Last Sunday I participated in a women’s writing workshop. Within this circle of women, we held sacred space for each other as we wrote in response to a variety of prompts. In this beautiful circle of trust I found myself delving into the topic of aging and the values I hold about death.
As I wrote and then shared the following poem with the other women in the circle, I recalled the collage I created in circa 2008. The title of this piece is, “How We Die.” Through the process of creating art I explored the many aspects of death through my eyes as a palliative care chaplain or so I thought. I tended to questions within me about the complexity of the dying process and expanded my curiosity, knowing death cannot be avoided; yet understanding few ever consider their choices and options ahead of time.
As I tore paper and applied glue I mined more deeply those places in me from which my heart and spirit emanates. Though the poem I wrote is from a much more personal perspective, I know that the values I developed during my training as a palliative care chaplain, have profoundly impacted and shaped my current thoughts and feelings about death. As a result, I can truthfully say that I am clear about my death and how I want to live as I die.
Having taken in a simple invitation or prompt to write, I do not know how I arrived at anything I wrote during the workshop. I am clear though that my creativity was stimulated, resulting in a magical and mystical experience. A journey in which all I needed to do was listen to my heart’s song, or the Universe or my Angels or God. Much like the passage from Psalms 46:10, KJV, “Be still, and know that I am God,” I was quiet and listened for guidance. As I heard and responded to this direction, I merely set pen to paper and wrote down the gift that came to me.
Here is the prompt:
In service to future me, I pre-tend my own utopia.
How I Wish To Die
Like my spring garden,
each year I pre-plan its perfection.
Noting all that will need tending
from the seeds, to the greening and blooming
to the browning, fading and dying.
Which fertilizer is best tended
to each plant or tree?
What is the preferred timing
in which to spread food and sprinkle water?
How much will each need
to grow through the summer
of this life?
This plan I follow seems a prescription.
Something that might have
been researched and scientifically tested
yet without a double blind study
I might rely on to decide.
Decisions about each season of my life
perhaps not pre-tended by me
until my Autumn arrived.
Perhaps having blindly and naively
trusted in the cycles of change
to only apply to others.
Now tending to the last of my Autumn,
how do I live through the Winter of my life?
How do I live to my fullest potential,
to be my best true self?
How do I not upset others
not disappoint my family
and not derail my doctors’ plan?
I bend and yield instead
to my unique and natural timing
– one that I surrender to as I say:
If I die don’t mess with it!
No heroic measures!
They only make YOU feel better
because you tried EVERYTHING
to keep me alive!
My death is one of grace and dignity
in natures time, not yours!
Namaste