"The Man Who Died"

"I tried to compel them to live, so they compelled me to, die. It is always so, with compulsion. The recoil kills the advance. Now is my time to be alone."

Therefore he went no more to the garden, but lay still and saw the sun, or walked at dusk across the olive slopes, among the green wheat, that rose a palm-breadth higher every sunny day. And always he thought to himself

'How good it is to have fulfilled my mission, and to be beyond it. Now I can be alone, and leave all things to themselves, and the fig tree may be barren if it will, and the rich may be rich. My way is my own alone.'[1]

 This quote is from a short story by D.H. Lawrence, called “The Man Who Died”. It is a story about a kind of Christ figure who rises from the dead, only to turn away from his previous striving to compel others to believe in God or to accept a spiritual path. This story is, for me, an incredible allegory that explores the notion of giving, sacrifice and ultimate solitude. Perhaps I bring up this story to continue from my previous remarks about what giving means, and to whom one gives.

The first question I ask as I explore this story is, to whom does this man die? I read this story many years ago in my undergraduate student years. I think it meant a lot to me that a person can find solace in their original being. But it is also a story that warns people. If people give according to what is expected of them (through religion or a spiritual teaching), it’s often true that it ends up alienating the person from themselves. I become the servant to these commands, which are supposed to make me into a better person if I can follow those commands precisely.

But when one is alone, does it mean that one has nothing to give of her or himself? I think this is a crucial question. Many times, I have equated aloneness with being withdrawn from others. But solitude means something quite different in Lawrence’s story. He remarks, at one point,

 

I made a mistake. I understand that they executed me for preaching to them. Yet they could not finally execute me, for now I am risen in my own aloneness, and inherit the earth, since I lay no claim on it. And I will be alone in the seethe of all things; first and foremost, for ever, I shall be alone. But I must toss this bird into the seethe of phenomena, for he must ride his wave. How hot he is with life! Soon, in some place, I shall leave him among the hens. And perhaps one evening I shall meet a woman who can lure my risen body, yet leave me my aloneness. For the body of my desire has died, and I am not in touch anywhere. 

 

If I start to look at this from a Chan/Buddhist perspective, I understand it to mean: when I let go of desires, mind doesn’t abide anywhere, yet it is able to move everywhere (“inherit the earth, since I lay no claim on it”). The sense of aloneness that Lawrence describes is not a physical aloneness. It is not the aloneness of “This is my body”. It is, rather, the aloneness of not really having a body anywhere, and not having a fixed location to feed desires or to grasp things to ‘myself’. It is also a place where I am not compelled to draw people into my influence. If people don’t want me, it is okay. Shifu used to talk about being a kind of humble monk who walks through the snow. What does it mean? It expresses the aloneness of not abiding anywhere, yet being free to go anywhere. Even though Shifu abided in many places and had a profound influence, he laid no claims to those things. He simply reflected what had been taught to him by his teachers. So this being alone is really a kind of ability to walk the earth without taking a single piece of dirt with oneself.

            Another powerful point about this allegory is that it speaks to the compulsion to help others. Sometimes, wanting to help others becomes part of my identity. When I am caught up in that giving identity, I don’t realize how much it is tied into the wish to belong with others. When this happens, is the giving genuine? It is a giving that might be beneficial, but it is still caught up in self. Therefore, it leads to suffering. The man that Lawrence describes is no longer attached to his sacrificing role. He is free to walk away from it, even though his soul is rooted in divinity.

            This story is a compelling example of how cosmic being goes beyond the social. One need not be afraid to die to a social self that is causing suffering and crucifixion. The cosmic ‘catches’ the dying body and crucified soul, because cosmic things are not bound by specific arrangements that people create.

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[1] http://gutenberg.net.au/ebooks07/0700631h.html