As noted in my recent blog entries, my mother spent about 7 weeks in the hospital over the past 3 months. As a result, I spent a fair of number of hours there myself during that time. One of the hardest things to get used to was being surrounded by broken, decaying bodies. Yes, I mean the patients. Most of the patients in the intensive care unit and the recovery wards were old. And those who weren’t old were often in pretty bad shape anyway. Each day as I strolled past the rooms, I occasionally peaked in; a bit of entropic voyeurism (everyone does it). It’s like whistling past the graveyard, trying to ignore the fact that all these sick and weak people are ultimately no different from me; that in all too few years, I could be where they are now. It takes a bit of the bounce out of one’s steps.

During the long hours watching my mother slowly heal (mostly while sleeping), I occasionally gave in and watched some TV with my brother. TV is a celebration of youth and vigor; what with all the sports coverage and all the shows and commercials that try to lure one’s attention with sex (or at least sexual innuendo). It’s quite a juxtaposition; pretty women and men with taught, fully potent bodies on the screen, and broken old bodies everywhere else you look. It’s quite a reminder that youth and strength are temporary, fleeting things; that decay is inevitable and eternal.

The Roman Catholic Church has a ritual that acknowledges this. It’s called Ash Wednesday. Interestingly enough, my mother got out of the hospital on Ash Wednesday. The rite of ashes is accompanied by one of the most wisdom-packed incantations that I’ve every heard in a mythical / mystical ritual: “remember man that you are dust, and to dust you shall return”.

As much as I hate to admit it, the Catholics are on to something there (although they lose points for the fact that Ash Wednesday is a relatively minor occasion for them). I can’t dig all their stuff about salvation and god / man trinities and transsubstantiation and deposits of faith. It’s all too complex, all too disanchored from what we now know about the universe and ourselves from critical thinking and observation (i.e., from modern science). But on Ash Wednesday, which is not a mandatory holiday, “the Church” latches on to a really big truth. I remember Ash Wednesday ceremonies of my youth being rather solemn and dignified affairs; no gold chalices, no fine linens, no embroidered vestments. Just ashes and a bit of wisdom. Yea, too bad that the other 99.9% of ecclesiastical life isn’t like that (although some of the Catholic monastic rituals also have an austere beauty to them; flickering candles and chanting during a 3 am vigil service is not a thing easily forgotten).

Well, I don’t attend any Catholic rituals these days; I seek wisdom in other ways. Seven weeks on hospital grounds is not an easy path to wisdom, but wisdom is certainly there, if you take it in a certain way. As I’m trying to do, on reflection.