dying |ˈdī-i ng |
adjective [ attrib. ]
on the point of death : he visited his dying mother.
• occurring at or connected with the time that someone dies : he strained to catch her dying words.
• gradually ceasing to exist or function; in decline and about to disappear : stone-cutting is a dying art | : the dying embers of the fire.
Winter Solstice is upon us, and I have made my commitment to this A Year to Live practice with the lighting of a candle at our Lhasang Ceremony. We have reached the point where the light, the life and sun, are coming back. Of course, it will take some time before the days grow longer and the nights shorter. One might think that choosing to do a practice of dying would be more fitting to begin on the summer solstice, a time of turning towards the darkness. This exercise of contemplating my upcoming death in one year and the affect that is has on my experience is actually bringing more "living" into my being.
Yesterday, I had the opportunity to snowshoe up to Gampo Lhatse. What a breathtaking experience to be in the snow and to rest my ears in the silence. In the distance, the only sound was the lull of ocean waves that usually are inaudible because of wind and other sounds of the earth at this altitude on the mountain. Snow drifts were taller than my head, and the trail had been transformed into something completely different. Yet, the essence of it, the familiarity of my companion Quan Yin trail remained the same. What a joy to traverse the path in a fresh way and meander through the trees.
When I approached Quan Yin, she was buried in the snow with only her head, shoulders, and hand holding a mala sticking out. Surprisingly, the wooden bench that her admirers can sit on was uncovered and easily accessed for meditation. I took my seat. While sitting there, my well-known feeling of fear arose. Mostly this fear is attributed to a lurking sensation of not being alone, of sharing a the forest space with another creature such as a coyote or moose. There is always a feeling of having something with me. Is this only a projection of my mind? Or do I really sense something? Either way, there is an opportunity to work with staying with fear, as Ani Pema speaks of. Fear of death, fear of pain, fear of a wild animal tearing off my limbs or gnawing at some part of my body.
This fear that I experience is completely consuming, and I notice a change in my mind and my being. So, on this day, I chose to sit and stay with this. By keeping my body still, I allowed the sensations of the emotions to come and go. The fear came in, subsided, and then returned to once again pass away. During the moments of intense sensation, I connected with my breath and the pain in my heart center and stomach. It was clear in this visceral experience that I did not want to run. Something in me was strong. I asked myself if I was too afraid to die in this moment and if I would want to run and leave. The inner response was a strong no. I understand now that I am not afraid and even when I doubt myself, my existence, I know I have had a rich life.
This felt like an opportunity to play. To play with death, to welcome it in. No particular answers came or enlightening thoughts, other than a simple awareness of what the mind does in times of fear. The nature of mine is to speed up, to be rapid and vibrate with electricity. I could feel my adrenals working and my nervous system stepping into the fight or flight mode. Deep belly breathing was my friend at this time. After the fear shifted, and it did shift, I felt a strength. A confidence in my ability. I stayed with the fear.
Ahead of me, I saw tracks in the snow made by another traveler, perhaps Tsondru or Datso. The tracks went deeper into the forest, and I questioned if I should carry on. Thoughts of this being my last year to live, I had no hesitation to take myself on the adventure. Off I went into the snow and further into the forest. My fear stayed with me slightly, but I moved onward regardless of this.
Death inspires the soul to do more, or at least it can if you choose that. If I think I am dying, I don't want to waste a minute and I don't want to pass up on an adventure. Mostly, I enjoy these adventures on my own, but there is a longing for a companion to cuddle with. Someone to share space with and be close with. In this journey to dying, I think that relationship with myself and the longing to have another is something that will be explored in future posts. Mostly, this aloneness is becoming my companion. In this aloneness, when I think of my friend death, I choose to write. I choose to live. Even if it's lying here in bed, resting, listening to music, and typing away into the computer. I had a conversation with a woman today in the dining room, and I shared that I've been enjoying the feeling of staying with sensation, with discomfort, with desire, with all of it. Perhaps, there's truly something there...staying with the sensations is the fun of it. There is no need to step into things or at least it's okay to not to...there is enough to be conscious of without doing anything.
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