The So-Called Living & The So-Called Dead
Before leaving for a work trip to New Orleans, I left a note on the table for my family, along with a basket full of chips, chocolate, and gummy bears.
The "goodbye forever" note, written on a scrap piece of paper said, "Love one another. Dance. Be kind. Hug."
This was nothing new for me.
Each time I left on a trip, I felt I wouldn’t be coming back.
I was sure something terrible would happen and my children would be left motherless like my mom was at age 10. (Listen to Episode 6 of my podcast to hear the full story. I promise it is full of humor and light.)
When the plane didn't crash, I spent my first night in that mysterious, beautiful city realizing that this conference would transform me and every participant who was open to change.
Aha! Transformation = Death.
I recognized that death anxiety appeared in my life right before any major change or personal revelation. Through reflecting on this pattern, I knew this realization was true.
When I took the stage to open the conference, I nervously told the nearly 200 participants about my fear of the plane crashing and the equation I had finally figured out.
Now when anxiety kicks in, I know something interesting and new is coming my way.
But what about the finality of death? Real death. How do we move through it without overwhelming fear? With compassion for ourselves? With a lasting connection to those who have died?
Connecting to life is the first step.
The world around us is alive and inviting us into participation, even with death and those who have died.
Connecting with the dead extends our vision of what life can be and how we move through it. It offers a comfort, sure, but if you are asking for something deeper and lasting you can start with this connection.
Through lighting a candle, reading a poem, playing a song your loved one danced to, you can begin to feel that the separation is not real. In fact, it is impossible.
All things that are seemingly opposite are connected through a lemniscate of moving forces. The living and the dead in particular.
This middle path is in the details of our lives and the way we navigate our connection with each other and the world. Do we create binary systems that affirm opposition or do we notice the flow of life between all things?
Will you accept an invitation into the middle, the liminal space between the visible and invisible world? The deepest meaning I’ve ever experienced is in that space.
It’s in the closing of my eyes and tuning to the Live Oak tree on my hill. The opening of my eyes and observing my nine-year old drawing in the dusty backyard dirt. The evocation through memory of my mom dancing while listening to an Aretha Franklin song.
If you’d like to transform your relationship with death into one full of meaning and life, not fear, click here for my worksheet of poems and prompts to support your journey.