Death and Chocolate

I lift mine eyes unto the hills whence my sustenance comes

Darkness veils the coming dawn then breaks and yields the sun

At dusk I hear the sweetest sound, lo does the Earth Mother sing,

“Come here, my child, come near, my child. Sleep safely under my wing.”

I’ve been working most of the day on a memorial service for my Aunt Mickey. 

Judging from the number of sugar free chocolate candy wrappers in the trash can next to my computer, this endeavor has been harder than I thought it would be.

She died January 11 after a long, slow decline. She’d been bed-ridden for most of 2011 and living in a home where she received loving and tender care. While she never wore make-up that I can remember, whenever we'd go to see her in the home, Auntie had painted-on eyebrows, rosy cheeks and lip gloss. I kind of liked it - that someone (Mylene or one of the other nurses) was tending to her in this way.

Uncle Larry seems to be OK. He continues to play trombone in a seniors band and to go folk dancing most Friday nights. Actually, he seems relieved.

I’ve read that for men who lose a wife it is easier if it is sudden, rather than for her to have a lingering, slow decline into death. For women, it seems much harder on the system to have a sudden loss of a husband than to have plenty of time to acclimate and say goodbye. Even in matters of death, Mars and Venus process things differently.

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Monday.

New Moon.

This is a good time to begin a project you want to see come to fruition. A few days before the new moon is when traditional farmers prefer to plant new crops - because the fattening of the moon invites the plant devas to rise with it and dance the plants into hardy, thriving fullness.

It’s a good time for a hair cut, because the waxing moon coaxes it to grow out nice and healthy again.

Auntie’s Memorial Service will be on February 4 - a few days before the full moon, which is a good time to release what no longer serves. Perhaps the choreography is perfectly timed. Auntie will be memorialized and we’ll set her soul free into the soon-to-be-waning moon.

My friend Barry sent me a link to a beautiful film about the Tibetan Book of the Dead. The movie, narrated by Leonard Cohen, shows rituals performed to help the deceased find enlightenment or, at least, more peace before taking on a new incarnation. 

Tibetan buddhists believe that we are sound sensitive while we are dying (and even for some time after the spirit departs from the flesh), and that reading from the book can help guide the deceased through several treacherous bardos to rest eventually in the vast luminosity of his own essential nature - the clear white light of pure consciousness. 

These ideas spark comfort in me. I hope someone guides me when I’m ready to drop this robe of life. I want some lamas in their pajamas to guide this mama around bardo trauma to the pure white light without much drama. OK? And so it is.

Meanwhile, while I'm alive and kicking, I want plenty of chocolate to sweeten up the bitter aftertaste of loss.

Now, I'm going to cut my hair and plant some seeds in the garden.

ciao for now