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One day Dogo, accompanied by his disciple Zengen, went to visit a family in which a funeral was to take place, in order to express sympathy. Zengen touched the coffin and said, ”Tell me, please, is it life or is it death?” Dogo said, “I would not tell you whether it is life or death.” Zengen said, “Why don’t you tell me?” Dogo said, “No, I would not tell you.”

One day Zengen, carrying a hoe, went up and down the lecture hall as if he were searching for something. Sekiso said, “What are you doing?” Zengen said, “I am searching for the spiritual remains of our dead teacher.” Sekiso, “Limitless expanse of mighty roaring waves, foaling waves wash the sky. What relic of the deceased teacher do you seek?”

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I want to introduce you to my mother. Her name was Maria Isabel de la Luz Molares Mora, or Mariluz (Mary of the Light), and she transitioned recently at ninety.

She was certainly free-spirited. She came from a very Catholic family in Spain. Her younger brothers and sister ended up being priests and a nun. And she was the eldest, but that wasn’t the path she wanted to follow. So, she left Spain in 1959, at age twenty-four, to go to Holland, already breaking with expectations and traditions, which would be hallmarks of her long life. Even more so when she met my father, and crossed not just religious fault lines, but also cultural ones, and racial ones. And we’re talking 1959, 1960 in Europe. This was not expected, or welcomed.

This is just a marker to show how determined, fierce, and strong-willed she was, and how she would never let anything get in the way of what she thought was right. She was a fantastically accomplished writer, a teacher, voracious reader, mother, grandmother, great-grandmother, friend to many, and yes armed with a fierce will, but also very sophisticated, cultured, and charming. We learned a lot of our chameleon skills, my two brothers and I, from her: how to navigate different cultures, and different approaches, and how to never be afraid to rock the boat. And you certainly didn’t want to stand in her way when she was rocking the boat.

These last six months, I was her constant spiritual companion for long hospital stays, visits to over 23 doctors, juggling medicines, long nights, anxiety, and constant emergencies. Always by her side. I was her gatekeeper, protector, and spiritual companion. And so, after 62 years, I developed a new intimacy and a new rapport with my mother in these last six months that I’d never had with her before. And which has permanently altered my make-up as a whole, and of course my ongoing relationship with her.

So that’s by way of prologue. I’ll take you to her last day. She had lost a lot of mobility, and it could be very painful for her to move. So, her world was shrinking and shrinking. She was in hospice at home. Normally, there would be a progression of nurses of different kinds, physical therapists, occupational therapists, regular nurses, social workers, all showing up every day.

But that last day, no one was available. Very unusual. It ended up just being me and her, with one exception. She had gotten to the point where she couldn’t take showers, and there was a nurse that would come to wash her down. And so, I said, “She wants to come, do you want to let her?” She hesitated, and then she said, “Yes, yes, yes.” Which brought me the last picture I have of her in full bloom in the aftermath of that ritual cleansing and bathing that she underwent. I looked in on her and saw her beaming in her bed. She was so happy, so joyful. Those were rare occurrences in the last six months, unfortunately, because she was on so many medications with serious side effects.

A bit later that afternoon, I heard her calling from her room. And as soon as I walked in, I didn’t just enter her room, I walked into a void, like a black hole. The kind of void that you experience on a dark night of the soul. One of those events where you realize that the universe, among other things, can also indeed be “empty.” It’s the Void, cold, lonely, foreboding, and eerie. There are no rainbows or ponies anywhere. It’s empty, mysterious, and dreadful.

And that’s the place where she found and I found ourselves. And we both knew what was happening. It went very quickly. She was very much at peace with her transition, even if aspects of it were quite messy. We stood together at the gate, and then off she went.

But it does suggest a quick reflection here, that if the universe in one of its aspects can be such a dark and foreboding place, which we can all experience, why don’t we appreciate what we have here now? This ability to see, and to sense, and to hear, and experience one another, and the sun, the moon, the stars, the leaves, and the flowers; a place where we can laugh, and sense, and reflect back on the universe that gave birth to us. Maybe even with the problem of evil in there, this is not such a bad place or state for us to be?

Which brings me to some reflections on synchronicity, alignment, and attunement. That last day of her transition, everything fell into place for that visit to the black hole, to the Void. It was just the two of us. How that happened, I don’t know, because that house was always full of nurses, therapists, social workers, and other visitors. What are the odds of this kind of choreography?