~photo by Lisa Denning
I don’t have to tell you that you’re going to die.
If there’s anything about life that we all agree on, it’s that these bodies we inhabit don’t live forever.
Death is coming soon for some of us, and it’s decades away for others. But we all know it’s in our future. And in the futures of those we love.
And yet, while some of us plan for death, and others spend endless hours cowering in fear about how and when Death will knock at our door, I’ve found that something changes when you choose to know Death.
My mother died 20 years before we thought she’d go. In the face of such a gross miscalculation, I was forced to look Death in the eye.
I followed the classic cycle—denial, anger, bargaining, depression… But when I stopped thrashing my arms and legs against the truth, I found the courage to welcome Death into my living room so I could get to know him.
A figure appeared—dark and shadowy, but also soft. And kind.
I am small and powerless in the face of Death, but when I met his gaze, I saw that he was not here to scare me. Or bully me. Or force me to run and hide.
No.
Oddly enough, he gently reached out his hand, placed it on my heart, and said, “Here. Live from here.”
His touch wasn’t icy cold, and it didn’t steal my breath. Rather, it was warm, and I felt seen. As I opened my heart to know Death, he showed me that he knows me too.
In that moment, it became clear to me that Death isn’t the monster we make him out to be. He isn’t the villain, and he isn’t the opposite of life.
He defines life.
Death creates the boundaries within which we work and play and love. Death urges us to make babies. And art. To birth something that will outlive us.
There is a Zen meditation technique designed to bring our attention to death. It asks you to focus on the space between the out-breath and the in-breath. That moment where you are in need of oxygen, but you haven’t yet begun to pull any into your lungs.
In that void is the reminder that we do not breathe beyond the edges of death.
Each inhale is a gift.
Death told me to use my remaining breaths to live from my heart. That’s my biggest lesson. Out of my head and into my heart.
What’s your lesson?
What are you being asked to do while you’re on this side of Death’s embrace?
Thank you Claire. The loss of my mom four years ago is something that I cannot truly accept to this day. I hate our mortality and the passage of time. I hate our limitations and my inability to have cured my mother, to have protected her from disease and aging. My failure to save her. But right after as she left she vividly came to me to tell me how wonderful she was and how all was so perfect. Asked me to not worry, to be happy…. to let go of judgment, of my self punishment. Told me a few other wonderful gems and then said that she had to go. Til we meet again. I miss her and selfishly wish she were still here in the body. But now we can play and communicate without the physical pains that she endured in the end. I do not fear death for I will see her and other loved ones, just not yet. Lots of loved ones here too.
Thank you for your beautiful words, Sylvia. My mother has sent me the same messages – not to worry, that she is wonderful, and that all is well. I too felt like a failure in not saving my mom, and when I asked her for forgiveness she came to me in spirit and told me there is nothing to forgive. It feels to me like the love on the other side is stronger than anything we let ourselves feel here. Love you, dear one. Sending you the biggest hug!
Beautiful. Just said beautifully, Claire. Out of our heads and into our hearts…to live here…where we are connected to the infinite and already know everything within ourselves. Such a beautiful journey we are all on together. Thank you and love you!