The Final Frontier

“Preparing for death is one of the most profoundly healing acts of a lifetime."

-- Stephen Levine, Who Dies?

An Investigation of Conscious Living, Conscious Dying

 

"Death is only the end if you think the story is all about you!"

-- Andrew Holecek, lecture on the Tibetan Book of the Dead

 

 

At age 77, having just emerged (mostly) from two months of a rather nasty extended play version of COVID, I can readily identify with the fleeting gold of a sunset.  

 

It'll soon be twilight time.  And then...?

I really wasn't feeling well and had no physical energy for a couple of months.  I tested positive for COVID in late August.  Then, feeling pretty shabby to begin with, I got slammed with a "Paxlovid Rebound," and went from bad to worse.  I thought I had turned the corner several times, only to run smack dab into a wall again.  One of those walls turned out be a strep infection! Jeez. 

 

It's been a long, long, haul. 

 

Time to Get Real

 

I've chanted The Five Remembrances innumerable times in Zen services over the decades.  At this stage of the journey, they are no longer theoretical.  I have already beat the genetic odds.  My father died at age 61, after a series of heart attacks and strokes.  His father croaked of a heart attack at age 57. With the assistance of two stents placed in my heart about 12 years ago, I'm still here.

 

It''s high time to get real, no?

 

 

Sitting here at the keyboard at this moment, taking a deep breath, I know -- in my bones -- that the Grand Transition need not be feared.   I've known that since the curtain was drawn back and I got a good glimpse of the Real Deal years ago.  Beyond the veil, I saw that there is a dimension of life that is perfect love.  With rainbows gleaming in my tears, I knew, in my heart of hearts, that who I am is inseparable from what I have come to call One Love. 

Of course, that experience wasn't enough.  I still had a life to live.

I've certainly struggled -- a lot -- in the ongoing journey of healing that my life has become.  The wounds of a deeply traumatic childhood, and the on-going craziness of a world seemingly hellbent on self-destruction, continue to make things challenging -- to say the least.  I've come to see that there are layers and layers of conditioning, and a sea of ever-present conditions, that propel me and others toward division, disconnection, and disarray.  What traditional Buddhism calls the Three Poisons: ignorance, greed, and enmity, are powerful forces woven into the fabric of the human condition.

 

Yet, as Practice has deepened over these past decades, things have gotten better in my day to day existence.  With commitment, time, effort -- and patience, lots of patience --I've been able to engage my life with more kindness, compassion, ease, balance, and clarity.  I've been able to live more wholeheartedly.  With Practice, I believe I can approach my Death with an open heart and a clear mind as well. 

 

Stephen Levine    July 17, 1937 - January 17, 201

At the Moment

 

I remain forever grateful for the good fortune to have attended a Conscious Living Conscious Dying retreat with the late Stephen Levine and his Beloved Ondrea in the late 1980's.  Under their wise and skillful guidance, a gathering of 300 people became a community of healing at Mt. Madonna Center near Watsonville, CA.  (About a third of us were in the later stages of terminal illness, a third of us were their loved ones, and a third, like me, were interested in the emerging hospice field.)  Over the course of five days and nights, we were guided through a set of understandings, experiences, and individual and transpersonal meditations that began a transformation in my life and practice that continues to this day.

 

With COVID humming "Knocking on Heaven's Door" in my ear, I've made another deep dive into the insights, and practices of the Tibetan Book of the Dead through an on-line course with Andrew Holecek, a brilliant American teacher in the Tibetan Buddhist tradition.  And, as an inveterate bookworm, I've got a stack of books and notebooks, old and new, that I've begun to pour through. 

More importantly, (they say that practice is more important than study in the Lojong trainings), I've begun to be a bit more earnest about practicing for my deathbed. (Realizing full well that I may walk out in front of a bus or stroke out instead. Who's to know? LOL)

As well as re-engaging the We Croak app on my iPhone that a dharmabuddhy turned me onto a while back, (it sends me a "death reminder" five times a day,) I found the perfect combination of pillows to support this old arthritic frame so that I can lay comfortably in Shavasana.  Several times each 24 hours, weaving it into the nocturnal and nap time meditations I began several years ago as I explored lucid dreaming, and Tibetan sleep and dream yogas, I am learning the moves of my own deathbed dissolution dance. 

Although the worldview and imagery of the Tibetan Book of the Dead have been interesting and helpful, I also realize that I have entered in this incarnation as a 20th century American.  I have a genetic, spiritual, and cultural legacy that comes with a different set of symbols and systems of belief as well.  I also have the works and wisdom of Carl Jung, Joseph Campbell, Thomas Merton, Martin Luther King, Jr, Alan Watts, Stephen Gaskin, and a heavenly host of other saints, seers and sages to draw on.  Although the nerd in me will keep my head in the books, with my body on the line, I trust my heart to lead the way. 

I certainly have no immediate plans to exit the stage, mind you. I'm in no rush. I love this sometimes tragic, sometimes comedic, mystery with all its plot twists and turns of phrase. I love the wild and wiggly cast of characters that have appeared to share in its many scenes.

Yet, at this point, I'm well aware that I've got many more yesterdays in my back pocket than tomorrows. I 'd like to face the final curtain call with a clear mind, a full and open heart -- and a deep bow.  I'm willing to spend some time and effort to up the odds of being able to do just that.

I blame the Practice for that.