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Writer's pictureevansph2

Updated: Nov 19, 2024




 

The third of Frank Ostaseski’s invitations that death offers us for living, is to “bring your whole self” to any situation you meet.  Not only in the hospital room of the dying, but in your everyday life. It is tempting always for us to put on a happy face, to pull ourselves up by our bootstraps, to pretend to be “OK” when we are not.  It is sometimes tempting to smile when you are angry or sad, to say “yes” when you want to say “no”. It is tempting to offer only "small talk" when you actually crave deep conversation. But as Ostaseski faced the whole big room of us at this conference, he took a breath and asked. “Aren’t we all tired of pretending?”  He posited that that was why we might have chosen to be at this conference.   We have all been socialized not to show our warts and failings, to cover up our mistakes.  And not to show our feelings – especially the ones we dislike; anger, sadness, envy etc.  And there are times when it’s appropriate to cover up.  But death’s invitation is to be willing to show up with uncombed hair, failing grades and dirt under our fingernails.  It is precisely people’s failings that draw us to them.  Others who are willing to show up as they are, give us permission to do the same.  

 

Though we all want to be seen as in control, happy and positive, the fact is that we are not.  The irony is, he says, that these aspects of ourselves that we most want to hide are exactly what gives us access to others.  If we know our own vulnerabilities, we are more likely to be able to understand and accept the vulnerabilities of others.  If we are scared, and know and admit that we are scared, it helps us respond to others who are scared.  Wholeness does not mean perfection.  It means being honest in a genuine, heartfelt way.  When I can dare to cry in front of you, your tears may be freed.  It is a gift to others to bring your total being – especially to difficult situations.

 

 It may be true that you “should” be in control of your feelings, able to see the positive, be willing to put on a happy face.  But the truth is that sometimes you are not.  And the spiritual work is to learn about AND SHARE your whole self, not just the parts you like.  To learn to accept what you actually feel rather than what you wish you might feel.  And then to have some tenderness toward the part of you that is diificult.  This is not carte blanche to spew your feelings anywhere any time without concern for the other.  It is an invitation to NOTICE what you actually are feeling and to share that in an open, honest, heartfelt and caring way when appropriate.  To show up as your whole real self in a humble way.

 

What would it mean

to put your hand

on the clear glass knob,

open the door

of your tiny life,

step into summer

sunlight with

your laundry basket

of flaws and regrets?

Pin them

on the clothesline,

notice how many

trees and birds

don’t even know

your name.

So much in this world

is willing to give you

another chance.

 

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Writer's pictureevansph2

Updated: Nov 11, 2024



 

That is Frank Ostaseski’s second “invitation” that death brings us.  This is indeed a hard one to swallow.  There are so many things I could reel off right now that there is no way I want to meet… being ill, declining, being dependent, being in pain and on and on and on down to not wanting to endure one more minute of election angst.  But,  here we are.  Whether or not we want X, it is on our doorstep.  He tells us we don’t have to like it, we have to MEET it. And, what exactly does that mean? 


I have a friend who reccomends the practice of bowing. When we simply can't understand, can't control, chan't change... to simply bow down to what is. She recommends literally doing this. Making a bowing gesture -- reminding yourself you cannot change what is. She even recommends bowing all the way down and lying on the floor. A complete body gesture of refusing to refuse. Simply bow down.


All of our resisting does not make the difficulty go away, it just adds another layer of suffering on top of the already difficult situation.  It is not possible to push the difficulty away. Our only choice and power is in choosing to meet it rather than ignore it, hate it, fight it, want things to be different …. To be curious about how to meet pain.  How to meet fear.  Not to love them, but to welcome them because they have showed up.  They have arrived.  What are we going to do? 

 

I have a friend who, when dying of cancer, took much solace from the words of the poet John O’Donohue….

 

“  May you find in yourself a courageous hospitalitytowards what is difficult, painful and unknown.”

 

It seems that the task may be simply to be curious.  Instead of turning away, turn toward with an openness to each moment.  It is not easy.  It is not something to like or dislike – but to meet fully, with a fearless receptivity.  This may be one of the most difficult spiritual tasks – to meet what IS with courage. 

 

And here is the full O’Donohue poem;

 

A Blessing for a Friend on the Arrival of Illness

by John O'Donohue


Now is the time of dark invitation

beyond a frontier that you did not expect.

Abruptly your old life seems distant.

You barely noticed how each day opened

a path through fields never questioned

yet expected deep down to hold treasure.


Now your time on earth becomes full of threat.

Before your eyes your future shrinks.

.You lived absorbed in the day to day so continuous

with everything around you that you could forget

you were separate.


Now this dark companion has come between you.

.Distances have opened in your eyes.

You feel that against your will

A stranger has married your heart. 

Nothing before has made you feel so isolated

and lost.


When the reverberations of shock subside in you,

may grace come to restore you to balance.

May it shape a new space in your heart

to embrace this illness as a teacher

who has come to open your life to new worlds.

May you find in yourself a courageous hospitality

towards what is difficult, painful and unknown.


May you use this illness as a lantern

to illuminate the new qualities that will emerge in you.

May your fragile harvesting of this slow light help you

release whatever has become false in you.

May you trust this light to clear a path

through all the fog of old unease and anxiety

until you feel a rising within you,

a tranquility profound enough to call the storm to stillness.


May you find the wisdom to listen to your illness, ask it why it came,

why it chose your friendship,

where it wants to take you,

what it wants you to know,

what quality of space it wants to create in you,

what you need to learn to become more fully yourself,

that your presence may shine in the world.


May you keep faith with your body,

learning to see it as a holy sanctuary

which can bring this night wound

gradually towards the healing and freedom of dawn.

 

 

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Writer's pictureevansph2

Updated: Nov 4, 2024



 

This week-end I attended a workshop led by Frank Ostaseski on his book, Five Invitations;  Discover what Death can Teach us about Living Fully.  I had read the book and highly recommend it.  As I am in the end of my seventies, I realize that the warranty has run out on my life.  I’m still healthy and alive but know that the horizon is looming.  I do not feel anxious about this, but I do hope to let that fact influence how I live my life.  In his book and at the workshop he offered the five pieces of advice that he feels death offers us in order to live a fuller and more satisfying life now.  I think I’ll use his five invitations for my next five posts here. 

 

The first, and possibly the most impactful for me is …Don’t wait! 

 

Do what you want to do, what compels you, what you long for NOW.  Don’t wait until later to tell all those people you love that you love them.  Don’t postpone any longer what must be done for you to have peace.  Is there is someone in your life that you need to gain peace with, attempt it today.  He said to us, if you think, at the moment of your death, you will have clarity, be aware, be grateful, have strength and stamina… you are likely wrong about that.  Why not do and say the things you imagine you will say on your deathbed --- now?  Is there a vague longing in you?  Can you explore that – get clearer on what your heart wants and act on it?  What is one thing you are waiting to say or do?  Can you say it, do it – today, tomorrow, this week, this year?  Can you take a step toward it?

 

There is a poetry practice that some Buddhists follow.  On the last day of their life, they write a poem – from the perspective of being at the end.  Here is one that Ostaseski offers at the end of his book.  It is written by a woman named Mona who was in the zen hospice that Ostaseski founded.

 

Sono’s Death Poem

 

Don’t just stand there with your hair turning gray,

soon enough the seas will sink your little island.

So, while there is still the illusion of time,

set out for another shore.

No sense packing a bag.

You won’t be able to lift it into your boat.

Give away all your collections.

Take only new seeds and an old stick.

Send out some prayers on the wind before you sail.

Don’t be afraid.

Someone knows you‘re coming.

An extra fish has been salted.

 

            Mona (Sono) Santacroce

 

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