and Reality” on how language enables and limits thought which then constructs a culturally appropriate representation of reality.
“We cut up nature, organize it into concepts, and ascribe significances as we do, largely because we are parties to an agreement to organize it in this way - an agreement that holds throughout our speech community and is codified in the patterns of our language. The agreement is, of course, an implicit and unstated one, but its terms are absolutely obligatory; we cannot talk at all except by subscribing to the organization and classification of data which the agreement decrees. (Whorf, pg. 213-214)”
Interestingly, as Whorf pointed out, this helps us know why Amerindian native speakers, with minimal or no nouns, have much less trouble comprehending the paradoxes of quantum mechanics than English speaking scientists do. Though having fallen into disrepute several years ago, Whorf’s theory is now making a strong comeback. Along with Chomsky, we can thank our infamous friend, Steven Pinker, for much of the stigma against Whorf based on his opinions in his 1994 book about language. For an overview of Whorf and a typical criticism of Pinker please see the article, “What Whorf Said”.
here is a page of quotes from it.
An example of the reality of a continuum sliced into an unscientific entity by language:
“…we all, unknowingly, project the linguistic relationships of a particular language upon the universe, and see them there. . . . We say ’see that wave”–the same pattern as “see that house.’ But without the projection of language no one ever saw a single wave. We see a surface in ever changing undulating motion. Some languages cannot say “a wave”; they are closer to reality in this respect. Hopi say walalata, “plural waving occurs,” and can call attention to one place in the waving just as we can. But, since actually a wave cannot exist by itself, the form that corresponds to our singular, wala, is not the equivalent of English “a wave,” but means “a slosh occurs,” as when a vessel of liquid is suddenly jarred.”
June 22nd, 2006 @ 3:44 pm
That should have said, If you don’t have time to read Whorf’s book here is a page of quotes from it.
June 22nd, 2006 @ 4:51 pm
To complete the circle of this discussion of life and death and how the structures built into cultural perception and language can limit a clear view of it, I thought I would test Whorf by checking whether the Hopi language gives them a different way of thinking about, not just time, but about death and afterlife.
What do you think?
“By the concept of hikwsi [literally 'breath'] human beings are linked to the immanent force of the world. The human hikwsi is a “portion” of the life-giving force that enfolds the entire world and invests all elements, manifesting in them differently. In the Hopi perception all things, even the sun, the moon, the wind, the stars and the clouds, are alive and related. The Hopi language reflects this view.
Without hikwsi the human body is only a form - qatungwu - yet with hikwsi the human body is a breathing, sensing, active and open entity, having the world inside and communicating with the world outside. [italics mine.]
Hopi Breath of Life
June 22nd, 2006 @ 5:05 pm
Gregg100 once told me that Steven Pinker has recently started reworking (or scrapping?) on of his language hypotheses because of new findings of a particular tribe. I don’t know anything about it, but it would be interesting to know whether it has anything to do with this or not. Maybe if Gregg reads through all this he can speak up about what that change in hypethesis was?
June 23rd, 2006 @ 11:54 pm
I ran across your blog after several links and hops. After reading your story of de-conversion (parts 1,2,3) I noticed your request for a discussion about death shared with children. Since I have experienced such a situation with death and children, I have decided to leave my thoughts here for others to consider. There have been many interesting ideas shared here, along with the running discussion of what you are/are not. Although I am not a “card-carrying mormon” please be patient as I share a differing point of view.
I have long remembered a saying I learned as a child, “Convince a man against his will, he is of the same opinion still.” I guess we all have differing beliefs about our existance, depending on how we have been taught, as well as the experiences we engage in during our lifetime. My intention is not to change anyone’s mind, but simply to share an experience that reminds me of my desires for myself.
“Proof” of a spiritual realm, as we often look for, could equal or create a perfect knowledge of our creation - something similar to seeing every crime commited, before a jury can make a ruling. Since that is not likely, we must rely upon eyewitnesses, and expert circumstantial witnesses to explain what transpired during an event. We have determined in our society that when a certain number of eyewitnesses (usually 3) testify to the same event or occurance, their testimony is accepted as a reliable statement of fact. When we consider historical writings that have passed down for thousands of years and are shared in one way or another by practically every culture, it seems impossible for me to “exclude” the spiritual world from our belief system, regardless of any religious preference. There have been countless witnesses throughout time bearing testimony of spiritual visitations. There are those who have testified of the resurection of Jesus Christ, and also those who witnessed the raising of the dead. I do tend to find it interesting that often times when “non-believers” or “non-conforming” religious types are in a crisis mode, they revert to “believer” statis, just in case.
My son Nathan was born with a congenital heart condition that over time as he grew, the impact of the defect would increase. Being our first child, the younger ones grew up understanding he was different in some way, strong in resolve, yet weak in physical stature.
At the time of his birth I was not religiously involved or commited, yet I felt a need to ponder and ask certain questions similar to the ones you discribed asking in your quest for understanding. I didn’t receive the answer I was looking for, but I somehow knew that everything was exactly as it was intended to be. Later the following day, we met for the first time with the head of cardiology who explained what the condition was. In his words, “There is no logical reason your son is alive, but he is. He could live a few days, a few weeks, or possibly longer. If he is able to live a few years, maybe by that time there will be something we can do for him.”
The story is a long one that covered the next 22 years and included several surgeries including a heart transplant when he was 18. Time and time again, we were told he would not survive, yet time and time again he fought for life. The doctor’s even started to qualify their statements with, “…but this is Nathan.” After one especially tough period where he had been mostly unconscious for several days, he fought back from the edge of death. Weeks passed before he could communicate with more than a squeeze of the hand, or a tear running down the side of his face. We gave him a note pad to write his questions or thoughts for us. His muscle control was so poor in the begining I could not even read the words he wanted to communicate. I was heartbroken as my son layed in front of me, helpless to say what or where he hurt.
Gradually, he regained his strength and the breathing tubes were finally replaced with a tracheostomy. He had been intibated for nearly 6 weeks. At long last, by pinching the tube shut, he could once again speak. Throughout the time he was asleep, he told us of a great gathering of spirits that were there to give him comfort. Some he knew, grandparents that had passed on. Others he knew he belonged to, they were extended family that he did not recognize by sight, but felt of their spiritual connection to the family. There were several races represented, making up the diverse parts of his caucasian and oriental heritage. He was clear that they were there to guide and assist him during that time he could not stay conscious. Following 9 months in ICU, he came home with 24 hour nurses and a full hospital setup and routine.
Three years passed and Nathan became strong. It seemed he would have a long and happy life. We knew of other transplant patients who were doing well, but none we knew had been so sick, nor so near to death as had Nathan, and still made it through. The heart did not reject, ever, which was a break he desperatly needed. But his body had experienced so much, he began having problems with other things breaking down. The intense drug therapy had turned this young man’s organs into those of an elderly person and things began to shut down.
Trips to the hospital began to become more and more frequent again. As the stays got longer, the time at home diminished. Eventually, going home was no longer a topic of discussion. Even with his strength failing, his spirit to continue soared. He spent much of his time encouraging other children to be brave and fight. He read stories to them and played games with them. He was the big brother that encouraged us all to be our best. One day after making my daily trek to the hospital, I was told he had not had the strength to get out of his bed all day. I helped him get up and walked him to the bathroom. As we returned to his bed, his knees buckled and he dropped straight to the floor. I picked him up and placed him in his bed, but I knew at that moment that my answer had come.
Nathan had lived a life of inspiration to all who knew him. He had touched their hearts in a way that no one could have anticipated. He gave more of himself in those few hard fought years, than most of us will give in a lifetime, yet he did it without any thought of benefit to himself. It was from that pristine spirit that he said to me as he lay in his bed, “Dad, I thought all I had to do was get a new heart”. His words were so pure and so unassuming, yet still he wanted to give. He wanted to live, not only for himself, but for all of us who loved him.
The following day, he did not awaken. He did not stir, but he continued to hang on to life. As the family and friends gathered, the time slowed to a crawl. The hospital wing was quiet as patients went to sleep for the night. Still he fought. One by one, lines and monitors were disconnected. There was no sense in watching numbers continue to decrease. Still he fought on into the early hours of the morning. It occured to me he was fighting when the battle was already passed. I held him in my arms and whispered that I loved him. I told him how brave he had been and what an honor it had been to be his father. I kissed him and told him it was time to return to his Heavenly Father. His work here on earth was complete. As I layed his head back down, his body sighed a final breath and he was gone.
Physically, he was beyond comprehending the words I had spoken. His oxygen levels were so low, brain function was all but ceased, yet somehow the words got through to him and he was at peace. His spirit touched us all and continues to influence us today.
A few years had passed when my daughter came to me in tears. “Why did Nathan have to die?” she wanted to know. He was her hero, the one who stayed home with her when she was too young to go with others. Nathan would lie beside her and read bedtime stories to her as they drifted off to sleep. She had overcome her fear of all his IV lines and breathing apparatus and other hospital impliments in order to be near him when he was at his worst. Now she was expressing the pain she had been carrying and could not understand.
I told her there was a way it could have been different. She was instantly interested in what I had to say. How could I make the pain disappear? I asked her to think about why she was in pain. She said she misses him. So I explained that things would be different if we had never had Nathan, if he had never been born. How would she feel about that? She thought about the alternative and decided there would be too many things she would have missed out on. I told her how fortunate we had been to have him for so many years, brightening up our lives. He should have died years earlier, even before she would have been born. But we were given that time together so that we could experience his powerful love and influence in our lives. We have our memories as a happy reminder of the goodness he shared with each of us.
She has used her memory of that loving experience to write several school papers. Just as Nathan knew he was loved and cared for while near the other side, we also know he is waiting with outstretched arms for each of us.
June 29th, 2006 @ 3:19 pm
GP-Thank you for contributing such a personal and heartfelt story. I have a different interpretation of some of the events. It is not my business to change the meaning of your experience by telling you my interpretation. I’ll just say that it lies within the brain.
It’s an amazing thing how our brains are constructed to survive. We have such a strong survival drive. My favorite part about your story is how brave your son was. How he fought his challenges. How he kept going. It’s an amazing thing.
June 30th, 2006 @ 2:52 pm
Noell, Thanks for the comment. I did have to laugh at your use of the word “constructed”. Hmmm, who would have done that?
June 3