If you have been reading, or re-reading with me, our book One Year to Live you may have noticed as we move along its chapters and be in awe, as I am, of Levine’s ability to write a remarkable prose. Sometimes, it seems so poetic. For me, poetry uses words and phrases in ways that wake me up, sometimes by its beauty, sometimes by its humor, sometimes, by its stark truth. In this chapter, “Disposing of the Corpse,” even the title startles me up out of my complacency and into a new look at the process of dying. As he says, we have been investigating our thoughts and beliefs about dying, about the place of consciousness in our lives, and about the possibilities presented by near death and beyond death experiences, but have we truly looked at what we want for ourselves after the death of our bodies?
Some of the things he suggests we do now, before we die, are things I have done and have written about, such as making a living will or advanced directive so that our loved ones will be guided through some possibly hard decisions when we are dying. They will know what we want for ourselves, deciding whether we want burial or cremation or “being laid out on a mountain ledge” for the vultures. Not that this is something I have considered and I wonder if it is even possible in a culture such as ours or whether it would be something my son would be willing and able to do for me, but it does sound kind of poetic, don’t you think? I remember years ago when I was first considering these kinds of issues, I told my son that when I got too feeble or demented to take care of myself, I wanted him to drive me up to a high mountain trail and leave me in the forest with a bottle of Scotch and a nice view of the valley below. Now that I don’t drink Scotch any more, maybe I can find something a little more reasonable.
I have made arrangements with a local funeral parlor for cremation of my body. They will also organize a memorial service if that is what my son wants to do. I have left that up to him because it really doesn’t matter to me one way or the other. I have made a list of women friends, and asked them first if they would be willing, to help him with this. One of the most powerful and meaningful things we did when my son Bobby died was to have a wake one night and a funeral service the next day in our church. My immediate family and I with a couple of friends spent the night there with Bobby’s body, a modern-day vigil so to speak. It was a surreal experience for me. It seemed as though my beloved Bobby was present with us. I could feel his presence and an overwhelming sense of Love. I believe he grieved with us, maybe was sorry for what he did, and certainly was surprised and sorry that he was no longer with us. This kind of ritual is important for the survivors, and perhaps for the dearly departed person as well.
Levine suggests a series of exercises for us to do for releasing “our excessive identification with the body.” They include writing our own eulogy, reading it aloud, and sharing it with our designated loved ones. We might envision and write down the kind of funeral we want, envision a cemetery plot and the casket being lowered into the ground, or the crematorium chamber and the casket entering that. I remember that when I joined a class on “death and dying” back in 1978, for one of the classes, we visited a crematorium. Later, when Bobby died and we followed his casket through the streets of Washington, D.C. and out in the country near Arlington, VA. I discovered that it was the same crematorium and watched the casket enter the mouth of the oven. Another amazing experience, part of knowing the finality of his death.
Levine described various other exercises to teach ourselves about the realities of a dead body through personal experience with autopsies and dissection in medical school anatomy classes. In his book, Who Dies?, he presents guided meditations on the dying process. I have found those to be powerful experiences as well.
He states: “We have closed our body like a fist around the life force attempting to hold it in, to live forever. This limits our courage and generosity and shortens our life. The body has become so cramped from grasping that it may take a while for it to soften into its natural spaciousness. Opening that fist is an act of faith, peeling back our fingers one by one, relinquishing level after level of holding, letting go of the body to free the spirit to live lightly within it.” (Pg. 144-5) This paragraph was too poetic for me to contemplate.
In addition, for me, the new learning about Shared Crossing that I mentioned in a previous blog, is a powerful way to get in touch with the dying process and beyond. It doesn’t talk about disposing of the corpse as such, but it does reassure me that the dying process and beyond can be a beautiful, gentle, meaningful and poetic process of expanding consciousness into the Infinite. I recently received an email from The Monroe Institute which shared a video interview with its new CEO and President, Scott Taylor. Taylor tells us about his spontaneous Shared Crossing with a loved one, what it meant to him, and how he uses his knowledge of this process as well as several Near Death Experiences to create guided meditations with the Hemi-Sync process to help us practice dying while we are living. If you would like to hear what he has to say, here is a link.
Recently, I attended a Mountains of Courage Conference to explore conversations about death and dying. The keynote speaker was a funeral director from Maui named Bodhi Be. In his talk he shared that his business makes and sells coffins and caskets, arranges green burials, and offers burials at sea. I was fascinated by the idea of disposing of my dead body out in the beautiful ocean. I wondered what it would cost to have my body flown to Hawaii for this. After thinking about it I’m not sure I want to put my son through that expense, but it seems like a wonderful way to dispose of a body.
Whatever we decide for ourselves, I think it is important to let our loved ones know what we would like for ourselves. It seems to me that any arrangements we can make in advance will be helpful for them at the time of our death. It seems like a loving thing to do.
Self Inquiry Questions:
1. How difficult is it for you to even think about making arrangements ahead of time? How does it feel to meditate or contemplate your dying and death?
2. What arrangements have you made for your dying and death? Who in your life is available to discuss these things and help you when you time has come?
3. How do you want to dispose of your body after you die?
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