"The problem is, death keeps looking at us."  T.E. Holt, M.D. – from an article in Men's Health

   An old friend, approaching her seventieth birthday, shared with me that the older she gets, the more she fears death. I feel the opposite.

   Perhaps, our anxiety comes from the common definition of the odd, fear-laden word we don't like to mention. Death is routinely described as the cessation of all biologic functions.

Woman fading 2 - copyright erie chapman 2012

Photo-Sketch -"Woman Fading #2"– copyright erie chapman 2012

   Like the image in the photograph, this life is fading away. If we are living a comfortable life, if we believe that we are only our biology than fading is frightening. Life is all we know.

    So we look away from death even though "death keeps looking at us."

   "We give death power precisely to the extent that we work to ignore it, to blind ourselves to its closeness, to imagine we have the power to stave it off forever," Dr. Holt writes. "If we go through life imagining that, then the moment when we are forced to look at death can only rupture everything we know and paralyze us, still alive. That's not a good way to die."

   What is a good way to die – to live life as we head inexorably toward its end? After all, time is a trick. We can't find ourselves in such an illusion.

   The children of wisdom are acceptance and gratitude.

   One way to birth these hard-to-raise children is to know that we are more than our biology. The big remaining question is the nature of our non-body consciousness.

   Knowing the other consciousness is coming the dying can reach acceptance. As caregivers like Dr. Holt know, the moment fear leaves a terminally ill patient the angel of grace arrives. 

   Of course, we are all "terminally" ill. No one gets out of this world alive. Indeed, the cause of death is life.

   In surrender, the terminally ill accept what we deny. Their grace can hand us a rich gift. Instead, most of us turn away.

   It is so hard to accept life's most obvious truth: we have this moment and no other. We can be at peace in this now only if we know that our consciousness will find another way to express itself when the heart stops and the breath quiets. 

   Only a fool (or perhaps someone very courageous) fights absolute certainty. We can free ourselves from our fear of death – a challenge always easy to describe and hard to live.

   This process begins when we find the courage to look at death with what another friend of mine calls "the steady gaze." When we do, we will discover that the only thing death can take is our body, something that may be less important than we imagined.

   Love's energy, unburdened by our weight, can then embrace us completely opening a whole new way of being, a consciousness that encompasses both this life and life beyond.

   Isn't that heaven?

-Erie Chapman

5 responses to “Days 240-242 – “The Steady Gaze” – What the Dying Know”

  1. candace nagle Avatar
    candace nagle

    Sometimes, when I think of death, I imagine it is like stepping through a door and feeling an immense sense of relief. “Ah…Home!”

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  2. ~liz Wessel Avatar

    I like the woman in your image who appears to be crossing over a threshold, as well as the way light is beginning to encompass her.
    On one level, I am accepting of the inevitability of death as an intrinsic part of life. Death offers us a gift; when it taps us (or someone we love) on the shoulder we are suddenly awakened to the preciousness of the moment. Oft times we walk around in a dream state of thinking we have forever. Perhaps, denial as a coping mechanism shields us from being constantly aware of our impermanence and the groundlessness of life. Out beyond the perceived separateness of an individual, lives our true union.
    Yet, on a subconscious level, I fear dying, that loss of an individual self. An attempt to escape what feels threatening, leads to fear. I think this is the root cause of most problems in life and relationships. When we stop running and turn to face our fear we discover the blessing of real intimacy.

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  3. Elaine Avatar
    Elaine

    This comment is from the book Animals are Smarter than Jack, essay titled They Had to Say Good-Bye:
    “Madison was a bull mastiff who loved her humans unconditionally, especially her boy Mikey.
    “Anyone who has shared a home with a bull mastiff knows that if their dinner bowl is still full then something is wrong. A call to the vet suggested we bring her in for an examination.
    “She had congestive heart failure, although she was still young. The cardiologist confirmed that nothing could be done. The next morning came and it was evident what I had to. I thought it would be best for my son to think she’d passed peacefully during the night. I would tell him this when he came home from school. I gave her a big hug and a kiss and told her I loved her and this was the best thing for her.
    “We got out of the car but she refused to move. I think she knew she hadn’t said all her good-byes. As I coaxed her into the clinic it was evident that she needed to see her boy one last time. I canceled the appointment and said I would reschedule for the following day. I brought her home for one last night.
    “Madison got to spend her last night on the floor with my son, and the next morning she headed for the door as if to say ‘I’m ready now’.
    “Although this was the saddest and hardest thing to do, she taught me to communicate more with my son and let him share in making decisions.”
    Liz Senter
    Prince Edward Island
    Canada

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  4. ~liz Wessel Avatar

    Thanks for sharing Liz Senter’s touching story, Elaine.
    I am reading a novel called “Blue Shoe” by Anne LaMott. When the family’s beloved dog Marjorie dies, she describes how the family honored their faithful companion’s passing and I so appreciated that part. We lost our dear Pudge last Dec. My husband and I took turns staying up with him throughout the night.Our vet came to our home to put him to sleep when he was no longer able to get up and walk. I stayed home from work that day and sat be his side and just petted him continuously all day and told him sweet nothings. He was so content on his last day and he had a most beautiful, peaceful death. This provided some comfort amid the sadness of saying goodbye. A striking quote in LaMott’s book is by Kafka, “ the point of life is that it ends.”

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  5. buy my car Avatar

    I think she knew she hadn’t said all her good-byes. As I coaxed her into the clinic it was evident that she needed to see her boy one last time

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