The conversation was very thoughtful. She chose her words with great care. As I listened to her responses to my questions, I found myself going deeper into her life experience.
Rebecca (not her real name) is a participant in a research study I’m conducting on spirituality and its relationship to an individual’s understanding of the sense of self. Essentially, the sense of self is who we, as individuals, understand ourselves to be. I’m trying to learn more about the role spirituality plays in the way we see ourselves.
I asked what the spiritual dimension of life enabled Rebecca to do. Having had a successful career in business with a significant salary, she explained that the greed surrounding her was literally making her sick. She recognized that she was being pulled further and further from her true sense of self. Trying to find some balance, she began to volunteer in a hospice and also began to practice meditation.
Meditation was not entirely new to her. Earlier in life, she had visited Quaker meeting houses and learned to sit in silence. But life pursuits, including her career, pulled her away from the silence. Reaching midlife, she began to keep vigil with those dying and their loved ones while also learning more about Buddhist practice.
Having maintained a practice of meditation for over twenty years, I asked what that practice did for her. While Rebecca discussed many aspect of her life, one thing she shared has haunted me. “It’s too early to know this for sure, “she said, “but I hope that my meditation has freed me from the fear of dying. From meditation, I’ve learned that I can change and become a different person. I want to think that dying will be another change I’ll experience, becoming something I haven’t been before.”
Many people fear death. While we know that death comes to every person, most people would prefer not to think about it. We live as if we will live forever even though few of us continue in this life more than 75 or 85 years. Of course, not everyone has such a long life. Many people die at a much younger age. But no matter the length of our life span, there is often a fear of our inevitable death.
I understand Rebecca’s statement. It’s too early to know for sure how one will experience death until one is actively dying. Like Rebecca, having worked with those dying and because I’ve lost many people to death, I have thought about my own passing. We’ll see how I approach it when it happens. But also like Rebecca, the practice of meditation has helped me to not fear death – at least at this time in my life.
In meditation, I find my awareness shift as I go to a quiet inner place. It’s as though the world around me ceases to exist and I am somewhere else. In that experience, I am aware and my mind is very much attuned to the focus of meditation. Some Christian mystics have described this as an inner chamber or entering the Holy of Holies. For me, it’s an experience of paradox. I find myself surrounded by nothingness while also being present to everything – both at the same time. I suspect it’s difficult to comprehend unless you’ve experienced it.
I think that death must be something like the experience I have in meditation. Death is a movement into nothingness, of non-being when compared to our present understanding of being. Yet, I do believe that there is something more, something that’s a unitive experience with the mystery that’s life itself.
Because I garden, I take comfort in the cycle of planting, growth, and harvest. This morning, I picked cucumbers, squash, and green onions which will be part of dinner. I recall a few months ago I opened packets of seeds and carefully placed those tiny seeds into the ground. The shell of those seeds decayed in the moist dirt and sprouts began to shoot up. Now, weeks later, there’s bounty as I share cucumbers and squash with others. (Yes, the tomatoes are on the way!) The seeds in my garden vegetables have the potential to produce new life again as the cycle continues. Like many before me, I find both inspiration and comfort in considering this cycle of life as I contemplate my own death. But my experience of letting go and resting in the solitude of nothingness has been better shaped by my experience of meditation.
As Rebecca shared with me, intentionally focusing on spiritual practice and meditation put her more in tune with her own self, the way she lives, and, she hopes, the way she will die. She understands her life as ever-changing and ever-transforming. The changes and transformations have not always been easy, but they have been worth the work. Clearly, passing from this life through death will be a very significant change. She hopes that she is prepared to move through that transition with grace and ease.
I appreciate that Rebecca took time to share her experience with me. Like the other people I’ve interviewed for this study, the experience of the participants has been a source of thoughtful reflection and inspiration for my own life. I look forward to what else I will learn by conducting this research study. I suspect that in many ways I’ll find common ground among those who intentionally integrate spirituality with other aspects of life.
We are all experiencing a small death every day! Starts from night to morning! When the same experience is bigger, which we called death, whereas earlier experience we know it as a sleep!
There should not be a fear of death. It it natural process and continues till we (Soul) return to the ultimate supreme authority (God). It is called a journey from Soul to God!
The fear of death is for those who done wrong thing deliberately in their entire life! Or else, it is merely change of life, Transformation!
This is a great description of the importance of meditation in our lives. I have practiced meditation for 28 years now and find that most times it allows me to come to a deeper understanding of myself, whether or not I understand that at the moment. I used to work as a chaplain in a children’s hospital and they taught me many lessons, one of which is to live in the moment. It’s not that they didn’t know they were dying (I worked in oncology), but they didn’t dwell on the thought. They cared more about the moment; people around them, what they were doing, etc.
Chris:
Early in my career, I was a health care chaplain. Probably because I was the youngest chaplain on staff, I was assigned to pediatrics even though I had no training. (But that was around 1980 — and there were few “specialists.”) But I do remember working with children who were dying yet full of life. In particular, I remember playing games at the bedside of one boy who was 8 years old. He laughed and enjoyed just playing — even a couple days before he lost consciousness and then died. In other words, I do understand what your conveying.
Thanks.
Lou