Charles Is A Force of Nature: Everyday Magic, Day 862

IMG_0873Just now, the wind picked itself up and gusted up to 40 mph after the very still, humid and over-the-top hot day of Charles’ death. No rain, no storm, no big wind expected, but as I write this, in the dark on the porch, the sky flashes all directions in dark purple and curls of lightning, a lone cricket sings his song, and the wind is moving some of the furniture just a little. Thunder rumbles to the west, some young trees go horizontal, and I know this force of nature has a name: Charles.

Charles was one of the first Lawrencians I ever met, in about 1981 when I was a member of the Kansas City Sufi community, where Charles and his wife Khabira would sometimes visit. I was dazzled by Charles’ exuberance about Dances of Universal Peace and, as I learned over the years, most things. It’s an understatement to say he’s one of the most enthusiastic people on the planet, embracing many paths and many communities. Charles was a Jew, a Sufi, a Shaker, a Quaker, a Buddhist, and likely felt kinship with many other spiritual traditions. He dealt in Volkswagen repair, real estate transactions and management, mentoring men, and lots more. A father, grandfather, and great-grandfather, he was especially excited about his family, and he bowed with his hands together at heart center whenever he saw us as if we were each his favorite human.

Charles died this morning at our local hospital after years of cancer and months of an especially difficult end. I was going to visit him in the afternoon with Ken, but because of a mix-up regarding differing news of his condition, I went over earlier to find Khabira and the lovely hospice people sitting quietly. I plopped myself on the stool next to Charles, and asked how he was doing. “Oh, did you not know?” Khabira asked. When she told me, I burst out crying, shocked that a long-time-coming death could actually come.

Sitting by Charles, I was struck by what I’ve experienced at other deaths, including my father’s: how death seems strangely ordinary. Dying? Not so much, and especially not in Charles’ case after weeks of intense pain, love, holding on, letting go, and the combination of uncertainty, morphine and cancer that spins everything into a vortex. But death, this fresh and close-up, as many remarked over the day, is so surrealistic. How could someone alive be dead when life titters on its meanderings, noise and heat all around us?

IMG_0875The time in the hospital was infused with peace and sadness, forms to fill out, calls to make, and puzzling over what of our collective vehicles was the best way to get Charles from hospital to home where the family was doing its own home-grown funeral direction. We settled on a van even though seats had to be removed, and soon, some of us were carrying Charles into his office, a separate building behind his home. We had a cardboard insta-coffin to fold together after deciding to put the “handle with extreme care” side on the inside so that tomorrow, friends and family can decorate the outside with messages and images of love and goodbye.

In little time, off the cuff and steering by the heart, we made a ceremony of washing the body, moving Charles into the cardboard coffin, and with lots of hard work and engineering (and a pair of scissors), getting him into a beautiful robe he’s worn for many religious occasions. Ken and one of the hospice people lifted his head and shoulders enough for me to wrap his Tallis, a Jewish prayer shawl he had for years and that Jews are customarily buried in, around him. I even wound one of the fringes of the tallis around his finger, a sign of active prayer. Throughout the work of our hands, we sang one of my Charles’ favorite Sufi songs — “Listen, Listen, Listen to My Heart Song,” read some blessings for the body and four directions, burned sage, sprinkled holy water and rose petals on him, and learned how to activate bags of dry ice. The whole thing was simple, spontaneous, necessary and tender.

UntitledNow Charles the Storm envelopes us, breaking the heat wave for this moment with cool wind and sweet rain. “I’ve never seen a storm on radar like this one,” Ken says right now as he sits beside me in the dark.

“What is this storm like?” I ask.

“Indescribable. It’s like there’s a mega storm with a huge center, just west of here spinning off all these thunderstorms.”

We look at radar, and see a wheel of weather, sending change many directions at once. Not an ordinary storm but a force of nature, like Charles: original, life-giving, exuberant, and full of magic. All around, there’s lightning bugs and lightning, wave and particle, a big fireworks display across the clouds in the shapes of fast-moving rivers or tree branchings, and in the fields, thousands of small lanterns blinking on and off like heartbeats. Dance in peace, dear friend.

2 thoughts on “Charles Is A Force of Nature: Everyday Magic, Day 862

  1. Dear Caryn–thank you so very much for putting into words the sighings of my heart. I found Charles (Buraq in those days) as a result of having discovered Sufi Sam and Murshid Pir Vilayat Khan in my spiritual search, reading sacred texts and spiritual guide books. I read “In the Garden,” a remembrance of Samuel Lewis, and Pir Vilayat’s “Toward the One.” It seemed then, and now, that the Sufi path as brought by Murshid Hazrat Inayat Khan, had gathered up all the teachings that resonated in my heart and soul and so set out to find a group of Sufis to see if the reality of their teachings had a basis in the physical world.

    That physical presence was Charles Gruber! He was the embodiment of the teachings–love first, always love first–and no doctrine and no proselytizing–just live it in your everyday life.
    One needn’t go to church, no need for an intercessor, no need for a label or a proclamation of your faith. You could do this thing on your own, listening to your heart and watching your breath, and loving your fellow humans.

    Charles and I had many adventures. We traveled together to San Francisco to meet with Pir Vilayat and it was my first plane ride, my first time in California. We changed a VW engine in his car by the side of I-70 in the dark. He sent me to the Omega institute for further experience with the Sufi Order. Taught me the Dances of Universal Peace so I could in turn teach them. Taught me how to make a great cup of coffee (hey that’s important!). But most of all he modeled total love.

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