My Writing

“I am looking forward to letting go. Of my body; of my stuff; of my friends and family." These words were said by my 89-year old student recently in my course, Spiritual Dimensions of Nearing Death. We had been exploring the time right before death, the time of death, and after death. We had been focusing on letting go of our fears and accepting death. We had been doing visualizations and guided meditations that helped us peer in to death. We had opened to the possibilities,

I love the word 'delight'. Do you? For me, it conjures up the joy of pleasure in our senses, a moment of unabashed happiness, a lovely occurrence of pure glee. A delicious morsel on the tongue, a beautiful view of the sun setting over the ocean, an exquisite, dulcet sound, a sweet touch that is savored, the smell of a newborn's head. Ahh, delight. Could 'delight' refer to a lack of light? The prefix "de-" generally means "down," "away from," "off," or "removal".  Such as Defr

I have really strong thigh muscles. And a pretty strong core. I am reasonably content when I look in the mirror and flex my biceps. But my muscle of hope needs strengthening. It is sagging. It is covered up by despair, rage, and fear. Several times each day I have to remember to use it so that it can become more robust. I scour the news for random acts of generosity, for positive acts of protest, for people standing up for what is right. I go to arts events- poetry, painting

I heard a new take on the phrase, "Grief is Love with no Place to go." Instead, it’s "Grief is Love looking for a Place to go." I love the idea that grief is an active state, that grief is looking, that grief and love are alive and well. The first phrase conjures up an image of a shut door. The second phrase is open and evokes a sense of journey. As a death doula and conscious dying educator, I get to learn from people who have endured a deep loss. They continue living with a

My armor of anxiety often obscures my equanimity. Someone I love very deeply had a surgery yesterday. I am breathing comfortably again. Sometimes that same suit of armor helps me figure out how to find the centered place of calm within. Last week I was locked inside a metal suit of anxious thoughts and feelings.  Every time I tried to let go of the fear of bad future outcomes, within seconds I was swimming in worry again. I kept trying to bring myself back to the present, onl