Life on Hold: The Weight of Death

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For the past few days I’ve been walking around feeling like there’s a big weight hanging over me ready to fall at any moment. Getting things done has been a chore. Making plans beyond the next day has taken all of my willpower. It feels as though my life is on hold and that I’m just waiting.

The waiting part is true and there’s not much I can do about that. But the life on hold part is all my doing and there is much I can do about that.

You see, my wife is down in Nashville with her father who is dying. He was released from the hospital on Friday and is now on home hospice care. (http://www.hospicenet.org/html/faq.html This is a wonderful site full of excellent information about end-of-life care) Melissa is there with her sister, stepmother, and others to provide comfort and be there to help him through this transition to the next world.

Melissa was down there for a week, returned last Tuesday, and then on Thursday, she received word that her father had taken a turn for the worse. She dropped everything, turned around and flew right back down there.

It’s amazing how the two tiny words, “any day,” spoken by a doctor can create a sense of urgency in those close to the one about whom those words are spoken. In a very powerful way, also, those words bring a certain freedom, they provide permission to step away from the responsibilities of daily life and attend to the profound and transformative issues that arise around the ending of a life.

I can sense the relief in my wife when we speak. There is lightness in her voice, a clarity that seems to have come from this letting go. Her willingness to let go of the responsibilities she has up here so that she can be there with her father and family has clearly been good for her. The opportunities she has had to connect with her father during this powerful time of transition has brought them closer than they have ever been. And her ability to acknowledge and share her grief and sadness within the supportive environment of her family has had a cleansing effect on her.

As she goes through this powerful process down there, I am here, with Ella, feeling disconnected, unclear about my role, and more than a bit helpless. How can I support Melissa while she is Nashville?

I understand that, from a practical standpoint, my staying here and taking care of Ella is the best support I can provide. It gives Melissa the chance to be there with her family. But that has not made it any easier to be so far away.

This disconnection and helplessness is infusing the rest of my life as well. How do I plan beyond today? Should I arrange for childcare for the evenings that I teach? How about the Saturday Law of Attraction group? Should I get coverage for that? What about my early morning meetings on Fridays?

Ella and I will fly to Nashville for the funeral. But when will that be? Today? Tomorrow? In three weeks? Every time Melissa calls, I think, “This is it.” And every time I call her and she doesn’t answer, that same thought passes through my head. I can assure you this type of thinking is not conducive to a focused, productive work life!

In moments of clarity, I recognize this time as a powerful challenge and an opportunity to become more fully present in my life. And with clarity come questions. Good questions that can lead me into fuller presence. Here are just a few of the questions that are arising.

Can I move forward with my life knowing that, at any moment, I will be called away?

Can I let go of the picture I have of “support” and trust that my ability to be here with Ella is the most powerful support I can offer?

Can I acknowledge and take care of my own needs during this time?

Can I find the words to speak clearly with Ella about what is happening?

When I step back from all that is happening and get a bit of perspective, I really do see the blessing of this time. It is so easy to place life on hold, to wait for some momentous – or not so momentous – event in order to move on. I have seen it in myself and in my clients: We wait to hear about a job we’ve applied for. We wait to hear if an article has been accepted. We wait to hear if someone we like wants to go on a date with us. We wait for a check in the mail. We wait for a phone call. We wait…

How often do we put our life on hold waiting for some external circumstance to resolve itself?

Most of the time this waiting, this holding, is so subtle that we don’t even notice it. In this case it has been anything but subtle. This well-defined sense of paralysis has given me the opportunity to explore that place of holding. Now I am aware of it, conscious, and so I get to choose how to proceed. I get to claim full responsibility for my actions, or lack of actions.

That is both the beauty and the curse of self-awareness: As your awareness expands so too does the level of responsibility you must take for your life. I choose to take full responsibility for this moment in my life. Will I step forward, as Thoreau says, confidently in the direction of my dreams, knowing that my forward progress may be interrupted at any moment? Or will I continue to twiddle my thumbs, waiting for all the lights on the road ahead of me to turn green.

The choice is mine. And in each moment I will continue to make the best choice I possibly can. For that is all I can do.

Posted by Edward Mills | Filed Under Death & Dying, Personal Growth 

A Good Day To Die

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I had a bit of a fright on the way home from the airport this morning. Driving home after dropping off my wife and daughter for their early morning flight to North Carolina, a truck suddenly pulled into the lane in front of me. No damage done, just a few extra quick heartbeats. But it did catalyze an interesting question – from an evolutionary perspective.

Am I ready to die?

Sure, it sounds a bit morbid, but hear me out on this one. The question was not if I wanted to die. I certainly do not want to die quite yet: I’m rather enjoying this physical experience. The question addressed whether I was prepared to depart this physical form at this time. In other words, if today is my day to die, could I do so with a feeling of completeness and acceptance?

Some Native American warriors, before entering battle, would say a prayer: “Today is a good day to die.” This was not a death wish, but rather, an acknowledgement of death as a continuation of life and recognition of and desire to tap into the powerful intuitive perceptions that come from their non-physical essence.

I suppose that anytime you drive on the freeway you are entering a battlefield of sorts. And while I did not offer a prayer welcoming death before I began my drive home, the adrenalin that poured through me after the truck incident awakened that same sense of nerve-tingling anticipation.

This question, “am I ready to die, has arisen before often with no clear answer. The last clear answer came, not coincidentally, during Melissa and Ella’s last trip without me. At that time, over a year ago, the answer was a resounding “no!”

The sticking point, back then, was the prospect of never seeing my daughter again. Ella was not yet walking and the thought of missing her first, tentative steps opened a deep well of grief. That grief cascaded outward, projecting scenes of her future that I would miss: Her first attempts at sentences with juxtaposed words and dropped consonants, the anxiousness I would feel about her first dating experiences, driving her to college and helping her move into her dorm-room, handing her off to her future husband. Each of these scenes flashed through my mind, leaving me in tears at the prospect of missing these and so many other poignant moments.

Today, however, my response to the question was quite different. Instead of a welling up of grief, there was a long moment in which I deeply and effortlessly connected with the joy that I have already experienced. In that moment I felt complete. And, in that moment of completeness, I was able to answer, truthfully, that “yes” I was ready to die.

This completeness was an awakening for me. It was not based on having done or accomplished anything. Rather, it was based on my ability to be in a feeling space of acceptance and peace. As I held the question, “am I prepared to die,” in my mind, I was, for that brief, but intensely powerful moment, able to accept that the joy and love I have experienced has been enough.

As I write this, it seems somewhat less significant. And perhaps as you read this, the words will lack the profundity that I felt. But in that moment, driving up I-80, it felt big. I understood, perhaps for the first time, that the peacefulness for which I have been searching has nothing to do with what I have accomplished, or who I know, or how much money I have in the bank. That feeling of peacefulness is based solely on my ability to feel present and complete in each moment.

When I feel complete I am complete. It is that simple.

On the way home, I went for a pre-dawn hike at one of my favorite Marin County trails. Along the way I stopped to sit and absorb the silence and beauty around me. Bubbling up from within the silence arose a sense of how much energy it takes to monitor and maintain my physical body.

When I am “attached” to this life, or in a space where I feel the “need” to stay alive, I invest a great deal of energy to ensure that life in this physical body continues. Most of this energy is unconscious, and yet clearly comprises a large percentage of my overall life energy expenditure.

It was equally clear that all of that energy is wasted. My body knows how to take care of itself with little or no input from me. In fact it knows how to take care of itself far better than I do and my attempts to improve upon what it does best end up causing more harm than good.

Consider for a moment how much these physical bodies can take. They are like Timex watches: They take a lickin’ and keep on tickin.’ How incredible is it that these bodies can survive and recover from car crashes, falls, fights. Think of the self-imposed damage they can withstand from eating unhealthy food, ingesting toxins, and not exercising.

The life force that flows through our bodies is strong and requires no prompting or direction from our minds.

Life desires life!

Our bodies are the physical expression of our non-physical form. They are life and they desire more of it. We don’t have to “do” anything to monitor, ensure or improve upon the state of our bodies.

If, instead of continually trying to ensure our physical survival, we just got out of the way, our bodies would show us how perfectly suited they are to life in this physical environment. They would, if we let them, show us what it feels like to truly thrive. And, by letting go of our need to constantly take care of our bodies, we would gain a huge chunk of extra energy to invest in other areas of our life.

So, is today a good day to die? It certainly is a good day to ask the question, “am I ready to die?” For when you are ready to die, you are then truly ready to fully live and to thrive!

Posted by Edward Mills | Filed Under Art of Allowing, Death & Dying, Healing, Joy, Personal Growth, Well-Being 

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