Science will also tell us that energy cannot be destroyed, merely transformed from one form to another. The unflinching observation of science is sometimes curiously aligned with the ancient stories. Thank you for an exquisite piece on an exquisite morning (woken by birds for dawn!)
Yes! I often wonder whether Rumi was perhaps the first quantum physisict, he seemed to have an awful lot worked out which science is gradually catching up to. I’m glad you had such a lovely Sunday morning wake-up chorus, Allie. Thank you for having me join you.
Physicists seem to have an easier relationship with spirituality than many life scientists (eg Dawkins), and I think Heisenberg might agree with you about Rumi and quantum physics! He certainly delved pretty deep into Eastern ideas, and met Tagore.
Chloe, the boy and I have just listened to this in the garden surrounded by chattering sparrows, all elbows and squabbles. In the glorious blue above, not a kite, but a lone buzzard carving perfect slow circles. Only this company could enhance your exquisite reflections on a week when I begin my long wait for pathology results. Thank you my friend for bringing me such grace and calm.
They really are all elbows and squabbles, Sparrows. Bunch of maniacs (though nothing on the maniacal doings of Starlings, of course). I love knowing that you and the boy listened together, that did my heart some good. Thank you. Sending you much love in the wait, my friend.
Micro dosing death daily. Such a perfect way to put it Chloe. Many moons ago when I was spending more time with my Grieveyard project, I joined Roshi Joan Halifax for a weeklong Compassionate Care for the Dying meditation retreat. I remember one day we were to meditate on our own decay and dissolution. The slow peeling away of thought and sinew from some more ineffable experience of consciousness. As a twenty something woman, it frightened me at first, to watch myself become dirt, but she invited the fear just as much as the love, as you always so gracefully do, and it became quite a profound and lasting experience. Thank you for sky diving into my heart today.
I feel as though I’ve already shared the burning envy which I have for you having experienced charnel ground meditations with none other than Roshi Joan Halifax, and if not, there it is. Few greater teachers than she for this kind of thing.
My senior dog has begun the journey of dying, and the image of the red kite circling the sky is a lovely metaphor for her path. Circling closer and closer to her final breath. It truly is a wonderful and beautiful thing to be able to share this moment with her, her peace is profound.
Sitting in my garden in the sunshine with a warm wind blowing, reading this and being reminded, by acknowledging death, of the extraordinary gift of being alive. Thanks as always, Chloe xx
Thank you for this psalm to dying and the teachings of living wisely. It could not have been this profound had your life not embodied your wisdom. So thank you for you.
I noticed that a few of us chose to listen in our quiet , sacred places. Where life, death, the soothing melodic rhythm of your voice, Ruby Throated Hummingbird drinking contently at our feeder, three Loons yodel back and forth in harmony with your words, one hand on soft fur of our big headed dog ,and my own heart beat, or perhaps all six , become one with sky.
“Like light, dying exists on a spectrum.”
Someday, the kind hand of Death will reach out in comfort. I ,“acknowledge the existence of our mortality”, taking a deep, cleansing breath. Yes, breathing easier now. Lesson # 562 ( give or take a few ), D&B .
I truly love that people go outside to listen. Underneath an endless sky is the perfect spot to engage with mortality, and for all six hearts to merge ♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️
"The best way to prepare for death, is daily." I had never thought of "microdosing" death, Chloe, but it makes sense. I can see how my gratitude practice can expand by remembering to be grateful for the whole cycle of life, including "life's other half," as Rainier Maria Rilke put it. Bless you for writing and sharing these thoughtful reflections, Chloe. They expand me.
My wifes grandfather died totally healthy in his sleep at 92 completely unexpected about 20 years ago. Anyone I’ve ever mentioned that to seemed to truly admire going out that way and up until a few years ago I also had hope and admiration for that form of passing. I have since shifted my way of thinking about death about 4 years ago and I too hope to get to experience my death, as physically painless as possible. I don’t want to go to bed with plans that next day, completely naive to that fact that I will close my eyes and take my final breath in the sleeping state. Life wouldn’t be a wonderful thing if not for its counterpart Death, and for that reason I feel I owe to myself to embrace it with open arms, hopefully not anytime soon though.
Brilliantly and beautifully said, Don. I really believe that Death is a once in a lifetime opportunity that’s worth engaging with, if we get the opportunity! I hope that you’re given much time to prepare.
Chloe, your beautiful and wise reflections (I listened in the garden where you were in fine company, with a song thrush singing his heart out) on death are so deeply moving. You articulate the journey toward acceptance with such clarity that it feels less like an ending to me and more like a return - an unfolding into something vast and tender.
I ab-soul-utely love the way you embrace death as both a mystery and a gift, offering solace to all in the face of life’s inevitable transitions. Thank you so much for sharing. For singing, I want to add.
Oh, we have a Song Thrush at home and they’ve been going absolutely bonkers every morning and evening! I’m glad to know that yours joined us. Thank you so much for your reflections, Deborah. I struggle to imagine Death as anything other than a return, whether I’m looking at it entirely logically (a return to the ‘nonexistent’ state which we occupied before we were conceived, or more esoterically (the ‘reabsorption’ spoken about in the five acts of God). I greatly appreciate you listening!
I've always felt death keeps life in perspective - but you've fleshed it out for me what I might have been meaning by that long-time instinctive thought.
Thank you for the full version. It wouldn't fit in the poem, but it's something I keep in in mind - especially at a time when it seems the four horses of the apocalypse have been let loose onto the world.
When it is time to depart this body I have been fortunate enough to reside in dear Chloe, because I know you will not be present at the moment it happens, I hope only that someone will read me your words to ease the transition to the next. Meanwhile I will "microdose death" to prepare for the inevitable disruption 'moving home' brings - your words a beautiful incantation in my head. Always..
Susie, I can hardly begin to tell you how much this comment of yours has touched me. To be even considered to be invited into such an intimate and sacred time is humbling and beautiful. Thank you, my friend x
I do not yet, face my own mortality easily, without discomfort. I mostly face it with deep fear, the legacy of a particular belief system that despite leaving behind over half a lifetime ago, still haunts me. But here, sometimes, the fears loosen their grip, as I microdose on death and “connect with every other temporarily alive being, and the miraculous nature of the fact that our alive-time has aligned.” I had the very greatest privilege to cross paths with a raven, sunbathing at the beach at Bridport on Saturday, and it was miraculous and beautiful to be temporarily aligned with such magnificence. Thank you for your patient service, of bringing these microdoses to us. Much love xx
Dear Emily, that pendulation between the truth of our mortality and the magnificence of existence (and, few better examples of the magnificence of existence than a sunbathing Crow!) can be a gentle way to approach the micro-dose, at first. Whenever the intensity builds too high, just swing back to the perfection of a being delighting in the warmth of a star, by spreading its jet-black wings. And then, if it feels safe, sway back and forth... Thank you so much for wading into the enquiry with me, my friend. Much love xx
Science will also tell us that energy cannot be destroyed, merely transformed from one form to another. The unflinching observation of science is sometimes curiously aligned with the ancient stories. Thank you for an exquisite piece on an exquisite morning (woken by birds for dawn!)
Yes! I often wonder whether Rumi was perhaps the first quantum physisict, he seemed to have an awful lot worked out which science is gradually catching up to. I’m glad you had such a lovely Sunday morning wake-up chorus, Allie. Thank you for having me join you.
Physicists seem to have an easier relationship with spirituality than many life scientists (eg Dawkins), and I think Heisenberg might agree with you about Rumi and quantum physics! He certainly delved pretty deep into Eastern ideas, and met Tagore.
brb, adding “Heisenberg might agree with me” to my resumé :)
Heisenberg might appreciate that you added "might".
Chloe, the boy and I have just listened to this in the garden surrounded by chattering sparrows, all elbows and squabbles. In the glorious blue above, not a kite, but a lone buzzard carving perfect slow circles. Only this company could enhance your exquisite reflections on a week when I begin my long wait for pathology results. Thank you my friend for bringing me such grace and calm.
They really are all elbows and squabbles, Sparrows. Bunch of maniacs (though nothing on the maniacal doings of Starlings, of course). I love knowing that you and the boy listened together, that did my heart some good. Thank you. Sending you much love in the wait, my friend.
Micro dosing death daily. Such a perfect way to put it Chloe. Many moons ago when I was spending more time with my Grieveyard project, I joined Roshi Joan Halifax for a weeklong Compassionate Care for the Dying meditation retreat. I remember one day we were to meditate on our own decay and dissolution. The slow peeling away of thought and sinew from some more ineffable experience of consciousness. As a twenty something woman, it frightened me at first, to watch myself become dirt, but she invited the fear just as much as the love, as you always so gracefully do, and it became quite a profound and lasting experience. Thank you for sky diving into my heart today.
I feel as though I’ve already shared the burning envy which I have for you having experienced charnel ground meditations with none other than Roshi Joan Halifax, and if not, there it is. Few greater teachers than she for this kind of thing.
Thank you for allowing me to crash-land ❤️
so beautifully put!
My senior dog has begun the journey of dying, and the image of the red kite circling the sky is a lovely metaphor for her path. Circling closer and closer to her final breath. It truly is a wonderful and beautiful thing to be able to share this moment with her, her peace is profound.
Oh, Sandy. I'm sending greatest love to you and she as you both hold the potency of this time. I'm so glad she has you as witness.
Sitting in my garden in the sunshine with a warm wind blowing, reading this and being reminded, by acknowledging death, of the extraordinary gift of being alive. Thanks as always, Chloe xx
It really is extraordinary. Thank you, Rebecca xx
Thank you for this psalm to dying and the teachings of living wisely. It could not have been this profound had your life not embodied your wisdom. So thank you for you.
Jean, you are very kind. Thank you, also, for you.
As someone caught deep in a surprising wave of grief 21 years after the loss, this was a wonderfully soothing read this morning, thank you
Joanne, I'm glad to know it was soothing. The waves that come decades after the fact can be shockingly forceful. Sending you love.
I noticed that a few of us chose to listen in our quiet , sacred places. Where life, death, the soothing melodic rhythm of your voice, Ruby Throated Hummingbird drinking contently at our feeder, three Loons yodel back and forth in harmony with your words, one hand on soft fur of our big headed dog ,and my own heart beat, or perhaps all six , become one with sky.
“Like light, dying exists on a spectrum.”
Someday, the kind hand of Death will reach out in comfort. I ,“acknowledge the existence of our mortality”, taking a deep, cleansing breath. Yes, breathing easier now. Lesson # 562 ( give or take a few ), D&B .
🎓🐦⬛🪽♥️
I truly love that people go outside to listen. Underneath an endless sky is the perfect spot to engage with mortality, and for all six hearts to merge ♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️
Unnegotiable,
the living will die, yes, us.
Prepare for the trip.
...
Face the death doorway,
bird’s eye view, like skydiving.
Expect to be awed.
"Expect to be awed." Yes! Always!
"The best way to prepare for death, is daily." I had never thought of "microdosing" death, Chloe, but it makes sense. I can see how my gratitude practice can expand by remembering to be grateful for the whole cycle of life, including "life's other half," as Rainier Maria Rilke put it. Bless you for writing and sharing these thoughtful reflections, Chloe. They expand me.
Absolutely, being grateful only for very specific parts is awfully limiting. Rilke knew all about it! Thank you so much, Susan.
My wifes grandfather died totally healthy in his sleep at 92 completely unexpected about 20 years ago. Anyone I’ve ever mentioned that to seemed to truly admire going out that way and up until a few years ago I also had hope and admiration for that form of passing. I have since shifted my way of thinking about death about 4 years ago and I too hope to get to experience my death, as physically painless as possible. I don’t want to go to bed with plans that next day, completely naive to that fact that I will close my eyes and take my final breath in the sleeping state. Life wouldn’t be a wonderful thing if not for its counterpart Death, and for that reason I feel I owe to myself to embrace it with open arms, hopefully not anytime soon though.
Brilliantly and beautifully said, Don. I really believe that Death is a once in a lifetime opportunity that’s worth engaging with, if we get the opportunity! I hope that you’re given much time to prepare.
When I wake up each morning, I think 'wow, I'm still here'. And then one day it won't be so. But meanwhile life beckons and offers another chance.
Chloe, your beautiful and wise reflections (I listened in the garden where you were in fine company, with a song thrush singing his heart out) on death are so deeply moving. You articulate the journey toward acceptance with such clarity that it feels less like an ending to me and more like a return - an unfolding into something vast and tender.
I ab-soul-utely love the way you embrace death as both a mystery and a gift, offering solace to all in the face of life’s inevitable transitions. Thank you so much for sharing. For singing, I want to add.
Oh, we have a Song Thrush at home and they’ve been going absolutely bonkers every morning and evening! I’m glad to know that yours joined us. Thank you so much for your reflections, Deborah. I struggle to imagine Death as anything other than a return, whether I’m looking at it entirely logically (a return to the ‘nonexistent’ state which we occupied before we were conceived, or more esoterically (the ‘reabsorption’ spoken about in the five acts of God). I greatly appreciate you listening!
I am deeply touched by what you have written, Chloe. It's the most remarkable and meditative picture of death you have portrayed.
And I am deeply touched by you sharing that, siru. Thank you.
I've always felt death keeps life in perspective - but you've fleshed it out for me what I might have been meaning by that long-time instinctive thought.
"...we fail to protect this inexplicably beautiful planet." Sort of serendipity; my fortnightly poem, posted today, is "Beautiful Planet" -- found here: https://joshuabondpoetry.substack.com/p/beautiful-planet
Wonderful poem, Joshua. The infiltration of unguarded minds, indeed... Funnily, I'll been thinking a lot about Julian of Norwich, of late, too...
Thank you. It's amazing how some words stand the test of time.
'All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well'.
The peace that this graces me with…! 🤍
Thank you for the full version. It wouldn't fit in the poem, but it's something I keep in in mind - especially at a time when it seems the four horses of the apocalypse have been let loose onto the world.
When it is time to depart this body I have been fortunate enough to reside in dear Chloe, because I know you will not be present at the moment it happens, I hope only that someone will read me your words to ease the transition to the next. Meanwhile I will "microdose death" to prepare for the inevitable disruption 'moving home' brings - your words a beautiful incantation in my head. Always..
With love ♥️x
Susie, I can hardly begin to tell you how much this comment of yours has touched me. To be even considered to be invited into such an intimate and sacred time is humbling and beautiful. Thank you, my friend x
I do not yet, face my own mortality easily, without discomfort. I mostly face it with deep fear, the legacy of a particular belief system that despite leaving behind over half a lifetime ago, still haunts me. But here, sometimes, the fears loosen their grip, as I microdose on death and “connect with every other temporarily alive being, and the miraculous nature of the fact that our alive-time has aligned.” I had the very greatest privilege to cross paths with a raven, sunbathing at the beach at Bridport on Saturday, and it was miraculous and beautiful to be temporarily aligned with such magnificence. Thank you for your patient service, of bringing these microdoses to us. Much love xx
Dear Emily, that pendulation between the truth of our mortality and the magnificence of existence (and, few better examples of the magnificence of existence than a sunbathing Crow!) can be a gentle way to approach the micro-dose, at first. Whenever the intensity builds too high, just swing back to the perfection of a being delighting in the warmth of a star, by spreading its jet-black wings. And then, if it feels safe, sway back and forth... Thank you so much for wading into the enquiry with me, my friend. Much love xx