He was twenty three, a medical doctor, conflicted between being an active socialist or a retiring spiritualist.
Last week the choice was made for my nephew. He was killed in a numbing incident of random urban violence.
The way the mind copes with the death of a life in full flight is to retreat into the most ancient of meta-questions: What is the meaning of it all?
Does life in essence have meaning or is it in the ultimate analysis meaningless?
Man's search for meaning underpins the three great human projects: Philosophy, Religion and Science. Perhaps even the great socio-economic construct that is everyday life is a result of the search for
meaning for those who don't find enough meaning in the life of the mind alone.
But what is Meaning?
To my mind, Meaning is a self-referential frame that morphs at different levels of being.
To a top-order mathematician or a musician, Meaning is perhaps in the cascading harmony of concepts and notes while to the unrepentant hedonist Meaning might reside in the fight between the fading euphoria of last night's party and an emergent hangover.
When it comes to Death however almost all the frames of reference that supply meaning to everyday life fall away.
To my experience, Vedanta and the doctrine of essential, indestructible oneness of sentience gives us the rare frame that can withstand the assault of the apparent meaninglessness of death.
Strangely death and mourning serve to re-acquaint us to the liberating wisdom of the Vedanta.
No wonder a Vedantist sect (the Aghoris?) locate their spiritual practice in cremation grounds.
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