When TV journalist Tim Russert died suddenly the other day, I was reminded that the awareness of death teaches us how precious our lives are. I have learned to think of death as a teacher and a friend; here are ten things it taught me about how to live:
1. Live your life so you have no regrets.
2. Admit to yourself that life is fleeting and all things as we know them will come to an end; then out of the awareness of the endings, create new beginnings.
3. Begin to heal your life by making choices that allow you to control your own
destiny.
4. Acknowledge the presence of those you love, and honor your spouse or partner, your children and your friends.
5. Never resort to violent acts or bring ruthless thoughts into the realm of your
being.
6. Bring love into every situation and replace vengeance with peaceful, loving
intentions.
7. Elevate your actions to reflect the highest principles of living; show love, respect and honor for all life.
8. Waste no energy on vanity or pride.
9. Be generous and giving and pursue the highest purpose in all you do
10. Let go of life in the sweetest way you know how.
Georgia Weithe's Blog
Friday, June 20, 2008
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
LONELINESS AND LOSS
I know I must make a distinction between facing death, and experiencing loss. I have not, in Shining Moments, addressed the pain of losing a loved one and the grief that follows. It is a subject I will leave to others, for now. But I want to share a poem with those who are mourning the loss of a loved one, that I believe will speak to the experience.
For Loneliness
When the light lessens,
Causing colors to lose their courage,
And your eyes fix on the empty distance
That can open on either side
Of the sunset line
To make all that is
Familiar and near
Seem suddenly foreign,
When the music of talk
Breaks apart the noise
and you hear your heart louden
while the voices around you
slow down to leaden echoes
turning the silence
into something stony and cold,
When the old ghosts come back
to feed on everywhere you felt sure,
do not strengthen their hunger
by choosing to fear;
Rather, decide to call on your heart
that it may grow clear and free
to welcome home your emptiness
that it may cleanse you
like the clearest air
you could ever breathe.
Allow all your loneliness time
to dissolve the shell of dross
that had closed around you;
choose in this severe silence
to hear the one true voice
your rushed life fears;
cradle yourself like a child
learning to trust what emerges,
so that gradually
you may come to know
that deep in that black hole
you will find that blue flower
that holds the mystical light
which will illuminate in you
the glimmer of springtime.
John O'Donohue
For Loneliness
When the light lessens,
Causing colors to lose their courage,
And your eyes fix on the empty distance
That can open on either side
Of the sunset line
To make all that is
Familiar and near
Seem suddenly foreign,
When the music of talk
Breaks apart the noise
and you hear your heart louden
while the voices around you
slow down to leaden echoes
turning the silence
into something stony and cold,
When the old ghosts come back
to feed on everywhere you felt sure,
do not strengthen their hunger
by choosing to fear;
Rather, decide to call on your heart
that it may grow clear and free
to welcome home your emptiness
that it may cleanse you
like the clearest air
you could ever breathe.
Allow all your loneliness time
to dissolve the shell of dross
that had closed around you;
choose in this severe silence
to hear the one true voice
your rushed life fears;
cradle yourself like a child
learning to trust what emerges,
so that gradually
you may come to know
that deep in that black hole
you will find that blue flower
that holds the mystical light
which will illuminate in you
the glimmer of springtime.
John O'Donohue
Sunday, June 1, 2008
CHANGE IS INEVITABLE
Over the course of a lifetime we are transformed many times – born into new stages of life and dying to the last. We go from being an infant to a toddler, then child to adolescent, to young then mature adult, etc. We hardly notice as we are progressing from one phase to the next. We have no fear and we offer no resistance; we recognize the passage into each new stage of life not as a death but as a milestone to be celebrated. The underlying pattern here is this: change is inevitable. It doesn’t hurt to undergo these changes, and part of the reason may be that we offer no resistance.
Our dance partner as we go waltzing through life is death – and death is always in the lead. If we allow it to guide us we will glide over the dance floor with beauty and grace. If we introduce an element of fear, we will stumble. Can we learn to accept death without fear? As Nancy Gibbs says in an essay in Time Magazine referring to the death of her father: “While sorrow is certain, fear is not.”
Our dance partner as we go waltzing through life is death – and death is always in the lead. If we allow it to guide us we will glide over the dance floor with beauty and grace. If we introduce an element of fear, we will stumble. Can we learn to accept death without fear? As Nancy Gibbs says in an essay in Time Magazine referring to the death of her father: “While sorrow is certain, fear is not.”
Monday, May 26, 2008
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.
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.
Sunday, May 18, 2008
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.
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.
Monday, May 12, 2008
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.
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.
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