Conversations about Death

It seems that no matter how long we live, it's like it lasted about five minutes … know what I mean? There is radical equality at the time of death. Sean

Let's talk about death. Just bring up whatever that helps bring understanding.
It seems that no matter how long we live, it's like it lasted about five minutes … know what I mean? There is radical equality at the time of death.

A woman in her 60s who sat next to me said at my retreat, “I feel like I am growing invisible.” And then she died a few weeks later. And I just read an hilarious but depth-filled story in Tharlam's group about a guy in his 60s that felt like he was becoming invisible: Enlightenment Therapy. 

Looking for more views…

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I have always found the 100 Verses of Advice useful during discussions of mortality. 

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ST, I beg to differ, this guy in the video is a good example of survival.  

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As my son said when we visited the Pyramids in Egypt - the only real thing in life is that we are dying.

He hasn't read The Tibetan Book of Living and Dying; but I saw the light in his eyes when he discovered one of the rare Truths.

Once, a friend of mine with a brain tumor told me: “Meenakshi, I have six months to live.”
I answered: “Well, you're lucky, because I don't have the certainty of even a second more to live. I may die any second.”

And we both burst into laughter. She was very rich and had been seen by doctors in all major countries, and all had told her basically that the tumor was inoperable. With healing and her own laughter, she not only got back some of her lost capacities [talk without slurring, e.g.] but lived for about 3 years after that.

I remember her always with that laughter.

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I worked for 8 years with the National Brain Injury Foundation here in Australia doing massage, teaching guys with brain injury how to massage and retraining them in social skills like the simple act of having a coffee out. I loved the work. I loved the people. Some were so injured they were written off as vegetables but their parents didnt write them off and neither did I . We worked out ways of communicating with the more disabled people. They were not vegetables just people locked inside a body that refused to work. 

I taught a man to point with his finger by massaging it till it was flexible again and getting him to practice, thinking at the finger “point”. You have to recreate the neurological pathways in the brain to make the movement happen and practice makes it happen. Once they could point we got a communication board going. It was laborious. I helped a women to play cards on the computer like this. She beat me every time. I've never been a good card player. The organisation I worked for had come together as a result of parents wanting more supports and better living conditions for their family members. 

We raised funds and built houses specifically for young people with brain injury. They had been living in aged care nursing homes. Then we got some government funding for nurses and the running of the homes. I have since moved away from the area but still get the newsletter. That work was so meaningful but a lot was voluntary because thats the nature of things like that. If the government cant or wont then the people involved have to do it. 

These people refused to sit around whinging they got up and did something. I sometimes become frustrated with people who cant see that they have the power in their own hands to act and achieve. I know life can beat you down but like Mikey Dee and the guy with no limbs you find a way. 

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Jenny, you do wonderful things for people.

ST

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You are a real friend and beautiful person, Meenakshi.

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I once had a collegue. He had a father who was in the last phase of a terminal desease. My collegue dropped in from time to time. We would then sit down and I would listen. Sometimes he could only speak a few words, just trying to understand what his father was going through.

Suddenly on one day, he was worried about him not being enough time at work (me being his manager), or maybe suddenly he had to rush to the hospital. I told him it was no problem. He was still holding on to the work, but he also started telling the most beautiful stuff he and his father would share in the path to the end. My collegue did not realize that he was sharing something great with me. I told him to stop worrying, go whenever he felt like going to the hospital and sit beside his father's bed, be there for the final moments together. He cried ever so gently about him realizing that he had this chance to walk his father home.

It was a close encounter of universal goodbye saying to a loved one.

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Nion,

That was wonderful. Also, you did a beautiful thing. I can tell you are a wonderful being.

When we approach death, we have the opportunity to become more alive than ever. It is one of life's ironies.

ST

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Life is something that we cannot see, because we have no eyes before or after it.  All we can do is experience it as it happens to us.

Alive,
Carl

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I read a book called Tuesdays with Morrie havent seen the movie yet. Morrie said ”When you know how to die you know how to live.“and “death ends a life not a relationship.”

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My fav quote about death is “THERE is no cure to birth or death, safe to enjoy the interval”-George Santayana 1863-1952

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*note: sorry it's long… kind of all just poured out of me!
~

Forgive me for being slow to jump in here - but I have not had a moment to sit down and properly write until tonight…  this is a great topic to address here ST. Yes to Death being contagious. On Thursday last week, one of my students died. He had been ill for a few months and unable to come to class or do any of the things that he loved. Unfortunately, in the past couple of weeks, his health deteriorated very quickly. He is no longer suffering, and for that I am grateful. His loved one, who is also in my class, is suffering still, but with time her pain and loss will be felt less sharply. I miss his physical presence in the class. He was a hulking, tall, gregarious man with a thick Austrian accent, who grunted, groaned and complained loudly with every asana that I invited him to do. Every class he would do this. Grunt, groan and complain – and then tell me that the night before he had the best sleep he’d ever had because of learning yoga with me. We would tease each other every class, and enjoyed an easy friendship. Although he is not physically in my class at the moment, he is very much present. I know he is still there chuckling. I have been confronted with my own death a few times, outside of my ongoing dance with that ultimate transition. Once as a newborn (when the Hong Kong flu was the new flu on the block), once when I was two, once while living in Africa, and once for the briefest moment while giving birth to my first child. What kind of impact has that had on me? – pffftt fluffed it off as being a Life experience that everyone has, nothing unusual and moved on.

 Actually, it was something else that crystallized my relationship (and understanding) with death during my time living in Africa – while I was there – two women came to the woman that I was living with. My ‘mother’ was a traditional doctor, and we often had people coming with various ailments to be treated. I walked outside one morning to find my ‘brother’ who was born with polio buried to his neck at the base of the papaya tree in the courtyard. It was part of his treatment. I still remember his bright wide smile when I came and sat with him for the morning. I sang to him. On the day that the first woman arrived, she was still bleeding from where the rapid dog had bitten her. I treated her wounds, washed and dressed them, and my ‘mother’ concocted her treatments. She stayed with us for almost a week – receiving treatments, and care. I knew that she was feeling much better the morning she came out of the house and started to laugh at me while I was struggling to wash my clothes by hand. It is an art that I eventually mastered, but at that time, the warthogs were better at it than I was. That day, she returned to her village. The next day, the second woman, who had been bitten by the same rabid dog came to us. A week later after having gone first to the local hospital, receiving only half of the necessary rabies shots because of a shortage, her family brought her. She was in bad shape. They laid her out on the dirt floor outside the door of my room and tried to make her as comfortable as possible. The next twenty-four hours were very difficult. The woman suffered a great deal, because she was beyond help by that time. The family suffered as they tried to ease her passage. Then, at the moment she passed, a peace like I had never felt before fell over all of us. On that night, I understood – Death comes when it comes. When it is time to go, it is just time to go. It is impossible to put everything into words, but as difficult as that transition can be – as with being born is dressed in painful contractions – when the change is made, there is peace and rest. Another story comes to mind now too, but I won’t retell this story though. If you ever have the chance to read the zen story of the mustard seed – it illustrates very well what I experienced personally that night in the jungle.

Anyway – I just try to live each day with one question in mind - what have I left undone. Mostly, just try to love, and laugh, and always look for beauty in every ordinary day.

Ok, I will go now and read everyone else’s responses.

Much love to you all and big hugs,

Leigh-Anne

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This is a beautiful sweet sorrow Leigh-Anne.  Thanks for sharing bringing light to this subject. Peace! ~kathy

Thank you for helping us to see this point.

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Hi Leigh-Anne,

You BE. I can tell…one of the lucky ones.

ST