A Shaman's Death

This year, I have the pleasure of "dying" twice: once last weekend as an ending to a shamanic intensive I've been involved with for most of 2011, and the other in December with a year-long circle I've been holding since January - my AWAKEN Circle. 

I had no agenda for last weekend's death, other than to be shown whatever was for me to see. The experience was quite surreal on several fronts. What I will share is that for the first time in my "dying" experiences, I was actually buried in the damp soil of the Earth - head to toe, all but my shrouded face covered over with dirt. It was a strangely wonderful experience. 

I loved digging my own grave; it was a tremendously sacred act. And I loved having someone so special to me cover me over with dirt; it was also a sacred act. The feeling of it cannot be put to words. I wished I would have the same pleasure upon my actual death...

I was buried between two huge old oak trees for some period of time. I could hear the wind blowing through the leaves above me as I laid in the dirt, dead. I could also hear flies checking me out, and the whisper of birds flying past and chirping their songs around me, creating moments of total peace and serenity. In contrast, every so often a battery of intense gunfire rang out nearby...as if taunting me with the reality of my death.

The soil was moist and rich and dark in color. I imagined while digging my grave that I would get damp and cold in there. But what happened was that I felt cozy and warm instead, completely held by the love of the Earth. Twice while buried, a wave of a damp coldness passed through me to the bone, but they were only waves, lasting only for what felt like moments...and then the warmth returned. 

At some point my awareness shifted into what I can only describe as a pureness of being. My senses heightened - specifically vibratory sensations. Everything became as a vibration - a wave of energy moving through my body as I laid in the dirt. There was no thought; only presence and vibration. My body opened until I felt fully expanded into all things... as one vibration of being...a vibration of Love in its purest form.

This was a different experience from my past deaths in which I felt an acute letting go of the physical - a sort of separation of my energy body from my physical one and from all things physical. Not so this time. This time, I felt a merging with - an expansion into - all things physical or vibratory. I had an acute sense of connectedness with rather than separation from the physical, even in death. It was beautiful. 

I do not hold anything around the meaning of this experience; I only cherish how it felt. At some point, I arose from the dirt as if on cue from some higher source of wisdom - fully alive, fully awake, fully vibratory, having dropped into an even deeper connection with something beyond the physical. Life and death, death and life: two sides of the same face. I am both of them; both of them are me. 

And so this journey continues: Adventures in Love - my personal exploration into the power of the vibration of Love.

Falling Into Fall

I woke up this morning to a chilly 40-something degrees! Winter has begun to tease us this week in Texas, with cold nights and cool days. The night time sky holds that crisp, clear, extra-vibrant quality that is Fall's blessing; the Moon and Stars seem to shine extra brightly this time of year. We are nearly halfway to our Winter Solstice or Yule, when the light of day begins to grow again following the longer periods of darkness brought by Fall. Yule signals the transition from longer nights to longer days, but we can't celebrate the growing light just yet! For we are still easing our way deep into the darkest part of the Fall season. 

This is the time of year to complete the last of your Summer harvesting, drawing in and tidying up anything left undone. This period of Mid-Fall opens a gateway to the cycle of endings or death, yet this is not to be feared. Rather, death creates the space for new crops to be planted and new life to emerge. This is the death of Summer, yet it brings life to Fall, a time of reflection, gratitude and a deepening into the Self.

Many traditions believe that there is a thinning of the veils between the realms of reality from October 30th to November 2nd, allowing us to connect with the dead more easily. As we make our way past Halloween, traditionally known as Samhain, we take time to honor the passing of all things, including our Summer crops. They have been harvested and what remains is mulched back into the soils to nourish them for a future harvest.  We can use this energetic metaphor to clear, transform and nourish our inner Being during this transitional time. 

Samhain was turned into All Saint's Day by the Roman Catholic leaders, yet it is based in ancient traditions that are about honoring our ancestral lineage and remembering our place in the progression of life. It brings an opportunity to honor many things: the birth-life-death cycle of all things; the death of our crops that provide our bounty and that provide the nourishment for next year's crops; our ancestors and beloveds who have died, whose wisdom we carry forward; and the births and deaths that we experience every day as we make our way through life. It is a time of deep, internal reflection on the past year, and a time to honor the part of our Humanity that is inescapable: Death. 

The costuming and mask-wearing of our modern-day Halloween began as a way of warding off or tricking away The Angel of Death as It passed over our homes during the thinning of the veils. "Trick or Treat?" was a question to the Angel of Death: "Must I do a trick or give a treat to avoid your cold touch?" Samhain offers an opportunity to recognize that The Angel of Death is a gift-giver of transformation, hope and new life. The spaciousness created by her touch allows us to stay present, to honor all we experience in our lives, and to clean out the parts of us that have run their course so we can move forward into even greater places of Being. Without the spaciousness that "death" brings, we might crumble under the heaviness of all the old baggage we tend to collect and carry.

Each year for Samhain I create a Dia de los Muertos altar at my home to honor my ancestors and beloveds who have died. This is an ancient tradition out of Mexico (and across cultures) that culminates in beautiful celebrations and ceremonies between November 1st and 2nd. In the Mexican tradition, items are placed on home altars and grave sites to entice the dead to visit during the thinning of the veils. Favorite foods and beverages are cooked, offered and consumed; specific flowers and candles are used along with incense; stories, dancing and special prayers are shared; there is laughter and tears... It is a two-day, all-out celebration of their beloved dead. And it is a beautiful way to honor all that their beloveds brought into the world. 

I look forward to creating my Dia de los Muertos altar each year and have had some powerful healing experiences with it. This year I added my beloved dog Maia to my altar. Her bowl, collar, bandanna and favorite treat - a dried pig snout - are on the altar, along with a picture of her looking fully content on her bed, snuggled up with two new toys. Each time I pass the altar, I feel held, loved and connected to all things in a deeper, more intimate way, and my heart is filled with gratitude for all of my ancestors and beloveds. This ritual provides a rich and personal experience for Samhain that anchors me to the birth-life-death cycle of all things in a more intimate way. 

Come Thanksgiving, we take time with family and friends to celebrate and share our Fall harvest by more fully enjoying the bounty of our crops. Many people begin their holiday gift shopping soon. Gift wrapping in preparation for Yule is another way of "wrapping up" Fall's loose ends with boxes and bows, and acknowledging our bounty. This is the time of year to recognize that there is enough abundance for everyone to enjoy through the shortest, darkest and coldest days of Fall. 

As the seasonal wheel continues to turn and the days continue to shorten into a cold darkness, we descend even more deeply into our psyches. We can use this time to contemplate our journey and drop more fully into our Beings to rest, refill and prepare for the returning of the light. This inward turning is a necessary part of our forward movement. Aligning ourselves with the natural rhythm of Fall allows us to rest and prepare for the heightened activity that Winter Solstice heralds as Spring approaches and the light of day begins to grow again. Once we cross Winter Solstice in late December, we begin gearing ourselves up for a worthy Spring planting. Without the period of harvesting and honoring what was, as well as the restful contemplation that late Fall offers, we might feel unprepared for this important planting season. 

Make time between now and Yule (December 22nd) to acknowledge the road you have traveled this year, paved by all those who walked it before you, and cleared even more by your own footsteps for all those who will walk it after you. Bring presence to the now while holding your past and future with respect and curiosity. Honor the balance of the dark and the light, of life and death, recognizing that they are but two necessary sides of the same face. Descend out of the busyness of Summer and into the depths of Fall to enjoy your harvest with gratitude and love in your heart.

Today, I celebrate the legacy and lineage that went before me; I honor my current place in the line; and I make time to deepen into what my next steps might be so that come Spring, I am ready to dig into restored soils and plant new seeds for the future. What a ride :)

A Bucket Full of Hope

I spent the last weekend volunteering at a local hospice event for adults who had lost a beloved - a parent, a spouse, a child or grandchild, a sibling... This was the parent camp. Some of their children were at a nearby location having the kids camp. Two camps, one common purpose, and lots and lots of healing.

What touched me most deeply was watching the transformation of these adults from closed, sad, pained strangers to open, laughing, relaxed friends who were willing to give life another chance. Yes, they had all experienced heart-breaking loss in their lives, yet here they were - courageously allowing themselves to share, connect and grieve together - some of them for the first time.

My role was to help them settle in and put their bags down (yes, they stayed the night in bunk rooms), to offer support to anyone who wanted it, to hold space for them as they moved through their activities, and to share with them during the meetings.

There are so many unanswered questions to this journey, and so many unresolved feelings that arise for those walking it. The hardest parts were the "What if..." and "If I had only..." and "If I just hadn't...." things that arose. Such regrets create deep pain in the Human heart, and yet, we can never know how or when death will happen; we only know that for all of us, it will.

I watched these beautiful parents reach out to each other in understanding and compassion. I saw them openly witness each others anguish. I cried as they held each other through their distress. And I laughed as they hugged each other goodbye with gratitude and love.

There are no words for what I felt when I left them on Sunday. I believe that this was one of the most touching life experiences I've ever had. I can't wait for next year's camp!

[My deepest gratitude to Hope Hospice, a non-profit organization based in New Braunfels, TX, for the opportunity to be a part of such a beautiful and loving experience: 1-800-499-7501. For more information and support through loss and grief, contact your local hospice services, or check out my "Ask Dr. Z" article series on how to support yourself and children through a death by clicking here.]

The Sacredness of Each Breath

I had more than a year to love; I had almost 10. I knew one day I would say "Goodbye" to my sweet companion; I just didn't know it would be today. But then, we often don't have the privilege of knowing when we're having our last moments with our loved ones.

My dog Maia died suddenly about an hour and a half ago. I heard her coughing on her bed, went immediately to her side and knew she was dying. Helplessness. I could do nothing but talk to her and hold her in love while she took her last breaths.

I wonder when she knew she was dying? I wonder if she knew I was there, and if she wondered why I didn't make it better like I usually can. I wonder if she slipped easily and freely into expansiveness, despite the panic and tears in my voice: "Maia? Maia? What's happening? What's happening... Oh Maia, it's ok Baby, it's ok..." I wonder if she was just as surprised as I was, or if she was ready.

Can we ever be ready for Death?

This morning my Sweetie and I took Maia for a walk with our friend and her two Great Danes, Maia's best buddies. They had fun and I even commented on how good she looked, running about with her eyes bright, ears perked and tail high - sure signs of happiness. She looked good and felt stable and healthy.

What happened? My mind churns over this pointless question, wanting to know an answer. Blood clot; I bet she threw a blood clot.  But it doesn't matter what it was. The real dilemma is grasping the notion that something can go from such joyful vibrancy to death in a matter of hours or even seconds. One minute, she's resting comfortably on her bed; the next minute, she's gasping for breath... and in a matter of seconds, cold, lifeless, empty, vacant, dead...

At least she was comfortable and content when she died. At least I was with her. At least she didn't suffer... I try to comfort myself with these thoughts, but they don't really matter. My heart is still heavy.  Lady Death leaves a hole in the heart no matter how graciously She passes.

Ironically, in two days I'm hosting a Circle Call about dealing with the body after we die. And I just spent over an hour trying to get my dog's body dealt with on a Sunday when no one wants to deal. We finally connected with a vet who has a heart and agreed to meet us at his clinic to freeze the body for pick up and cremation next week. What an Angel. After many calls to unyielding souls, this man opened his heart to humanity and took responsibility... and I don't even use his clinic! This man gave me a sense of hope for humanity; thank God for such Beings...

So here I sit, heavy-hearted, shocked, grief-stricken and empty. I'm grateful to my Sweetie and our dear friend Christine who came immediately at our call, and is helping deal with the body as well as my heart.

Ironically, today is the 10th anniversary of 9-11. We were having friends over to honor what we'd carried forward from the 9-11 experience 10 years ago, to share loving community in its shadow and to recognize that each moment is truly precious and fragile, no matter how stable it may feel.

Today, I deepen into a new level of gratitude for life... all life, and the love that flows through it every day. May we hold this precious gift in grace, recognizing that each breath is truly sacred.

The Angel Speaks

Pere-Lachaise Cemetery outside of Paris, France.
Photo copyright 2004, Cecilia Zuniga

On my way home from a shamanic death ritual in Austin tonight, the car in front of me hit a deer. And just like that, the deer's life ended. It broke my heart. I spent the rest of my drive home praying for and sending blessings to the deer (and the driver).

I thought how cruel it is that we drive these cars that can end a life in an instant. And yet I can't say that it was a cruel act by the Angel of Death; She is simply sharing her gift of completion.

I also thought of a friend of mine who recently died in much the same way - hit by a cement truck while driving down the road and killed in an instant. I bet neither Being knew as they made their way onward that each moment was leading to their very last here. I doubt they were thinking things like "Gee, I'm going to die today" or "This is the last time I'll see this place" or "I will never be here again."

Most of us don't think about such things as we live our lives. In recent years though, I have begun to think such things. I've learned through the ritual deaths I've participated in that any moment could be my last, and as Stephen Levine says, "almost no one knows the day on which the last year begins." Or the morning on which our last day begins...

Even though I don't know when my last year here starts (or started), I can live each day with an awareness that any moment of my life might be my last: my last breath, my last kiss, my last meal, my last visit, my last words, my last dance... When held in that light, every instant of life becomes precious.

That is the gift of the Angel of Death: a deep awareness that every moment is precious. What better reason is there for living it all in love... right now?