Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting:
The soul that rises with us, our life’s star,
Hath had elsewhere its setting,
And cometh from afar:
Not in entire forgetfulness,
And not in utter nakedness,
But trailing clouds of glory do we come,
And cometh from afar:
Not in entire forgetfulness,
And not in utter nakedness,
But trailing clouds of glory do we come,
From God who is our home.
Wordsworth
If this is true about birth, then how much more so it is about death. For we not only come in ‘trailing clouds of glory’, but we leave with an even greater, vaster set of experiences. To sit with someone at the end of their life is one of the greatest honors and privileges that we can experience because we are witnesses to the end of one personal epoch and are poised at the beginning of another. We are seated in a place of mystery. It is a liminal space, a time in between. As it was called by the Celts—a thin place—a place where the veil thins and where we become less connected to the hustle and bustle of everyday life and slow down to the pace of those who are close to death. Here, time is measured by each breath.
Bearing witness to this time is a sacred honor. How can we best meet the needs of those to whom we wish to provide comfort and companionship? The role of the hospice volunteer is unique. We don’t provide medical services, although we provide comfort care. We don’t replace the role of the chaplain, although we may minister. We are situated in a position to simply be present with someone and to hold space for what is trying to happen.
To be present in this way requires that we are able to show up without an
agenda, without preconceived ideas about what we should do, and with no
expectation that we will get anything in return. We are there for the other.
To hold this pure of an intention is no small feat. To step out of the busy-
ness of life and into the very slow pace of the dying requires an attention to
our own mental, emotional, and spiritual states. We must be able to stop
our frantic doing and slip into this in-between place, a place between worlds,
and walk side by side with the precious soul we desire to journey with.
We are not there as a voyeur—we are not there to satisfy our curiosity about death and dying or even aging—we are there to be a witness, to hold a hand, to join in the mystery, and to hold space for what will come next. We are observers, watching for signs of discomfort. We are the extra set of eyes, seeing what needs to be done and speaking what may not be able to be spoken. As a midwife seeks to bring about the birth of the child, so we seek to help the form release itself and let go. Labor can go on for a long time. It is our job to just be present in a loving way.
When I am with the dying, I am aware that there is so much more going on than I can see or explain. It is at these times that I wish for extra senses. I wish to be able to see the highest aspect, the soul of the person that I am with. How can I best help? What is most needed here? Where might my own needs be getting in the way? How can I honor their beauty and their life path? How can I set aside my own fears, desires, and needs, and focus solely on supporting their path?
There is a golden cord of love that connects us to each other. It is the Sacred Web of Life. Although we may have never heard of it before, or thought of it in this way, we know that it exists. Whenever tragedy strikes a nation through natural disaster or some other calamity, we see it spring into life. Perfect strangers offer themselves unselfishly and tirelessly for no other reason than that we are all a part of the human race. We all share in the experience of what it means to be a human being. By focusing on this altruistic connection, by picturing this golden strand of love, we can connect our heart with the heart of the person we are wanting to serve, for love connects us to others. It is the most pure and most beautiful of connections, for true love never seeks for itself, but gives selflessly.
We are not there as a voyeur—we are not there to satisfy our curiosity about death and dying or even aging—we are there to be a witness, to hold a hand, to join in the mystery, and to hold space for what will come next. We are observers, watching for signs of discomfort. We are the extra set of eyes, seeing what needs to be done and speaking what may not be able to be spoken. As a midwife seeks to bring about the birth of the child, so we seek to help the form release itself and let go. Labor can go on for a long time. It is our job to just be present in a loving way.
When I am with the dying, I am aware that there is so much more going on than I can see or explain. It is at these times that I wish for extra senses. I wish to be able to see the highest aspect, the soul of the person that I am with. How can I best help? What is most needed here? Where might my own needs be getting in the way? How can I honor their beauty and their life path? How can I set aside my own fears, desires, and needs, and focus solely on supporting their path?
There is a golden cord of love that connects us to each other. It is the Sacred Web of Life. Although we may have never heard of it before, or thought of it in this way, we know that it exists. Whenever tragedy strikes a nation through natural disaster or some other calamity, we see it spring into life. Perfect strangers offer themselves unselfishly and tirelessly for no other reason than that we are all a part of the human race. We all share in the experience of what it means to be a human being. By focusing on this altruistic connection, by picturing this golden strand of love, we can connect our heart with the heart of the person we are wanting to serve, for love connects us to others. It is the most pure and most beautiful of connections, for true love never seeks for itself, but gives selflessly.
When we can establish this kind of connection with our patients, we can serve unencumbered from the problems of the ego. The ego will give in order to receive. It will serve in order to be served. It looks for recognition and praise and is easily offended when these things do not happen. The dying rarely have the time or energy to serve the ego needs of others, so in this way they are great mirrors for us. When we find ourselves hurt or bent out of sorts in the process of being a companion, we can almost always bet that the ego has been hurt because it was looking for something that this type of service cannot give.
The soul, or Higher Self, on the other hand, serves from a different level. It serves from a place of unconditional love and regard for the other. It is connected to the Sacred Web of Life and it realizes the sacred connections that we all share living here on earth. It is the Midwife. It cannot only assist others in making transitions at the end of life, it can help us transition to a more soulful, spirit-filled way of living—learning to honor our own sacred path, our soul’s calling, and helping us to find meaning in our Being- ness rather than just in our doing-ness.
Ultimately, the greatest gift we bring to the dying is our presence. For it is with our presence that we heal, support, nurture and nourish one another. We may inadvertently trip over our ego and ourselves in the process, but we always have the opportunity to center ourselves, let go of our own needs, and show up to meet the other, soul to soul. This is the gift that we give and as we give, we receive, are blessed and learn to embrace the common threads that we share—that of being born, and of dying, and of all the joys and sorrows in between.
