We all have some form of magical thinking when it comes to dying. It’s how we attempt to gain control over our fears. My particular brand of magical thinking is that if you eat well, exercise and meditate, you will most likely have a long and healthy life. I know this is not entirely rational…
What I did not write about was the all-too-real end-of-life journey of my earliest childhood friend Marisa, who was courageously facing metastatic cancer while I went about my hypothetical journey.
People who had substantive discussions with their doctor about their end-of-life preferences were far more likely to die at peace and in control of their situation, and to spare their family anguish. Above all, there are 4 simple questions to talk through with those who are ill…
When a person dies, there are many things that can be said, and there is at least one thing that should never be said. The night after Alex died I was sitting in the living room of my sister’s house outside of Boston, when the front door opened and in came a nice-looking, middle-aged woman. When she saw me, she shook her head, then headed for the kitchen, saying sadly over her shoulder, “I just don’t understand the will of God.”
There should be a rule against writing about meditation retreats immediately after they’re over. In those first hours and days post-retreat, it’s as if I’m experiencing the world through a fresh set of eyes. The cosmos have aligned. Nothing could be a problem. It also smacks of a certain smugness.
In the 1940s, Robert Stephenson Smyth Baden-Powell — who was credited with founding the Scout Movement — wrote a letter found in his desk drawer after his death. Within it was his now-famous advice to Scouts around the globe: “Try and leave this world a little better than you found it.”
When the volunteer coordinator called me, she said she had a woman who was “too mean to die” and that she trusted that I was the right person for her. With that introduction, I left with an open heart and open mind, intending not to judge, but send loving energy to her. She was the most miserable, unlikable, complaining, woman I have met!
I used to have a neighbor who would yell at her young children a lot. I would listen to her voice reverberating through the thin walls of our building and vow that if I ever had kids, I would never do that. Plain and simple. Fast forward a decade plus and – well, you can guess where this is going!