Taking tea with death
by Julie Barnes
“Barn’s burnt down – Now I can see the moon” Mizuta Masahide
What we learned in our Café Conversations: Talking about Death and Dying
When we talk about death… we are often surprised to discover humour, warmth and energy in our conversations. When we step closer, pushing through our ambivalence, we can find that it is actually okay - that talking about death is even enjoyable and takes us to new questions and understandings about our lives. Some even find that in facing our death, we embrace what really matters to us and gives us new choices about living more fully.
‘Death is not waiting for us at the end of a long road. Death is always with us, in the marrow of every passing moment. She is the secret teacher hiding in plain sight. She helps us to discover what matters most. And the good news is we don’t have to wait until the end of our lives to realise the wisdom that death has to offer.’ Frank Ostaseski ,The Five Invitations.
In our recent online Café Conversations at Oasis, we were joined by people keen to talk about their choices and wishes for care and treatment within the COVID-19 pandemic. Working with questions about what good care and a good death might look like in the changing context of lock-down, we explored our wishes for ourselves, for our friends and families; how to communicate our wishes to others and even how to start such notoriously difficult conversations.
Conversations like these were hard enough before COVID-19, and become urgent and intense in these new, often heartbreaking circumstances, where people are dying alone and families cannot be with them nor attend their funerals. And we were all learning about taking these conversations online – each in our own houses, appearing in a box on a screen and yet still able to talk together about our intimate thoughts and feelings.
What we learned through our Café Conversations was rich and inspiring. Topics ranged widely as each person talked about their own relationship with death and the challenges they now faced. For myself, I was moved by the openness and depth of conversation and the discoveries we made together.
Jude Meryl from the Soul Midwives network, reflects on her experience of joining the Café Conversation:
“The conversations I was involved in were on topic, diverse, deep and unexpectedly intimate, in our short time together: I felt as if I had been to a full weekend conference rather than engaged in a one and a half hour session.
My first group, all there for a mixture of professional and personal reasons, discussed the benefits of having plans for our treatment, care and death in place. Initially rather hesitant, this conversation soon developed, with each of us asking some significantly searching questions, of ourselves and each other, about our personal experiences of death, and how best to live with uncertainty about what our own wishes actually were.
My second group launched more directly into exploring how to help people put plans in place, and the difficulties that were arising for those who had made their plans, but whose family and friends were now, heart-breakingly, finding them rendered obsolete by the impact of the realities of COVID-19.
I was deeply touched in our final plenary by those who had come to this Conversation Café specifically because of all that COVID-19 was bringing up, and who said simply and eloquently that it had been ‘good to talk’.
My single word response to how I felt after the session was ‘inspired’ and, some weeks afterwards, I would still, and gratefully, want to stand by that description.”
Interestingly, we found that the more we talked of our feelings about death, the easier it became. Pushing though our reluctance, we found that emotions which had kept us away from death, gave way, allowing us to move with and through them, and to engage more deeply and with more curiosity. Death was an engaging partner who showed us more questions and more dimensions to explore as the conversations developed.
In the safety of shared, held space, we found that we could focus on what really matters to us as we think about what a good death might mean. For me, I noticed how the changing context of COVID-19 took me from my former wishes for a good death – pain free, at home, surrounded by people I love, music, colour, soft lighting….having said all my goodbyes, to a new slimmed down version…still pain free, almost certainly in hospital, in private preferably, with my husband there, but only if it was safe for him, and having already told people I loved them, and that I have lived a good life. And having stared into that possibility, I felt the trappings of my old life fall away as I can now imagine meeting death alone, stripped bare of the everyday stuff and my idealised images, leaving only my essential self as I surrender and go peacefully.
At the end of the day what mattered to me was the safety of others and that I could leave peacefully and (preferably) still without pain. And maybe death has always been like this; it’s just that now I can see that more clearly for myself?
In our conversations, we recognised the burden of making clear our wishes for ourselves and others – what do we want anyway? Can we look at our own death long enough to work out what matters to us? How do we tell others and does this place too much responsibility on them? How do we even start to ask our parents and our children about their wishes and our wishes?
But conversely how much of a burden is it to not know what our loved ones want to happen? How many of us have made arrangements for others, trying to guess what they would like, maybe arguing in families with our different interpretations, usually driven by our own unacknowledged needs?
And what we learned in our conversations, (even if we don’t really know what we want or cannot predict the circumstances), is that understanding and expressing what really matters to us can be a step in the right direction for ourselves and for others: from our view about what happens to us after death; to who we want alongside as we die; to ways of marking our departure - all of these choices are built on our values and deepest beliefs. Making explicit those values and beliefs will guide others in choosing what is done and how it is done, creating a bridge between our not knowing and our ideals.
And talking about what really matters creates something even more precious... reconnecting with our love of life and living, and life force. These conversations nearly always led participants to feel energised, and more engaged in the joy of, and their commitment to, living. We laughed and cried together, relishing each other’s stories and concerns, respecting our dilemmas and smallest steps.
Our conversations demonstrated the power of talking, feeling, thinking together, sharing silence and reflection space. Facing thoughts of our own death can clarify for us what it means to want to live well and fully.
And so….what now? How do we journey on with death as our teacher? What else do we need to learn?
From 30 years of sitting with people who are dying, Frank Ostaseski invites us to ‘sit down with death now, to have a cup of tea with her, to let her guide you toward living a more meaningful and loving life’. As we contemplate our own relationship with death and dying, and living fully, here are his five ‘heart lessons’ for living fully:
Don’t wait – focus on the present and what we have in front of us right now
Welcome anything, push away nothing – be willing to meet what comes and learn from it
Bring your whole self to the experience – include and connect all parts of ourselves
Find a place of rest in the middle of things – find the space and quiet within at all times
Cultivate a ‘don’t know’ mind – be open and receptive; stay curious
These are five ‘bottomless practices’ to be lived into, understood and realised through action. Frank Ostaseski says they are ‘reliable guides for coping with death’ … and to ‘living with integrity… five invitations for you to be fully present for every aspect of your life.’
Further questions…
· What stands out for you in this article?
· What matters to you in facing your death and embracing your life?
· What is the truest and most beautiful life, and death, you can imagine for yourself? (Glennon Doyle)
References: The Five Invitations by Frank Ostaseski, Flatiron Books, (2017) https://fiveinvitations.com
Oasis is hosting a free online (via Zoom) Death Cafe on 14 July 2020 11am - 12.30pm, facilitated by Oasis Associate Helen Green. Please register HERE if you are interested in joining in the conversation.
