Friday, March 03, 2006

God? Six Feet Under?

God? Six Feet Under? Ah yes, we took a pilgrimage down the path of death. Ten brave souls ventured into the uncertainty and deep questions of death. Stories were told and a few tears were shed.

What does intimacy look like in death? We shared moments of being present with a friend and loved one as they took their last breath; holding their hands, kissing their face, lying with them in bed. How has this effected our intimacy with the living? How has this shaped our being present to our own selves?

Can God tolerate death? Where is God in death? Is there hope? Are we just a brain that sends electrical impulses and chemicals throughout our fragile bodies? Is there a soul? We surfaced all the questions but the last - maybe that will be a future topic for another Peregrini?

Death is a powerful subject. We rarely "want" to think about much less talk about death. Yet, death is all around us. It is part of life. The world actually needs the cyclical nature of birth, life and death. What is it that keeps us from reflecting about our own death? Fear of the unknown. Lonliness. The frustration of not having done everything we wanted to do. The despair of not having lived a life of purpose. Not having left something of value behind. All these were points of stress for us in the conversation about death.

If you have some comments about death please join in the conversation. Peregrini never really ends.

2 comments:

Wendy said...

I did not speak that night at Perigrini. I suspected I would soon be seeing the face of death again, closely. I was right. I spent the past week saying good-bye to my grandfather. At 86, he's lived one hell of a life, so it's difficult for me to mourn his death when really I want to celebrate his life.

Everyday, I witnessed small and large miracles. From the day I arrived and he could barely open his eyes, to the choice of not continuing life-saving medication and basic nourishment that began the period of just waiting, I feel blessed to have experienced each minute. His greatest miracle is having brought our fractured family back together. The small miracles were the opportunity to care for a man who cared for me when I was born, making him laugh (that was the best), and saying things I might not have ever said.

He said his good-bye to me in a very special way that I will cheerish through my lifetime.

I don't know what's next after he dies. But I do know, God was not shy in showing Her face in each moment, word, touch, and tear experienced in this graceful farewell to a life well-lived.

I think our conversation that night allowed me to process through this time more gracefully, more peacefully. Namaste to each of you in attendance that night.
Wendy

Wendy said...

I did not speak that night at Perigrini. I suspected I would soon be seeing the face of death again, closely. I was right. I spent the past week saying good-bye to my grandfather. At 86, he's lived one hell of a life, so it's difficult for me to mourn his death when really I want to celebrate his life.

Everyday, I witnessed small and large miracles. From the day I arrived and he could barely open his eyes, to the choice of not continuing life-saving medication and basic nourishment that began the period of just waiting, I feel blessed to have experienced each minute. His greatest miracle is having brought our fractured family back together. The small miracles were the opportunity to care for a man who cared for me when I was born, making him laugh (that was the best), and saying things I might not have ever said.

He said his good-bye to me in a very special way that I will cheerish through my lifetime.

I don't know what's next after he dies. But I do know, God was not shy in showing Her face in each moment, word, touch, and tear experienced in this graceful farewell to a life well-lived.

I think our conversation that night allowed me to process through this time more gracefully, more peacefully. Namaste to each of you in attendance that night.
Wendy