The Interment of A. Ramana

March 2010

Richard Clarke, a spiritual seeker, ex-patriot living in India, and a dear friend of The Daily Undertaker, has graciously shared his experiences with us twice before, in the preparation of an Indian village funeral car, and more recently, sharing the story of a friend's cremation and all the wonderful rites that accompanied it in 'Sarasvati's Ashes'. Nothing has prepared me, however, for the wonder I experienced in reading his account of a Western Holy Man's interment, and the many moving rituals that were performed in memory of this man, A. Ramana, formerly known as Mr. Dee W. Trammell. What is most moving to me in the story and photographs, is the reverence, care, and love shown to this man's remains and the participation of friends and loved ones in rituals that are at once completely new to me, and yet, universally understandable and resonant. Richard's posts on the rituals surrounding this man's passing reminds me of what is important in funerals, and why I continue my work as an undertaker. I encourage my readers to visit the original posts, The Interment of A. Ramana into his Samadhi, and The Shadra of A. Ramana in Tiruvannamalai for many more incredible photos and a more complete explanation of these rituals.

Although most people are cremated in India, revered spiritual masters such as A. Ramana are buried in an position of meditation inside a brick lined vault. The bodies of such masters are considered to be temples, and after burial, temples are indeed built on top of their graves. Apparently, only four people of Western origins have been honored in this way in the Tiruvannamalai area.

After having sat in state, as shown in photo at the beginning of this post, A. Ramana, is placed on a platform, and is anointed with a series of meaningful substances including rosewater, milk, honey, turmeric, sandalwood and ash. After each substance is poured over him, he is ritually washed with water.

Ritual washing is an important practice in Hebrew, Moslem, and Christian traditions as well. In early American times, neighbors and relatives performed this ritual. Today, for many Americans, Funeral Directors perform this task, along with embalming. Whether it takes on a religious significance or not, as a funeral director, I see it as a final act of caring for the dead. We all die. Why not take the time to bathe the dead before they are laid to rest?

Following this, he is dried and dressed in white cloths, placed in a large fabric bag, and lowered along with the platform, by ropes into the grave. Throughout the whole process, there is a great deal of chanting, incense burning, as well as participation and observation by a large group of friends and associates.

The bag in which A. Ramana was placed, as well as the brick lined vault, are filled, layer by layer with holy leaves, flowers, sand, camphor and ash. Inch by inch this grave is filled with these layers of substances intended to preserve the body and express reverence and tender feelings. Throughout the process his head and body are re-adjusted to remain in the proper position.

At this point, his head is nearly covered, and a long piece of bamboo is used to keep track of where his head is, as it is believed that the spiritual energy of A. Ramana will flow out from his head. This is vitally important to the future construction of the temple above the vault.

Ten days later, this altar and lingam has been constructed above the vault. The following is an excerpt from Richard's blog post:

In India there are two main death ceremonies, one done on the day of the death or the day after, and then a Shradha, a ceremony where food is offered, usually occurring 10 – 14 days after the death. I suspect that one reason for this ceremony is so people who were unable to come immediately after the passing of the body are able to come and join the rites.

The Shradha consists of an elaborate pooja, with people close to the deceased playing key parts in the pooja, and then a food offering. If the Shradha is held for a villager, the food offering would be to the crows (symbolizing the spirits of ancestors). For a holy man, the food is usually offered to sadhus. This is what was done for A. Ramana. In a Shradha for a villager, the key role would be played by the person’s son. With A. Ramana, this role was played by two key people in his life in India: Jan, who runs the Tiruvannamalai AHAM ashram, and Vivian, A. Ramana’s personal attendant for the last several years.

Friends and associates gather prior to the shradha.

Similar to the anointment and washing of A. Raman's remains, the lingam is anointed with a series of substances and washed with water after each one. Those closest to A. Ramana are physically involved in each step. The milk, turmeric, fruit, rosewater, ash, honey, etc., and water flow through their hands and then onto the lingam, which is positioned directly above A. Ramana's head. Next, and incredible series of flower wreaths, photos and fruit are placed around the lingam.

After the shradha, comes the food offering. I can't look at this photo without remembering some of the countless funeral lunches I have attended. In my community, the meal is mostly about fellowship and sharing stories. In this part of the world the emphasis is providing hospitality to others and gaining their blessings. In addition to the meal, these holy men are honored with flowers, and given clothing and money on behalf of the deceased.

Following the food offering, those attending the ceremonies go their separate ways, but first, many stop to pay their respects once more.

Finally, from Richard's post, here are a few words written on the occasion of A. Ramana's death by someone close to him. I think that they speak beautifully about not just the phenomenon of death, but about our connection as humans to one another. No matter what our culture, our traditions or our spiritual perspective, in our humanity and caring for each other, we are all the same.

Everything is ended!

The wave has merged with the Ocean,


proving and assuring – once again –

that the Ocean alone exists


and that waves are part &


parcel of the Ocean!

Sarasvati's Ashes

1/13/10 

A van, adorned with flowers carries Sarasvati and friends to the cremation grounds

It is my pleasure to share with you the experiences of Richard Clarke, a spiritual seeker and expat living in Tiruvannamalai, India. Richard writes beautifully about his experiences observing, and engaging in Indian village life. In November 2008, I shared photos from Richard's blog 'Living in the Embrace of Arunachala' documenting the preparation of a funeral vehicle. Recently, Richard wrote to me that one of his fellow seekers and expats passed away, and he wished to share his experience with the readers of The Daily Undertaker. On his blog, he has documented the experience from death, through preparations for cremation, the procession, the cremation, the gathering of cremated remains, all the rituals involved in each step, and finally the scattering of the remains. I have included photos and excerpts from his posts, and I strongly encourage you to follow the links and read the full story yourselves. There is a beauty of completeness, affirmation of life, acceptance, and generous, meaningful participation in this story, that may change your view about the rituals surrounding death. It has certainly enriched my understanding.

"In India, when this happens, events move fast. There is a most powerful tradition that the body is to be cremated that day. So I, accompanied by Rajan, our driver, the person who gave Sarasvati the most support over the last few months, had to go to the police and to government offices to properly register the death. Meanwhile, Carol, helped by other of Sarasvati’s friends, waited at her apartment to prepare the body."

Rickshaw Drivers, strangers to the deceased, stop their work to help with the cremation rituals.

"I have to again say a few words about the rickshaw drivers. These men are thought to be “low class” by many Indians and Westerners. What we saw this day was how they stepped in and took on the role of family to Sarasvati, a Westerner with no family here. They did this readily and freely, without asking for anything. They were loving and unstinting in their care for Sarasvati on this day. I offer them my deepest thanks. "

Taking on the role of eldest son, Richard lights the pyre

The cremated remains are later gathered from the ashes of the pyre.

Scattering the remains in the river.

"I stop for a bit, to say a last farewell to the body of a friend and fellow spiritual seeker, Sarasvati.

I then look once more at the peaceful and beautiful waters here. My thought is that I too may be blessed to die with Arunachala, and maybe this is where the last remains of this body will be placed."

Now we can go home, take our morning baths and eat breakfast."

The rituals and practices described and pictured in Richard's account may seem foreign and strange to us, and many of the procedures, such as fueling the fire with tires, kerosene and cow dung, would not necessarily be acceptable in the West. However, what translates beautifully is the power of the participation of friends in the rituals surrounding death and disposition. In Richard's account we experience the fullness and completion of the necessary tasks that bring us from the experience of death, back to life. I would argue strongly that those necessary tasks include ritual just as much as disposition, and participation in each is powerfully healing for those who grieve.

For the full posts and many more photos, please visit:

Our Friend Sarasvati Attains Mahasamadhi on Vaikunta Ekadasi

and

Taking Sarasvati’s ashes to the river

The New Funeral: A Dispatch from Richard Clarke

Richard Clarke has shared some remarkable posts with The Daily Undertaker, from his adopted home in India. In the past, the subject was always an interesting and moving account of a traditional Indian death ritual. Once again, Richard has been gracious enough to share a post with us, but this time, it is on the occasion of his mother’s death in California, and the memorial service and ocean scattering that concluded it.

What stands out for me in this account is the way that disparate traditions and religious texts are combined, along with ritual participation, stories and songs in an informal and intimate way.

This is the new American Funeral!

Today our families are a mix of not only blood and marriage relations, but of close friends, and others whose relationships are not defined by traditional terms.

We are scattered about the country and even the globe, and it takes time for us to gather. When we do, there is a blend of tradition, innovation and a spicy combination of outlooks and beliefs. We wrap this all up, sometimes in a funeral home, sometimes in a park, sometimes in a tavern or a living room, with a clergy member or without. Often a celebrant, a family member or a friend is chosen to lead the service. Music is meaningful, and drawn from old and new, secular and divine. The structure is loose and the dress code is widely varied.

We laugh and we cry, and we say, “This is about her, this is what she would want” and “This is what I want when I go”

And so, taking us from traditional Indian rites, to the most modern of American services, and finding common ground in both, is our friend Richard Clarke. Godspeed to your dear mother, Richard.

(This is an excerpt- for the full text and many more photos, visit Richard’s blog.)

My mother, Maxine Clarke, died on June 22, 2010. She was 91 years old, and was ready to go. She had been bedridden for the previous year, legally blind for ten years before this. She had been meditating each day, seeking patience and acceptance.

My daughter, Megan, had been providing the caregiving for my mother during the last six years. Just a few minutes after Maxine passed, a friend of Megan’s, Mystique, had a dream. In this dream Maxine was being carried through a crowd. She was waving and throwing flowers. She said, “I’m out of here!” If ever there was a true dream, this was it.

We held the memorial service a few weeks later on July 24th, scheduled so that other family members would be able to make the long drive from the San Francisco Bay Area to Eureka, California, a drive of about 300 miles. This post is from that day.

The memorial service was at Patrick’s Point State Park, among the trees near the Pacific Ocean that Maxine so loved.
It is 4 pm, and there is still fog here. The temperature is in the mid 50s F.
For the service, Megan set up an altar on a tree stump. There are photos of my mother and a sculpture done by one of her friends decorating the altar, as well as flowers, a candle, and ashes, the last remains from the cremation.
The group that gathers is mainly relatives. Richard is presiding, wearing white ‘temple clothes’ from India.

Richard waves incense and gives the
Om, Om Namah Sivaya, Om, Om, Om.
(Siva is He, whose Consciousness fills the universe)
Then a few verses from the Bhagavad Gita are recited

Richard then talked about Maxine’s life, followed by comments from others. A few details from this talk:

Maxine was born in 1918, a fraternal twin with Wilma. They were that last two children of Georgia and Wilkerson (Bill) Adams. Both parents were born in the 1880s, and had been married before, with children, so Maxine and Wilma were the last of a long line of kids. Wilma was outgoing, Maxine was shy.

As a child Maxine had holy spiritual experiences, unusual in Oklahoma, where she grew up. She would go by herself to the banks of the Red River, where she strongly felt the presence of Jesus. This was not something that she could talk about with any of her family or friends. She also discovered her love of reading, and devoured books from the local library.

At age 16, she was told by her mother that she had to get married. The family had suffered severe losses from the Depression and the Oklahoma dust bowl that followed in the 1930s. I think forcing Maxine into marriage was a way for the family to feel like she would be supported. Mother agreed, on one condition, that she be allowed to go to college. (No member of the family had ever gone to college at the time.)

My brother, Tom, was born in this period. After a few years, Maxine and Russell Burroughs divorced. They had felt more like brother and sister than husband and wife.

Soon after this, Maxine met my father, Richard Clarke, at Oklahoma University in Norman, Oklahoma, where he was studying chemical engineering, financed by his membership in the US Army ROTC. He ‘swept her off her feet’ and shortly after, told Maxine that he was taking her to a dance, instead took her off to get married. They had a few happy years. Then WWII started, and my father was being called into active duty as an artillery officer. I was born just few weeks before he departed for Europe.

I was born in an ambulance on the way to the hospital in the middle of a snowstorm. The ambulance attendants were saying, “Lady, can’t you wait? You are messing up the ambulance and our boss will be mad. He’ll make us clean it up before we go home.” Somehow during all this, Maxine surrendered to God. Then suddenly the ambulance was filled with light. I was born in this light. Mother said that this was the first time she experienced this light of God. She arrived at the hospital with me on her belly, her face radiant with joy.

In the years that followed, Maxine divorced Richard, who seemed to have changed during the war, moved us to California (San Jose, then Los Gatos), supported us by writing, selling about one story a month to the ‘confession magazines’ (with titles like “I fell in love with a younger man”). She then got a government job as a Social Worker for Santa Clara County. She enjoyed this work, and went on to get a Master’s degree from the University of Southern California, becoming one of the first registered Family Counselors in the state of California.

Her spiritual experiences continued. One high point was at Stanford Hospital, where she was hospitalized for severe back problems. Again, one night she surrendered, then the room was filled with light. The next day, the doctors could no longer find any problems with her back and she was released from the hospital.

Maxine had a very good career as a Family Counselor, helping people and making friends who would stay as friends for the rest of her life. The spiritual experiences continued throughout her life. For me, these experiences opened the doors to my own spirituality.

Then Sandy, a friend of Megan’s who had gotten to know Maxine,
and her two kids sang an old spiritual song, “I’ll fly away.”

Some glad morning when this life is over,

I’ll fly away.
To a home on God’s celestial shore,
I’ll fly away.

I’ll fly away, O Glory,
I’ll fly away. (In the morning)
When I die, Hallelujah, bye and bye,
I’ll fly away.

Richard read one more verse, this time from the Katha Upanishad:

“The wise soul is not born nor does it die.
This one has not come from anywhere nor has it become anyone.
Unborn, eternal, constant, primal,
This one is not killed when the body is killed.”
Therefore the wise grieve not for the living nor the dead.

Sandy sang a last song, one that Maxine loved, “Imagine” by John Lennon.

Imagine there’s no Heaven
It’s easy if you try
No hell below us
Above us only sky
Imagine all the people
Living for today

Then those present paid last respects by throwing flower petals onto the altar. After this, came the waving of the fire. We could not find camphor in Eureka, so we used a torch. During this, Richard recited a verse, adapted from Sanskrit:

“The Light within joins the Light without,

Light of Lights, illuminating all.

You are filled with Light. You are only Light.

Light of Lights, illuminating all.

Om, Shanti, shanti, shanti.” (Om, peace, peace, peace)

The altar is beautiful with the flower petals tossed upon it by those who love Maxine. There are two photos, first from the 1940s, then the 1960s, showing Maxine in all her glory. And a later one, from the 1990s, I think.

After the service, Megan carried the ashes down to the ocean. She was accompanied by James on the right, and Mystique, on the left. James is not wearing shoes. We are going to take him to visit India soon, and he is getting ready for barefoot walking.

The green of Patrick’s Point is wonderful. The ocean appears. We climb down to it. James and Megan do the honors …And release Maxine’s ashes into the Pacific Ocean, which was what Maxine had wanted.

Afterward, the trek back up the hill. I look back to where my mother’s ashes were released. The ocean is absorbing them now. One last look, from up the hill. As I walk back I am again taken by the vibrant green of the vegetation.

Finally I pass through this opening on the path. My heart is filled with gratitude for what my mother has given me, and joy for her passing. I hope this posting will provide some solace and closure for family members and friends who were not able to join us today.

Goodbye, Mother. In your own (dream words), “I’m out of here!”

To visit Richard's Blog, follow the link below:

http://richardarunachala.wordpress.com/2010/07/29/memorial-service-for-maxine-clarke/

To read the previous dispatches, follow these links:

http://www.dailyundertaker.com/2010/03/interment-of-ramana.html

http://www.dailyundertaker.com/2010/01/sarasvatis-ashes.html

http://www.dailyundertaker.com/2008/11/indian-village-funeral-car.html