I just received an email to a spiritual directors list that I am on from a woman in hospice who is at the end of her journey of battling cancer for the past four years. Her email was full of love and joy, as she celebrated the voices from her past who had been re-connecting through this list. She expressed sadness at leaving, and hope for the next stage of her journey.
As I read this, I was reminded of a spiritual teacher of mine who died this year of pancreatic cancer- John Jerry Anthony Parente- and of the words I heard at his burial ceremony, of how he kept his love for life and his compassionate presence into his final days in hospice.
I am moved by those who carry this light, this love for life, and this compassionate connection to all that is even into times of surrender and death. When I hear these stories, I am also moved to ask the question: What is it that matters most? Beneath the busyness that keeps trying to push its way in- the shopping ads, the party invitations, and all the to-dos of celebrating- there lies the essence of life. This cultural imperative to feel happy seems a real slap at the ones I see hurting in this season- the ones who are struggling with depression, loss, financial stress, health worries, and violence. Is there no place for their pain in this season of joy?
In reflecting on this, I hold the presence of the spiritual ones I have mentioned above as another imperative: to be present. In the acknowledgement of final moments is the meaning and matter of life- to celebrate, to love, and to let go.
May the cultural to-dos demanding a thin kind of joy fall away, and may another deeper joy emerge in the peace of the present moment. This is the joy which feels and expresses sorrow, longing, darkness- as the candle of these days burns shorter and shorter. And this is the joy that celebrates our interconnection with all, the immanent spirit of love and life, the eternity that is held in every second of this life.
As I read this, I was reminded of a spiritual teacher of mine who died this year of pancreatic cancer- John Jerry Anthony Parente- and of the words I heard at his burial ceremony, of how he kept his love for life and his compassionate presence into his final days in hospice.
I am moved by those who carry this light, this love for life, and this compassionate connection to all that is even into times of surrender and death. When I hear these stories, I am also moved to ask the question: What is it that matters most? Beneath the busyness that keeps trying to push its way in- the shopping ads, the party invitations, and all the to-dos of celebrating- there lies the essence of life. This cultural imperative to feel happy seems a real slap at the ones I see hurting in this season- the ones who are struggling with depression, loss, financial stress, health worries, and violence. Is there no place for their pain in this season of joy?
In reflecting on this, I hold the presence of the spiritual ones I have mentioned above as another imperative: to be present. In the acknowledgement of final moments is the meaning and matter of life- to celebrate, to love, and to let go.
May the cultural to-dos demanding a thin kind of joy fall away, and may another deeper joy emerge in the peace of the present moment. This is the joy which feels and expresses sorrow, longing, darkness- as the candle of these days burns shorter and shorter. And this is the joy that celebrates our interconnection with all, the immanent spirit of love and life, the eternity that is held in every second of this life.
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