becoming culturally creative

death's little corner lights up

My last post, on saying goodbye, apparently touched a lot of people. Knowing what to do and say when someone we love is very ill, maybe dying, makes us all grapple with what we know and what we don’t know. Especially as fears, regrets, and sorrows surface.

What many of us discover is how alone we are with this confused mix of feelings. In speaking with a friend yesterday, she quietly admitted, “It’s so good to talk. In talking about him (our mutual friend), it helps me know what I’m feeling about his dying.”

We need community to do death well. To reimagine our endings.

And for that, we need to reach out, dare to speak of confusing feelings. To wonder why I’m not feeling anything.

When Alex (as I’ll call him) became very ill, and the prognosis was poor, he remarked, “People keep asking me how they can help. Really, I’d just like to ask them to pray for me, but that feels old and awkward.”

I remember saying, “Prayer is one word, but there are others.”

Our hearts are powerful generators. Let’s not get stuck on the word “prayer” if that feels outmoded. We know that clear thoughts, heart-filled feelings, and the directed intention of our will stream out and impact the world around us. The more conscious we are the more impact we have. Especially when together with others.

After Alex and I spoke for a while, we decided to invite some close friends to be part of what we called a “circle of care” group The idea was that every Thursday at 7:45 p.m. each of us in our own homes might light a candle, find our inner quiet, and from our hearts hold Alex and his partner with loving intent. We would do this for ten to fifteen minutes. Prior to this, we would send a group email message to each other saying “Hi, I’m here,” and then go offline.

Alex was deeply touched to be the centre of such care; he was also wise enough to understand that it would be something that would help us all.

“If I have a year to live,” he noted, “I have a space to do something. I wasn’t sure what it could be, but it would be fine if it’s just this, to be the catalyst for a bit of community forming.”

So, this is what we have been doing. Week after week: a simple group ritual. Things got added: for example, an opening verse. Then Alex became motivated to send out a link to a piece of music he’d been listening to and had found inspiring—or that with his wry humour had made him smile. We now listen to that, together, separately, before our meditation

Our intention was not to “cure” our friend. But healing comes in many guises. The most measurable outcome seems to be that Alex gets a good sleep—not a small thing—on the nights we meet. At another level, Alex has to contend with all this love pouring in—to be open and receive it—again not a small or easy thing.

The list of people who sit quietly at 7:45 on Thursday evenings has now grown exponentially to include layers of family, friends and acquaintances, not to mention ancestors and spirit world companions. These intersecting circles feel like a palpable, invisible village that forms in the stillness. A place where being and doing and community meet and coalesce.

It seems that in grappling with what we know, and don’t know, we need to be creative, culturally creative, especially when it comes to death. Engaging, even in the smallest of ways, counters the fears that otherwise would make us into remote, isolated little islands of individuals who don’t know what to feel.

We then begin weaving together the village-mindedness that we are all so hungry for—forging unlikely bonds and helping us remember our true nature—so that even with grief, and the sorrow of saying goodbye to a loved one, death’s dark little corner can light up.

And something takes root, and is born.

Art credit: top, Towards Freedom, and above, Golden Rooting, both by my good friend Teresa Mrozicka.

More on this story is found in Nancy’s forthcoming book.

Pre-orders of The Call to the Far Shore: Carrying Our Loved Ones Through Dying, Death, and Beyond are now available through your local bookstore, Amazon, and most major booksellers.

https://www.amazon.ca/Call-Far-Shore-Carrying-through/dp/B0D9TMVNL9

From the Foreward by Robert Sardello: …Dive into the ocean-like depth of this writing … To read this book is to invite radical change, both personal change and changes in the lives of those around you… for these stories will increase the depth of your being.

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