The Inconvenience of Death

My friend and I were talking last night about this A Year To Live experience that we've both been a part of since last November. "It's so funny. I'm finding myself saying to myself  'I don't have time for death!' I have too much to do!" she shared. "I know. Isn't it crazy how death feels like an inconvenience?" I said.

But the reality is that we never know when death will arrive for us, and we won't always have the opportunity to clean up everything in our lives that we would like to before we die. That's the nice thing about this year to live experience: It's giving me the opportunity to at least look at all those places in my life that are messy and start to clean them up. Maybe if I do this as a regular practice, by the time I really die, my heart will be lighter and my life will be in an easier place for those dealing with what's left behind...

My friend and I also talked about all the things we're not able to do before November 1st that we once thought we'd want to do before we die - travel to new places, do certain things, have certain experiences... And we realized that neither of us care about those things anymore. Yep, it might have been nice, but what matters the most to each of us is what we are doing right now - today - in this moment.

How present are we in what we're doing? How fully are we participating in each moment of our lives? How willing are we to be with what is rather than contemplating what we wish was or what we're not going to be able to do? How open are we to what is, even if it's something uncomfortable?

Because what we realize is that whatever it is, it's our life! This is our life! For however much time we have in it, isn't it more valuable to live it openly and fully than to close around it, resist or push away what is?

Sounds of Silence - Part 2

Wow - what an experience silence was! It did not unroll as I intended. In fact, I broke my silence completely on Friday... Yep - just one day after I started it. I'm still unraveling everything that arose for me during that time, but here's what I got so far:

I am angry... Yep - angry. Part of me has risen up in protest to all the things that are asked of me every day. It says "I don't ask for much from people, and all I asked for was one day of silence - just one!"And even that was not possible.


People pulled at me all day long, asking for things - things that required words. One friend even asked "Are you really not talking or just...." Just what? Pretending to be in silence? What kind of a question is that? Would I have been wearing a sign around my neck that said "I am in Silence" if I weren't really in silence?

So I talked. I talked just about whenever someone asked me to. This is not being in silence. There were moments when I tried to communicate with gestures; it just got too complicated. It was just easier to talk. And believe me - I know it's not because what I have to say is so important.

I found it interesting to watch how things unfolded in my silence, and how it felt to have the people around me getting frustrated and uneasy with me not talking. I felt them pulling at me for this or that; that's the best way I can describe it. They wanted me to do and be who I always was, not this silent person with nothing to offer. A couple of friends asked in frustration or confusion "Didn't you get the email?" because I was offline all day. I felt like they needed something from me that they weren't getting in my silence, and this made both of us uncomfortable.

This is valuable information for me! I get to look at what I thought would happen if I maintained silence despite their pulling. And I get to look at all the ways I work to keep things steady and stable around me... to feel comfortable myself I imagine... to live up to some kind of identity I have. So I ask myself now: "Who would I be without that identity?" That's a question worth exploring.

I really got to see how uncomfortable folks are with silence and even with the idea of silence. When I'd show them my sign, most people would whisper "Oh!" and tip-toe away as if they had to be silent around me too. It was hilarious! Two friends canceled a dinner meeting with me and my sweetie because they wanted to "talk and catch up," and felt uncomfortable with me in silence. Why? I can still listen and laugh and participate... just without my own words. So what? What's the big deal about that? I sensed their judgement around my choice and could practically hear them joking about it even though I never saw them that day. It felt disrespectful; that's all I know.

So overall, I'd say that the part of my experience that was around being silent failed for the most part. But the experience itself was a huge success. I learned so many things about my self and my life that I hadn't quite seen in the way I did that day. Now I am determined to go into silence again, but this time for real, some time before I die in November. I don't know for how long, but I know I will revisit this practice; only this time, I will not break it for the comfort or convenience of myself or anyone else. This time, I will move beyond the discomfort to see what's there.

Sounds of Silence

In my last blog I said I'd done two things that were different and I wrote about the first: not doing. The second thing I did yesterday that I've never done before was to go into silence. I've done a couple of silent retreats for several days at a time where everyone is in silence, but I've never done silence out in the world just for the heck of it.

When I got up the first time this morning at 5:30 a.m., I forgot my intent to be in silence... So I spoke a few words to my sweetie before I remembered, who was puzzled when I suddenly stopped responding verbally ("What happened to your voice?"). When I gave the "locked lips" signal, it was clear; we'd talked about it the night before ("Ah - you're doing the silence thing."). I thought it was funny that my voice was missed because usually I believe I talk way too much!

After my sweetie left for the day I had the house to myself. I committed to staying offline, not texting, not watching TV and not listening to music too. I did have to respond to a couple of calls, texts and emails that required attention but after that I closed those doors. When I headed to Austin that afternoon for a meeting and to assist with a Toltec class, I gave myself permission to break the silence if necessary within those contexts. But for socializing, silence. 

Two weeks ago I made myself a sign to wear around my neck that says "I am in silence" in anticipation of whenever I decided to do this practice. It worked really well today. People are funny when they read it; they think they can't talk to you either!

But that's not true; I can listen really well and not talk at all. In fact, I can listen better. It's just that when you don't respond to people, they don't know what to do; they are looking for something habitual that's not present in your silence. It's a fabulous game!


I rediscovered yesterday that being in silence deepens your relationship to the whole world. Everything seems brighter, louder, sharper, clearer, more vibrant and more intense. A deeper level of presence, intimacy and love emerges naturally - at least on the silent end.

By midday I was prepared to stay in silence for at least four days; by nightfall, I knew it would be longer - indefinite. Why? Because of what's already emerging through the silence. I like it; no, I love it. Silence brings a freshness to things that gets overshadowed by talking.

But for me it's not just sounds necessarily; it's words. Words seem to create an artificial limitation to sound, giving it a feeling of sharpness or a quality of cutting through space in a disturbing way. But other sounds did not have this affect on me. Whereas I felt startled by my own words when I accidentally spoke a few to my dog this morning, I was not at all startled by the sound of the door closing, the A/C blowing, the chair squeaking or the birds chirping. And although I felt startled by the voices at meetings today, I was not at all startled by the night sounds on my drive home - the crickets, cars and wind... Interesting. This is something I will bring awareness to in my extended silence.

More on that later...

Not Doing

Yesterday I did two unusual things - one that I haven't done since high school and another that I've never done. I chose to do them as part of the "winding down" phase of this A Year To Live process noting that I have just over two months left until my symbolic death.

First, I committed to spending my morning "not doing." The funny part of it was that I got up at 5:30 a.m. and did the usual morning things I do (like feed and water the pets, empty the A/C water bucket, put out mail, wash dishes, see my sweetie off, etc.) so that I could create the space to "not do." It was as if my mind said "OK; you can not do after you do these things! That will buy you some time!" How funny that is!

 But I guess it worked because by 6:30 a.m. I was back in bed determined to not do anything - not even meditate or sleep - for an unknown period of time... just lay there and not do. And that's what I did. I laid there and listened for a world on the move without me. My mind was sure I would hear it and feel frustrated. Only I didn't hear anything, which is extremely unusual; the world outside sounded and felt silent.

I spent the next block of space slipping in and out of dreaming though my mind did not retain any details of them. When I felt it was time for me to get up, I did; it was 10:30 a.m.! I had been laying there for four hours not doing... or at least not intentionally doing. I hadn't stayed in bed that long since high school!

What I noticed from this practice was how many things would not get done without me here to do them. Other people would be stuck doing them instead; or they simply would not get done. Even the tiniest of things like petting the cat or emptying the trash might not get done or at least not when they are usually done. Will that really matter when I'm not here? Or will these things be forgotten?

I noticed my mind asking "Where are the places that I will be missed?" and then trying to find them among the things that were tugging at me for doing. Ah - ego identity. That's something worth clearing before I die...

As to the second thing I did, check my next blog...

The Gifts of Life & Death

I traveled to Houston last weekend to celebrate my Dad's 78th birthday. While I was there, I found myself sitting back and watching everyone - my parents, sisters, brother-in-laws, nieces and nephews, friends, dogs - sharing and laughing together. I was filled with so much love for everyone there.

And I realized that I've spent so much time during this year to live focused on cleaning up my own life in preparation to die that I'd nearly overlooked the fact that I'm also letting go of everyone else's lives. My nieces and nephews are all in high school and college now; exciting things are happening in their lives! My sisters are close to being "empty nesters" and embarking on new realms in their own lives, too. My parents are aging and in need of unconditional love and compassionate care. I will not be here to experience these beautiful phases and stages of any of their lives...

I found myself feeling an interesting mix of a heart full of joyous love and deep, intimate grief for the letting go of it all. I realized that as I am surrendering the details of my own life to death, so I am surrendering the details of theirs, too.

This morning I sat with the remembering of a car accident I was involved in nearly 12 years ago. It occurred to me that at that time as I was faced with the possibility of dying, I was fully ready and willing to go. My life was filled with struggle and distress; I used to call myself "the walking dead." Plus, the feeling of following the pull to the other side was so glorious that there was not one bit of hesitation; I would have let my entire life go for the beauty of the pull I felt "over there." In the end, it was simply not time for me to go...

Yet today as I am faced with the same death, I am filled with an emotional mix of love and grief. I love my entire life now; there is not one single part of it that I don't like or enjoy. And so I grieve the letting go of it all - every crazy bit of it....

 That's not to say that my life does not have any struggle or distress in it today. It simply means that I have found a new level of relationship with life and myself as a part of it. And this new relationship is one of  curiosity, discovery, experimentation, opening, love, acceptance, celebration and joy. I am a drop in an ocean of divine life. And as that drop I enjoy every bit of experience that I get to have here; and as a part of the ocean, I enjoy every bit of the sense of unity that I feel here within the wholeness and fullness of living.

I have 78 days left to live. There are so many places I have not seen, so many things I have not done, so many people I have not finished with - finished enjoying and loving. I guess that's just a part of dying: my life may not be all wrapped up in a nice, neat package when I die. It may just be the crazy mix that it is. And I will have to leave it all anyway...

Release. Surrender. Open... Can my relationship with death be the same as my relationship with life - one of  curiosity, discovery, experimentation, opening, love, acceptance, celebration and joy? I wonder...