Continuing the Season of Death

When death comes
like the hungry bear in autumn; ....
I want to step through the door full of curiosity, wondering:
what is it going to be like, that cottage of darkness?
And therefore I look upon everything 
as a brotherhood and a sisterhood,
and I look upon time as no more than an idea,
and I consider eternity as another possibility

~ Mary Oliver

Today was a day for encountering and addressing death.
As I volunteered at a literary fair early in the day, a young woman shared that she was writing a book about death. We discussed the awkward way our culture encounters or ignores both death and the processes that bring us closer to it. We shared resources on the topic and I felt that simple sensation of synchronicity ~ being in the right place at the right time and paying attention to what surfaces. When I asked her what she was writing, she could have dodged the question. She didn't. Her directness opened me to share a resource I'd recently received on the same topic. A brief, but touching conversation and a recognition of not being alone in my explorations of topics relating to death.

Leaving that setting, I received a message from a friend about the likelihood of taking her old dog to the vet to have him put to sleep. She was struggling between her desire to have him out of pain and her attachment to having him in her life. We spent a few moments slipping between that quiet space of friends sharing the unknown sadness and conversing about how or when it might happen.

My next stop of the day was the church where we were going to celebrate the life of a friend who had recently died. I was helping set the hall for the reception happening afterward. During the memorial service, family members and friends shared stories and memories of our absent friend. It was good to share the space, the stories, the farewells. Continuing the celebration and memorial at a local pub, we chatted about the health of other friends and what those challenges might mean in the near future.

As I drove home, I reflected on the conversations and the deep heart space I shared with each and all of the people on this day. I thought of Mary Oliver's poem When Death Comes. Her words talk about grabbing life for all its worth, being alive fully, so that when death comes, which it will for each of us, we can say we were present to all life had to offer.

Until death comes for me or for those close to me, I face the choice of avoiding it or confronting it or embracing it or acknowledging it. They aren't mutually exclusive choices ~ and my choices may change from one moment to the next.

Where do you stand in your expression of life? How much do you invest in avoiding the topic of death? How do you want to be remembered when you die? What more would you like to do in your life?

Grief and Gathering Strength

"Sunset" by Louie Rochon (used by permission)

When it's over, I want to say all my life
I was a bride married to amazement.
I was the bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.
When it's over, I don't want to wonder
if I have made of my life something particular
and real.
I don't want to find myself sighing and
frightened,
or full of argument.
I don't want to end up simply having visited this world.

~ Mary Oliver, When Death Comes

Yesterday a dear sister left this world. She lived her life with gusto, aplomb and originality, much as Mary Oliver's poem suggests. Many people, many women, continue to post their memories and good-byes on Facebook. Sassy Songbird certainly left a mark in her world.

Those messages are an acknowledgement of the grief being felt, the sense of loss. That's as it should be. We live in a culture that too often tells us to 'buck up' ~ in whatever terminology used ~ and not let death get to us. We focus in terms of 'seeing the person again'  and 's/he's in a better place' and 'God must have wanted another angel.' Although each of those belief systems holds validity, we have a right, and a responsibility to ourselves and those we love, to allow the tears, to feel the sadness, to experience whatever emotions arise ~ anger, fear, melancholy, bafflement, peace, joy, any emotion ~ and to express those emotions. Not to take them out on others, but to allow our hearts and souls to feel them.

Each emotion we feel carries us on the waves of healing. Our feelings help us to gather strength from within as well as from those around us. We become more of a community when we acknowledge our feelings to each other. It bonds us together even if those feelings are different. Sharing creates the bonds of strength. It also creates our internal strength. We allow room for others. We recognize our vulnerability. We grow.

Louie Rochon's image shows that sort of strength in the beauty of nature. One petal alone would not stand. Together, even though not tightly bound, the petals are strong and beautiful. As we are, when we allow the connections, the touching.

How does grief affect you? How do you express those feelings? and with whom? How do you gather strength from your connections with others?

Married to Amazement

Mary Oliver is one of my favorite poets. Her imagery and word choice are vibrant. This snippet from her poem When Death Comes leaves me breathless. Consider the timing ~ as death is coming ~ and the image of a bride and bridegroom. Not concepts we generally put together. Yet Mary Oliver does. Wow.



I love what follows as well:

When it is over, I don't want to wonder
if I have made of my life something particular, and real.
I don't want to find myself sighing and frightened,
or full of argument.
I don't want to end up simply having visited this world.

As I continue through this season and into the year, what courses through my system, finding the rhythm of my heartbeat is that final line: I don't want to end up simply having visited this world. I can easily say that we all want to DO something with our lives, but this one is personal. It sticks to me like salt after a dip in the ocean, like garlic on my fingers after making pizza, like the song that keeps playing in my head. It's not important if I'm visible to others, if I am known for anything in particular. Sometimes I want those things, knowing they fade all too quickly. What is important is to have cherished and relished and lived as many moments in this life as I can. What is important is to be present, and to be awake and aware.

What line from a poem, book, speech, or your best friend touches your soul right now?