Living Well, Dying Well

Today, a mid-February day in Vermont, it is in the 50's and rain keeps moving over the meadow in waves.  Maybe it is the weather and longing to get outside into the garden again, or maybe it is seeing signs of green shoots of plant life beginning too early, making me question the relativity of the whole life-death continuum, but for whatever reason it brought to mind this piece that I wrote in April a few years ago.  I'd like to share it with you, so here it is:

I took a walk with our 21-year-old cat, Olive, today.  She is not eating much anymore, and seems to live on direct sunlight, as plants do.  I know she cannot photosynthesize the sunlight, but it seems like a good thing for her, and so when she meowed to go outside, I took her out, set her on the grass and we walked down to the garden together.  My intent had been to grade papers this afternoon, but when Olive contentedly settled into a soft place in the garden, nestled in the shadow of a tuft of grass and mustard, I decided instead to do some weeding so that she could enjoy a little time outside.

When life is nearing the end, choices become so much simpler.  Being in the moment, in the garden, was the only thing to be done, the only place to be, when it was what Olive wanted and needed.

Death and making the transition from this life to whatever comes next, has been on my mind recently.  It’s not exactly a subject we carry in the forefront of our thoughts, and yet something that we all do need to face at some point.  My father-in-law passed away a few weeks ago, and all who gathered around his bed at the end agreed that it was “a good death.”  Even the hospice staff, commented on how well he was accompanied in this final transition of his life.  His children read from some of his favorite books, played music and sang for him, spoke of deep things, of their dreams and hopes, of the many accomplishments of his life, and simply sat with him, holding a hand, communicating with eyes and touch once words ceased to be useful.

John O’Donohue, the Irish priest and poet speaks of death walking beside us throughout our lives, not in a way that is meant to threaten or frighten us, but rather as a reminder that this opportunity to live our one amazing life should not be taken lightly.  He closes his blessing “On Death” saying,

“And decide carefully / how you now can live / the life you would love / to look back on from your deathbed.”  

Living well gives us pleasure in the present, as my hour in the garden with Olive gave me today, but it also allows us to eventually leave this life with a deep contentment, knowing we have done what we could.  We can die in peace, knowing we have answered and lived into the calling of our spirit and of our destiny.

This springtime, as so much comes to life around us, maybe we can feel ourselves participating in the fullness of the circle of life, and be grateful for the gifts… so many gifts that surround us and make our lives good.

Blessings,

Shirley

(Originally published April 2012 on https://wildwoodumc.wordpress.com/ )

"Grace" as a New Year's Resolution

 January 2016

Dear Friends,

            This is the season when many of us think to ourselves, “now, what are my intentions for this new year?”  We make resolutions, usually having to do with diet or exercise, and carry them out with varying degrees of success.  The people who study these things claim that it takes 66 days for a practice to become a reliably adopted habit.  So, if we can just get through the first three months, then we are well on our way!

            Some old-fashioned religious terms have been working on me as I think about what my intentions will be for 2016.  The words are “mercy” and “grace”.  Life these days tends to be so contentious, that many of us have built up thick protective walls to our hearts.  We are on the defensive, on high alert, looking for any transgressions that might cause us harm or pain. 

            Mercy and grace stand in stark contrast to a closed-off and carefully protected heart.  They coax and invite us to consider a different way of being in relationship with others.  They ask us to embrace and embody a softer and gentler way of being in the world.  In a recent lecture, Richard Rohr, a Franciscan monk and founder of the Center for Action and Contemplation, spoke about the freedom we give to ourselves when we let go of the need to always be right, to always do exactly and only the right thing.  He invited his listeners to consider that being loving was a higher value than being right.

            This sounds to me like a worthy New Year’s resolution, to choose to be loving rather than focusing my energies on always attempting to be right.  I like the freedom inherent in letting go of the need to judge every situation.  I look forward to seeking out ways to express my love and appreciation without the need to assess the rightness or wrongness of a person or of their choices.  I appreciate the challenge of breathing new life into seemingly old-fashioned concepts like mercy and grace, so that they can gain credibility in a world that has become way too contentious.

            I don’t think my resolution is going to be easy to keep.  In fact, a diet or exercise program might be a whole lot simpler, but I feel the need to stand in opposition to the violence that permeates so much of our lives today, and this seems like a powerful way to do it.  Even if it doesn’t make a dent “out there” in the world, I have a suspicion it will make a big difference “in here” in my heart and in my life.

May grace and mercy be with you in this New Year.

Shirley