A Zen Detective Investigates Death
By Pete Sierra
"What's going to happen after I die?" I asked
the Zen detective.
"Why do you want to know?
"It worries me."
"What happened before you were conceived?
"I don't know."
"Doesn't that worry you?"
"Not really."
"Why not? It could have been terrible."
"Maybe, but it's over and I don't remember. It's
what will happen after death that worries me."
"I don't get it," he said looking amused. "You don't
worry about it because it isn't happening now and
because you don't remember it. Right?"
"Right."
"Well, what will happen after death is not
happening now, and you don't remember it either.
So why should it bother you?"
"Are you trying to be cute? I didn't hire you to
be cute.I want to know the truth."
He smiled and rubbed his bald head. "Investigating
a future crime is very difficult, I'm going to
need your full cooperation. I don't want to hide
from you that you are the main suspect."
"Me? How could I be a suspect regarding my fate
after death?"
"Excuse me, the crime I'm investigating isn't
your fate, but your imaginary death."
"Don't be ridiculous! How could my death be
imaginary? It's a certainty that I'm going to die."
"Is it really? Are you dying this very instant?"
"No."
"Who is the one then who is going to die? Is it
the baby, the child, the young man you once were;
one of those who are going to die?"
"No, they are gone, but my body is going to die
and this was their body."
"Are you sure of that? Is the size of the body
the same?"
"No."
"Is the shape, or weight the same?"
"No."
"Are the atoms the same?"
"No, all atoms in the body are replaced within
seven years."
"So, neither the form, nor the substance are the
same? Correct?"
"My memories are. I'm the memory of my life."
He laughed. "It seems you are becoming less
substantial with each question. "Do you remember
every hour of your life?"
"No I don't."
"Do you remember every day, every month of
your life?"
"No."
"So your memories have been dying all along,
have they not?"
"Yes."
"Has this caused you any pain?"
"No."
"When a memory vanishes are you aware it's
vanishing?"
"Not at all."
"Could you be your memories and don't feel
anything when they perish?"
"I don't think so."
"So neither your form, your substance, your
thoughts, feelings, perceptions, opinions or
memories have remained the same throughout your life."
"My consciousness has."
"Your consciousness of what?"
"Not my consciousness of something. Just pure
consciousness."
"Have you ever been conscious without being
conscious of something?"
"I don't think so."
"Consciousness is not a permanent state is it?
In a deep sleep without dreams you are not
conscious are you? So if consciousness stops
in deep sleep, is there a reason to think it
will persist after death?"
"I don't think so."
"So we haven't found anything permanent to call
yourself have we? Do you know who or what you
really are?" he asked.
"No, I don't."
"Should you worry then about what happens to this
elusive stranger after death?"
"Suffering worries me."
"Suffering can only occur when we are conscious,
and if consciousness can't survive deep sleep,
how could it survive death? So, if suffering
worries you, inquire into how to stop it now.
But I doubt that inquiry will interest you.
People never worry about the present. Do they?
It's the idea of the past, or the future that
causes most mental disquietude."
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