In this blog we will complete Stephen Levine’s book A Year to Live by reviewing the last five chapters. In “Armando and the Floating World,” Levine is sitting with a person he calls Armando, a man who is approaching death and is having difficulty in a space he calls a “floating world.” This world is not clearly defined or described, but is alluded to. I assume Levine means that Armando is caught somewhere between his usual awareness of physical reality with the five senses and the infinite consciousness and mystery beyond the veil of death. Levine says that Armando felt he needed to “maintain the senses, keep control, die in some officially recognized manner,” i.e. peacefully. However, he was resisting the process believing that he had not finished his work on earth and was stuck in striving to stay alive. He lay in his dying bed with a “hard belly.”
Levine suggests that Armando is stuck between floors, having left the lower floor and not yet at the next level. He suggested to Armando that he use this space as an “opportunity to rehearse his letting go into something less dense than his suffering, just the same old world but a bit lighter and less condensed, thus less difficult to pass through.” These words seemed to sink into Armando and allowed him to “soften his belly,” and to die more peacefully.
I remember the “soft belly” meditation. I first learned about it at a healing workshop I attended back in the 1990s. Levine states that we spend most of our time with our bellies tightened against the challenges of the world we live in, trying to control our lives as well as to look more trim and fashionable. He stated that this keeps us from relaxing into deep meditation and suggested that we practice consciously letting go of the muscle tension in our abdomens especially during meditation. I began to practice maintaining a soft belly during my meditations each day. He repeats the instructions in this book on page 32. It is a practice that is easy to do and might be an important part of preparing for our own dying process.
While preparing this blog, I woke up one morning remembering the learning process I was taught for mindfulness meditation. We began with focusing on the breath, noticing the inhale and exhale, noticing how fast or slow the breath was, noticing the sensations of the breath. This included noticing the coolness of the inhale and the warmth of the exhale on the sides of our nostrils, as well as the sensations of where in the body we felt the breath—in the chest, in the abdomen, both? Then we began to focus on any emotions that arose as we sat in meditation—noticing them, naming them, and letting them go. Then our thoughts, noticing when they arose, and noticing that they sometimes “caught” us and kept us distracted, or sometimes they just disappeared. Finally, I was taught to notice that awareness was a key—awareness of being aware. Maybe this is what Levine means by Armondo’s “floating world”—that space in which we are simply aware and conscious of being aware—a space without thoughts, emotions, sensations, not even aware of breathing. Perhaps if Armando had practiced mindfulness meditation, he would have been familiar with this space and not been afraid of it.
In the next chapter, “A Good Day to Die,” Levine suggests we choose a day to notice everything we see, everything we do, as if we weren’t there – as if we were already gone. I tried to do this but couldn’t get through an entire day. When I was by myself, running errands, bathing, eating, reading, it didn’t seem so hard, but when I was with my loved ones, my son for example, I couldn’t imagine it—their going on with their lives moment by moment without me in it. It made me realize how important my life is to me, and how much I appreciate being alive, still, going on day by day without even paying attention to the large and small things that go on all the time.
I love the movie “It’s a Wonderful Life.” We watch it every year at Christmas time. An angel shows George Bailey what his family and his town would be like if he hadn’t lived to influence events during his lifetime. I also enjoy the movie “Groundhog Day” in which Phil Connors is trapped in reliving the same day over and over again until he gets it right. But I not been able, so far, to wake up each morning and say to myself, as Levine suggests, “Today is a good day to die for all the things of my life are present.” Sorry, I am not there yet.
In the chapter “Name That Tune,” Levine mentions the Native American way of a young person going on a “vision quest.” They go off into a wilderness by themselves for several days, without food or water, to find a spirit guide or animal who assists the person throughout life and into death. They often receive their own song which is helpful during difficult times like the dying process.
Other religious traditions have similar “tunes.” Christianity uses “The Lord’s Prayer,” or the Rosary of the Virgin Mary. The Jewish tradition uses the power of ”Shema” or a part of the bar mitzvah quest at puberty. In Buddhism I learned a chant that uses the sound “gate, gate, paragate, parasamgate, bodhi swaha.” I use it sometimes in meditation. Loosely translated this means “gone, gone, gone beyond, gone beyond gone, altogether free at last.” And in Hinduism, a religious person might wish to die with “Ram,” one of the names of God, on their lips. It is said that Gandhi, when he was shot, was heard whispering “Ram” as he died. When I am feeling rambunctious with the seriousness of all this, I wonder if Gandhi was not just saying something of the sort, “Oh God, of God, that hurts! what’s happening? I can’t believe it!”
If we don’t have a particular song that comes to mind with this discussion, Levine suggests that we sit quietly and just listen with our heart open. If a tune does not arise, then just sit in stillness and settle into the heart space of love, peace, and joy. Lately I have been having vivid dreams that usually review a particular memory, not necessarily, from real life, but the theme is familiar, as well as the people in the dream. I’m not sure if this is part of a life review or just my sleep becoming deeper and creating more vivid dreams. In addition, I have been waking up with a song playing in my mind. It is often an old hymn from my childhood, sometimes a favorite like “Amazing Grace,” or a hymn such as “I Surrender All,” or “Blessed Assurance,” or “How Great Thou Art,” or “Abide With Me,” to name a few. Most of them have words that no longer have meaning for me, but something about the tunes opens my heart.
The next chapter, “Aging,” really hits home for me. I am now eighty-plus years old, much closer to dying than I used to be. Several years ago I realized this and went into reaction, and last year I started re-reading this book and writing blogs about it. Now I feel a little more prepared, but am still not ready to go any time soon. I hope to live and enjoy life with my son and siblings and friends as long as I can. Levine says “The gradual decline of the body is fascinating. It is a slow cemetery meditation… It reminds us how short life may be and how sweet...” Pg. 159 (I say how sweet it is!)
In the last chapter,”December”, Levine talks about the practice of “phowa,” a Tibetan practice of meditation on the energy centers of the body and expanding the awareness of space and light. I had some experience with this when my son and I studied with a Tibetan Guru/Teacher at a retreat center in northern California and another center here in Bozeman, but I found it quite complicated and difficult for a beginner. If it is important for when I am dying, I hope that someone else can do the practice for me.
Levine ends the book with these words, “Turning toward the mystery, I let go into the floating world, and follow my heart into the luminous unknown, the body light as a feather, a sense of ease pervading as I feel myself borne into the vastness of original being, knowing that love was the only rational act of a lifetime.” Pg. 165 May it be so.
This book was even more meaningful for me than the first time I read it. Perhaps that is because I am much older now and closer to my own death. Perhaps writing about it chapter by chapter, blog by blog, and sharing it with you was helpful. Thank you for joining me in this journey.
Self-inquiry questions:
1. How has this book affected your life and your thinking about your death?
2. What did you find helpful in preparing yourself for dying? What was not so helpful?
3. What other books have you read about this topic and found helpful? Who have you shared them with?
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