Dying Deliciously

“The hills are alive with the sound of mommy!“ 

That is the opening sentence my sister wrote for our mother’s obituary. The day before Thanksgiving, 2014, our beloved friend and nurturer was diagnosed with stage four pancreatic cancer and given 5 months to live. I was doing my own dance with ovarian cancer for the second time.  Visiting her in the hospital, I became aware of how vulnerable I was, still in chemotherapy treatment. I was already in remission so with the approval of my oncologist, I stopped three sort of the 18 weak protocol to walk mommy home.

My sister and I agreed that Mom would only die once so we vowed to make it a good death! Whatever that meant…  One of us was with her all the time.  We would take turns, one or two weeks at a time, never knowing of course how much time we have left with her.

Pancreatic cancer can be very nasty way to go. Life was filled with doctors appointments,  paracentesis and other procedures, a plethora of pills, and visits from friends.  The pills made her crazy at times and she would lash out. It was way too easy to get my feelings hurt but I had to remember over and over again that she was not herself.

Years ago an acquaintance asked her what the secret was to having such a good relationship with her daughters, because her daughters and her own relationship was in turmoil. My mom said something to her and forgot all about it. Two years later, this same friend found my mom and threw her arms around her! She thanked her profusely for changing her relationship with her kids! My mom asked “what did I say?”

“Let every thought I think, let every word I speak, let everything I do be out of love.“  That sums up Mommy all right! So when she was acting crazy and less than loving because of her illness and the drugs, that became my mantra. It wasn’t easy.    I know from being on both sides, it’s much easier being the patient than it is a caregiver!  I have never felt so helpless in my life.

One of the many lessons mom taught us was to embrace and honor our feelings. She believed that every emotion had value when harnessed and embraced. “It’s not the emotion itself that causes harm,” she’d say, “it’s what we do with our emotions that can cause harm.”  Mommy taught us how to cry! She believed that tears are a fabulous way to release grief and that anger was a normal response and could be channeled for great creativity!  So I guess it didn’t surprise me when my sister and I both came to the same conclusion after one side gripping, gut wrenching, grief releasing crying jag just weeks before she passed. This is DELICIOUS!

Wait a minute, how can death be delicious?  It wasn’t death itself, but the accompanying angst that is so much a part of who we are!  How could we ignore or push away this pain? Wasn’t it true that we felt so bad because we loved so good!?  Her friends got it. We invited them one or two at a time to come be with mom whenever they could. It was a nice time for me or my sister to get away for an hour or two. But it was a precious way of including her beloved friends that otherwise would’ve been left in the dark.

I had found and joined the Threshold Choir in 2012, as I was finishing the first dance of 18 weeks of chemo. I have been singing all my life, but singing at the bedside for people who are hovering between life and death, is by far the most sacred way I have ever used my voice.  Mommy was a singer. My sister and I sang together in harmony as often as we possibly could throughout our entire lives.  It was one of Mom’s biggest thrills… To hear us laugh and sing. So it was the most natural thing in the world to sit on either side of her, hold hands, and sing her home. On April 20, 2015, pretty close to five months from the initial diagnosis, mommy gave my sister and I her last breath as we sang her home.

Now I know what I want to do with my dying breath. To be sung to in lullaby tones is to be  cradled in the arms of song. There are about 300 songs available to this international organization. Song was written specifically for this precious purpose. I have written songs that are in the repertoire and that I want sung to me. Singing is such a personal gift, such a vulnerable act and so incredibly sacred, that it transcends tears and trauma. I want to give my last breath to those singing me to the other side!  I might have that opportunity sooner than later.

In August, my oncologist said I had 12 to 18 months to live, with treatment now that will only slow down the progress of the disease.  With the help of my friends, choir members, sister and other family members, I choose to live in harmony.  I choose to share widely, to sing softly, to love deeply, to die deliciously.

Come sing me home!

Lauren Lane Powell

www.LaurenLanePowell.com

Bio. Lauren Lane Powell is an expert vocal coach, recording artist composer, keynote speaker and author of the book “Holy Shift! Everything’s a Gift!”

She has been featured in Bloom magazine, New Horizons, and the Daily Word.  She is a codirector of threshold choir, here in Bloomington and is a regular contributor to the International Threshold choir Newsletter.

Lauren has been interviewed on radio shows with hosts like, Sandra Champlain, (Richard Brenden) Cathy Dewitt and George Whitten to name a few.

She has been the main keynoter speaker for the Unity Minister conference, several Great Lakes Unity Musician’s Conferences, and the Judith Coates Jeshua retreat,

She has a degree from Indiana University in voice and music education.

Lauren traveled extensively throughout the US and Puerto Rico facilitating her Sing For Your Soul and Harmonies of Healing workshops where her motto is “If you can laugh you can sing!”

Dying Before We Die

Richard Rohr’s Daily Meditation
From the Center for Action and Contemplation

Image credit: Autumn Leaves (detail), Koan, 2018.

Thursday, November 22, 2018
Thanksgiving in the United States

In one way or another, almost all religions say that you must die before you die, and then you will know what dying means—and what it does not mean! Your usual viewing platform is utterly inadequate to see what is real. It is largely useless to talk about the very ground of your being, your True Self, or your deepest soul until you have made real contact with these at least once. That demands dying to the old viewing platform of the mental ego and the false self. There is just no way around that. If you do make contact, you forever know that something is there that can be talked about, relied upon, and deeply trusted. You move from religion as mere belief to religion as a new kind of knowing.

Kathleen Dowling Singh explains why we must die before we die: “The ordinary mind and its delusions die in the Nearing Death Experience. As death carries us off, it is impossible to any longer pretend that who we are is our ego. The ego is transformed in the very carrying off.” [1]

Some form of death—psychological, spiritual, relational, or physical—is the only way we will loosen our ties to our small and separate false self. Only then does it return in a new shape which we might call the Risen Christ, the soul, or the True Self.

What dies? Your false self—and it is just a matter of when, not if.

Who lives? The God Self that has always lived, but now includes you.
Note that it’s a what that dies, and a who that lives!

Once you know that life and death are not two but are part of a whole, you will begin to view reality in a holistic, undivided way, and that will be the change that changes everything. This is nondual consciousness. No one can teach you this. Even Jesus had to walk it on his own, which is the only meaning of God “requiring” his death of him. Jesus calls this goal the “destiny” of the “Human One” (Mark 8:31), and he seems to know that he is a stand-in for all of us (Mark 10:39)—much more than he ever walks around saying, “I am God”! The only person Jesus ever calls a “devil” is Peter when he, the so-called “infallible” first pope, tries to oppose Jesus’ central message of death and resurrection (Matthew 16:23).

Gateway to Presence:
If you want to go deeper with today’s meditation, take note of what word or phrase stands out to you. Come back to that word or phrase throughout the day, being present to its impact and invitation.

[1] Kathleen Dowling Singh, The Grace in Dying: A Message of Hope, Comfort, and Spiritual Transformation (HarperOne: 2000), 219.

Adapted from Richard Rohr, Immortal Diamond: The Search for Our True Self (Jossey-Bass: 2013), 59-60, 62, 66, 81.

Image credit: Autumn Leaves (detail), Koan, 2018.

Death Makes Life Possible

I’m in the midst of creating a new product which is all about Conscious Aging and overcoming the fear of aging. Of course, that includes overcoming the fear of death as well. I’ve been reading a lot lately about this and as baby boomers age, the conversation gets more prevalent. I recently came across a new film that addresses this issue.  Here’s the trailer:

Aging With Awareness

 


In M. Schlitz, T. Amorok, and M. Micozzi (Editors),
Consciousness and Healing: An Anthology of Integral
Approaches to Mind/Body Medicine
. Elseveir, 2004.
Ron Valle, Ph.D. and Mary Mohs, L.V.N., M.A.
Awakening: A Center for Exploring Living and Dying
9701 Deer Valley Road
Brentwood, CA 94513


When we resist aging, we resist life itself, since aging is inherent in living. Suffering results when we push away what is real. Many of us fear growing older; we resist reflecting on our later years, what we will look like, how we will feel, and, hence, we suffer. Healing is the easing of this fear and its resultant suffering. We heal by opening to the changes in life and allowing what is real to naturally evolve. In this chapter, we will explore the anatomy of this process and how wisdom emerges as we bring awareness to the full breadth of our lives.
Aging, Grieving, and the Fear of Death

Aging through our later years can be a remarkable time for increasing self-understanding and deepening one’s spiritual awareness. To see this opportunity, however, requires a special sensitivity to these possibilities and an atmosphere of mutual support and encouragement. Rather than guiding us in this direction, our society has regrettably glorified the benefits of our youthful years while minimizing and degrading the elderly and the value of the aging process. Focusing on youth while pushing away the constant change involved in aging reflects our culture’s denial of the ever-changing process that life is, as well as, ultimately, of death itself. Until we accept all of life, we cannot truly live. In light of this, it is essential to recognize the sacredness of every human being, regardless of age, as well as the unfolding wisdom inherent in the aging process itself.

We know in our hearts that living, dying, and grieving are inseparable, each dependent on the other two for its meaning and purpose. In fact, although they are often treated as opposites, life and death are two aspects of a greater, single process with aging and grieving as the connecting glue. Grieving is the painful response we have to the loss of someone or something we have become attached to, a response we experience quite often to one degree or another given that change and loss are in the very fabric of life itself. As Levine (1982) has pointed out, the degree of grief that we will experience whenever change occurs in our lives is directly related to how much we resist this change here and now in the present moment.

When we begin to live mindful of aging and dying, however, grief is honored as a natural response to loss, and death becomes a mirror in which life is understood and prioritized in a new way. Life, death, and grief are everywhere, whether it be the birth of a new idea, heartbreak at the death of a child, or a leaf falling from a tree. In this way, we begin to accept and celebrate the constant flow of life’s transitions rather than fearing the next turn in the road. Thus, to the extent that we can let go into the mystery of life, we find true peace and love in the aging process.

Ram Dass (2000) and Bianchi (1995) both see aging as a means of deepening our spiritual awareness, and that looking within ourselves is central in this process. Ram Dass, reflecting on his own personal process of growing older and struggling to accept difficult changes in his own life, describes the emotional and spiritual benefits that come with embracing aging, changing, and dying. By shifting our perspective on the nature of pain and loss, new ways of being with grief emerge. Ram Dass expands on this process:

When we cease to resist our grief, we learn that, painful though it may be, grief is an integral part of elder wisdom, a force that humbles and deepens our hearts, connects us to the grief of the world, and enables us to be of help. Grief need not paralyze the heart or become a garment for the ego….We must be able to step outside our egos, as Soul. Otherwise we are likely to be swept away by one or the other of grief’s common fallouts, either closing our hearts in fear of the magnitude of our own [and others’] feelings and shrinking our lives to a “safe” zone that leaves us feeling half-alive; or becoming professional mourners, caught in the past with its loss and regret, unable to let go or to enjoy the present (p. 50).

Consistent with Ram Dass’ emphasis, Bianchi emphasizes that a spirituality of middle age and elderhood calls for a turning inward, for a deeper contemplative and meditative life. Such an approach stands against the tide of our culture that expects the middle-aged, and even the elderly, to compete externally with much of the ardor of youth.

Within our culture, conventional ways of being with suffering and the dying process continue to reflect, on an institutional level, the deepest individual fear: the fear of death. Rather than being recognized as the natural companion of life, death is seen as an outside threat to that life, something to be controlled with our latest drugs and surgical techniques. Or, when the dying process cannot be avoided or significantly delayed, it is often hidden away in nursing homes or the back rooms of special hospital floors.

This same fear of death, left unexamined and unfelt, spills over into our lives. Our need to control others and the environment is our attempt to cope with this fear. Our unwillingness to grow old is one of its manifestations. Restrained by self-imposed limits, we keep ourselves from living in a creative, loving, and meaningful way. We are afraid to live because we don’t want to die. We resist change because we don’t want to grieve. Rather than celebrating the rich variety and beauty of human expression as it naturally emerges as one grows older and approaches the end of one’s life, our emotional and passionate responses are often greeted with disapproval and mistrust. As we progress through our senior years, we are increasingly patronized and treated like children. Gentle acceptance and appreciation are simply not the norm.

Understanding One’s Responses to Loss

A simple awareness of how most individuals typically respond to significant or impending losses in their lives can be very helpful, even healing, in being with a present or soon-to-be realized loss in one’s own life. Whether you have just heard of a dear friend’s death, realized the natural decline of your health with age, or have just been told by your doctor that you have a terminal illness and only have a month to live, your reactions might very well be intense and very painful. Understanding the natural process of grieving can lessen the fear that often comes when we are lost in overwhelming grief. The following three stages or types of response reflect the process most of us go through when experiencing real or impending loss (see, e.g., Grassman, 1992; Mohs, 1995; Worden, 1982):

1. Shock (can last from weeks to months)— This often includes:

feeling stunned
physical, emotional, and intellectual numbness
denial (e.g., “No! It can’t be true!”)
feeling confused and crazy
everything in life taking on an unreal quality
loss of self-identity

2. Reaction and disorganization— This often includes:

anger and protest (e.g., “The doctors don’t know what they’re talking about!”)
loss of appetite; overeating
self-criticism and guilt
preoccupation with thoughts regarding the loss;
absent-mindedness
yearning and searching (for the loved one lost)
avoiding (painful reminders)
having a sense of the loved one’s presence
nausea, weakness, shortness of breath, sleep disturbance
increased use of alcohol and other drugs
bargaining (“If I can live until my daughter’s wedding, I will die peacefully.”)
depression, withdrawal, apathy, and loneliness
aimlessness; restlessness
frequent crying and sighing
anxiety and inactivity

3. Acceptance and “letting go”— This often includes:

talking about the loss without intense emotion
reorganization — less preoccupation with the loss
being more open to new ideas and behavior
trusting more in the process of life
finding meaning in life and death
realizing the grace in grieving
more interest in serving others
seeing relationships as more important than material possessions
a deepening of spiritual awareness
seeing grieving as a personally transforming experience

Although written words themselves cannot truly touch the deep pain of grief, knowing that there is a recognized process that most grieving individuals go through can serve as a ground for one’s thoughts, feelings, and sanity itself when the intense waves of grief appear.

Opening to the Value of Aging

During the last phase of life, we have more time to reflect on the nature of life and death. This is a time when we have a special opportunity to open to our inner process and bring greater clarity, meaning, and peace into our lives. In our earlier years, we focused mainly on doing— getting married, buying a house, raising a family, and building our career— there wasn’t much time for simply being or reflecting. In our later years, we are preparing to leave this world. Loss is everywhere. Our friends are dying or moving, our house and possessions are being sold or given away, we no longer have our careers, our family is often too busy to spend time with us, and our health is deteriorating. We become rigid and resistant to pain to the extent that we hold onto what we are losing. As we let go and open more fully to life, there is a greater realization of what the present moment has to offer. Our deepest wisdom and understanding thereby emerge.

Christine Longaker (1997), hospice director, author, and world lecturer, describes four dimensions or characteristics she has come to recognize in persons who are facing the end of their lives:

1) The elderly look for meaning in their lives. This search for meaning includes exploring past experiences, recognizing the times they felt love for themselves and others, and finding understanding and forgiveness for that which they regret.

2) They reflect on past relationships and wish they could resolve those relationships that are remembered as discordant. Communicating more effectively with their families can be of help in this process. It is, therefore, important to explore where each person feels unfinished with his or her past since opening to past experiences often helps to resolve these conflicts, relaxing the mind and freeing one’s energy.

3) They also want to understand the physical and emotional pain that they are experiencing and to find some relief. Such relief often comes by finding a purpose for this suffering. One purpose that many spiritual traditions recognize is that the experience of suffering provides an opportunity to offer this suffering for the benefit of others. Seeing one’s pain in this transpersonal way (see, e.g., Valle & Mohs, 1998) transforms the solely personal meaning of the pain. This selfless intention leaves its mark in the collective awareness shared by all human beings thereby reducing the fear and pain of countless individuals throughout the world. Consider Sogyal Rinpoche’s (1992) words:


Recently one of my students came to me and said: “My friend is in pain, and dying of leukemia. He is already frighteningly bitter; I’m terrified that he’ll drown in bitterness. He keeps asking me: ‘What can I do with all this useless, horrible suffering?’” My heart went out to her and her friend. Perhaps nothing is as painful as believing that there is no use to the pain you are going through. I told my student that there was a way that her friend could transform his death even now, and even in the great pain he was enduring: to dedicate, with all his heart, the suffering of his dying, and his death itself, to the benefit and ultimate happiness of others. I told her to tell him: “Imagine all the others in the world who are in a pain like yours. Fill your heart with compassion for them. And pray to whomever you believe in and ask that your suffering should help alleviate theirs. Again and again dedicate your pain to the alleviation of their pain. And you will quickly discover in yourself a new source of strength, a compassion you’ll hardly be able now to imagine, and a certainty, beyond any shadow of a doubt, that your suffering is not only not being wasted, but has now a marvelous meaning (p. 219).”

4) Finally, they reflect on death, what it is like and how to prepare for it. Exploring their feelings and beliefs about death can help them discover the depths of their spirituality and can bring a sense of greater peace and joy. Connecting with a respected spiritual leader or teacher and praying or meditating in a way that feels right to them can also be helpful.

Gradually as one goes within and opens to all four of these dimensions, one becomes more authentic (i.e., true to oneself) and less reactive to life. In this way, we slowly become more accepting of the changes that accompany aging.

Growing Older Gracefully

What does the cliche “growing old gracefully” really mean? My (Mary’s) mother used to say that one needs to grow old gracefully in order to truly live and feel the joy of life. This requires a true transformation in how we view life as well as, perhaps most importantly, how we hold on to what is pleasant and familiar. Our youthful identity and vitality are, for example, especially difficult to surrender. The aging process can be an opportunity for such a transformation. In order for this transformation to occur, one must be willing to be present with what is happening in the moment including opening to one’s own inner process. This involves letting go of expectations and past beliefs or experiences that may mask or block what is true in the moment. This letting go allows a deep and natural joy, a joy that lies beyond pleasure and pain, to emerge.

As we become older we have a tendency to resist change and to close out the world around us. In order to open to life, we need to open our minds and hearts. Whenever we get caught in the grip of our own or others’ criticism, or when we ruminate about that which we cannot change, we can consciously and compassionately become more spacious by watching the mind and observing its negative patterns. Rather than trying to analyze why we are feeling frightened, angry, jealous, or lonely, we can observe these feelings, as we sense them in our bodies, with compassion and allow them to simply be.

Working with one’s self in this way can be a true spiritual practice. By softening and opening to the painful feelings that we’ve always run away from in the past, we eventually see what is behind them. We thereby open to the mystery, to the sacred dimensions of life.

Conclusion

The approach offered in this chapter is truly integral in that it shares a perspective offered by many of the world’s great spiritual traditions, namely, that all apparently separate phenomena and processes in life emanate from the same underlying transcendent reality or source. For example, consider the words of Swami Rama (1996) of the Himalayan Yoga Tradition:

Life’s purpose is to know the distinction between what is outside and fleeting, and what is inside and eternal, and to discover through practice and experience the infinite value of one to the other. Once this experience is realized, life takes on a joyful meaning and the fear of death evaporates (pp. 4-5).

Aging while retaining this level of awareness is a challenge in our culture. It is understandable that many of us feel trapped in an aging body while the world around us constantly celebrates the pleasures of youth. Aging with awareness requires being present in each moment and being willing to open to life and all of its complexities. The process of playing one’s part in life and then letting go of the effects of one’s actions is emphasized in many of the world’s scriptures (e.g., the Bible and the Bhagavad Gita). Given that we have become attached to persons and things of the world, letting go is a process that involves grieving the losses in our lives. By opening to this process, we develop gratitude, patience, compassion, confidence, fearlessness, authenticity, harmony, joy, inspiration, and peace of mind.

The value of aging involves the journey within. Meditation, contemplation, prayer, journaling, reading inspirational works, dream-work, poetry, and keeping silence are all means that one can use to enter and explore one’s inner space. Ram Dass (2000) tells us that: “Without acknowledging the soul level or cultivating a soul consciousness, we are like passengers trapped on a sinking ship (p. 128).” If we can see the aging process as an unfolding opportunity to gain deeper wisdom by discriminating external phenomena from internal reality and by opening to the fullness of life, rather than resisting the pain and contracting into our ego-selves, much of our needless suffering will be eased.

References

Bianchi, E. (1995). Aging as a spiritual journey. New York: Crossroad.

Grassman, D. (1992). Turning personal grief into personal growth. Nursing92, April, 43-47.

Levine, S. (1982). Who dies? An investigation of conscious living and conscious dying. Garden City, NY: Anchor Books.

Longaker, C. (1997). Facing death and finding hope: A guide to the emotional and spiritual care of the dying. New York: Doubleday.

Mohs, M. (1995). The grief experience. Brentwood, CA: Awakening Press.

Ram Dass (2000). Still here. Embracing aging, changing, and dying. New York: Riverhead Books.

Rama, S. (1996). Sacred journey; Living purposefully and dying gracefully. New Delhi, India: Himalayan International Institute of Yoga Science and Philosophy.

Rinpoche, S. (1992). The Tibetan book of living and dying. San Francisco: Harper.

Valle, R. S. and Mohs, M. (1998). Transpersonal awareness in phenomenological inquiry: Philosophy, reflections, and recent research. In W. Braud and R. Anderson (Editors), Transpersonal Research Methods for the Social Sciences: Honoring Human Experience. Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage Publications. pp. 95-113.

Worden, J. (1982). Grief counseling and grief therapy: A handbook for the mental health practitioner. New York: Springer.