Blank Canvas

[Mark]

You could substitute "Religion" for science in your post, Arrowind, and be telling the exact same truth.

Which was actually the point of my post.

Science and Religion.

As institutions that collectives build in order to point the way for individual work.

Each is, truly, an individual endeavor in the end.

Science and Religion - in general and as an indication of the propensity of human-kind to question their perceptions and environment - are grade school level understandings, the work to manifest them in an everyday real-life manner is the rest of the education. Putting them both together is an holistic and synthetic perspective on life and as such is multidimensional in nature, encouraging lateral rather than hierarchical thinking patterns and habits. This means employing the tracks, science and religion, not in an objective way, but in a subjective way, and by so doing, merging them both and engaging in a middle path between the two. Objectivity is an illusion anyway, the double-slit experiment proved that at the quantum level and the alchemical truism, 'as above so below', is the macro version.

That is my personal experience and take on it.

[Arrowwind]

Posted by another bob (here)
I hear ya, Sister, and you make a good point! You sound like a Gemini, a communicator, and I can so relate! I'll savor each of our stories as they come up, and give Thanks for our diversity, as well as the unity behind that individual uniqueness.

Blessings!

Actually an Aries with an Aquarian North Node. That about says it all for me.


http://raginguniverse.blogspot.com/2...-eleventh.html

[Arrowwind]

Posted by Rahkyt (here)
You could substitute "Religion" for science in your post, Arrowind, and be telling the exact same truth.

Which was actually the point of my post.

Science and Religion.

As institutions that collectives build in order to point the way for individual work.

.

I understand what you are saying but I dont really relate to religion. I relate to spirituality, a whole other ball of wax. Religion is relegated to the dark ages of consciousness, in my mind anyway. I relate to science much better than religion and spirituality above all.

[Mark]

Posted by Arrowwind (here)
I understand what you are saying but I dont really relate to religion. I relate to spirituality, a whole other ball of wax. Religion is relegated to the dark ages of consciousness, in my mind anyway. I relate to science much better than religion and spirituality above all.

To-mayyyy-toes, To-maaaa-toes.

Of Rocks and Willow Trees

Even rocks have religions: of spring rain and moldering eons, sifting through layers of sedimentary deposit in search of soul’s salvation. The monumental girth of mountains, such stupendous avatars of a pebble’s truest aspiration, soaring heavenward, thrusting forth shards and stones of Gaia’s uttermost solidity, sharing the secrets of eternity’s whispered words in sublime syllables of synchronicitious portent.

The songs of willows, branches swaying gently, sighing, in the breeze of the wind’s soft and sensuous caress, calling out to the myriad species of tree, deciduous and coniferous alike, dryads locked within, beautiful, brown skin gnarly and wondrously intricate, chuckling and spinning tales of wonder and amusement as the moon and the stars look on from above.

Watery denizens inhabit the depths, oceanic or stream-bottoms strewn with the refuse of life’s open call, evoking Creation herself in waves and currents of cacaphonic complexity, swirling in confusion as anthropomorphic anomolies add ascerbic emanations to the stew of chemicals and molecular potions brewing magical concoctions beyond all perceived purpose, or even the most febrile of humanistic portents, doomed by specied miopia to organic obsolescence.

The airs and aethers converge, multi-dimensional existence exuding essence, permeating creation, space extended beyond material condition into spirituality beyond season, evoking dichotomous reasoning combined, resolved by resolution in the choir of Earth’s multitudinous denizens, singing praises to Heaven above.

All of God’s creatures rejoice in Creation Eternal, life manifest as conditional consciousness, urges and genetic predispositions crystalline in purpose, pure, apriori spirituality coalescing in momentous occasion, codified as religion surpassing intergenerational denominative descent in approximation of ascention, the goal of all life, all incarnation, all re-creation.

Life as manifestion upon the physical plane negates specied egocentricity, the grass, the seas, the sky and the trees, all possess the conscious ability to Be, all they are, truely, seeking elevation and solace beyond these shores. Freedom of choice, the knowledge of Good and Evil, black and white, yin and yang as the blessing – and curse – of humanity complicates reality, the mores and traditions passed down through the generations denied validity by the radical evolution of egocentricity, decrying the existence of spirituality, elevating the Cult of Me, mistaking subjectivity for objectivity, denying the connection between We…

…sublime simplicity, indeed. Close your eyes, open your hearts and feel the need, to connect and share, in both love and warfare we seek belief in something higher, better, truer. While deep inside we know that it is all so simple, to follow the example of the birds and the deer, the insects and plants, to grow and to live, secret destinies realized beyond the mind and its convolutive meanderings, realizing that even the rocks have religion and know neither Heaven nor Hell.

[another bob]

Posted by Rahkyt (here)
Of Rocks and Willow Trees

Even rocks have religions: of spring rain and moldering eons, sifting through layers of sedimentary deposit in search of soul’s salvation. The monumental girth of mountains, such stupendous avatars of a pebble’s truest aspiration, soaring heavenward, thrusting forth shards and stones of Gaia’s uttermost solidity, sharing the secrets of eternity’s whispered words in sublime syllables of synchronicitious portent.

The songs of willows, branches swaying gently, sighing, in the breeze of the wind’s soft and sensuous caress, calling out to the myriad species of tree, deciduous and coniferous alike, dryads locked within, beautiful, brown skin gnarly and wondrously intricate, chuckling and spinning tales of wonder and amusement as the moon and the stars look on from above.

Watery denizens inhabit the depths, oceanic or stream-bottoms strewn with the refuse of life’s open call, evoking Creation herself in waves and currents of cacaphonic complexity, swirling in confusion as anthropomorphic anomolies add ascerbic emanations to the stew of chemicals and molecular potions brewing magical concoctions beyond all perceived purpose, or even the most febrile of humanistic portents, doomed by specied miopia to organic obsolescence.

The airs and aethers converge, multi-dimensional existence exuding essence, permeating creation, space extended beyond material condition into spirituality beyond season, evoking dichotomous reasoning combined, resolved by resolution in the choir of Earth’s multitudinous denizens, singing praises to Heaven above.

All of God’s creatures rejoice in Creation Eternal, life manifest as conditional consciousness, urges and genetic predispositions crystalline in purpose, pure, apriori spirituality coalescing in momentous occasion, codified as religion surpassing intergenerational denominative descent in approximation of ascention, the goal of all life, all incarnation, all re-creation.

Life as manifestion upon the physical plane negates specied egocentricity, the grass, the seas, the sky and the trees, all possess the conscious ability to Be, all they are, truely, seeking elevation and solace beyond these shores. Freedom of choice, the knowledge of Good and Evil, black and white, yin and yang as the blessing – and curse – of humanity complicates reality, the mores and traditions passed down through the generations denied validity by the radical evolution of egocentricity, decrying the existence of spirituality, elevating the Cult of Me, mistaking subjectivity for objectivity, denying the connection between We…

…sublime simplicity, indeed. Close your eyes, open your hearts and feel the need, to connect and share, in both love and warfare we seek belief in something higher, better, truer. While deep inside we know that it is all so simple, to follow the example of the birds and the deer, the insects and plants, to grow and to live, secret destinies realized beyond the mind and its convolutive meanderings, realizing that even the rocks have religion and know neither Heaven nor Hell.

That is really one of the most beautiful songs I have heard here at PA, and so more bows for your magic way with the word weave!

[sleepy]

I feel like I am reading a living novel filled with great pearls of wisdom.

[Mark]

Ditto, Sleepy. TY, BrotherBob, you know how it is, we makes it do what it do cause we got to. LOL I feel blessed to share space and time with this collective of souls, there are no accidents. I've read all 11 prior pages to this thread and agree that there is an amazing depth and breadth of experience being shared. The current weaving is elaborate, the shuttles click and clatter as the loom of life builds a tapestry of pain, wonder, love, heartache, death and life above all. To contribute to it is an honor.

[another bob]

Night Nurse

2009

Since retiring from my career in the Natural and Organic Food Industry, I found that I still needed to augment my retirement savings, and so I found a residential treatment center for advanced Alzheimer's patients nearby to where I had settled in Paradise, CA, and spent afternoons and evenings helping out, several times a week.

At work one night, as I was going about my appointed rounds, the night-duty nursing supervisor approached me in the hallway, inquiring:

"Have you ever wondered, Bob, whether this world has an actual objective reality, or is it all rather a subjective fantasy of interpretation on perception, perhaps experienced as the momentary collusion of various transient and dependently-originating conditioning factors with certain impersonal vibratory sensations and neural thingamajigs?"

I paused for a moment to fully savor the expression on the face of a small dog peeking out from a patient's room. Then, in my best Rastafarian inflection, I quietly (so as not to wake the people already sleeping in their rooms down the hallway) sang back in reply,

"Night Nurse, Night Nurse --
Only you alone can quench this thirst . . ."

She smiled for a moment, then suggested that I not give up my day job, to which I replied that, since retirement, my night job is my day job. Not to be deterred, she pressed on mercilessly with her ticklish investigation:

"If any arising phenomena came forth and un-systematically did something that could be described as a probability distribution, would you express a preference for some particular outcome?"

"Ah," I replied, "it's been many years now since I've been fooled by that kind of stuff!"

With that exchange, we dispensed with any further water-cooler small talk, and she asked if I would turn around so she could see the back of my t-shirt (slightly stained tonight with some liquid remnants of a patient's dinner tray).

It read:

"All phenomena?
Your own mind!"

A moment of silence followed, the little dog yawned, and then she mused, as if to herself, "So neither real nor unreal, hmmm? Perhaps one could say that the non-existence of any objective reality simply indicates that things in themselves have no enduring or independent existence, just like us. Moreover, in thus contemplating the totality of phenomena, we are contemplating the totality of Mind. All apparent phenomena are intrinsically void, and yet this Mind with which they are identical is no mere nothingness."

"So you say," I grinned as I walked away – I still had work to do.

[Arrowwind]

Posted by Rahkyt (here)
Of Rocks and Willow Trees

Rahkyt, your mailbox is full and I cant pm you. You may not even get this notice of quote.

[Anchor]

Posted by TargeT (here)
I agree, as I read this thread it seems that I must be living a "vacation life" as I've not really had anything happen that compare to the stories here, on one hand I feel like I'm missing out, on the other I am glad that I have missed out.

its hard to calibrate my perspective but threads like this definately help, thank you all for sharing your stories.

I feel the same as you. It occurs to me that the challenge in this case is to spend more time on the details, since our easy rides give us more opportunity to examine them.

[Chester]

Posted by Arrowwind (here)

Posted by Rahkyt (here)
Of Rocks and Willow Trees

Rahkyt, your mailbox is full and I cant pm you. You may not even get this notice of quote.

Here's an idea... try and leave him a visitor message about the full mailbox... and that way he gets the notification too. Just an idea from your friend, Chester

[Chester]

Posted by another bob (here)
Naturally, the bureaucratic shrinks were flabbergasted, and promptly fired me.

such is the destiny of a quantum being... just being.

justoneqb

[Kiforall]

An American reporter carries out an interview with two white women in an area of UK that is literally under the control of Muslims. Parents and children live in fear of leaving their homes. Interview very quickly becomes uncomfortable to say the least.
https://youtube.com/watch?v=k2iJB...ure=plpp_video
I lived 4 miles from here (Burnley) about 14 years ago. At that time, in Nelson, I lived in the last 'white' stronghold and I also went from being able to walk safely around a reservoir with my two greyhounds, to being scared to leave the back street.
Having just managed to resolve my racist issues and feeling very positive in doing so, I find myself wondering whether having an unconditional love for these people is going to put my freedom at risk.
Are these factions not the negative entity/energy that the creator allows us to destroy?
As I've posted this in 'blank canvas' I hope it does not offend anybody. It's more my intention to receive guidance on my spiritual path, which has just taken a couple of steps backwards.

[another bob]

Posted by Kiforall (here)
As I've posted this in 'blank canvas' I hope it does not offend anybody. It's more my intention to receive guidance on my spiritual path, which has just taken a couple of steps backwards.

Good inquiry, Thanks!

Let's face it -- humans have a hard time getting along, even in relatively harmless social situations. Add in the combustible elements of politics and religion, plus unprecendented global demographic change, and we have a sure recipe for conflict. Moreover, even the greatest peacemakers this realm has ever produced were essentially impotent when it came to pacifying their own followers, much less those with conflicting creeds.

This world is a war planet, there is no getting around that, and it is likely to remain so as long as folks invest in exclusive beliefs and separatist creeds. Our job here is not to make the place into a heaven realm, but more to understand where the root of the conflict lies, learn how to behave, and expunge greed, envy, intolerance, and hatred from our own hearts.

In doing so, it demonstrates that we have been paying attention and learned something, and so are prepared to graduate from kindergarden and expand out into a more mature curriculum.

Blessings!

[Kiforall]

So more to acknowledge, understand and accept but remain true to yourself?

[RunningDeer]

Posted by Kiforall (here)
So more to acknowledge, understand and accept but remain true to yourself?

Hi Kiforall,

Anything that comes up, I'd turn it into a challenge to change within. It’s on-the-job-training for: the inner judge, heart light work, and awareness of and to process feelings. Also, continued empowerment, refinement and alignment of self with Higher Self.

Peace,
WhiteCrowBlackDeer

[Chester]

Posted by Kiforall (here)
So more to acknowledge, understand and accept but remain true to yourself?

I think its a real tricky one. Balancing one's responsibility towards their family with what they might be able to risk. If I had no family that depended on me, I am certain I be far more proactive. I am uncertain if that would be a wise idea nor if it would do any good. I have no answer. Very tricky one IMO. Good question Kiforall. Chester

[Arrowwind]

Living to Die

Reflections On the Life and Death of Ed B****

By Arrowwind

This surely is going to be an experiment for me. For sometime I have been thinking of writing about my work as a hospice nurse. I put it off and put it off. Over the last 4 years I have managed to pump out a whole three pages or so. So this will be my attempt to create from a vision I have had for some time.

What brings me to writing today is Ed and his family. I don't know them really. But this past couple of weeks I have been intimately involved with them all as Ed lay on his deathbed. We have become close. We hug. We look into each other’s eyes deeply....perhaps looking for the answers that words cannot say.

My intuition is ever so keen sometimes. When I first heard of Ed down in room 105 I dreaded going down there. I just knew something was happening down there that was intense. I didn't know if I was up for it or not. Sometimes at work the best way is the simple way. Always the kiss acronym runs through my mind like a mantra, "keep it simple stupid."

But duty commanded. So I went down there to see what as up, what I could possibly do for Ed and his family.

Sometimes when you see someone for the first time you get a sense of them. Sometimes you are instantly attracted. When I saw Rita, Ed's daughter, clipping down the hall early one morning that was the sense. She was dressed in her earthen colors. Turquoise necklace, I always notice jewelry. Hers' was nice. You could see she was sensitive to color and form. She was one of those exceptional people who just always look like they were kissed by the sun, or is it the light in her eyes that I feel the heat of. Anyway, Rita whisked by down to the other unit to visit her dying father that day. I didn't know either of them but I knew right away that it seemed that I already knew Rita.

Ed got moved to my unit. So this first day I walked into Ed's room there sat Rita. Alert and fully attentive. She was there to serve her father in any way she could. And I was there to serve Ed and consequently because she belonged to Ed, I was to serve her in any way I could.

My, Ed is something. As of this writing he isn't dead yet although he sincerely wishes he was. Ed was quite confused the first time I met him. He looked really bad. His lung cancer had moved all over his body and was especially giving him pain in his right shoulder. He also appeared agitated. Restless in his bed. There was no peace. He was weak, hopeless. His wife came in and quickly explained that just before his admission that he had had a bleeding problem in his gut. They couldn't get it to stop bleeding. A result of narcotic use and constipation or maybe the cancer. Who knew for sure? They had stopped looking for causes a while back. The doctors who put him on narcotics failed to mention that constipation and bowel obstruction were serious side effects. (Forget the cancer. Lets just let you die of bowel obstruction.)

Well, by the time he got to us in Hospice he had decided not to eat anymore. He didn’t want to go through that bleeding thing again. He was just taking sips of fluids. But now how he talked of food! You could see in his face the relish of different culinary delights as they passed through his mind. He wanted some food. So I said Ok, lets have some. We have fresh halibut tonight with mashed potatoes and a garlic butter sauce, asparagus. You could see his eyes light up. After analyzing the pros and cons of trying to eat again he decided he'd give it a try. It tasted so fine but he just couldn't get past a few bites. This was his last meal and although he couldn’t really eat it he said it was wonderful. It did appear that Ed would only be with us for a few days.

By profession, Ed was a scientist and he spent his career working for Hercules on rocket design, dipping his hands into vats of toxic chemicals for countless years. Little did they know then what they know now. Rita said that many of his co-workers had been taken by cancer. At 75, Ed out survived most of them.

As a scientist, Ed had a meticulous and calculating mind. He liked records, data, experiments and hypothesis. The honed skills acquired over a lifetime continued to play out in his activities of dying. We will measure his fluid intake, the percentage of juice to water, all the cups will be labeled, urine measured, days counted, narcotics tabulated, experimental dosage with various activities to ascertain the optimum dosage and timing. This would be a scientific dying experiment.

That first day Ed looked up at me from his death bed and ask me how long. Oh, how I hate that question. How long? How long! How am I supposed to know how long? Ok, gotta get a grip. Here comes the prepackaged answer....."Well, Ed. Let's take a look." I do a brief assessment of his physical status. He has a fever. His knees are cool. He's alert, confused, anxious, and still quite sane. " Ed, to me it looks like it could be pretty soon, a few days maybe. You have a fever and we see that a lot in people who are beginning to actively die. A fever, I think, means that you are getting pretty toxic inside and that your immune system is responding by trying to burn those toxins because you know, the liver and the kidneys aren't working so good anymore." I glanced down at his urinary catheter. It was filled with thick sediment sludge.

"Well, this is good news." he said. "I think I am ready." He slept a good part of the day. Yep, He'd be gone in no time. Later that afternoon he asked me why he felt so groggy. He said that he felt like he wanted to be more alert, not sleeping so much. "Well, Ed, you’re dying. It’s normal to sleep a lot when you are close to dying"

"If I could just feel more clear mentally it would be better" I promised him that I would check his medicine record to see what they had been doing over the past few days and especially at night.

He hadn't been getting much in the day but at night he was getting lots of ativan. We decided to cut that does in half and see how he would do tomorrow.

The next day he was much more alert, not very confused at all. And the day after that even better. Suddenly he was wanting to get up out of bed and go out into the garden with his family. This was no easy task as the cancer had eaten at his spinal bones and there were compression fractures. He had to wear a clamshell brace to hold his spine upright. Getting it on and then off was a delicate procedure so as not to cause too much pain. But there was success and he did go out to the rose garden with his wife pushing him in the wheel chair. It was worth every ounce of effort because when he returned he was just overjoyed with the garden and the beauty of life. It was a good journey for him, regardless of how small it was.

That evening just before the end of the shift Rita and I sat together and talked about Ed, about life, about medical care in general. Her concern for his good passing was utmost in her mind. She was seeking a way for him but didn't really know what the way was, but who did? Not me... not anybody I knew, but perhaps, Ed.

YOU KNOW, IT'S NOT ROCKET SCIENCE

I had had a few days off and when I returned to hospice and went to see Ed he had a distressed look on his face and immediately told me “ I’m so thirsty. Just terribly thirsty. Can anything be done about it?”

“Well, lets have a drink” I said. But Ed had gotten the impression from somewhere that he shouldn’t be drinking. He had had some swallow difficulties and the thickened water and juice was not palatable to him. He had stopped drinking. I handed him a cup of water and he readily took it down, and another and more before the day was over. No swallow difficulties noted. He was grateful that a way was found to alleviate his dire thirst.

This was the beginning of Ed's long journey into dying consciously. I say it is the beginning because this is a different time than discovering the disease, than seeing the doctors, than endeavoring to get better, than acknowledging that he was dying.

For five weeks Ed went without food and drank only fluids, mostly water and water diluted juices. When he fully entered into this phase it was as if he had a small resurrection. Suddenly he was wanting to get out of bed every day. Wanting to put his clamshell brace on and to go and to be in nature with his wife and family.

It seemed that he had some joyful days in this few week span. Barbara, his wife would go with him and sit by his side in the garden. She would paint watercolors of the garden and pasture. It is a beautiful sight with the Wasatch Mountains in the near distance. The horses would come galloping by or leisurely grazing. Ed would gaze upon the beauty that surrounded the hospice. If you didn’t know better you would not think you were in the middle of Salt Lake City, but rather in an exclusive retirement home out in the distant mountainous countryside.

As a hospice nurse you must wear many hats if you are to serve your patients well. I have a lot of hats that I change around as families and patients require, taking them on and off as I go through my day. I can do the Jewish thing, the Mormon thing, the Catholic thing, the Hispanic Catholic thing (which is different) as well as the agnostic and earth based religions. I have had several Native American patients and families and have felt that I could support them in their process well enough. To serve them best it requires an understanding of their belief structures and to be able to talk in the symbols and language that gives them a sense of place and support as well as continuity with their life long endeavor which is now approaching the day of reckoning.

But with Ed I needed no hat. Even though Ed was Catholic I needed no hat and I guess it was because I did not see Ed wearing a hat. Ed was just Ed and it was clear that what ever Ed believed to be true or important in this world it would not interfere with whatever you felt was important or true. The things that were of import were based in ecumenical principle, yet broader, beyond any Christian doctrine. I guess you could just call it unconditional love and service.

Ed did love his Christian faith and much of his later years were devoted to celebrating the stories and practices of faith in his artwork and for social change. And I can not say whether Ed's faith led to his love of humanity or whether his love of humanity lead to his faith, But you could feel a lot of love there just for the taking. When ever I went in to see Ed I would come out feeling that I received much more than I could ever give. It’s difficult to exactly pinpoint why I felt this way. Most of the time nothing really happened short of swimming though a sea of loving acceptance intermingled with the struggle of pain and crazy mind of a dying man.

Control was an issue Ed had not resolved. He was a very skilled and talented scientist and artist. All things were measured, graded, worked upon till perfection, in his silent determined act upon the material at hand. This was done in his work as a scientist and then continued on in his work as an artist. Now weakness had overcome him and there was little to control left. Just as the cups of water and juice would be labeled and measured all events no matter how insignificant would be recorded in his notepad and if he was to weak to write for himself a dutiful family member would take on the task. Many pages were filled in his notebook of events as insignificant as the tossing of a penny. But then again events also recorded where we may never understand the significance of to him.

Sometimes Ed wanted to talk directly about death. Somewhere in his third week of water only he asked me what it would be like to die. How could I say? I did not know, not having been there recently. Then I understood that he didn’t really want to know what it was like to die, he wanted to know the events leading to death.

“Well, Ed” I said. “I think it may go like this for you. When you first came here to us in Hospice we thought you were going to die right away. You were very lethargic and confused. We were pretty sure that your time was going to be very short, but remember how we decreased your medications at night, and then you were more alert in the day. It seemed like you were getting better? When you get close to death it will return to how it was before we decreased the medications. You will become very weak. You will stop drinking again. You will no longer be able to get up. We will give you lots of good oral care. We won’t let your mouth get dry again. But it will be as though you are going to sleep. I do not think you will have much pain. Your pain is pretty well controlled when you don’t move much so maybe pain won’t be a big issue for you. But if it is we will give more medicine. Your breathing will become more labored and you will probably disassociate some from your body, it may be like you are here but your are not here. Like you are separating from here. I am not sure this is how it will be but this is how it seems like it is for a lot of people.. It will be like you are going to sleep and waking up to a new reality. Your spirit may start to separate off from your body. That which links you to your form with start to dissolve. You may be very conscious of what is going on, but in your spirit mind, your soul mind. We will work to make your body as comfortable as possible.” Ed seems very relaxed when I told him this.

This was Ok. This he could do. He thanked me for telling him. Perhaps it helped him to feel like he had a little control just in knowing.

A day or two later I was visiting Ed to see if there was anything I could do help him to be comfortable. He was in a very quiet mood. I leaned over him and talked to him quietly, and he reached up, looked me in the eyes and caressed my face. It was like all the love I could possibly know poured into me. I left the room and made my way to the restroom as fast as I could, my private retreat during duress, and cried.

It was during this time period that I met his daughter Annie who had come from California to visit. Like with Rita I had this feeling that I knew her. She was so familiar I certainly had crossed paths with her before, perhaps in California when I lived there, in my wild youth, perhaps at some tribal gathering. Anyway, it took some time to confirm that we were perhaps more of a kindred spirit than I realized. She was gone before I understood.

At one point all four girls, Annie, Mary Jean, Rita and Carol were sitting on the sofa in front of the windows overlooking the meadow. I walked by and for the first time fully realized that Carol was Ed’s daughter too. I had seen her come and go a few times but had not connected with her. But there they all were, together, as I observed them as I walked by. You could see their harmony and friendship and even their physical similarities. They were like 4 different flavors of the same person. Later that day Mary Jean confided to me that her husband of 18 years was Annie’s ex and that all things were well. Well, why was I not surprised?

On my very next visit Ed was just in dire duress. His cycling mind was getting the best of him. He was not in control and it was freaking him out. Anxiety was overcoming him. He wanted to know how things were going to be done, recorded, just how all that was to happen would happen.

He was definitely in mental and spiritual angst. The family decided to try a homeopathic remedy called arsenicum album. To our dismay it did not work and perhaps even made it worse. A likely case, as I realized later that his constitutional remedy was probably arsenicum album and an aggravation of mental symptoms is commonplace when given the constitutional remedy and generally a welcome sign, but not welcome under these circumstances. The ativan brought relief quickly. You could see Ed just kind of sink down into the pillows as his mind relaxed. Creative imagery was now effective. You could wisk Ed away into postive creative imagery and his daughters were good at it. You could just see his face soaking up the good vibes from the beautiful women surrounding him.

We gave Ed more ativan after his crazy mind episode. And the family took away the note pad assuring him they would write down anything important. But right at this time the pain seemed to be increasing. We had to give more pain medication that was administered by a little pump called a PCA pump. The medicine went in through a tiny needled located on the fat on his belly, what little there was left of it. Although Ed didn’t want the taint of drugs affecting his mind it could no longer be avoided. Anxiety can be a ruthless demon and we had to free Ed from it the best we could. I always advise patients and family that anxiety is often a mental reaction to physiological changes at this point in the process of winding down. It is not a purely psychological disorder but a physiological response to dying that has psychological effects upon the nervous system. Ed was always inclined to create a very methodical and controlled reality to sustain his creative endeavors. But this excessive level of anxiety and need to control beyond his normal expression.

THE ART OF DYING

It was again time for my weekend away from work. I went to Ed to say goodbye again for how much longer could he last? He would likely be gone before my return in four days.

But upon my return there he was sitting there just smiling, and talking. And Taking notes. This time I got to know his daughter Mary Jean better, another kindred spirit. Sometimes the energy needs to disperse and move in other directions. Mary Jean and I shared stories about work, family, travel, jewelry, and other life adventures.

I must say a few words about Barbara. Barbara is Ed’s wife. They have been companions since high school and now neared their 52nd anniversary. Barbara seems to float on air. That is the first thing you notice about her. She floats, her arms swirling through the air, propelling her forward or steadying her balance. It is as if she dances without music, without concern for eyes. She moves in her own grace and timing. All the staff was taken with her. Unlike Ed, she is a creature of spontaneity. Nothing is measured. Nothing counted, of course unless at the request of her husband. Then she dutifully does the task. Among many things, Barbara is an artist and a free spirit. Through out her stay at Ed’s bedside she would watch for the play of light upon the masonry or in the trees, take out her little watercolor pad and paint. She had even found a comrade in the arts, a family member to another patient to sit and paint with her.

When she and Ed took their daily stroll into the garden Ed would dream into the mountains and meadows and Barbara would paint. Before her days were done at the hospice she had a collections of colorful paintings in her small pad. As time went by it became evident too that many pads of drawings marked the events of Ed and Barbara’s life together. A couple of these drawing pads were shared with me, especially Ed's pen and ink drawings done on their inspirational trip to Italy. Ed came home from Italy and became a marble sculptor.

Ed spent his last years working in marble and other stone. Religious themes seemed to attract him. There in his room leaning against the wall was a collection of newspaper articles and photos of his work. He had done relief sculptures of Saint Catherine and Saint Francis. These two exquisite pieces reside in the Newman Center at the University of Utah. Other carvings were done also. Very fine, in marble. I so much enjoyed seeing the relief in marble of the woman’s face with hair coiled. It reminded me of Leonardo Di Vinci, but it was Ed. Ed loved beauty and all that he touched he brought order and beauty to.

A few days later another patient a few doors down passed on. She had some wonderful fragrant white Chinese lilies. Her family asked me to find some other patient who might enjoy them. I thought that perhaps they should go in the commons area so many could enjoy them but the family took the time to say that they were to go to another patients room if possible and actually said it three times to me. Oh, that magical impact of three strokes. So I took them to Ed but could not mention that they came from a recently deceased person. I didn’t want to ruin or taint the intent so I let him think they were from me. Ed was just thrilled with the flowers. He was so responsive to their beauty and fragrance. Many times over the next few days he thanked me, and I did not feel without guilt. Little did we know at the time that these lilies were to be a pathway between father and daughter. It made me realize that this family member of another patient perhaps knew, if but unconsciously, the need for these flowers to be placed in another patient’s room. Three times she asked. “please take these to another patient.” Really, just what it took for me to “get it.” I am glad I chose to respect her wishes now, instead of disregarding her words and putting them in the commons area, as had crossed my mind. It was definitely a little learning experience for me in respect for others wishes. We cannot always see and know the intent and purpose of all things and we must trust that wishes are potential realities yet unexplored, often very good realities.

The next couple of days on Ed's deathbed were a time of realization that things were now truly slowing down. With increased pain and weakness he could no longer rise to go out into the garden with Barbara. He seemed to require more reassurance that all was well or going to be well. More time for visualization of great things to come. Of summoning peace and relaxation, for guided meditations, religious readings. Many people came to read to Ed. He kept the prayer of Saint Frances of Assisi by his bedside. The rosary was always close at hand. Much active praying and between the prayers time for humor, and questioning and long gazes into the eyes of family members and to smell the lilies. He was now at the end of his fifth week of water and diluted juices for sustenance only.

You know, back in my yoga days, I would read about the saints of India doing long fasts and drinking water only. They say it often brought enlightenment. At the ashrams that I lived in, sometimes I would encounter a daring soul well into a water fast. Always their countenance radiated. Always they astounded me with their sense of peace. Always they made me wonder about the body, its function, its needs and the interface that the soul plays with it. Here in Ed I could see it again. I cannot say if it was his dying, his fasting, his overall spiritual journey, but I could see a man on an exalted journey. It seemed to me that these five weeks of water was a time of reflection, integration, evolution and expanding love within Ed that persisted regardless of his declining physical health and the symptoms that it brought. And in its fullness and beauty it touched anyone who came close who was even just slightly open to it. It was, I am sure, a miracle for his family, truly a great parting gift and like a living painting, a masterpiece in the art of dying.

MOVING ON

I wish I could have been there when Ed passed. I would have liked to try to help make it perfect for him but it was not meant to be for me. But for Ed, maybe it was perfect. I do hope that it was and I will choose to assume that it was as perfect as a passing could possibly be.

Normally I do no attend wakes or funerals or viewings for my patients. It’s just too hard on me. My main intent is to be stable to do my work. All the rest I leave to others, the grieving, the family connections, the continued support. When they leave the hospice on a gurney I am done with it. I do not do this out of dispassion. I do it for survival. I do it so I can go to work and continue to maintain objectivity and rationality. Hospice work is not easy work and there is a lot of emotional stuff flying around that one can get sucked into and get caught up in in a very negative way if not careful….At least this is how I see it for me, in the way that I process and integrate life experience.

But with Ed things are different. With Ed I felt compelled to go to his funeral and so I did.

The Newman Center is located next to the University of Utah. Designed to be an outreach for students, the church also has a healthy and active congregation that is involved in many fine charitable and social projects. This is where Ed and Barbara had devoted time to their spiritual work. It has a good vibe in there and a very different feel from the old Italian Catholic church that I was raised in as a child.

Needless to say, and in my usual mode, I cried through most of it. If you knew me you would know that there really is not any other response that I am capable of under such circumstance. Crying is an unsettling experience for me and when I do indulge in it the ramifications last many days. I don’t seem to know how to cry for just one incident. All the tearful experiences seem to be re-grieved. It can get overwhelming. I directed as much focus as possible staying on Ed and his family, not allowing old stuff to enter the picture, but it was not easy.

Some of Eds marble relief work is on the back wall of the church. It is really quite beautiful. Saint Catherine of Sienna and St Francis of Assisi. Since I did not know much about Saint Catherine I had to explore. In many ways she is the spiritual counterpart and complementary of St Francis of Assisi. Reading about these saints is another reflection of the person that Ed was. This was what he contemplated and valued and saw merit in.

When people die I think it is of great value to have them surrounded with the presence and sounds of life as much as possible to keep them in the moment of the here and now as they work to move into the next dimension. To have beaming eyes to look into, to have old and weather worn hands, young and tender hands to clasp on to. To be surrounded by one’s own creation in children and friends, art and music, all the expressions that had been of interest and value but for Ed, I think he would be thinking most about his children. One man could not have done better.

After the ceremony members and family gathered in a great room outside of the sanctuary. It was at this time, and I am slow to catch on to things sometimes, that I realized that this man who was now there at the funeral, who had been visiting Ed at the hospice, had been neglected by me. I did not understand that Bill was Ed’s son until very late in the journey. As a hospice nurse I felt that I had failed him. I did not extend to him the support that I tried to extend to the others and I am sorry.

Looking into the faces of the children and especially his wife, Barbara, I could see that this was as joyous an event as it was one to be grieved. How emotions can mix up and you come out with something unexpected or not of the common cloth. I wondered at that time if Ed just stuck around to help create this very moment in this very way.

Now, after the ceremony, there was talk of visitations. Seems that three of the daughters had some kind of visitation from Ed soon after his passing. One, through the sign of a rainbow, another through the scent of the lilies that Ed had so appreciated in his last days, another, his presence at the foot of her bed. These stories, expressed with wonderment seems to bring more mystery and satisfaction to the soul and reinforce the dream and wish that life is eternal and our connections strong right through the souls passage into other worlds.

It seems to me that Ed came to hospice ready to actively die but then went about creating a reprieve for himself. Five extra weeks of reflection, learning, bonding, communing with nature and preparing for death seemed to be created out of thin air solely for the growth of his soul and that of his family’s soul. In those days of pain and anguish there was revelation and joy, renewal of faith, acceptance of the inevitable and hope for the hereafter. Ed died about as conscious a death as possible and in this he has become a way shower to those who received the gift to observe, and now to those who read this testimony.

addendum: Ed was so talented and so kind and touched deeply all the caregivers at ....... Because of this there is a memorial to him in the Hospice Center Arboratum (Bell Room) displaying his religous art and newspaper clippings of some of the events of his life. He gave a stone carving to the facility that now lives in amongst the jungle of plants to be found there, a carving of the Green Man that stands about 18 inches tall. They generally represent rebirth and have a strong connection to plant life.

The Green Man
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Green_Man

[Arrowwind]

Posted by another bob (here)
"So you say," I grinned as I walked away – I still had work to do.

Ya, I know, nurses can be pretty weird...

[another bob]

Posted by Kiforall (here)
So more to acknowledge, understand and accept but remain true to yourself?

Sounds good, but what self will you be true to? What is the real nature of this self?

Start there, with that inquiry, and if you are courageous enough to persist to the point of direct revelation, the rest will follow naturally, spontaneously.

Blessings!