This is a deep and wide post that has taken me nearly all day to write so grab your tea and snuggle in...
Last week I shared about Heather and G. In the next few days, G will be leaving the hospital for the last time and entering hospice care at her father's home. G's life is coming to a close and, in Heather's words, her circle is getting smaller and smaller to include just a select few. Heather continues to walk very closely with G and her family. Your continued prayers, candle lightings, songs and dances of healing are so greatly appreciated.
I am holding several stories of women who are dying or have recently died right now. Some of them I know, most I have never met but hold their stories through clients and friends. I so deeply struck by these women and their stories. I seem to carry them like a seed in my belly. Sometimes I find that I have turned my head to look out the window at my naked trees, wondering what these women are thinking in that moment. What is happening in their bodies? What do they know that I will not know until I am approaching the end of my life? What do their prayers sound like in their mouths? Feel like in their bellies? Look like in their eyes?
In the last few days these wonderings have begun to stretch out to include the women all over the planet who are dying. Right now. And right now. And now, too.
Yesterday while Sammy and I were outside throwing the boomerang around, I found a half-finished nest under our ancient lilac trees. Or maybe it was a falling-apart nest, I’m not sure. Somehow, in an instant, this half-nest represented all these women - known and unknown - that I have been praying with. I thought of G – and the women who are saying goodbye to life so much sooner than they expected to. Women who will not marry; women who will not mother; women who will leave behind children and lovers and neighbors and best friends; women whose dying is prolonged; women who are dying suddenly or violently or in great pain.
My hands and body knew what to do: I fetched the camera, then set this small, half-nest all around our house and yard taking pictures and praying as I went. It was quick and spontaneous.
Here's the half-nest and a few of the places we prayed together:
On my lap...
Cupped gently in my hand...
Among a five-year-old's toys in a rusty wagon...
In a cracked-open pottery vessel,
a tulip bulb nearby...
Atop weathered corner bricks...
Then, I ascended the steps to my office / meditation room to completely dismantle my altar and re-set it to receive the half-nest.
Here:
The window shows the view from my office. That's our naked tree on the left, and our fiery orange one on the right.
Some close-ups:
In addition to the nest the altar holds items of special meaning:
- Lit stick of my favorite incense;
- Candle made for me by a little girl - also the candle I used in the placenta burial ritual;
- Tibetan bell, which we call the Bell of Kindness;
- A Talking staff that appeared in my life at a spiritually transformational time, and has been held by hundreds of women in sacred circle;
- Pocket goddess token;
- Bundle of sage and sweet grass;
- Glass star and two pieces of broken glass;
- Heart-shaped rock;
- Two goddesses, a tree goddess and Gaia, keep guard on the window sill.
I feel as though I must midwife this altar today. When one stick of incense goes out I whip out another and light it up. I ring the bell and bow to a women - any woman - on the planet who is dying.
Please hear me: this is not morbid! (At least not to me, though some may beg to differ.) Nor I am depressed or heavy-hearted. I am full. And I'm compelled to keep vigil. Is anyone else keeping vigil with these women? What about those who die alone or frightened or without anyone to hold their hand? Today I feel as though I cannot let this go unnoticed.
Last week it was one year ago that my Aunt Lori committed suicide. She died utterly alone in her basement. Today I keep vigil for those like her.
We do not know how to die well in our culture. I guess I want to learn about this for myself. And when I really need/want to learn something I do just what I'm doing: I read about it, write about it, make songs, do rituals, look at pictures, pray, light candles of vigil, take long baths, gather up stories in my story pouch and pass them around.
I am in the process of writing some songs and rituals for women who are dying, including a sacred cirlce ritual for women to do with a woman near the end of her life.
A few weeks after Aunt Lori's death I wrote a song called We Remember Them inspired by the Jewish poem of the same title. In a few days I will be offering this song for download from my website in honor of the approaching Mexican celebration, Day of the Dead. (More on D of the D here and here and here.)
I'm finding that I have absolutely no idea how to wrap this post up. All my thesis summation ideas feel utterly inadequate. So I'll ask some questions - since that's what this Story Midwife does - and see where the conversation goes, okay?
Can you imagine creating an altar for the women who are dying today?
Who in your life is dying right now? How are you companioning her/him?
Are you afraid of dying? Why or why not?
What rituals do you have to mark the passing of those whom you love?
If you knew you only had a few weeks to live, what would you most want/need to do for closure? What rituals and prayers would be most important to you?
How do you want to be remembered?
Ready for more than the surface?
life, Immersion will be available on an entirely self-set sliding fee scale. 
