The past weeks since my sister died just before my son got married have driven home, yet again, the truth of every word you've written here. Without physical death there could be no physical life, and knowing my runway is getting shorter only makes the journey sweeter. Looking forward to hearing about your journey to Bhutan.
A huge thank you for the shoutout, Julia. Your article is an excellent and beautiful exploration of what it means to age in a world that resists it at every turn. Thank you for sharing 🤍
This is such a well written piece. Thank you for sharing your wisdom as this is exactly what I am wrestling with— to be a slave to worry or develop a sense of play and wonder. Thank you ❤️
Thank you Anne. I appreciate the kind words. We’re all wrestling with this in one way or another and I have to wonder how letting go of the “wrestling” allows us a better life!
I hear you - the knowledge of death makes life sweet. I think about death a lot. I was diagnosed 5 years ago with stage 3 cancer, and went through treatments for a year. I’m fine now, mostly out of the woods. I’ve lost a lot of my cancer crew, people who had the same diagnosis as me.
Oddly, I don’t worry anymore. I’m 48 but mentally I feel 78 in that I am happy I have had a life to live. Sometimes I notice other people my age still think they will never die. I find that curious! This is why I feel older now. Because death makes sense to me.
Janine, I’ve not been through cancer, but I have had multiple very close calls in my extreme sports. That is absolutely not the same thing but I can attest to the fact that it really makes you think about everything differently. I’m glad you’re okay (for now) and I am also glad you’re writing.
Julia, interesting! I can imagine that when you are undertaking an extreme sport event you are entering a space which has a layer of “it is possible I will not survive this.” Also, injuries and treatments for them can be serious and life threatening I would imagine.
As a cancer patient I lived constantly with the threat of death. I think it changes us (and our perspective) more than we realize at the time. At the time, we steel our resolve and do what we must do. I’m sure it is very similar to the resolve one must cultivate in extreme sports.
I once trained for and ran an ultramarathon on unforgiving terrain. It was one of the scariest and most fulfilling times of my life! This was the year before I was diagnosed with cancer, and I think it really prepared me for the gruelling treatment plan I had to work through.
Many years ago, I read a book by Carlos Castenada about his training with a Mexican sorcerer. It turns out that Castenada may have been a fraud but one of the stories he told, fact or fiction, changed my life.
His sorcerer told him that he needed to imagine a raven sitting on his shoulder all the time. It was to be a constant reminder of his mortality and a reminder to live each day like his last. I don't know what it was but story let me drop my fear of dying. I'm sure when the time comes my lizard brain will kick and I'll fight for life but it will be a chemical reaction that we're all built with, not any fear or anticipation of an afterlife.
So for today, "How is paradise?" What great story that is! I'm still grinning!
My mother said. “Jenn , you don’t remember anything before you were born. Don’t fear. Dying is like being born “ fine words to a 10 year old. Now 73 and taking in all the wonders after years of trauma I’ll hope to stick around for another decade . P.S. can I come back as Maya Angelou !!!
Julia, another well thought out, and lived, essay. About 15 years ago I bought one of Pema Chödrön’s books, Comfortable With Uncertainty, which rings true to the central thesis of what you wrote. Pema advised us to recognize our mortality. Accept the fact that one day we all will die. She further noted that until we truly accept our mortality, we will transfer our fear of death onto numerous insignificant matters. Her words resonated deeply and I embrace that belief.
I believe having a fido in our lives is a source of joy. Mine shadows me and is full of an inspiring amount of energy.
I’ll share your essay with my wife and re-read for myself. Most likely more than once. Thank you so much.
Warm thanks Gary. The more my body speaks to me of what it still wants to do in this life, the more work I get to invest in that possibility. Some options are gone, and that's just fine by me. I just hope for a full life and few regrets.
Julia, this piece is especially timely for me, as I've been thinking a lot about how we live is how we die. What that means to me is finding that inner path of surrender to what is, right now. I can't predict or control anything in my life, including my death. But I can immerse in being in the moment. I can surrender to the moment. May I meet death in the same way. I love your insightful and thoughtfully written articles. Thank you.
That's most kind of you Stephanie. I appreciate all the older women writers speaking to these topics as we need these conversations so badly to defang death and allow us to live right now.
The past weeks since my sister died just before my son got married have driven home, yet again, the truth of every word you've written here. Without physical death there could be no physical life, and knowing my runway is getting shorter only makes the journey sweeter. Looking forward to hearing about your journey to Bhutan.
Thanks so much, Jan, I feel that. I hope to be in Bhutan in April of 25, barring anything stupid on my part.
A huge thank you for the shoutout, Julia. Your article is an excellent and beautiful exploration of what it means to age in a world that resists it at every turn. Thank you for sharing 🤍
This is such a well written piece. Thank you for sharing your wisdom as this is exactly what I am wrestling with— to be a slave to worry or develop a sense of play and wonder. Thank you ❤️
Thank you Anne. I appreciate the kind words. We’re all wrestling with this in one way or another and I have to wonder how letting go of the “wrestling” allows us a better life!
I hear you - the knowledge of death makes life sweet. I think about death a lot. I was diagnosed 5 years ago with stage 3 cancer, and went through treatments for a year. I’m fine now, mostly out of the woods. I’ve lost a lot of my cancer crew, people who had the same diagnosis as me.
Oddly, I don’t worry anymore. I’m 48 but mentally I feel 78 in that I am happy I have had a life to live. Sometimes I notice other people my age still think they will never die. I find that curious! This is why I feel older now. Because death makes sense to me.
Janine, I’ve not been through cancer, but I have had multiple very close calls in my extreme sports. That is absolutely not the same thing but I can attest to the fact that it really makes you think about everything differently. I’m glad you’re okay (for now) and I am also glad you’re writing.
Julia, interesting! I can imagine that when you are undertaking an extreme sport event you are entering a space which has a layer of “it is possible I will not survive this.” Also, injuries and treatments for them can be serious and life threatening I would imagine.
As a cancer patient I lived constantly with the threat of death. I think it changes us (and our perspective) more than we realize at the time. At the time, we steel our resolve and do what we must do. I’m sure it is very similar to the resolve one must cultivate in extreme sports.
I once trained for and ran an ultramarathon on unforgiving terrain. It was one of the scariest and most fulfilling times of my life! This was the year before I was diagnosed with cancer, and I think it really prepared me for the gruelling treatment plan I had to work through.
Honestly I think we need that steely reserve for aging as well, Janine.
Many years ago, I read a book by Carlos Castenada about his training with a Mexican sorcerer. It turns out that Castenada may have been a fraud but one of the stories he told, fact or fiction, changed my life.
His sorcerer told him that he needed to imagine a raven sitting on his shoulder all the time. It was to be a constant reminder of his mortality and a reminder to live each day like his last. I don't know what it was but story let me drop my fear of dying. I'm sure when the time comes my lizard brain will kick and I'll fight for life but it will be a chemical reaction that we're all built with, not any fear or anticipation of an afterlife.
So for today, "How is paradise?" What great story that is! I'm still grinning!
I wish I could find that comic. It was years ago and lost to time but it stuck with me!
My mother said. “Jenn , you don’t remember anything before you were born. Don’t fear. Dying is like being born “ fine words to a 10 year old. Now 73 and taking in all the wonders after years of trauma I’ll hope to stick around for another decade . P.S. can I come back as Maya Angelou !!!
Not a bad idea!
Julia, another well thought out, and lived, essay. About 15 years ago I bought one of Pema Chödrön’s books, Comfortable With Uncertainty, which rings true to the central thesis of what you wrote. Pema advised us to recognize our mortality. Accept the fact that one day we all will die. She further noted that until we truly accept our mortality, we will transfer our fear of death onto numerous insignificant matters. Her words resonated deeply and I embrace that belief.
I believe having a fido in our lives is a source of joy. Mine shadows me and is full of an inspiring amount of energy.
I’ll share your essay with my wife and re-read for myself. Most likely more than once. Thank you so much.
Warm thanks Gary. The more my body speaks to me of what it still wants to do in this life, the more work I get to invest in that possibility. Some options are gone, and that's just fine by me. I just hope for a full life and few regrets.
Julia, this piece is especially timely for me, as I've been thinking a lot about how we live is how we die. What that means to me is finding that inner path of surrender to what is, right now. I can't predict or control anything in my life, including my death. But I can immerse in being in the moment. I can surrender to the moment. May I meet death in the same way. I love your insightful and thoughtfully written articles. Thank you.
That's most kind of you Stephanie. I appreciate all the older women writers speaking to these topics as we need these conversations so badly to defang death and allow us to live right now.