Mortality

By Rev. Amari Magdalena

 

Perhaps if I didn’t choose to live in the bubble that my daughter often refers to as my way of life, I’d have noticed symptoms of a heart that was experiencing struggles.  Given that I am rapidly approaching membership in the octogenarian tribe, logically I may have imagined the things that come up for many with age. True I’d been experiencing the most intense body breakdown period of my life, yet still I denied.

Of course, that was easy as some of the symptoms were well aligned with my lung issues and had been for some time.  Breathlessness?  Many had observed over the years how breathless I became with excitement.  Then again, moving back to higher altitude added to the excuses.

It was quite the shock when my excellent medical practitioner upon receiving the CT scan called me late in the afternoon and advised me to immediately see a heart physician who was waiting for me. Seems the report indicated an aorta aneurysm. Got to the new doc and immediately had an EKG and much more intense heart exam. He ordered an Electrocardiogram for the next day.

Other surprise was that the Mitral Prolapse that I’d known about for 41 years but thought had gone away (no one mentioned it anymore) was leaking. The electrocardiogram also showed the aneurysm to be larger than the CT scan showed and more leaks.  I laughingly shared that I’d always been a “bleeding heart liberal.”  Jokes aside I was mystified as to why this had all happened, and no one had ever noticed some of the telltale signs. Guess that knowledge went with the demise of the annual physical that health insurance axed.

Next, I was sent to the partner of the heart doc who started talking chemical stress tests and catherization along with stents etc.  My initial shock kept me somewhat insulated from the truth though in panic I began to take care of end-of-life details and expenses.  The latter seemed such b.s. in a society tethered to the almighty dollar. We pay both ways, in and out, or our relatives do.

Time seemed of the essence, and I started running around like a chicken who’d just lost their head. Once I saw heart doc #2, we decided to do nothing but get the ole B.P. down before charting the course. A month's reprise was in the offing. That has now given me time to contemplate. I decided to stop all the craziness and sit with a possible exit before I’d imagined it.  Yes, I do realize that lots of people in their seventies check out, just didn’t imagine I’d be one of them.

Denial and delusion are such masters of the great cover up.  Despite them, I’ve found myself tearing up a whole lot more than in the past couple of decades.  I began to look around at all the ‘stuff’ I’ve acquired that has brought me such beauty and discern who would get what in the will’s addendum. Got the medical directives signed and posted the DNR to the refrigerator.

Shock has worn off now and I am more at peace with whatever is to be the outcome. Hopefully my creativity will take up some of the hours of suspense and meditation will fill in the rest. It all got me thinking about a song in the movie, “Playing by Heart” entitled Walk into This Room.

Synthesized, it is about laying down our burden basket and walking into the light of love.  I realized we don’t have to wait for that crossover of the rainbow bridge to do so.  I used to have a First American burden basket on my wall.  I’m thinking that I’ll have one again.  In fact, I feel we would all benefit by having one.  If we simply write down what’s weighting us (or simply state it aloud and metaphorically add it to the basket) and then surrender it to the basket it can lift off any encumbrance. At year’s end, the year's burdens can be consigned it to flame.

I may still not know the outcome of this glitch in my health.  I do know that it is what it is and that all the angst in the world will not change anything. I do know, and have taught, that the word stressed turned around spells desserts.  I will choose to lay it down and walk into that world of light and love, here or there.  Ultimately, peace will prevail, and the right milestone will be celebrated.

"Carve your name on hearts, not tombstones. A legacy is etched into the minds of others and the stories they share about you." -Shannon Alder

When Milestones into Headstones Change

By Rev. Amari Magdalena

One aspect of spending several decades on this planet, is that friends start departing.  The loss of our parents is somewhat expected: it is unusual for children to predecease their parents, though it happens. Perhaps the loss of friends is also a given as time accumulates.  When the friends are younger and generally healthier however, the departures seem harsher.  They too do not seem to follow natural order.

Such was the case for me this past week when I lost a younger friend.  Having moved so very much over the years, I have only a few deep friendships with many years of relating.  In twenty or thirty years, friends have experienced so very many highs and lows together; so much history.  I feel it is that depth of connection that causes the most pain.  No one knows our stories like these people.  They’ve seen us at our best and worst and still love us; treasures that cannot easily be replaced.

My experience with death, has taught me that there is a window of cascading memories that flood my consciousness shortly before, during and after the death.  I relive so very many great times shared, the genuine hugs, and comfort on the darker days.  Interestingly, I don’t whitewash our relating seeing only the positive; I choose to see it all and still feel the immense value of the relationship and its abiding love. 

Always, I allow myself the sadness of loss, the tears, the denial, and the whole range of emotions that losses evoke.  Yet through it all, I am holding light and a space for the departed’ s transition through the veils.  I’ve also been gifted, a few times, pictures of the person on the other side as whole and well and happy.  This happened for me with my friend who just passed.  It is a comfort and I am most grateful to be shown these pictures.

Once I’ve moved beyond the initial grief, and perhaps shock, I come to a place of deep peace knowing the gift of what the person brought to my life and I to theirs.  A great calm begins to take over for me and the sadness slowly abates.  As time goes by, I think of them in moments of simply appreciating who they were and a growing knowing that they wish for me to just keep moving forward.

Having had a near death experience, I also am assured that I will see them again.  The end, isn’t actually final.  I know that to ease us all out of this time/space/matter continuum it helps for us to be embraced by the etheric form of our loved ones.  And, after that, I suspect we move back into the formless undulation of light and essence; always connected yet completely free. 

For all of my dear friends that have stepped through the veils, I remember you.  As the song says, “I’ll remember you when I’ve forgotten all the rest.  You to me were true; you to me were the best.  When there is no more, you cut through the core quicker than anyone I ever knew. When I’m all alone in the great unknown, I’ll remember you.”

[53 Past Blogs are in my book "Shaman Talk" available in softcover and ebook on Amazon.com]

Loss and Grief

By Rev. Amari Magdalena

A recent program that I listened to on NPR discussed the impact of loss and grief on the airplane crash victim’s families.  It got me thinking about all of the large and small losses, and resultant grief, that we each experience on this physical plane over a lifetime.  Some of our losses we more easily recover from under the old adage, “live and learn.”  The big ones may take a lot more time and for those we may find acceptance on some levels yet may not ever fully recover in the sense of being the same person we were before the loss.

Years ago I wrote in a poem, “Or would the moment die its own fleeting death anyway ...As we are living and dying in moments.”  This was not meant to be fatalistic rather a recognition that there are all kinds of deaths that we come to cope with over our time on this Earth; each in our own way. The path to coping and acceptance are as varied as the causes or conditions of the deaths.

There were two times in my life that I’ve felt overwhelming grief at death.  One was the year that Martin Luther King, my cousin Patsy and Bobby Kennedy died in April, May and June correspondingly.  I could not fathom such grief at loss of leadership and a young, beautiful cousin. It took a good year to find some peace with their individual and collective passing.

The other time was even more egregious.  Within a period of three years, I lost a 3-year-old grandson, a 52-year-old sister and a 17-year-old nephew.  I’d had a premonition that major grief was about to descend several weeks before the first death; thankfully I was given no idea whatsoever what was to come. And, the grief wasn’t over I sensed after our beautiful Diego was gone.  What a roll-a-coaster ride those short years were.

Each of us must find a path through our grief and losses. What saved me with the latter griefs ultimately was the grounding that daily sustains me through earth-based practices and the medicine wheel of life. I feel extremely fortunate that I found this path as it has sustained me as no other in my lifetime.

In working with my personal grief, and others in my family and pastoral counseling, I’ve seen that there is no formula or time frame for processing grief.  The ‘get over it’ mentality that so very many people espouse to avoid deep feelings, just doesn’t work.  The degree of loss includes: the circumstance of the loss; the people or loved pets involved; the place one is in their life; the supportive environment or lack thereof; the time in life; etc. 

For some people, counseling is effective; for others grief support groups.  Others may take solace in their religious or spiritual practices. I believe there is no right way.  Each of us, with some support, or help, can find a pathway that works.

I’m also struck by what I said in the poem, we are living and dying in moments.  That knowledge, for me, means that I want to embrace my life in the now with appreciation for each day and the people who are now in my life.  It also means that I can treasure what is presented to me today without worrying about what might be taken away tomorrow or what was taken in the past.

Dia de los Muertos ceremonies are a wondrous way to celebrate our friends and family who’ve stepped through the veil.  At that time when the veils are thinnest between the material and ethereal worlds, we can bring into our presence those loved ones and celebrate them.  At other times, memories and pictures help us keep a loving connection with our beloveds. 

Birth, life and death are the triumvirate we all live with.  Being gentle with ourselves, allowing grief it’s due, and coming to feel thankful for whatever time is allotted us and our dear ones, can move us a long way to acceptance and appreciation for the fragility of this wondrous play, Life.  The key is living and loving.

[53 Past Blogs are in my book "Shaman Talk" available in softcover and ebook on Amazon.com]