Where the Light Leads

I really like being in a body!  Lemon bars and enchiladas; ripe figs and Honey Crisp apples; stroking the soft coats of my big gray cats, the pink and orange of winter sunrises; the snug feel of suede half chaps and galloping pony along the back roads; slow kissing and the smell of roses; music, "This American Life" and crunching through dry fallen leaves; the little birds and plump squirrels more visible in the bare trees, the feeling in my heart on Christmas morning, my daughter’s faces… When I take time to dwell in my senses – to appreciate the detail of the world around me - I feel so alive and grateful. Knowing that my range of movement will someday be restricted inspires me to dance to capacity, to fill out space and be present every second to the process – the connection between hundredths of seconds: to be inside the movement and watching it at the same time. Anything can be done with deeper presence: cooking, sex, biking to work, massaging a friend's back or listening to our kids. Lately, I am most aware of my body while dancing - celebrating how much the collage of muscles, veins, bones, organs do all in a day.

Working with the newly bereaved through Hospice Care has only increased my sense of feeling blessed, but, too, it has confronted me with questions like: Who will be with me when I die? Who will be around to help me through it? Some of these people have lost partners who’ve been with them almost 50 years. They didn’t bargain for going it alone, and it breaks my heart to watch them grasp for hope in the confusion of grief.

  

Sure, I’ve listened to Death Cab for Cutie’s song, “What Sarah Said” that ends: “So, who’s going to watch you die?” many times, but witnessing people who have just lost their "other half" face these bigger questions, I am compelled to do the same. People can’t just drop everything, and sometimes it’s the people who we least expect who come through during hard times… or even, in the end.

Some spiritual folk say that the reason spirits hang around is because death is not that big of a transition and the spirits occasionally need guidance towards the light. Not knowing where the light will lead, sometimes it’s more comforting to remain in the attic of the beautiful home they had built. "They" suggest that when a person dies we say: “Your spirit just left your body. Go look for Aunt Shoshana” (or whomever they know who has already crossed over). Otherwise the person might hang around wondering why no one is speaking to them. I've also heard it said that death is a continuation of how we live and maybe if we die with presence, we won't need anyone pointing us to the light.

I wonder what it will feel like to dance on the other side. But, for now, I really like being in this body!

photo: Eliza Karlson