FROM FEAR TO HOPE

When we’re children we’re not afraid of death. We’re open and curious about it, as we are about all aspects of life. But over time we adopt the attitudes of the adults around us, we notice they avoid talking about it in our presence, which sends the message that it must be very frightening. And then, too, adults may do more damage when they actually do say something, by telling us an untruth that leads to more distorted glimpses of the subject. My own parents made one of the worst mistakes, when they told me that dying was like going to sleep. That night I was afraid to fall sleep and when I did, I dreamt that I was buried under the ground with the weight of the world pressing in on my coffin, and no way to escape. I knew that when I was asleep I was still breathing, and the thought that I would have to do that underground was more than horrifying. This dream, with its accompanying fears, haunted me for decades.

As adults, we define reality as something we can see; we’re afraid of the invisible. We lose sight of the fact that we actually live in two worlds; one that is visible and one that is not. The intangible realm of death signifies the terrifying experience of being swept away by a torrent of darkness into territory where we’re out of control; where our identity is obliterated (and there is no iPod to distract us.) Just as we channel surf when we land on a program we don’t want to watch, we turn away from reminders of our mortality. But by not facing our fears, we compound them, unfortunately.

Shining Moments describes my journey from fear to hope, as I learned that facing the most dreaded fear of my life led not to paralyzing panic, but to an unblocked bounty of energy that accompanied a sense of living with meaning and with purpose.My father’s death showed me that we can leave this world peacefully without suffering. Watching the changes he went through as he died, left me with with the expectation and hope that the process of transformation which is visible during the dying process doesn’t come grinding to a halt when the body dies, but rather the energy continues to manifest even though we cannot see its effect. As scientists regularly discover phenomena that nobody previously knew existed, we have every reason to believe that there are unseen realities yet to be revealed. If you have sat with someone while they die, you’re aware that you are witnessing a process that has aspects which are very present but not visible; much more than meets the eye.

THE GREAT TEACHER

When I was twenty-one years old, during a routine teacher’s exam, the doctor found a lump in my throat, which turned out to be thyroid cancer. I was completely cured, and never had a recurrence (thank goodness) but that illness set the course for my life. At a young age it forced me to contemplate issues of life and death and I began a path of discovery, which continues even today. A very important instrument of healing for me was Dr. Bernie Siegel’s book, Love, Medicine and Miracles. When I wrote Shining Moments, I contacted him and he graciously agreed to write a testimonial. In the course of our correspondence, he sent me a wonderful poem which I want to share with you today.

THE GREAT TEACHER BY BERNIE SIEGEL, MD
Death what a great teacher you are
Yet few of us elect to take your class
And learn about life
That is the essence of death’s teaching
Death is not an elective
We must all take the class
The wise students audit the class in their early years
And find enlightenment
They are prepared when graduation day comes
It is your commencement

I have learned that death is a teacher and a friend. I will share more about that in future postings.

FINDING HOPE IN FACING DEATH

When my father was diagnosed with terminal cancer, I found myself thrust into a situation I didn’t want to be in, but where I was trapped nonetheless. Dad was going to be taken from me by his disease, which was a painful and inescapable reality. But equally disturbing were the face-to-face encounters with death in which I found myself, for which I felt totally unprepared.
It didn’t matter that I didn’t want to be there (and I really didn’t). There was no way out, except to run and hide from the situation; but my love for my father would not allow me to do that.

So I found myself in a daily struggle with the one thing I’d been terrified of all my life…death. In the spirit of compassion and driven by my love for my father, I refused to duck when the fear came at me. The result was, I ultimately came to understand that fear of death is like any other fear, and that the same rules for overcoming all fears apply to death, as well. If you run from it, its power over you increases. If you stop and face it, look it in the eye, it shrinks.

What I didn’t expect was how facing death would deepen my life. I discovered that the energy we lose by turning away and running becomes available to us again when we no longer engage in the flight. With a new fund of energy available, and without having to live on the edge of fear hoping that we won’t have to encounter either thoughts about death or the fact of its presence, we can turn more completely toward the business of living.

The hopefulness I began to feel about living deeply, about fulfilling my dreams, about accomplishing my purpose for being here on earth – all of those positive feelings spiked when I disengaged from the grip in which the fear of death had held me.

When I met my Dad’s Hospice nurse for the first time, I remember feeling a little cynical about her profession. I thought to myself, “Why would anybody choose to be around death and dying if they could spend their time doing something – anything - else! But by the time I had spent the last four days of Dad’s life at his side, I understood.

My dad’s death was a good death, mind you. No machines, no pain, no distorting medications, and no resistance on his part. What I perceived in those final days was an atmosphere that became increasingly charged with the wonder of life and the miracle of death. To see the changes that took place in his form, to look at the process with awe rather than fear – I knew I was watching something that was bigger and more profound than any of us. Experiencing the shift as the life moved out of his body, can only be characterized as a sacred experience.

To my surprise, there were no bolts of lightening or claps of thunder; just the peaceful, ever-evolving transformation of his body… and my own character.

I hope that some of you will join this discussion, whether you are being forced to face death, or just have an intellectual curiosity about it. I believe it’s a conversation we need to have.