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A close friend of mine flew into Mumbai about a week ago.  He had gone to India to volunteer with a charitable service organization.  When he got off the plane he felt like he had food poisoning, so he checked into a hospital.  The next morning he was dead.
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I was told a story this morning by one of my neighbors:
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Her best friend’s husband was driving with their three chidlren in Haiti a few days ago. The Earthquake came, and a building fell on their car.  By the time they dug the car out two of the children and the father were dead.  The youngest child survived because the father had protected the youngest child with his body.
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I can’t even imagine the amount of pain the mother must be in tonight.
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My mind recoils from heartbreak.  And it cannot deal at all with oblivion.  The mind cannot imagine it’s own extinction.  Somehow, we’re just not built that way.  The mind just can’t imagine itself not existing.
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To have a relationship with death, without shutting down to it, withdrawing, or closing off my heart, I must find something else to identify with that is not my mind.  And it is true that with great effort, I find myself noticing my mind turning.
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When I watch my mind, I find that the mind is not the one doing the watching.
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The mind cannot watch itself.