Warts and all

I have secrets. There are aspects of me that I am not proud of at all. (I will probably never tell them to you.)

We are all walking around with untold stories, aspects about ourselves we keep hidden. We have longings that are never shared, acts that perhaps no one knows but ourselves. We are brought up learning right from wrong, and wrong is not acceptable, not when it refers to a moral compass. So we keep undesirable thoughts to ourselves (usually). We drive around in our own emotional vehicles, following the rules of the road (usually). We carry on with our jobs and our lives and our responsibilities. Safely in our vehicles we let ourselves say those things to people that cut us off, that hurt us, that annoy us. We let our own emotional road rage erupt because in our own vehicles, we can safely express things that are not socially acceptable.

We live in a world of status updates and twitter feeds. We cherry pick the aspects of us we want the world to see. We purposely construct one dimensional presentations for the world to know, which begs the question:

how well do we really know each other?

I like to think we have the best of intentions as we carry on on this Earth, but our views of reality are becoming warped with social media. In a world where it is the "extraordinary" that is celebrated, our own "ordinary" is often overlooked. We can't cherry pick the awesome in our own lives. We have to live with our neuroses and wrongdoings and hurt conversations and mistakes. We don't (as a whole) express our own anger and fear and cowardice. These multidimensional qualities become confusing in our world of one dimensional achievements. And confusing can lead to self loathing. And self loathing can lead to sickness. And all of this can lead to road rage: spiritual, physical and emotional.

We might be awesome, but we're not JUST awesome. We might be beautiful, but we have morning breath and bed head. We might be smart, and yet make the most ridiculously stupid decisions.

Can we love ourselves when we are not being extraordinary?

Social media might allow us to "stay connected" to one another, but it doesn't allow us to "be connected" to one another.  Words and pictures are not people. And though there is undoubtedly a form of connection that CAN occur within the confines of technology, I fear for the human connection that is surely suffering under the weight of instant gratification and isolation.

I think it's crucial to remember that we are all multidimensional. We all have something to confess. Somehow we need to remember how to hold on to the reality that we won't always get it right. Sometimes we hurt people. Sometimes we think really mean things. Sometimes we make mistakes.

We are perfectly imperfect. We are human, warts and all.

***********

Check out this great art exhibit. I felt really moved at this concept. If only we could talk so candidly with each other, without having to be anonymous.

Imagine that.

We are all made of stars.

In this life I am surrounded by death.

We all know, in an esoteric way (or maybe in an in-your-face way), that death is ever present; that everything born starts to navigate itself back to the waters of death. Renewal, vibrancy, bold goodbyes and death, such are the seasons of our lives and of our Earth. We know this, and yet our minds do not want to accept this. We fight this and say that things are not fair. And of fairness this may be correct. But life is not born of fairness.

My vocation in life has been in dealing with matters of death. "How can you be surrounded by so much death" people ask me? But in fact, we are all surrounded by death, in varying degrees, of varying intensity. I see people in their last stages of life and there are elements of this that mystify me, that call into being my purpose, and that emphasize my own inner Knowing. This Knowing, the kind that is hard to articulate, is not born and does not die. It guides my own hands and words and actions as I help so many confused and grief stricken people enter their journey away from their bodies.

When I sit with a person that is dying there is a point where I know that they are not in that body. There is a gauntness to the face, a glaze over the eyes, a stiffness in the body. Yet we, as hospice caregivers, often tell people that hearing is the last to go. I believe this to be true.

Just yesterday I sat with an actively dying woman. There was no need for blood pressures or oxygen saturation readings or temperatures. The trajectory of death was in such full effect that it stopped me, busy, million-places-at-once me. I sat at her bedside for a long time and I laid my hands on her chest. I knew she was not in that body, even though I could see her jugular vein faintly beating. I could feel her presence, not the dying presence (for I do not believe that presence dies), but HER. I could feel her watching and listening and I could feel her not being attached to this withered, cachectic frame of bones and skin. It was as though I was touching organic matter, born of the Earth and entering back into the Earth, but that the true Self was still there, boundless and alive.

This woman had lived a long life. She had careers and children and grandchildren. Christmases and trips around the world. Youth and suitors and long flowing hair. She had a past that was rich with memories and experiences.

We will all die, and this fascinates and saddens me. It reminds me that this is a GIFT, this LIFE. We get to feel happy and sad and joyous and full of grief. We get to travel and sing and dance and hug one another. We get to do handstands and crossword puzzles. But my favorite part is we get to walk among each other and feel each others' lights. Connecting. Listening. Emphasizing. Caring. Loving.

What a miracle this is.

I do not live my life under a religious doctorine, and I will never say that one way is the absolute Way. But I will say this. There is a light, inside of my body, around my body, entering and leaving my body, and because I am human I will call it MY light. But when I look at the stars in the evening sky, each one casting its light in the darkness, creating a blanket of wonder and light and beauty....well there is a connection there. I can not articulate it. I can feel it.

Being gentle.

I just went through an emotional ringer. At the risk of sounding a bit vulnerable I will tell you that I spent Saturday curled up in a ball on my bed, headphones on, and I cried and cried, just like a baby. I'd let the music take me away, then come up for air. Cry a little more. Come up for air. Cry. And then, after about an hour and a half of being a puddle on my bed, I started drying my eyes. I felt different, lighter. I cried things out that I needed to GET OUT. I needed that space to let myself go there, to that sad, sad well that is somewhat always lurking on the horizon. I wanted to visit that place yesterday, that sad well, because I could feel it all festering out of my body in ways that were not desirable.

One of the wisdoms that I have softly gained through the years is to look at my emotions when they come up. Not to BE the emotion, to WATCH the emotion. And usually from there, if I'm loving myself as I should, I listen to what I need to do. I don't always do this right away. Sometimes it takes some time of noticing undesirable qualities that won't go away. As I laid in my puddle yesterday I could hear the words "be gentle with yourself". It was like someone was whispering it in my ear. And I was.

I remembered, so poignantly, that sometimes crying is the absolute best thing you can do.

After awhile I picked myself up.  I was so grateful that my husband had graciously given me this much needed space to be alone. I went outside and I walked. I felt the sun on my face. I cried a little more but instead of tears from an unnamed grief, they were born of gratitude. I was alive, and moving, and the sun was healing my soul, and life was good and I knew it.

Even though I generally consider myself to be a happy and positive person, there is always a well of grief on the horizon. Maybe it's just because I'm sensitive. Maybe it's empathy for others that are grieving. Maybe it's grief in missing, or maybe it just lurks there for everyone. I do not know. I just know that it's there, even when it's so far out of my view. This is okay.

I'm human. I cry and grieve. I laugh and am joyous. It's not all good and it's not all bad. It's life. You do the best you can.

Stay grateful. Be gentle.

- Summer

Blazing

The tree in front of my house is blazing red. It's magnificent. To transform like that, from bare bones to a deep, lively green, to that bold red hue...it's elegant. Stunning. And fleeting. Each morning I go outside and find more and more leaves laying on the ground, turning a soft brown, saying goodbye to another perfect season.

I think of my life in chapters. Chapters can be defined by years, by experiences, by seasons. I've had some really swell chapters, really swell. Others were less desirable. All of them have come and gone, blazing like my red-leafed tree.

I feel a sadness as my tree loses more and more of its color. It's a saying goodbye. And it's a simple reminder. What if right now, these very days in which we are going through our normal, everyday motions, what if these are our red blazing moments? As a witness to so many dying peoples' experiences, I see autumn, their leaves unraveling from their bodies, stripped of their rich colors. Soon gone to winter.

I think it's my job in life to be blazing. In my routines, in my friendships, in my every day encounters, I have the option of letting these moments pass me by, unappreciated in their simplicity and in their mundanity. Or I can be bold and red. Not overbearing and intense. Just appreciative. And happy.

Life comes and goes for each and everyone of us. But right now we are all here, and we all get to be totally awesome.

A letter written before his death

I want to tell you about my friend Daniel Rhoda. What I fully understand in writing this is that my experience of Daniel Rhoda was purely my own, that it is but snapshots in the amount of life and love that he was a part of. But in my snapshots he's a fun loving child growing up in our small town. He's an 8 year old singing Free to Be You and Me. He's a popular and good looking pre-teen, one who was friendly and kind to my awkward and gawky 11 year old self.  He's a 20 year old young man having existential conversations with a 20 year old me at a time when my faith in religion was being rocked. He's a 28 year old man showing a 28 year old woman around the island of Kauai, teaching me about Ayurveda and Aloha, and touching me with a wisdom that was so radiant, so enchanting. As a child he was fun and accepting of others. But who he became as an adult was so gorgeous. He was captivating and smart. Wise and  receptive. He was extremely beautiful and most notably, extremely kind.

Daniel took his own life last friday. This event has sent so many, many people spinning, trying to understand, trying to make sense of something that feels unnatural: to consciously want to end your own life.

It is my belief that the people that do extensive personal work have to do so by visiting places that are very dark. Light can never know itself without darkness, and humans are no exception to this grand dichotomy. For someone that spent so much time manifesting his thoughts and his dreams, actualizing a life full of amazing people and experiences, he also had a shadow side. We are all familiar with the shadow side. The universal aspect to the shadow side is pain.

And pain is pain. I think of the excruciating pain of giving birth, howling into the ether with no thought or care as to who heard. In pain it is hard to see straight. In pain we can no longer function under the social norms that society expects of us. And Daniel had tremendous pain. Existentially yes, but physically as well. What I remember of his tour of Kauai was that I had to drive his car, that his debilitating joint pain made the simple act of sitting and pushing the gas pedal unbearable. He was 28 years old then, with more debilitation and physical pain to come. We can never understand what that was like for him. But now we are all faced with the realization that his pain was so much more than anyone understood.

Dan's brother, Les, a dear friend of mine, has asked me to post his final letter on my blog. I realize this is extremely personal, but the Rhoda family have wanted to be very up front about what has happened. As Les writes "I hope this brings comfort to those of you grieving from afar. You are all in my thoughts, prayers, and heart." 

I post this with the utmost respect for the life of Daniel Rhoda, a friend, a son, a brother, a lover, an explorer, a teacher, a student, and ultimately, a shining light. There are many hearts that are breaking with his loss, but isn't that what love is? We love, and we break. The depth of our love can only ever exist with our own vulnerability.

Aloha my friend.

"Dear Mom, Dad, and Les,It’s with great humility and sadness that I leave this letter to you today. From a place of deep chaos and yet quiet clarity, I lost a longstanding battle today. I’ve always been a delicate, sensitive soul and have questioned many times if I was supposed to be here this time around. I’ve spiraled in past months to places I didn’t know existed in me. Despondency over my physical health and latent mental illness from my youth and early 20’s came back with reckless abandon. Despite knowing the ‘right’ things to do clinically, I allowed the cycle to continue, while barely keeping it together on the surface. My physical health has deteriorated way beyond what people know. Every single day, it’s a struggle to function, and pain is ever-present. I feel like I’ve tried almost everything at this point, and I’m destined to live a life in which my physical health continues to deteriorate. Yes, I made some great strides forward and managed to do a lot over the past 10 years. However, I don’t have any fight left in me. I truly mean this, and haven’t just succumbed to a momentary sense of hopelessness and weakness. It’s weighed on me so heavily in the past years, particularly knowing I may never be well enough to have a family of my own. 

My biggest regret right now is not the loss of what my life could have been like. It’s the impact this decision will have on all of you, as well as my closest friends. I’m sorry you will have to live with questions whether you could have done more to help me. I’m particularly aware of how selfish this is to you, Mom, only shortly having healed from cancer and also what you went through with Uncle Fred. For that I am deeply sorry. It literally breaks my heart to think of the three of you mourning my loss and having to live with this the rest of your lives. I know there will also be social repercussions living in a small town, and I wish this did not have to be the case. The reality, however, is that you couldn’t have done any more for me. I know you questioned if you should have me hospitalized, but even that would not have changed the course of my actions. The choice of life is one that only an individual soul can determine. Through all my studies and experiences, I’ve become less attached to “life for life’s sake” in many ways. I haven’t been scared of death, and I’ve only wanted to be here if my soul is truly evolving. I don’t feel like this has been the case for many years now. I’ve enjoyed school and work enough, but I’ve had these deep existential questions of “why” and “what for” forming the backdrop of my being. I know my decision will be viewed as avoidable, tragic, and even cowardly by some, but it’s a decision I can only make alone. There will be so many questions and confusion about how this could happen. People will seek an easy explanation, however, so many different components led to my decision. 

The greatest smile in my heart right now is when I reflect on how blessed I have been with family. I couldn’t have asked for more loving and supportive parents. You have given me every opportunity in life. Mom, your compassion, thoughtfulness, strength, energy, and intelligence are so incredible. Please know that I will always be your “little boy” and one of my earliest memories- that of you rocking me in the chair- remains my fondest. Dad, I’ve appreciated your genuine care, interest, humor, randomness, and easy way of being. You’ve been an amazing father and friend to me. I cherish our time on East Grand Lake and our hour longs talks on the phone. Les, I’m so glad we grew closer as we got older and were able to bond through music. I have always been your biggest fan and have no question about your innate talent and passion for what you do. 

It feels ridiculous to try to encapsulate my love and appreciation for each of you in a few paragraphs. Mom, you have been such a remarkable support to me over the past few months. You took all my call and I felt so cared for without judgment when I got home. Your wisdom literally astounds me at times, and I feel proud to be your son. Dad, I also appreciated all of the times you reached out to me just to check in and let you know you love me. Les, I know you’ve been there for me even when we haven’t been in touch as much. This is something I have never questioned. 

I also leave feeling beyond grateful for the role that grandparents played in my life. Gramps literally allowed me to consciously discover what it felt like to really love someone, and Gram was so incredibly loving and caring towards us. Grandmere and Grandpere also passed along their own forms of generational wisdom. Auntie, Charlie, and Jody- you have also been important family to me, and your deep family bond and resilience have always been inspiring. 

I have also been blessed with incredible friendships, and I know my decision will come as an utter shock to people. There will be attempts to analyze what happened- did he lose the fight against his physical illness?; was he actually disturbed all along and just putting on a show?; did he have a nervous breakdown?; did he study so much about spirituality and the mind that it ultimately became a disservice?; did he break down after losing a relationship etc.? The truth is that the answer is no to any of these single explanations, despite the fact there may be elements of truth in each of them. None of these explanations alone justify my actions, because this is something that’s lived within me since I was around 19. I’ve been a deeply contemplative, lone wolf of sorts, despite what I may have shown on the exterior. The recent relationship stuff was simply a catalyst for uncovering much deeper levels of disturbance and concern within my being. Even when I moved to Hawaii, I wondered if I would conveniently get lost in an ocean wave one day, so this existential angst has been with me a long time. I’ve pushed through trying to make the best of things, but I feel too tired and worn down to keep doing so. Please don’t feel like you could have prevented this. The biggest factors in this decision in order are: feeling hopeless about my health and that I’ve exhausted my options at this point. As I said, this ways on me so heavily with respect to ever having any future quality of life and family. I also feel a lack of optimism and motivation for my career path and potential. Lastly, there’s no question that months of little sleep and food have contributed to my mental state. These were brought on by the relationship stuff, but this isn’t a case of taking my life because of a break-up. It’s more that all the factors came together at once, along with the move, and completely overwhelmed me beyond knowing how to get out of this hole. 

Regarding friendships, I’m not able to do justice in this letter to all those who have touched my life so deeply. 

Jim, you’ve been the single biggest influence in my life outside of family. Our journey together has been a soul-level journey and you have given me nothing but love. Your battle with cancer has given me strength every single day, and I know how much you love and care about me. I appreciate you letting me come visit, and I can’t thank you enough for your support, guidance, compassion, and wisdom. I know how much this will hurt and for this I am sorry. You deserve more from our friendship. I love you my friend, please always know that. 

Joe, you will always be my second dear brother. Your gentle wisdom and outlook on life is so pure. We had a good run my friend, and Ski With will be putting up walls from another place. I’m sorry I couldn’t fulfill the one request you asked of me. You are such a good soul, and I wish you nothing but happiness. Thank you for coming back to the lake for one last time together. 

Tsega, thank you so much for being in my life and for our recent time together. You are such a bright, beautiful being, and you have had such a huge impact on my life. I know that life will only continue to bless and nurture you. Thank you for coming here with such a loving heart. 

Kim, you are goddess incarnate and taught me so much about what it means to live as a conscious, creative male. Our time together on Kauai was such a gift, and I hope you always know how much I adore and respect you. 

Elliot, we’ve had such a journey, bro. From London onwards, we’ve held such a special connection. I’m sorry to leave you, Dallis, Lottie, Harlan, and Tilly. I have not fulfilled my godfather duty for which I am sorry. Please do good things for yourself and family in Cali. 

Hayes, our friendship has spanned two decades. You’ve got such a good heart. You’re also a great father and I send you and Ali love and gratitude. 

Tim, we watched each other grow from Moore 13 days, and I’ve been in awe at your ability to move so fluidly throughout life, as a father, scholar, and dear friend. 

Jericho, we’ve had such a journey together for which I am grateful. Your creativity and talents are destined for big things beyond island life…I know you know that. 

Jason, from Maine to London to NYC, we’ve had so many good time, bru. I hope this next chapter of fatherhood treats you well and I send love to you Adrienne and Amelia. 

Tom, you’ve been like a brother to me. I was grateful to bathe in your wisdom for so many years. Your thread of humanity and endless compassion are unlike anything I’ve known, and you’ve selflessly touched the lives of so many. I thank you for our last days together and for your unwavering friendship. I send love for your soul’s journey as a father, sage, and healer. 

Suhas, it’s been an honor to learn from you and be in your presence. The opportunity to study and work with a master is a true gift. I know that this will deeply disappoint you, but I ask that you do a blessing for my soul’s journey. I know you will continue to spread wisdom around the globe, and I wish the best for you Manisha and the kids. 

Jacyn, you are so amazing, and please don’t personalize this. Our recent journey is not the major factor behind my decision- please know this. You are such a bright being, and I know you will shine even brighter. I am thankful for our time together and send you nothing but love and Aloha. 

Whitney, I appreciate how we’ve laughed together, and you’ve been a good friend to me. You are such a kind, thoughtful person. Please do good things for yourself. 

Ras, we had a special sibling-like relationship almost from the beginning of grad school. I’m glad I got to introduce you to beats etc. and it’s been great to see you flourish. 

Molika, I’ve so appreciated your kind, grounded perspective. You are a talented woman and will touch the lives of many. 

Mitzi, I enjoyed our time together and what a sweet, genuine person you are. I trust that good things are in store for the one and only lady jaja. 

Gina Marie- You’re heart is one of the most beautiful I’ve had the pleasure of knowing. Please spread your wings and teach women around the world to be powerful, just like you.

Felcher- Big Jer, thanks for taking such good care of me bro, and for sharing your pearls of wisdom. I hope you’re catching waves for another 50 years.

There are so many others I could write about, but at the least please let those you can know I am grateful they were in my life: Rahul, Johnny, Alicia, Chad, Alaya, Milind, India, Angela, Jeff, Charmayne, Hilary, Shanly,Vir, Terri, Jon Rasmussen, Lori, other Kauai connections, Deerfield, Bowdoin, and Shaman school classmates, NYC friends, and the list goes on... 

Mummers, Dad, and Les, please always know that I love the three of you so incredibly dearly. I thank you for bringing such joy and blessings to my life.
As Gramps would say: Je vous aime, je vous adore. Que voulez vous de plus encore? 

With Love Always,
Daniel (Deeper)

Rabindranath Tagore
passage from Gitanjali (1912)
translated from Bengali

The same stream of life
that runs through my veins
runs through the world
and dances in rhythmic measure.
It is the same life
that shoots in joy
through the dust of the earth
into numberless blades of grass,
and breaks into tumultuous waves
of leaves and flowers.
It is the same life that is rocked
in the ocean cradle
of birth and death,
in ebb and in flow.
My limbs are made glorious
by the touch of this world of life;
and my pride is from
the life throb of ages
dancing in my blood this moment.
The song I have come to sing
remains unsung to this day.
I have spent my life
stringing and unstringing
my instrument."