<\/p>\n

\u201cThis thing I am doing — this is really hard; I\u2019m afraid I\u2019m not good at it\u201d my friend said as she looked up at me from her bed. \u00a0Just two weeks earlier, a fall in an airport led to a visit to the Emergency Room, a diagnosis with end-stage cancer, and quickly to this room in a nursing facility. \u00a0Death was not a new experience for her. \u00a0Decades as a minister had given her the opportunity to contemplate death, to preach about death, and to sit exactly where I was sitting: \u00a0at the bedside of a dying friend. \u00a0Yes, she knew intellectually just how challenging the journey of a terminal illness can be; she had witnessed it countless times. \u00a0But what was new to her was the interior experience of that journey and its at times seemingly unbearable challenges. \u00a0So when she shared with me about those difficulties (with only those two phrases: \u00a0\u201cthis is really hard\u201d and \u201cI\u2019m not good at it\u201d), it was almost with a bit of surprise. \u00a0She was neither dramatizing those challenges (as many of our cultural constructs of death can do) nor attempting to diminish them with spiritual platitudes (as many of our cultural constructs of death can do). \u00a0But she was reflecting two dominant beliefs in our culture ~ that dying should<\/i> be easy and that we should<\/i> be good at it.<\/p>\n

Here\u2019s what is true about death: it is hard. \u00a0It is hard on a multitude of levels: \u00a0physical, emotional, spiritual, relational, and egoic. \u00a0None of this is new; dying has always been really hard. \u00a0However, it seems to me that dying in our culture may have its own particular challenges that have little to do with dying at all and everything to do with our culture.<\/span><\/p>\n

We are given beautiful visions of death through many media sources. \u00a0Movies, novels, and television shows present us with peaceful patients gently floating away from this realm into whatever happens next, having made peace with the struggles of their lifetime, after forgiving all those who have hurt them and being forgiven by those they have harmed. \u00a0And these types of deaths do happen . . . but not always. \u00a0And, even when they do, they are still very challenging to navigate. \u00a0No one endures a terminal illness without pain and difficulty. \u00a0However, this is not what so many people want to accept. \u00a0\u00a0We continue to tell stories about \u201cgood\u201d deaths, serene people who transform during their dying into peaceful, accepting, loving models of humanity. <\/span>Palliative care physician BJ Miller<\/a> tells us<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u201cMost people aren\u2019t having these transformative deathbed moments. \u00a0And if you hold that out as a goal, they\u2019re just going to feel like they\u2019re failing.\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/p><\/blockquote>\n

During my first death walk, I experienced a great deal of spaciousness and opening, what I believe many people are referencing when they use the word \u201cacceptance\u201d in association with death and loss. \u00a0After a miracle surgery and recovery period, I began to reflect on my journey. \u00a0And I honestly felt that I had learned how to do this dying process. \u00a0I had mastered this death thing.<\/span><\/p>\n

Eighteen months later, I was shown how wrong I was. \u00a0Immediately after the birth of my second child, I went back into heart failure. \u00a0The months I spent on that death journey were very different than those of my first dying experience. \u00a0This time, my physical pain (which was also present during my first death walk) was woven together with fear (which I had encountered only sporadically and briefly the first time), anger (which had not arisen in relationship to my dying before), and guilt (I questioned why I had chosen to bring a child into a world where she would soon be motherless). \u00a0And each of those emotions was exacerbated by my self-judgment. \u00a0I kept thinking, \u201cYou know how to do this; why is it so different this time?\u201d \u00a0I wondered what had happened to the skills I gained — my mastery of death — during my first experience with dying. <\/span><\/p>\n

It now baffles me that in our culture of mastery many of us have come to truly believe that dying can be mastered \u2013 indeed, that it <\/span>should<\/span><\/i> be mastered. \u00a0\u00a0During my years of accompanying others as they die I have witnessed much of the full spectrum that death has to offer us; but I have never witnessed mastery.<\/span><\/p>\n

Any time spent reading contemporary literature about death and dying will quickly lead to phrases like \u201cgood death\u201d and \u201cdying well\u201d. \u00a0\u00a0Such phrases (along with \u201cdeath with dignity\u201d and many more) are applied frequently in modern thanatological discussions. \u00a0These phrases can and do lead to significant contemplations, both individually as we face our own dying and collectively as we attempt to create systems of support for the dying. \u00a0Yet inherent in these types of phrases is a judgment system; to say that someone died a \u201cgood death\u201d implies that we know what death should be like. \u00a0It also is predicated on the belief that our view of a death from the outside reflects the inner experience of the one dying. \u00a0\u00a0We essentially judge one another\u2019s experiences and our own, deciding what is desirable in death and what is not \u2013 when very little of the dying process is under our control. \u00a0<\/span> Is this what we want to do to ourselves? \u00a0To view our final acts, our final days in this lifetime through the lens of mastery? \u00a0It seems to me in our culture we do way too much of that judging and comparing throughout our lifetimes; our dying needs to be a place where mastery is not even considered.<\/span><\/p>\n

As Frank Ostaseski, a worker in end-of-life care for decades, notes:<\/span><\/p>\n

In our culture, we like to nurture a story of what it means to have a \u2018good death.\u2019 \u00a0We treasure the romantic hope that when people pass away, everything will be tied up neatly. \u00a0All problems will have been resolved, and they will be utterly at peace.
\n<\/span>
\nBut this fantasy is rarely the reality. \u00a0The \u2018good death\u2019 is a myth. \u00a0Dying is messy. \u00a0People who are dying often leave skid marks, dragging their heels as they go. <\/span>(<\/span>Ostaseski, The Five Invitations)<\/span><\/a><\/p><\/blockquote>\n

As a culture, we do hold certain visions of certain types of death as goals, and most of us end up feeling like we are failing. \u00a0\u00a0We worry that we are somehow getting it wrong, when in truth there is no way to \u201cdo\u201d death incorrectly. \u00a0It always happens; people always succeed at dying.<\/span><\/p>\n

So how can we approach our dying, then? \u00a0Should we just give up any attempts to do it mindfully, to be involved somehow in the flow of this most natural of processes?<\/span><\/p>\n

Perhaps the information that has helped me navigate my dying \u2013 not my good death or my dying well, but my own, unique dying \u00a0— comes not from the field of end-of-life care at all. \u00a0\u00a0Rather, I stumbled upon this work through parenting teenagers in this culture of mastery in which we live.<\/span><\/p>\n

Carol Dweck, a social psychologist and professor, has spent years studying the <\/span>mindset psychological trait<\/span><\/a>. \u00a0<\/span>Very simply, a Fixed Mindset is one that views ability as fixed, predetermined, and innate; a Growth Mindset, on the other hand, believes that persistence and curiosity lead to greater learning and growth. \u00a0Many, many experiments have been conducted over the past few decades, and what they each indicate is that children with Fixed Mindsets will avoid attempting challenges at which they feel uncomfortable or unknowledgeable; indeed, they will dodge all arenas where they fear they may fail. \u00a0Growth Mindset children, on the other hand, place value in trying, in experimenting, in learning new things, regardless of their ability to master them. \u00a0The latter group experiences less stress, and often ultimately more \u201csuccess\u201d \u2013 because they equate success with trying and growing rather than with mastery. \u00a0People with Fixed Mindsets dread failure, because they view it as indicative of something they inherently lack. \u00a0On the other hand, Growth Mindset folks don\u2019t view failure as failure at all; rather, it is evidence that they attempted to learn something or grow in some way.<\/span><\/p>\n

Some children with Fixed Mindsets, usually those who are early on labeled as \u201cGifted and Talented\u201d, avoided participating fully in parts of these experiments they were told were really challenging and were beyond their ability level. \u00a0The Growth Mindset kiddos, though, dove right in with those activities, believing that they would learn from them.<\/span><\/p>\n

The wonderful thing is that we can create Growth Mindsets \u2013 not only in our children, but in ourselves as well. \u00a0And this is what I advocate with death and dying. \u00a0None of us has any greater innate ability to die than anyone else; none of us has experience dying until we begin to die. \u00a0And this is not an arena we can avoid, no matter how much we fear failing at it. \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

But it is an area for experimenting, for learning new things, for curiosity, and for growth. \u00a0It is a vast, wild landscape where we can become more intimate with ourselves, with those we love, and with life itself. \u00a0\u00a0So can we develop Growth Mindsets about our dying? \u00a0Can we dive right in, knowing that there will be many failures along the way but that we will learn with each one?<\/span><\/p>\n

One of my hospice colleagues has a beautiful refrain she says to our patients as she sits at their bedside during their final hours. \u00a0Stroking their hands or gently touching their faces, she repeats over and over, \u201cYou are doing a great job.\u201d \u00a0The first time I witnessed this, I bristled a bit, having long ago confirmed for myself that there are no \u201cgood deaths.\u201d \u00a0But through the years I watched and listened; and what I noticed was this: \u00a0she says this, no matter what is occurring. \u00a0To the person in terminal agitation, grasping at bed sheets and clothes, she says the same thing. \u00a0To the person who has lain there peacefully for days, never opening eyes or uttering a sound, she says the same thing. \u00a0To the person writhing in physical pain or in emotional agony, she says the same thing. \u00a0Always: \u00a0\u201cYou are doing a great job.\u201d \u00a0\u00a0And I know deep in my heart that each time she says these words she speaks the truth. \u00a0\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

I chuckle sometimes as I think about her phrase. \u00a0It reminds me of all the \u201cparticipation trophies\u201d handed out at soccer banquets and speech competitions, kindergarten field days and high school art shows. \u00a0Although many people criticize this practice, arguing that it robs children of their natural desire to compete and excel, I think this is exactly what we need with death and dying. \u00a0No one gets a gold medal, a blue ribbon. \u00a0We all have messy bits; we all have beautiful times. \u00a0And we all arrive at the finish line.<\/span><\/p>\n

After watching my friend\u2019s ritual for years, I realized that I do the same thing as my colleague does, albeit without words. \u00a0For me, the words \u201cgreat job\u201d can activate mental activity that feels like judgment, comparison, and competition — each of the hallmarks of our culture of mastery. \u00a0So I choose instead to remain quiet but to truly believe that whatever this person is doing as he or she lies dying, it is a great thing. \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Because it is. \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Through my three separate death journeys, I have experienced many times of peace. \u00a0I also have experienced seemingly unbearable pain. \u00a0I have been in states of consciousness that resemble Western concepts of Heaven; but I have also visited states of consciousness that are best associated with Western constructs of Hell. \u00a0I have spent years of my lifetime navigating the terrain of dying, both my own dying and that of those I serve. <\/span><\/p>\n

And I have learned that dying is nothing I can master, but also that it is nothing that I <\/span>need<\/span><\/i> to master. \u00a0What I know without a doubt is that death masters us in the end. \u00a0Death is the master; we are the students. \u00a0And the lesson ends only with our final breath. \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

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  \u201cThis thing I am doing — this is really hard; I\u2019m afraid I\u2019m not good at it\u201d my friend said as she looked up at me from her bed. \u00a0Just two weeks earlier, a fall in an airport led to a visit to the Emergency Room, a diagnosis with end-stage cancer, and quickly to this room in a nursing facility. \u00a0Death was not a new experience for her. \u00a0Decades as a minister had given her the opportunity to contemplate death, to preach about death, and to sit exactly where I was sitting: \u00a0at the bedside of a dying friend. […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"episode_type":"","audio_file":"","cover_image":"","cover_image_id":"","duration":"","filesize":"","date_recorded":"","explicit":"","block":"","filesize_raw":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"yoast_head":"\n