Remembrance of the dead

In joy and pain, and with gratitude, remembering John Allen

I have learned in my life, that the treatment of the dead is a universally shared human experience, and reflects on the elevation of a culture, the richness of the life and joy of people in a place.

When I was younger, I developed an idea of death and the dead similar to the inhumanity in Lois Lowry's book “The Giver.” The entire process was about “grieving”, or “releasing”, it was about “processing” and “moving on.” The very word “death” was often covered up in “celebrations” and colorful euphemisms about life, even in the midst of the horror of death. Everything about life was oriented toward rigorously ignoring and evading the possibility of death as much as possible.

Thank God that in October of 2003 I enlisted in the United States Army. There I was exposed, in time, to many, many cultures on this planet. First the Army itself, and it's distinct culture. In the Army, we sometimes got only hours of sleep because days were so packed with the fervent training we hoped would help us survive against people that wanted to kill us. But even then, we'd set aside time for whole ceremonies to remember the dead. Whole sections of real estate were developed in dedication to the dead. Their stories were shared at events and every-time we did something significant we'd place empty chairs and serve them as the most honored of guests. To be assigned to units and Guards of the dead and of tombs was the highest assignment of honor one could receive.

After my enlistment I'd travel the world, to East Asia, the south Pacific, Europe, and Africa. In South Korea I was taught to not even carelessly leave my utensils arranged a certain way for fear of dishonoring the dead. In so many way-shrines, in so many forgotten mountaintops and alleyways from Seoul to Bali to Ephesus, to the Holy Mountain of Sinai, people enshrined their history and the dead and held a view of reality that transcended the four year long view of life I had as an American. Peoples around the world had a consciousness which lasted centuries, and so great a part of that joyful, peaceful, enduring way of life was the memory of the dead, some of whom went back millennia.

Ultimately, we each must reckon with death and people will do this in different ways, despite the folk-ways, ancestral wisdom and faiths that offer meaning and peace.

“Hero worship” I hear this called. Really, I see a culture that is afraid of the one thing we all share in common. The dead were not perfect in life, and if they were, we could have no memory or part of them. It has been my experience that squabbling over the bodies of the deceased is the death of all connection and joy, among either families or cultures. It is no wonder that Brand Gaming has as one of it's greatest hallmarks the elimination of death, because death cannot be sold, it cannot be gamed, it cannot be controlled. It fearfully unites us. Companies that want control cannot have people be united, so striking the dead and their remembrance is necessary to peddle their distractions from life and connection.

Far more enduring than our squabbles have been the Mushairi, and the Izibongo. Chuseok Jesa, and Molebens. The memory of our stories and peoples lasts and endures despite what we do, or has so far. The wise stop, set opinions aside, light candles, sing or dance. They hurt. They are angry. They seek the consolation of friend and Divine in pain.

John Allen suffered so greatly in life and with patience, in the hopes that fleeting suffering is not the whole of human experience, not merely a horror requiring constant distraction, but meaning. Along the journey of suffering, he was kind to us, he was a gamer. He was a help to us not just in life, but eternally he helps us, as part of the whole story of all of us.

With the spirits of the Righteous, give rest oh God to the soul of your servant John Allen

Establish John in a place of refreshment, a place of repose, a place of brightness

Where all of his life's pain, sickness, sighing, and sorrow have fled away

Amen

(Special thanks to Dan “Alaric” Delgado for his big heart in remembering to place our friend on the wall and to recall him lovingly.)