• The D Word

    • February 20, 2024 5:38 pm

    Dearest Readers,

    Lately, I’ve been writing about death as I prepare to give a talk at our local YMCA on Saturday for the “Y Break Bread” supper series.

    This may sound like a serious topic for Seniors but I’m approaching the D word with a light heart and a sense of humour.

    Here’s an excerpt of the talk:

    At the long-term care home where I provide spiritual care, I watched the practice of deep listening transform a man named Fred.

    Fred was the grumpiest man in the world. The Grinch had nothing on him. He would wheel himself around the home with a scowl on his face, grunt at you if you spoke to him, make fun of you if you said something nice, and insult people behind their backs.

    I fell in love with him. I did. Not in a romantic way but in the way of true friendship. I got to know Fred intimately and I got to see the man behind the grump.

    And Fred was a gentleman. He would do things for people, little courtesies. One of his table mates liked jam so Fred would put the little packages on her placemat every morning.

    Fred was like the Hooded Fang in Mordecai Richler’s “Jacob Two-Two” book, he’d give you candy when you weren’t looking and deny the credit for doing it.

    When I first went to visit Fred, he reluctantly let me into his room. But the more I showed up, the more he welcomed me.

    Fred complained about everything. Nothing was good enough and everybody was an idiot. But I didn’t try to convince him things were better, I didn’t deny his negativity and try to get him to look at the bright side. I listened and nodded. Sometimes I laughed. I allowed him to be himself. Fully himself, without trying to change him.

    And guess what? Fred started to smile. He started to tell jokes. I found out that he actually had a great sense of humour. (Okay, often it was at other people’s expense but he could really tell a joke.)

    One day I asked Fred if he was afraid to die.

    “Die?” he said, “Why would anyone be afraid to die? It only takes a minute. Just like getting your tooth pulled. Open up and say ‘ah’.”

    My friendship with Fred taught me that when we accept someone for who they are and give them the space to be themselves, they will begin to trust that it’s okay to be themselves. Fred softened his hard shell, shed his armour and allowed his true self to be seen.

    I call this the miracle of unconditional love. When we offer someone that gift in their later years and they allow themselves to receive it, it can heal their soul.

    From the fires of love,

    Celia

    Is This The Real Life

    • August 5, 2010 8:30 am

    Dearest Readers,

    If you have been reading this blog for a while you will remember my friend Leanne. She was killed by cancer just a few short months ago. I think of her often, acknowledge her in little ways, say prayers in her name and even speak directly to her. It all  helps.

    Last  night she appeared in my dreams. Have you ever had a dream about someone who is dead? It takes a moment to register first that the person is alive before your very eyes and second that he/she really did die in waking life. The sensation is almost impossible to describe.

    When Leanne and I met in the dream we were in a classroom surrounded by our high school chums. Not surprising. This is where she and I spent most of our time together. All of a sudden, there she was.

    “You’re alive!” I said.

    “Yeah,” she said, “I know. It’s pretty amazing.”

    She looked amazing. Like she did when we were teenagers: healthy, vibrant, glamorous. In fact, Leanne still had all of these qualities when she was living with cancer. She was as gorgeous as ever.

    But in the dream there was something different about her. Despite her radiant beauty there was a stiffness and a puffiness in her face. I have seen bodies that have been embalmed. Her jaw looked somewhat like this.

    I’m sorry if that’s morbid. But the unnaturalness in her face kept reminding my conscious self that I was dreaming. Something was not right.

    And yet the reunion was celebratory. Leanne was alive! Alive. Incredible. And so real. When I awoke I couldn’t believe it. I got to see her, to speak with her, to be near her again.

    Did it really happen? Did she visit me? Can the spirit of a person come to another person through a dream?

    Once a friend of mine gave me a card that said, “I do not know whether I was then a man dreaming I was a butterfly, or whether I am a butterfly dreaming I am a man.” The quote is by Chuang Tzu, an ancient Chinese Philosopher who may or may not have existed.

    The quote, according to Burton Watson, an “accomplished translator of Chinese and Japanese literature and poetry”, references “the Transformation of Things.”

    I found this quote when I Googled “the transformation of things”:

    “[The butterfly dream] shows that, although in ordinary appearance there are differences between things, in delusions or in dreams one thing can also be another. The transformation of things proves that the differences among things are not absolute.”

    In my dreams Leanne is alive. In waking life she is not. The difference between these two truths is not absolute. “Absolute” means “final”.

    Leanne’s death was final. And yet not. Wait a minute, am I a butterfly?

    Inspiring Message of the Day: Life has so many puzzles and riddles. I cannot solve them all. But I can embrace them. I can embrace the Mystery and be held by its Great Power.