Monday, April 8, 2013

A Lesson in Living, From the Dying

Back from visiting my mother, I have been met by a flurry of good news on the work front. Many seeds planted a while ago, are now sprouting all at once. Success is sweet, on the surface . . . Not far below, the pain of clinging has been tugging at my throat. For the overachiever that I am, it is hard not getting attached to accomplishments. 

Most effective antidote has been the remembrance of my last moments with my mom. Ever since I left her last week, I have been holding the image of her lying in her bed, almost floating, with only a touch of breath, here and there. A picture of complete letting go, and the opposite of what happens when the mind lets self-habits take over. 

Going about my day, I carry my mom in my heart. And I am grateful for the gift of her unwitting teaching. 

3 comments:

  1. Marguerite, you are an inspiration to me and I so appreciate your willingness to share your thoughts and lessons learned. I have been where you are now with my own mom and am sending you loving energy and light. You are a gift to your mom and to all of us. Thank you for all you do to open the conversation about death and the beauty that it can hold.

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  2. "Tugging at my throat": spot on and what I'm feeling right now. I lost my father about a year ago, and until the end he knew me, or at least he knew that he should have known me. Each time I visited him he reached out to me as if I might save him from drowning. Thanks for writing down what's happening with you and your mother. I don't know you, but please know that your journey matters to me. I just got into blogging and will be following. Peace, John Coleman (anapperscompanion.com)

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  3. Thank you both, for sharing your journey, and for relating to mine. John, I can relate to "he knew that he should have known me". This is how my mother looked at me the last day I saw her. How dependent we are on our concept making ability to lend solidity to our relationships . . . When that is taken away, all is left is this moment, and two living, feeling beings responding to each other. No baggage, no name. Free to live each moment as a truly new moment.

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