A Relationship with Death

This is another older photo, from the center where we hold the East Coast residential programs. Some of you may be able to tell exactly where I was when I took it. It's taken at twilight, with this fascinating cloud pattern.

This time of year is akin to twilight. The weather is colder, the days become noticeably shorter, and we are well into the time when night is longer than day. It is also a time of year when many different peoples honor and remember beloved dead. For me, this is a time of year with the death anniversaries and birthdays of several different loved ones, and so the cultural association is personal.

Death is a touchy subject for many of us. I have shared with many of you that one of the ways my life has most been transformed by shamanic work is in my relationship with death, and the lack of fear when I think of it. But I acknowledge that death is still hard for many, and that fear of death persists in our culture and in many of our psyches.

Part of this work is that we cannot shy away from what makes us afraid. The things we deny have a way of presenting themselves to us over and over again, until we reckon with them and form a relationship with that which we once feared. So it is with death. Death is a part of life, and it is a certainty for all of us, eventually. What is relationship with death for you?

Silence and stillness

I'm sure many of us have heard the famous quote from Angeles Arrien:

“When did you stop dancing? When did you stop singing? When did you stop being enchanted by stories? When did you stop being comforted by the sweet territory of your own silence?”

Stillness and silence have been the theme of my own teachings for the past several weeks. Singing and dancing are important (and most of you know that I say it all the time). But silence and stillness are equally important. In our hectic world, there are ever-increasing demands on our time. In an age of supercomputers in our pockets, we are prevented from being unavailable. We also prevent ourselves from being still, as we take out our phones in line at the grocery store, in the waiting room at the doctor, and even behind the wheel!

Silence and stillness are not the same, and we need both. How can we really listen if we constantly create noise? How can we rest if we're always on the move? Our shamanic work requires both singing and silence, both dancing and stillness. It can be challenging at first when we aren't used to it, but I encourage you to find those moments when you take your ear buds out a listen to the sound of a forest, or to stop scrolling and fell the sensation of the air around you.

When did you stop being silent? When did you stop being still?

Convergence

Another photo from Iceland! We saw a lot of waterfalls on this trip, but I never got tired of them. Each one was different, and had its own qualities. Some trickled slowly down mountainsides, and some rushed and fell hundreds of feet. This waterfall is called Goðafoss, and is an extraordinary semicircle of rushing water.

What strikes me about this picture is the idea of convergence, of all of this water coming together and thundering into the same basin. There are times in our lives when we struggle, and times when things come together. Sometimes this convergence even seems effortless. I try and stay attuned to what paths open up and what doors seem closed, taking these as hints from the spirits about which direction to go. I am often astounded at what avenues become available when I pay attention.

I received a teaching today from a lovely human teacher about the individual divine paths each of us has in our lives, for the purpose of healing the world. These paths are unique to us, and no one can do our unique work for us (lest you think this is some new age nonsense, the teaching comes from a mystical lineage founded 500 years ago). In giving myself the space to consider what has opened up for me in my life, the road can seem to twist and turn, but it does lead in a direction--towards what end, I can't guess!

I wonder, have you felt yourself being guided in a particular direction? Is there a pull, a whisper, that you can't ignore?

 Sometimes, I think, we ignore these things for too long. We convince ourselves that this is not the way, or that the path will be too hard, or that making big shifts in our lives is impossible.

Building on the idea of responsibility from last month, what is our responsibility to do what we are here to do? If we each have a unique role in healing the world, what happens when we don't fulfill it?