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1.0The Way of Conscious Deathhttps://thewayofconsciousdeath.comIs this Our Last Conversation? - The Way of Conscious Deathrich600338<blockquote class="wp-embedded-content" data-secret="JOeKWgayPc"><a href="https://thewayofconsciousdeath.com/is-this-our-last-conversation/">Is this Our Last Conversation?</a></blockquote><iframe sandbox="allow-scripts" security="restricted" src="https://thewayofconsciousdeath.com/is-this-our-last-conversation/embed/#?secret=JOeKWgayPc" width="600" height="338" title="“Is this Our Last Conversation?” — The Way of Conscious Death" data-secret="JOeKWgayPc" frameborder="0" marginwidth="0" marginheight="0" scrolling="no" class="wp-embedded-content"></iframe><script type="text/javascript"> /* <![CDATA[ */ /*! This file is auto-generated */ !function(d,l){"use strict";l.querySelector&&d.addEventListener&&"undefined"!=typeof URL&&(d.wp=d.wp||{},d.wp.receiveEmbedMessage||(d.wp.receiveEmbedMessage=function(e){var t=e.data;if((t||t.secret||t.message||t.value)&&!/[^a-zA-Z0-9]/.test(t.secret)){for(var s,r,n,a=l.querySelectorAll('iframe[data-secret="'+t.secret+'"]'),o=l.querySelectorAll('blockquote[data-secret="'+t.secret+'"]'),c=new RegExp("^https?:$","i"),i=0;i<o.length;i++)o[i].style.display="none";for(i=0;i<a.length;i++)s=a[i],e.source===s.contentWindow&&(s.removeAttribute("style"),"height"===t.message?(1e3<(r=parseInt(t.value,10))?r=1e3:~~r<200&&(r=200),s.height=r):"link"===t.message&&(r=new URL(s.getAttribute("src")),n=new URL(t.value),c.test(n.protocol))&&n.host===r.host&&l.activeElement===s&&(d.top.location.href=t.value))}},d.addEventListener("message",d.wp.receiveEmbedMessage,!1),l.addEventListener("DOMContentLoaded",function(){for(var e,t,s=l.querySelectorAll("iframe.wp-embedded-content"),r=0;r<s.length;r++)(t=(e=s[r]).getAttribute("data-secret"))||(t=Math.random().toString(36).substring(2,12),e.src+="#?secret="+t,e.setAttribute("data-secret",t)),e.contentWindow.postMessage({message:"ready",secret:t},"*")},!1)))}(window,document); /* ]]> */ </script> I visited her sun-dappled living room every Tuesday afternoon.  Each time, I nestled into the same spot on her beige leather couch, legs curled up beneath me, and she wheeled her chair opposite me so that we could clearly look into each other’s eyes.   And we talked. We talked about the crises of our contemporary world; we talked about puppies and kittens.  She recounted stories of her childhood on a faraway farm and of her great-grandchildren being birthed and growing into toddlerhood.   Time after time, I listened as the wisdom she shared was carved into my heart to be […]https://thewayofconsciousdeath.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/04/Screen-Shot-2018-04-04-at-6.39.16-AM.png