and then get on with life.
How do you feel about dying?
Do you tense up? Do you feel sad? Do you even think about it? Does it make your heart skip a beat? It scares the bejeezus out of me. Yet I am so drawn to reading books about dying. I was chatting with my friend last weekend about it. She asked “Why?” I stumbled over my words, but finally got to my truth. Because it helps me with living. Helps me zoom out & not get caught up in my thoughts. A sweet reminder of one of the greatest truths as a human being. Impermanence. From my current read The Tibetan Book of Living and Dying “Perhaps it is only those who understand how fragile life is who know how precious it is.”
The Buddha said:
This existence of ours is as transient as autumn clouds.
To watch the birth and death of beings is like looking at the movements of a dance.
A lifetime is like a flash of lightning in the sky.
Rushing by, like a torrent down a steep mountain.
Some of my favourite books are about dying; and ultimately provide inspiration and guidance about living this human experience. The fact is we're all dying. It's just that some of us leave earlier than others. Contemplating dying can be profoundly impactful and help shape the way we choose to live. Some of my favourite reads:
* The Top Five Regrets of the Dying, Bronnie Ware
* The Five Invitations, Frank Ostatseski
* Tuesdays with Morrie, Mitch Albom
Have you thought about where your body will rest? I would like a natural burial, where native trees are placed at the base of the plot to grow. Have you pondered a beautiful song that will be played at your service? I'd like Free Fallin' to be played. Not Tom Petty's version - John Mayers - Live at Nokia Theatre. 🎶 Now I'm free, free fallin', free fallin' 🎶 I'll be free fallin… into the unknown. 💫 I may change my mind, I may even expand this into a playlist. Watch this space.
I came across some beautiful writing. A letter from a dying mother to her children. A heartfelt read that I loved and wanted to share. Julie Yip-Williams wrote this for her daughters. She died with Stage IV colon cancer, she was only forty-two. Her early years had been challenging to say the least. Born blind in Vietnam, at two months of age she was almost euthanised on the orders of a grandmother who deemed her to be defective. She moved to Hong Kong with her family and hundreds of other refugees years later in search of a more peaceful life, eventually settling down in the US where her life improved drastically. She had surgery on her eyes that gifted her partial sight, studied at Harvard, and became a successful lawyer, but then, in her thirties, she was diagnosed with terminal cancer. It was then that she began to write what would become a posthumously published memoir, The Unwinding of the Miracle. (Now on my to read list). In July 2017, a year before she passed away, Yip-Williams wrote the following letter to her young daughters. I noticed many references to Impermanence.
Some exerts of her beautiful writing below.
My sweet babies, I do not have the answer to the question of why, at least not now and not in this life. But I do know that there is incredible value in pain and suffering, if you allow yourself to experience it, to cry, to feel sorrow and grief, to hurt. Walk through the fire and you will emerge on the other end, whole and stronger. I promise. You will ultimately find truth and beauty and wisdom and peace. You will understand that nothing lasts forever, not pain, or joy. You will understand that joy cannot exist without sadness. Relief cannot exist without pain. Compassion cannot exist without cruelty. Courage cannot exist without fear. Hope cannot exist without despair. Wisdom cannot exist without suffering. Gratitude cannot exist without deprivation. Paradoxes abound in this life. Living is an exercise in navigating within them.
~~~
And last, wherever I may go, a part of me will always be with you. My blood flows within you. You have inherited the best parts of me. Even though I won’t physically be here, I will be watching over you.
~~~
Many may disagree, but I have always believed, always, even when I was a precocious little girl crying alone in my bed, that our purpose in this life is to experience everything we possibly can, to understand as much of the human condition as we can squeeze into one lifetime, however long or short that may be. We are here to feel the complex range of emotions that come with being human. And from those experiences, our souls expand and grow and learn and change, and we understand a little more about what it really means to be human. I call it the evolution of the soul. Know that your mother lived an incredible life that was filled with more than her “fair” share of pain and suffering, first with her blindness and then with cancer. And I allowed that pain and suffering to define me, to change me, but for the better.
Her full letter is here, if you feel compelled. Can you take a moment today to look up at the sky, and ponder how insignificant you are. And then take a moment to consider what a miracle you are - and the infinite amount of possibilities that lay ahead for you. Take these moments, take all the moments, as we never know when this human experience may come to an end.