The Dénouement

The dénouement of my retreat at the Center for Conscious Living and Dying came during my last workshop, Process Spirituality.

In the first workshop of the retreat, Grief Within and Between Us, we had played the game of Opposites. It had been facilitated by Will Daddario PhD & Joanne Zerdy PhD.  The objective was to do the opposite of Stop, Move, or Hop, when prompted. At first it was easy to do the opposite of what was called, but eventually it became too fast to follow.

Some participants had admitted getting angry at themselves, while others had laughed when they messed up. Like I do during a movements class when I can’t follow, I had laughed at myself and tried to relax into letting my body “get it” without my head interfering.

The other sense I had by the end of this game was a surprising feeling of freedom when it all fell apart and everyone was confused. Something about the freedom of letting go.

But that was not my dénouement.

My Dénouement

The Process Spirituality group trooped back inside after an outdoor exercise to our warm and comfortable meeting space. We settled back into our seats. It was my last workshop for the Birth, Breath, and Death weekend. Kalyan, the facilitator for this class, wrapped things up as he had begun them, with a guided meditation. Again, I invite you to do this with me:

This time, envision you are walking through an endless golden field of tall wheat, gently waving under a clear blue sky. There is a pathway that opens before you and following it, brings you to a cliff overlooking the ocean. You see a path and follow it down to a rocky coast. You walk out towards the crashing waves and find a tunnel that leads down under the water. The tunnel opens to a cavern below the waves. Exploring the cavern, you come to a still, deep, pool of azure blue. The water is crystal clear. Looking down, you see your seashell lying at the bottom. You reach in and pull out your shell. The answer to your question lies hidden inside.

The Answer

My question hadn’t been a question as much as it had been a sense. The sense of my deepest, darkest fear. The fear of death, of losing Michelle, of losing my son and my grandson to grief—of my own unacknowledged fear of death.

I opened the seashell—it was like a large, white clam shell—and found,

Nothing inside.

The nothing of spaciousness, of light, of freedom.

Just like in the game of Opposites, I felt like laughing. A sense of airiness filled me. That black lump of a question that I couldn’t name, that I had buried in the seashell? The answer had come back —

 There is nothing here to fear.

Conclusion

After going home and letting this sit and marinate, I still feel the reality of the message I received. I’ve also come to realize that my grief and worry and fearfulness about Michelle, about Chris and my grandkids, has all been based on imagination. That all this is seated in my own fear of death. That the black shadow I drew around my heart represents fear constricting open heartedness.

My takeaway is that I cannot know ahead of time what will happen, how Michelle’s cancer will play out or how anyone will process their own emotions. And I don’t need to know. I just need to be there with myself and with those I love.

For now, it is enough that Michell went on a six mile hike yesterday and invited me to go. She has become my teacher, and I am grateful.