Good morning precious,
Several members of our community are going through some trying times right now. As I promised Tae, today I am posting some words from my new book Crazy Sexy Cancer Companion: Inspirations and Reflections for the Ride. Some of you are awaiting scan reports, others preparing for a passage. I have found extreme comfort in allowing myself to "go there" and play with the idea of what it would be like. This isn't morbid. It's sobering, liberating, comforting and freeing. Also, if we can "go THERE" then we can do anything HERE. Remember death is a comma, not a period.....
From the book:
"The terror of death is so powerful that most human beings will do anything to avoid even thinking about it. Unless we’ve flatlined, seen the light, and lived to tell the tale, most of us can only speculate about what the actual journey entails. For years the thought of death made me physically ill. A spooky, jinxing paranoia grabbed my mind before it could wander into the void. At the time, I believed that worry was praying for what I don’t want, and since I didn’t want to die, I refused to think about it. What if the worry could bring it on? Yikes, creepy, no thanks! Better to smoosh the heebie-jeebies than to play roulette.
However, anything that we hide grows in strength. If you refuse to allow yourself to taste extra-dark chocolate, the curiosity will one day get the best of you. Eventually, the temptation to explore the door in the floor became too great and I had to open my mind to the darkness. By allowing my imagination to drift and wonder, a very cool possibility floated to the surface of my frontal lobe. What if death is just like leaving a room? If you are willing to swim in this murky pond with me, read on; I promise the water isn’t too deep and that I have a life vest and a first-aid kit in my bikini.
Picture this. You are at a party with your family and friends, and you are all really happy, eating crackers, and enjoying one another’s company. You are laughing, hugging, and whooping it up. After a while you leave the room to go into another part of the house. Although you are no longer you with your friends and family physically, you can still hear them. Maybe you can even make out exactly what they are saying. No doubt Uncle Buddy is telling a great joke and Grandpa Harry is advising your sweet little sister to be careful.
You then open a different door to an area of the house even farther removed from the party. Now you can no longer hear your friends and family—but you know they are all still there, still in the house, still with you. Instead of hearing their laughter, you can now feel it. In fact, no matter where you go in the house, you feel their presence. You know that even though your physical relationship to them has changed, your energetic connection has not.
This last room is the universal God soup. The place where the saint tells us we’re home; welcome to the new party. Jesus hands us butterfly wings, Buddha offers a bowl of rice and peas, and Elvis gyrates in white socks and sequins, offending no one.
Your what-if visualizaton will probably be very different from mine. Perhaps religion or a spiritual practice has given you a comforting model of what to expect when your last breath is exhaled. If you feel secure enough to explore this space, I encourage you to do so. I promise that worrying is not praying for what you don’t want, and that the anxiety of the unknown can actually be more dangerous than a gentle fantasy.
I have no idea how the long dirt nap actually works, and to tell you the truth I don’t want to find out anytime soon! But this visualization really helps me in rocky times of fear and doubt. Remember, death is the end of the chapter, not the end of the book.
What helps you? Can you imagine death in a way that will give you peace rather than panic? If you can let go of the fear of death, what would your life look like? Picture it.
The final Party
Saturday, January 26, 2008
Posted by cancer cowgirl xo at 9:57 AM