Death and Dying.

I'm obsessed with death. When I was young a lot of people at various stages of life died in a variety of ways. My greatgrandfather (heart attack), a young girl my age (rare blood disease), my aunt (murdered). I suppose when I was early death seemed scary and incomprehensible.

In the years that have follwoed I've lost friends and co-workers in a variety of ways:

work place:
maintanence worker (fell to his death) age 22
Sybil (lukemia) age 52
Amy (murdered) age 27

friends:
Kennedy (heart attack) age 41
Don (heart attack) age 55

And death has been my greatest teacher when it comes to trying to figure out how to live. (Nothing like having someone you care about yanked from you -- forever -- to wonder if it isn't time to live a better life, right now.) First and foremost I learned that dying is a process (and usually a lengthy one). Second, death is instantaneous.

So where does the living fit in? And how does living impact dying/death? A discussion on these topics is being reserved for future posts. Right now I'm knee-deep in bittersweet removal and working just enough to pay the bills. (Within a couple of months all of this will change drastically.)

And in a couple of months I'll be heading to Menla to participate in The Art of Dying IV. And the thrifty Scot seeing an opportunity got her tail in gear and headed up to Menla for 2 days of work/trade. If you're ever heading off to a weekend-long workshop you might want to consider work/trade. Basically, the hours worked are deducted from the tuition. I like work/trade for a number of reasons. First there's the economic angle: I can save a bit of scratch. Second, and this is almost more important, I can get a real sense of the place and interact with the staff. Third, I end up having a deeper connection to a place once I've worked there.

I spent part of a rainy afternoon bagging trail mix for an influx of incoming retreatants. (I'm not sure retreatants is a word or perhaps it's better used when referring to an army that has recently lost a battle and is fleeing.) The next day was sunny and spent in the garden. I worked with Gordon, this season's head gardener, and when I asked him what to do he said, "Do what you're drawn to. Have fun." That might have been the best direction I've been given in years and my heart swelled. Then I got down to business. It wasn't until I was turning the compost and weeding that I realized I miss farming. There's also still some of that need to dig ditches that continues to course through my veins. The bittersweet removal has been fulfilling that aspect but... The bittersweet removal will end, my life will go on, and I'm just about to go full-on country. By that I mean, eke out a living doing lots of odd jobs and figure out how to get off the grid. Ok so maybe I'm not going country, maybe I'm about to go Grizzly Adams. Maybe it wasn't such a great idea to read My Side of the Mountain when I was 8 years old. The again I also loved The Phantom Tollbooth. What I'm trying to get at here -- how can I live the life of the mind in a rural setting? If I figure that one out I'll be one totally satisfied human being.

And when I'm up late staring at the ceiling (as in later tonight) I might have to re-think reading and children's literature. It's possible that books have ruined my mind by making me think that I can step out of this exceptionally square world and be happy. The world is round, right? So it's time to live round.