The Man Who Attended His Own Funeral

My father, Leonard Shlain, passed away three weeks ago. I wrote about the vigil my family had been holding for him the night before he died.

We buried him the next day in a plain unlined pine box -- a green burial -- in a beautiful hillside that I used to look at when I was growing up as a kid in Northern California. The spot he chose is on a 35 acre nature preserve with hawks soaring overhead, an ocean breeze and views of Mt. Tam. I could hear the kids playing at elementary school I once attended. In lieu of headstones, the funeral home buries a GPS device 18 inches from the surface so we can find his exact place on the hillside when we return. It is a perfect place to spend forever.

The memorial, a few days later, was particularly spectacular because he showed up. He had the foresight to have my filmmaker sister, Tiffany Shlain, shoot a video of himself several months beforehand. After the Rabbi briefly spoke, she introduced him on a huge screen next to the platform in the center of the synagogue. The audience gasped. There he was, looking dapper in white suit, sitting on a chair in a spacey kind of heaven. With the help of a green screen he had clouds alternating with stars and outer space floating behind him. It was so Lenny Shlain. "I always wanted to attend my own funeral." He said as he opened his hands, show time-style, paused and said "Well...I'm here!"

"Actually," he continued, "I can't tell you where I really am because it's a secret." He then proceeded to the story of his improbable life, how blessed he felt, how much we all meant to him and how much he will miss us. He assured us that he was in a good place. What a tremendous gift.

Hubble Photo/ Possible Location of Leonard Shlain

I can't wrap my head around the finality of death and I don't really believe he's gone. I made a shrine for him -- like the kind I used to see for goddesses while living in India -- in the living room where I walk back and forth in our house. I put flowers and candles around his picture. It looks like his spirit burns bright there still. It also gives me something to do every morning that honors him. I look into his smiling face and say good morning. I make sure the flowers are fresh and the candles are lit.

Before he died, I was helping him edit his newest book. One of the chapters that stood out was about the importance of beauty and the significance of flowers. I remember when his theory was in its infancy. He called me excitedly one day. "You're not going to believe this," he said. "What?" I replied. "We almost missed the flowers!" He then marveled over the fact that during earth's 4.5-billion-year existence, that flowers have only come into existence the last .0003% of that time and that man has only been around the last .0000003% of that time. He couldn't believe how lucky we were that our species could have come and gone and missed this botanical celebration by a hair.

Even though I'm his daughter, a part of me thinks of our souls as flickering beings that go in and out of existence at different times and places throughout the universe. I feel equally lucky that mine got to exist here at the same time as his.

I was profoundly touched by the outpouring of support and love myself and my family received after I published the story about the vigil and after his death. I felt I would be remiss not to share some form of a coda to the experience before diving back into the what I normally write about. In the meantime, I thought I'd share with you one of his lectures based on his second book, The Alphabet vs. the Goddess. With your blessing, I will do this every so often.

If you would like to honor Leonard Shlain's memory, we set up a Leonard Shlain Scholarship Fund at The Saybrook Graduate School in San Francisco. You can make contributions to the Shlain Scholarship Fund, Saybrook Graduate and Research Center, 747 Front Street, San Francisco, CA 94111, 415.394.5675 Att: Ed Patuto.

First Person Artist is a weekly column by artist Kimberly Brooks in which she provides commentary on the creative process, technology and showcases artists' work from around the world.

Comments

[Usedtobequiet]

Dear Kimberly, I'm so sorry for your loss.

I loved what your father said at his funeral:

"Actually, I can't tell you where I really am because it's a secret." Floating clouds, stars and outer space! It made me smile. He must have been a remarkable man. Thank you for sharing a little bit of him with us.

Usedtobequiet

[Anne Naylor - Huffpost Blogger]

What a beautiful tribute to your father and what an inspiring man. I am touched by your love and admiration of him and the accomplishments he made in his life. Thank you for this wonderful post.

[JuliaRain]

Very grateful to Dr. Shlain for his insightful books.

Thank you for enriching our culture with your contributions Dr. Shlain. May you rest in happiness!

[truthartbeauty]

extremely religious people mill the real beauty, so focused in thier narrow and ugly view of life and death. you are one of the lucky ones.

[seattle music]

Ms. Brooks, I am so sorry for your loss. I am holding you and your family in my thoughts.

THANK YOU for sharing this lecture with us. I was fascinated by what your father had to say and will seek out his books and lectures in order to understand his theories better.

He is a splendidly holistic-synthetic thinker and also a great heart.

[LemonMeringue]

Touching story.

Not to put a damper on it, but could humans have evolved without the presence of flowers and their role in the food chain?

[chaya]

I wonder what the world would be like today if all there was to eat was fungus, lichens, coral, bacteria, and other animals eating those things?

I expect we could have evolved--but we wouldn't be "us."

[TruthJusticeForAll]

HERE, HERE!!!

[Ohioan730]

I almost cried when I read the part about almost missing the flowers. I totally get it. Since I came out as an atheist, I see the world and the beauty of nature with new eyes. Life is truly a beautiful accident and a miracle, IMO. The religious and the faithless cannot ignore the majesty of earth.

I was thinking of actually having my funeral before I died so I could be there and see how much people loved me. LOL! When you don't believe in the afterlife, you need to know how much you have touched people's lives and you need to let others know how much they have touched your because you know you will never see them again. Its the closure that anyone could benefit from. I decided not to do it because it would make people uncomfortable so maybe I'll just do what Lenny Schlain did and record a message. Hopefully, I will have a long life and will go suddenly but if I fall ill, that's what I'm gonna do.

[rini]

I agree with your philosophy entirely, Ohioan730.

Life is more precious and beautiful when you don't fool yourself about it's transient nature. I have been an atheist since I was ten years old, despite being raised by religious parents and I think it has given me a better perspective and more wonder.

I want a green funeral. That's for sure. And everyone has to party and have a good time, no open casket.

[seattle music]

Every day is a gift. We can use each day to let folks know how much we appreciate and love one another. Why wait for the funeral, or even the pre-funeral? ;0)

Let them know how much they mean to you now. The best way to "tell" is to show, anyway. So show them. I try to do this with my friends and family. Sometimes (!) I could do better, but I do try.

When I was diagnosed with melanoma, I learned a great truth, a secret hidden in plain view. It was wrapped up in a pop song (of all things) that I heard on the radio while I was on the way to get an MRI:

"In the end, only kindness matters."

When we grok this, it becomes a precious part of our everyday lives.

[leaseaguest]

I've been thinking about you often. And missing you and hoping you all were moving through this transition as peacefully, gracefully and lightly as humanely possible. I shared the last blog with my father (jealous we never had a geodesic dome) joyous that I could share with him another father daughter connection that was so tight. I'd welcome more videos of your father. After I read your blog I went to his blog and looked into the separate blogs on his numerous books. What a wonderful man. I'm so glad you are here to continue his inspired legacy. You do him and us such an incredible service. Thank you.

[elaygee]

What made Lenny Schlain great was his Jewish heritage and genetic history.

A descendant Eastern European Jews, Dr. Schlain's remearkable talents were a side effect of the horrible discriminatory pressures suffered by Jews for nearly 2 millenia in Europe and the Middle East. In a Darwinian fashion, only smart Jews survived. The ones smart enough to hide or escape from pogroms and Crusades, the ones smart enough to leave before it got too tough to leave, the ones who came to the US before the Shoah. All these things made him the person he was.

How fitting that in death, he joined his ancestors in the way they preferred to be buried, in a plain pine box in the ground with his loved ones nearby.

[Ohioan730]

What a nice post. Essentially, the AAs in America were genetically scrubbed of most of its mental and physical lightweights through the middle passage and the harsh life of a slave. You had to be strong and smart to survive, hence the legacy of the phenominal AAs who beat all the odds and are still strong. We have our problems but we survive and keep going for the next gen.

[melakfilms]

Awful thing to say. As if the only Jews to escape the ovens were the "smarter lot"... Just awful. There were a great number of intellectual Jews who stood and fought, and died, for their religion. For their upbringing. For their fellow man. They didn't stay and fight because they were stupid, or lesser, they stood and fought because they were not only strong of mind but strong of spirit. That's called courage. That's called integrity. It has nothing to do with brains. Everything to do with luck.

I'm sorry for your loss Mrs. Brooks. I lost my mother in 2006 and I still feel her all around me, all the time and in all places. The departed stay with us until our own end and, with any luck, we stay with our children.