Mother prepares a canoe. The canoe is ready to bring me across the lake to a new land, a new life. I ride alone with the pull of the magnetic moon. I feel the blue waves pressing. I see the illuminated darkness around me. I am drawn toward the bright light. I am not afraid. I arrive in the new land with my head first and a demanding voice. Then I grow every day, and I look at the shining moon above. I see the yellow sun set on the horizon each night. I experience life. Then, one day, Mother prepares a canoe. It’s ready with love to take me back across the waters to the other side. I ride alone. I am not afraid. The shimmering moon pulls me back toward the night sky. The white lights guide my way.
I chose to write about “Two Canoes” because it brought back a memory of one of my hospice patients. As he neared his death, he would say, “It’s almost time to get into the canoe.” He said it with quiet acceptance.
I just got back from a 11-day ayahuasca retreat in Tarapoto, Peru. I was nervous about going on the retreat because I would be far from home and experimenting with an unknown plant medicine. I remember my husband, Jeff, saying to me before I left, “Don’t do anything stupid.”
A week before I went to Peru, I stopped by my parents’ grave marker and asked them to keep me safe while I was there. And now that I’m back, I feel like I was protected.
The retreat center is on the edge of the regional conservation of Cordillera (the edge of the Amazon). The lush forest is full of animals, birds, and insects. At night and during the day, I could hear different kinds of birds, roosters, monkeys, and coyotes. The forest is never quiet. The mosquitoes were out in full force, and they loved me!
The goal of the Ayahuasca retreat is a purify the physical, mental, and spiritual bodies so Mother Ayahuasca can do her work. The main reason to do ayahuasca is to become strong and experience transformation. Many people want to seek solutions to their depression, physical aliments, and drug addictions.
During the retreat, eight other participants and I followed a strict diet (no oil, salt, sugar, or meat) and a digital detox (no cell phone for eight days). We weren’t allowed to use beauty or bath products. To keep the mosquitoes away, we used a natural citronella spray.
I had several conflicts about taking ayahuasca. First, I don’t like taking psychedelics. And second, as a Buddhist, I’m not allowed to take any intoxicants. Honestly, I had doubts as soon as I arrived at the retreat center. I wish I had gone on the yoga retreat instead.
The retreat felt more like an “ayahuasca boot camp.” Many times, I felt peer pressure to take ayahuasca. The shamans treated ayahuasca like liquid gold, and it would cure everything. However, as a tourist and Westerner, I did not grow up in the Amazon. My relationship with plants is different—I didn’t grow up drinking ayahuasca like the shamans did.
I was also given a second plant medicine called “Boa Waska.” The shaman said it will help me open my chakras (the boa is like the kundalini). I was instructed to take it in the morning and before sleeping. It tasted like dark rum. I ended up taking it occasionally.
During the retreat, there were four ayahuasca ceremonies (two during the day and two at night). The first ceremony was at night. I remember feeling anxious about taking ayahuasca. A black and orange butterfly landed on my shoulder as I walked along the path from the cafeteria. I took it as a good sign – that I would be okay with my first ayahuasca ceremony. The butterfly is one of my spirit guides.
The ceremonies were held in a large circular building called a “maloca.” Each person had two mats, a pillow, and a blanket. There was also an ice cream bucket and a roll of toilet paper. Before I entered the maloca, I was smudged with tobacco smoke. There were two shamans and four helpers. The helpers brought people to the bathrooms or filled their water bottles.
Maloca – gathering place for ceremonies
We all began on our mats. Each person was offered Rape (a powdered combination of dried tobacco, ash, and herbs administered up the nose) and special eye drops. I tried Rape up only my left nostril and I didn’t do the eye drops. Then, each person, one by one, went up to take the cup of ayahuasca. When I went up, the shaman asked me how I was feeling and how much I wanted to take. I said, “I was nervous and wanted a small amount.” Ayahuasca is mixed with chacruna, and it tastes like thick molasses.
Then I went back to my mat to meditate. The ayahuasca made me feel dizzy with a mild burning sensation in my stomach. Most people take enough ayahuasca that they eventually vomit or have diarrhea. Ayahuasca creates an inner volcano that eventually erupts.
I sat and cried a little after repeating, in my mind, “Mama Ayahuasca.” I was crying because when I said, “mama,” it reminded me of my mom who recently passed away.
Eventually, I received the message to let my mom and dad go. It was time, and I didn’t want to hold them back energetically. Then I had a vision. I saw a gold cross in a tunnel, and my parents were walking towards it. It was a peaceful image, and it made sense that I saw a cross, given that my parents were Catholic. However, the cross is seen all over the world. The cross has a Christian meaning, but it can also represent the human body, the four cardinal directions, eternal life, female anatomy, the chakras, and the union of heaven and earth.
My vision during the ayahuasca ceremony (AI generated from my sketch).
During each ceremony, the shaman sings Icaros – magical songs. The shaman comes to each person to sing directly to them (for about 15 minutes). I hummed along to open up my chakras, especially my throat chakra.
After the ceremony, I had a headache and I felt slightly nauseous. When I lay down to sleep, my heart was racing. I felt anxiety, and I wished I hadn’t taken ayahuasca.
That night, I dreamt that an older shaman gave me medicine in cream-colored powder. The shaman had straight black hair in a bob and was dressed in colorful traditional clothing. My dreams, during the retreat, were vivid and memorable.
The second ayahuasca ceremony was during the daytime. I decided to hold the cup but not drink the ayahuasca. However, as I sat on my mat, I could feel the energy of the people around me. I kept reminding myself to “keep my health and follow my intuition.”
On Sunday night, June 8, I dreamed of an ambulance with lights flickering passing me by. When the ambulance stopped, I looked into it and saw my dog, Liam, on the stretcher receiving help from the paramedics. He was still alive but not doing well. Then, on Monday morning, the shaman said my husband had called last night, and she told him I would call him back in the morning.
Jeff said Liam was acting weird and falling over. I told him to bring Liam to the vet. Later, Jeff said Liam was struggling to breathe, and he had to put him to sleep. It was the first time I’ve ever heard my husband cry. I cried, too. I felt so sad.
My dog, Liam, was a 14 years old miniature schnauzer. He was on medication and was declining for several months. I knew he might not live too much longer. I felt super sad for the rest of the retreat, but I decided to stay calm and stay in the present moment. I didn’t want to always be sad and bring people down. Unfortunately, grief was my companion during the retreat.
The Buddhist Salla Sutta states that wailing does not attain peace of mind. It only brings grief and hurt to the body. Mourning only makes the mourner emaciated and pale. It does not help the departed. Therefore, mourning is meaningless.
The Salla Sutta continues by saying that even if humans were to live a hundred years or more, they must still yield to their lives, at last bereft of friends and relatives. Therefore, listening to the wise and the holy and seeing a beloved one departed, control your weeping. Reflect on the departure of your beloved ones by thinking that separation is natural.
We grieve because we love.
During the next few days, I realized I needed to be in control. And I have a lot of fear about my health. My roommate, Rosanne, said maybe it’s because I see dying people all the time (in my work as a hospice massage therapist). I get too concerned about my body moment by moment. It’s hard to let go. I wanted to remain in homeostasis.
The shaman said I must be more “child-like” and let go. I need to trust. But I have difficulty trusting people, especially since I am far from home. I have travelled all around the world, and I have seen people get sick, and it’s not fun.
I kept telling myself, “I must be strong and healthy” – nothing can disturb my commitment. I will let go of taking ayahuasca to remain stable.
The third ayahuasca ceremony was during the day. Again, I held the cup and prayed for my family, friends, and pets. The fourth and final ayahuasca ceremony was at night during a full moon. I decided to take a small sip. I wanted to have the plant medicine in me – to give it a chance.
Sitting on my mat, I imagined using sign language to communicate with Mother Ayahuasca. I read somewhere that Mother Ayahuasca likes to communicate in images. I signed to her in my mind, “Show me what I need to know.” I know that ayahuasca will continue to work with me in the months to come.
When I thought about what makes a good shaman, I thought of my mentor, Sister Lucy Bruskiewicz, who passed away in 2022. She deeply cared about people and honored them. She never forced things and met people where they were in life. I hope I can follow her example.
I learned a lot from the ayahuasca retreat. For example, I learned to stand on the ground despite being shaky. I saw my weaknesses and knew I wanted to improve myself. I also realized that I am strong amid peer pressure. I want to work on loving-kindness toward myself and others.
The retreat restored a sense of gratitude in my heart. I am so thankful for my health, my devoted husband, my beautiful family and friends, loyal cat, and my country.
I am happy to be home. I was born in St. Paul, Minnesota. Like shamans worldwide, I can reconnect with the land around me and learn about medicinal plants. I am home, sweet home.
In less than two weeks, I will be leaving for Peru. I will spend four days in Cusco to see Machu Picchu, and then I will spend 10 days at a retreat center in Tarapoto, located in the Amazon jungle. Currently, I’m on a diet to prepare for the 10-day cleanse, which excludes sugar, caffeine, salt, meat (no problem – I’m a vegetarian), junk food, alcohol (which I don’t consume), and dairy products. I can eat fresh or cooked vegetables, legumes, beans, rice, oats, quinoa, and other grains. Additionally, I can consume fresh fruits and juices, as well as organic eggs.
Last summer, I had booked a yoga retreat in Peru, but I changed my mind. I decided to join an ayahuasca plant medicine retreat with Dr. Mary Newstrom instead (https://www.zenithhigh.com/). I had been eyeing this retreat for a few years. However, every time registration came up, I felt fear. I wasn’t ready to work with Mother Ayahuasca.
I’m still not sure if I will participate in the four ayahuasca ceremonies during the retreat. I will follow my intuition. One of my friends reminded me that my mom just passed away in February, and I might be sensitive to energies, so I should take caution.
Another friend said I should embrace the once-in-a-lifetime experience. Nevertheless, I’m preparing for the retreat and also starting a digital detox by reducing my screen time. However, the most important thing is having an open heart and mind.
Mother Ayahuasca removes the veil to the Bardo, the “in-between” world. To enter this realm, I must become a brave warrior, one who does not fear anything, and this requires courage. One warrior that comes to my mind is St. Joan of Arc. She also received visions and messages from the spirit world, and she faced her fears.
In some schools of Buddhism, the Bardo is an intermediate and transitional state between death and rebirth. The term “Bardo” means “in-between.”
I think we can work with Bardo in our present lives. Additionally, it’s crucial to realize that the quality of our minds follows us after death, whether joyful or troubled. If we don’t work with Bardo now, we will eventually need to face it.
Ayahuasca Vine
Ayahuasca is a sacred power plant that grows in the Amazon jungle. In the Quechua language, ayahuasca means “vine of the dead” or “vine of the soul.” The vine reminds me of the Tree of Knowledge, the serpent, DNA, the stairway to heaven, and “Jack and the Beanstalk.” I’ve read somewhere (I don’t remember where) that once I decide to go on an ayahuasca retreat, I’ll already be working with Mother Ayahuasca.
Why do I want to go on the ayahuasca retreat?
Become spiritually stronger and increase my intuition.
Work on forgiveness and increase the love in my heart.
Purify my mind, body, and spirit.
Work with Mother Ayahuasca and the curanderas/shamans.
Heal, become brave, and work towards enlightenment.
Reduce my anxiety.
Open my third eye.
Experience the Bardo without fear.
Connect with nature.
The ayahuasca ceremony is similar to a sweat lodge, but instead of going into the lodge, we will go within. Tobacco smoke and incaros (singing or whistling) also bless and protect. A lot of spiritual work with ayahuasca is about remembering who we are.
There are shamans all over the world. During the retreat, I will work closely with the curandera/shaman and ayahuscera. I also realize that being near the shamans and sacred plants will allow me to absorb what I need to heal.
Now that I’m working with Mother Ayahuasca, I’ve had a few synchronicities. The first was when I read the book “Ayahuasca Medicine” by Alan Shoemaker. I looked up a video on YouTube about Alan, and I noticed the hotel he was staying at was the same one I had just booked for my weekend trip to Machu Picchu (before the retreat). The only difference was the hotel’s location—mine was in Cusco, and he was in Iquitos. The hotel we had in common is La Casona, which means “the mansion.”
The second synchronicity was Alan’s good friend in the book was named “Gina.” My name is not a common name. It may not mean anything, but I felt some sort of connection to the author.
According to Alan, most people do not receive visions but only experience a purge, which includes vomiting and diarrhea, which can still make them feel better and lighter. Therefore, medicine can work without visions. The medicine will go where it needs to go.
Additionally, Alan mentioned that a curandero in Peru informed him that the new shamans will likely be gringos or gringas (people from different countries). Many of the youth in Peru are not interested in following their ancestors’ path. But people all around the world are opening their hearts and minds to shamanism.
I am starting to understand the Buddhist terms of “impermanence” and “openness.” I recall telling my Buddhist teacher, during tea time, that I exist and I don’t exist, and that there is a lot of freedom because I don’t exist. My teacher said, “No, that’s not correct. You do exist.” I felt a little embarrassed being corrected in front of everyone in the group.
I went home telling myself, “I am right – I don’t exist.” I held onto my opinion firmly for many months. Now I realize that my teacher wanted me to go beyond dualist thinking. I know the correct answer to the riddle of this problem: I am open-minded. I am space.
According to the Tibetan Book of the Dead, upon physical death, the body dissolves from earth to water, water to fire, fire to air, and air to space. I believe one of the secrets to life is to cultivate an open and spacious mind while living in a physical body. How can my mind become like space? How would I live differently?
Another word in Buddhism is “impermanence.” We are transient beings. Many grasping and attachments develop when we fail to let go of our attachments. Fear also holds us back.
I recently read a book titled “In Love with the World” by Yongey Mingyur Rinpoche. In this book, he says that life is a dream and we live in dream worlds – the day and night dream. Mingyur even learns to realize he is dreaming during his nighttime dreams. He also said that when we sleep, it is similar to the dream state of physical death.
I had a realistic dream last night. I recall being in a house, but it wasn’t my childhood home, except for the presence of a piano and a piano bench. I was looking for my mother’s shoes, which I found on the floor and under the piano bench. Then, I remember being outside the house, where I saw my mom and dad standing together. However, in the dream, my dad was physically present, and my mom was more like a hologram. My mom did not talk. I gave my dad a big hug and said I missed mom with tears in my eyes. I started to cry as he held me.
My dad hugged me back and asked if everything was okay. I told him I was okay. My mom stood nearby like a witness. Somehow, I knew she wasn’t really there. Then I woke up. I cried a little again, because it was Mother’s Day and I missed my mom.
The dream gave me a lot of comfort because I know my parents are okay. My mom passed away just a few months ago, which could explain why she was present in a hologram. I am trying not to make judgments about the dream. However, there’s a lot to reflect upon.
The point of this blog post is that we can all develop a spacious mind. We can work on the transitional stages in our present lives, rather than waiting until physical death to achieve the spaciousness of our mind. Can we learn to hold onto nothing?
I know I can be in this world and be okay, despite the ups and downs of life. I see each person as a Buddha, just like Mingyur does. Each person has all the elements within them, just as I do. Each person has the ability to “wake up” in the dream.
My Buddhist teacher wanted to teach me a lesson. I needed to learn to let go of my opinions. Also, when I say, “I am right,” I limit myself. Making strong judgments creates a box around me, so where is the sky now?
Meditation and self-reflection create mental and spiritual space. We need to return to our self-development and alone time, free from distractions. By doing so, we can reclaim our spacious minds and cultivate a more profound sense of inner peace.
I’ve gone through a lot lately. I fractured my ankle on February 7, and then my mom passed away two weeks later on February 25. My brothers and I moved our mom from her apartment to a long-term facility. She was becoming weaker and needed more help. And then, a month later, my mom contracted the Norovirus. She was very sick, but I thought she’d pull through. I saw her two days before she passed. She was eating and talking, and we watched a DVD movie together. But then I received the news that she had died. I still can’t believe she’s gone.
My beautiful mother, Judy Ann Karlen, was kind, loving, and always thought of other people. I hope to carry on her perseverance, gentleness, and courage.
I’ve learned a few things from my mom’s passing. The first lesson is that small acts of kindness are so appreciated. I hope to increase the beauty of my words. Why do I hold back so much? Words are so powerful! Simple words of comfort mean a lot to me, too. For example, “I’m sorry for your loss.”
The second lesson is that I can’t change people – only myself. After my mom died, I called the admissions director (at the long-term facility) to see if they had found my mom’s wheelchair. The lady did not acknowledge my mom’s death – no words, nothing. My feelings were hurt because the lady knew my mom. I also realized that I expected her to respond in a certain way.
The third lesson is the power of grounding. Grounding helps me connect with Mother Earth. I envision sending roots of energy down into the earth. Sometimes, I imagine my roots wrapping around a lodged tree root deep in the earth. Many times, my energy is spacey and floating without an anchor. I am like a tree with branches that reach up to the open sky and roots that find safety deep in the ground.
Grounding also helps to calm my emotions and keep me tethered to Mother Earth. I also need more mother energy right now.
Meditation also helps me calm my mind. I can experience a peaceful state and know that I am safe. I remember to breathe into my belly during meditation, nourishing the dantian and solar plexus. Meditation is magical—it helps me clear and clean my mind and bring me into the present moment.
A few days after my mom’s funeral (March 28), I felt a spirit lightly kiss my forehead during the night. It actually woke me up. At first, it startled me. Then I realized how loving the kiss felt.
I am still grieving – some days better than others. I miss my mom so much!
Pearls of Grace By GG
The call arrived as the morning sun filtered into my room
They said you were gone with a casual voice like yesterday’s news
Confusion chased me in despair A deep fog blurred my thoughts
It was supposed to be you and me against the world, a comfort only a mother can give
Beautiful, you are my mother My bridge to all things
The beads of time flash in memories unseen to seen
With grief, I cross over to you Your heavenly voice calling out to me
Touching the pearls of your grace The invisible thread connects my forever love to you
My patient, Joan, who thought she was going to die during the full moon, died today. I felt a sense of relief. She was a kind and considerate woman. I think she had a conscious death. According to Buddhism, it’s beneficial to have a conscious death. Then you are “awake” to the transition and not in delusion.
After finding out Joan died, I thought about my life as I walked my dog around the fairgrounds. The warm breeze reminded me of the summer weather that is slowly fading. The stars blinked, and the sky was calm.
As I walked, I said, “I’m not ready to die. I have too much work to do.” Every day, I feel the importance of a spiritual life—my yogi life. I must continue meditating and practicing yoga, use my time wisely, and read spiritual books in my free time. I can create a life with awareness and higher consciousness.
I also understand that the journey is solo. No one told me this when I was younger! I was told to go to church—everything was about the church. But when I think about it, everything is solo. We are born solo, think solo, live solo, and die solo. Even Buddha asked, “One is one’s own refuge, who else could be the refuge?”
I wish human beings would take their lives more seriously. Just thinking about it makes my heart swell. We all need to wake up from our delusions and put away our phones. It’s a spiritual battle!
It’s time to wake up and understand we are golden – so precious. We cannot take our time for granted. We need to examine all earthly things that keep us trapped. We are so valuable that everything in the world wants our attention. Now, we need to decide what will help us grow spiritually.
Thank you for taking the time to read this! I’m sending you words of love, appreciation, and bright guiding light.
Spirit, by GG spiritual message from beyond a signal to be me
I have worked as a hospice massage therapist for almost three years and I did not witness someone die. However, a few days ago, I witnessed my first death.
My patient, John, was in his eighties. He died from Parkinson’s and Alzheimer’s disease. When I arrived at his apartment, his wife, children, and grandchildren where present. They were tearful as John neared death.
I am kind and supportive to the patient’s family, but I focus on my patient. Johns breathing was irregular with a slight pause between his breaths. I gave him a gentle massage on his hands. I’m also a Reiki energy worker, and I could feel happiness radiate from his heart.
After about 10 minutes, I moved to the foot of the hospital bed to hold John’s feet. After a few minutes, I saw him smile. I told his family members that he smiled, and the family gathered around him. Then he smiled two more times. I told his family that “I think it’s getting close.”
John stopped breathing. John’s wife held is face and spoke loving words to him. They knew each other since they were 14 years old.
After a minute, I thought he died, but then he started breathing again. John’s daughter looked at me with confusion. As he breathed, he started to turn purplish gray. John took a few more breaths and then he died. As I gently held his feet, I closed my eyes.
It was a peaceful death. I started to cry with the family. I felt so honored to be there. I silently said “thank you” to John.
John had a close family. It was beautiful how they supported John during his dying process. They loved him so much.
I remember the quote by Todd Burpo, “The one thing love requires is to let others know they are not alone.” We need to be there for each other. We are together in life and in death.
I am so grateful to be alive. I want to rejoice in my continued opportunity to live my life to the fullest.
May you have as many blessings as a thousand petaled lotus.
One of my dear hospice patients died a few days ago. She had a hard death. Watching her last days was tough. When she died, I felt relieved because she was no longer suffering. For the first time ever, I prayed that she would have as many blessings as a thousand petaled lotus.
My hospice patient whom I’ll call Sherri died from colon cancer. She was fifty years old with long, strawberry blonde hair. She was married and had three children in their teens and early twenties. She was a beautiful woman inside and out.
My last memory of Sherri is of her sitting in a kitchen chair supported by pillows. Her temples were sunken in, and her eyes were half open. As she breathed, her bony rib cage gently moved in and out. She looked like she was pregnant with a swollen belly. The tube that connected to her stomach helped reduce the fluid. Sherri sat in a chair because it was the only place that didn’t cause her pain. Later on, she died in her bed with her husband by her side.
I gave Sherri a gentle massage on her feet and legs. Her husband sat by her, holding her hand. As I massaged her feet and legs, Neil Diamond’s song, “Do I Wanna Be Yours” played in the background. Sherri’s husband began to sob during the song. I put my hands on his shoulders and told him that he’s doing an excellent job taking care of his wife.
Joan Halifax says, “Being with dying often means bearing witness to and accepting the unbearable and the unacceptable.” It was a hard death. And now when I think about her death, all I can feel is compassion. I’m glad it’s over.
Halifax continues to say in her book, Being with Dying, “We need to learn to stay with suffering without trying to change it or fix it. Only when we are able to be present for our own suffering are we able to be present for the suffering of others, and the difficulties they may encounter in dying. The practice of insight meditation, in which we watch the ebb and flow of mental activity, is a good way to cultivate this ability.” I know when my death comes, I will count on meditation to guide me.
Insight meditation or Vipassana is a Buddhist meditation that helps you concentrate and gain insight into reality. It is a state in which the mind is brought to rest, focused only on one item and not allowed to wander. During meditation, a deep calm pervades body and mind, a state of tranquility which must be experienced to be understood.
When I do insight meditation, I use a mantra (a word or sound repeated to aid concentration). Here are some mantras that I use (in-breath/out-breath with each sound): OM/SHANTI (universal sound and peace), SAT/NAM (truth and name), and LOVE/PEACE.
Steven Levine in his book “A Year to Live” says, “A death chant can act as a refuge from the storm, or an open window to the sun. Mantras or prayers cultivated in a sincere spiritual practice work very well for many.”
Someday, death will come knocking on my door. I want to be as prepared as I can be. Meditation is the key to help me create peace and acceptance as I step into the thousand petaled lotus.
I have two selves: one internal and one external. Lately, I am getting to know my external self. The external self is the self that everyone sees and hears. I am looking from the outside in and creating a different perspective. Stephen Levine, an American poet and author, says that when we die, we pass out of a body and “we see that the body which we thought of us, the mind which we thought of as us, is quite a bit different, that life itself is a good deal different then we had ever imagined.”
When I die and look down at my body, will I even recognize that it’s me? When I listen to my voice on a recorder, it doesn’t sound like the voice that I hear. When I see a video of myself, I act and move differently than I thought.
Thich Nhat Hanh says, “Nonself means that you are made of elements which are not you. During the past hour, different elements have entered you and other elements have flown out of you. Your happiness, in fact your existence, comes from things that are not you.” He continues to say in his book, The Heart of Buddha’s Teaching, “The teachings of impermanence and nonself were offered by the Buddha as keys to unlock the door of reality. We have to train ourselves to look in a way that we know that when we touch one thing, we touch everything. We have to see that the one is in all and the all is in one.”
Maybe when I look down at my dead body I will understand how I can be and not be. I will see that I have a self and a nonself. And that I was made to be fluid, like the elements. Also, I will understand how we are all one because we share the same elements.
I cannot be attached to my life, and my body is not mine to keep. It is subject to illness, old age, and death. If I am fluid, then I have the ability to flow and change shape. I am a true shapeshifter.
Sadhguru, an Indian yogi and mystic, says you are the only doorway to the existence for yourself. It is our job to find out everything about ourselves. Exploration will lead us to self-realization. The more you know about yourself, the better you will live . For example, if you want to know how to use a camera, the more you know about it, the better.
So, it is good to look at life through different lenses. It will help us open our minds and lead us to self-realization.
There is a lot of stigma and fear about death. The fear is that if we talk about death, we might invite it to come closer. However, we do not need to be afraid. Make a decision to have a strong mind and a brave heart. Death will come when it comes.
I like to talk and write about death. As a hospice massage therapist, I work with the dying almost every day. Recently, I had one patient that has shown me true grace in the dying process. Darlene was an 86-year-old woman who died of ovarian cancer. Darlene was quiet and reserved. She told me that she liked to sit in her recliner and be quiet. As a devote Christian woman, she would pray too. She did not watch the television or listen to music.
When I asked Darlene about her upcoming death, she said that it was God’s will. She surrendered with peace and grace. She always had a sweet smile and a calm spirit.
I hope that someday, when I approach my death, I will be like Darlene. I want to have true grace. I imagine grace to be like an eagle soaring. Darlene just let death happen. She spread her wings and let go with bravery and dignity.
And He will raise you up on eagles’ wings Bear you on the breath of dawn Make you to shine like the sun And hold you in the palm of His hand.
When we die, we put a lot of trust into God. I think we have limited minds and do not realize our potential as spiritual beings. We will raise up on eagles’ wings.
We are eternal beings. We will have a new life after this one. I think that the new life will either be in a heaven-like realm or a new life through birth. We must have gratitude for the awesomeness of our lives. It is a gift to be alive and healthy.
Tunnel Vision 8 