I had thought by the time I did this Writing Practice, we would be well into the green of Spring and Winter would have died a slow death. It’s green. But on the second day of May it dropped to 30 degrees. Ice crystals fell from the sky and pinged the windshield. I am still bundled in fleece, pulling a high collar up around the scruff of my neck to keep warm. Nature is unpredictable. So is the nature of one’s death. It happens that on the week we are writing about death and dying on red Ravine, Osama bin Laden would meet his demise. I feel no joy in his death. It is a strange mix of emotions, more like confusion and relief.
I remember the writing workshop with Natalie in Taos, New Mexico right after September 11th. She thought about canceling it but decided it was important to go ahead. It was a large group, over 50 writers, a talking workshop. The first night we went around the room, introduced ourselves, and spoke briefly about what it was like for each of us on September 11th. Some lived in New York, some had lost loved ones. I was more removed from the immediate impact. But it changed our country forever. Oddly, I don’t want to write about it. Not now. I will leave it for those whose voices ring with more certainty about what it all means. I can’t put labels on it. The whole ten years and two wars mostly makes me sad.
The older I get and the closer to death, the more I think about it. I can’t predict its time, but I can dedicate my life to living while I am on God’s green Earth. I listened to an interview with Janis Ian before seeing her in concert at the Fitzgerald last week. She had gotten very sick, and thought she may die in middle age. She said her thoughts on death before her illness were that she would take the time she had left to write songs, to write the perfect poem set to music. But when the time actually came, when she thought her life would be cut short, all she wanted to do was sit on the porch with her partner and watch the birds. To be close to her loved ones. That’s all that mattered.
It reminds me that I’m not going to be on my deathbed thinking about how hard I worked at all the jobs I have had over the years. It’s not likely I’ll be thinking of co-workers, the people with whom I’ve spent a majority of my daylight hours. I am more likely to want to spend time with Liz, stay close to home, hang out with the cats. I am more likely to want to go visit my mother and close family, to spend the time with friends I know I can trust. Friends with which I can share my deepest fears about dying and death.
There are moments when death doesn’t scare me. Late nights, when I wake up at 3am and can’t sleep, I do feel the fear. I try to befriend my idea of Death. It changes like the seasons. I do believe that life goes on after death. I find some comfort in that. I don’t have to get it right the first time. There can be second chances. But life will never be like the one I have right now, in this one moment. This is my life. I want to make the most of it while I am here.
-related to Topic post: WRITING TOPIC — DEATH & DYING
QM – your writing on death gave me a feeling of acceptance and peacefulness. The image of you and Liz hanging out with the cats, Janis Ian and her partner watching birds together. Funny what falls away when we think we have only a short time to live. I have tried getting into that open, appreciative state by pretending a given day is my last but, I don’t ever forget that I’m pretending -so it doesn’t work. There is no way to fake that kind of clarity.
I am reminded of a line from a poem by Roethke: ” This shaking keeps me steady. I should know./ What falls away is always. And is near. /I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow./ I learn by going where I have to go” (The Waking)
We learn by going where we have to go.
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QM, thanks for sharing your perspective. Funny what becomes important when someone you know is dying. The priorities get rearranged…the job, the money, the clothes…most of that doesn’t matter anymore.
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QM,
I’ll never forget you saying when you turned 50, “I don’t have unlimited time now.” It really stuck with me. Now that I’m on the cusp of 50 myself, I know just what you were talking about.
I like hearing what Janice Ian wanted to enjoy, too. It makes me want to think about what I’d pick for my last hours. And the underbelliy…what I’d abandon.
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Jude, thank you. And thanks for the quote. Where we have to go….the learning is sometimes hard.
Bob, I thought a lot about what Janis Ian said in her interview. It reminds me that the things we think we will do if/when we find out we are going to die, are the things we should be doing now while we are healthy and full of life. I’m guessing there is not a lot of energy in those last days.
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Teri, I remember well saying that to you when I turned 50. It was a big milestone for me. I felt like I was on the cusp of a whole new chapter of my life. As it turns out, that was true. The second part of my life has been entirely different than the first. In some ways, I feel like a different person.
I was talking to Liz last night about this and she mentioned that the people that knew me in my 20’s and 30’s knew an altogether different person. My oldest friends tell her that. She’ll never know that closed up person that barely said a word to strangers. I did a lot of work and my heart cracked open.
I have to admit, I’m a little afraid to turn 60. It feels much older to me than 50. I’m a ways away still but on the downside. My 40’s were great. 50’s I’ve felt pretty vibrant. What will the 60’s bring?
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Yes, I hear and feel acceptance. You are a deep and wise soul, QM. I admire your knowing what and who your priorities are.
Your piece makes me wonder what I’ll be thinking about when I’m on my deathbed. I can see clearly what I’d cut out. Definitely Twitter. Possibly most any Internet stuff, present company absolutey excluded. I’ve had some job assignments that I wouldn’t go to my deathbed thinking about, but a recent shift is that my work has meaning and purpose beyond being just a job. I have life friends through my work. I’m so grateful.
But I do think I’d like to spend more time with my hands in the dirt and less with them on my gadgets.
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QM, I celebrated the 59th anniversary of my birth on Tuesday which means I began my 60th year on Wednesday. So far, so could…of course, I only have two days under my belt. For some reason, 60 sounds so old and carries with it so many unpleasant connotations. I think they are all cultural things that weigh me down.
I don’t feel worse physically. My mind holds up pretty well. I enjoy being alive most of the time. It will be interesting as I accumulate days on my way to my 60th birthday next year to see how my perception of my age changes (if it does).
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ybonesy, thank you for saying that. It’s a struggle every day to balance time, hours in a day, with the things I’d love to get done with my writing, art, home life, visiting with my family and friends who live in other states. It feels like I don’t have any time to waste, at least not time to be frittered away. Sometimes I get sucked in. But most days, I try to limit the time I’m on FB or Twitter. It’s just too much of a time sucker. Though there are days when I love connecting with people there, too. It really depends on the day.
I have met a lot of good people through work over the years. But they aren’t usually people that follow me on to the next phase of my life. You are lucky if that’s true for you. It always wakes me up when I spend 9 or 10 years at a job and walk away to rarely see or talk to the people I worked with then. It’s a real eye-opener. Or maybe there is no deep meaning there — except that time just moves on. Hope all’s well in New Mexico! It was in the 80’s here today and HUMID! Crazy.
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Bob, please keep me posted on how the 60’s go. I imagine once one is well into that decade, it feels like all the others — we always feel mentally younger than we are physically. It’s the strangest thing. I think for me it’s mostly that I don’t have time to do all the things I thought I would. So every day becomes a time of setting priorities. What do I want or need to get done today — who do I want or choose to spend my time with. Some days, I just spend time with me. 8) I still find great value in just staring out the window, though I don’t do it as much as I used to. Lately, I feel like I never slow down. Maybe after Art-a-Whirl. I want one of those lazy summers from childhood.
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QM and Bob,
As Mark Twain once said, ‘Age is mind over matter. If you don’t mind, it doesn’t matter.’ 😉
Last year the BBC ran an Ellen Langer experiment where celebrities, all in their 70’s and 80’s, were asked to go back in time and live in a house decorated as if it were 1975. The had to dress in kipper ties and kaftans, only discuss news events from that particular decade, and to all intents and purposes, live as though they were still in their 40’s. The results were amazing. Their mental faculties improved drastically and so did their physical health. In fact, the oldest housemate, actress Liz Smith (88) was able to walk without her walking sticks for the first time after suffering from a stroke two years earlier!
Loving reading all the articles – thank you.
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annie, that’s fascinating. The idea of having all the props around from 1975. Actually, that sounds kind of fun to me. I was recently looking at 1970’s imagery – home decorating was in a wildness with all those lime greens, oranges, and yellows. If I could go back to recent decades, it would be the late 60’s, early 70’s. Not that I’d want to go back to the way society was then…just the props. And the idea looking at those decades with new eyes.
Sometimes we go and look at old Mid-century Modern homes and get that feeling of going back. They sometimes show them decorated like they were originally designed. One of the homes we looked at a few years ago had all the blueprints and furniture from the original owners. It’s fun to step back like that.
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