You’ve probably seen someone off at a ferry or bus, waived until they were out of sight. Or made a fuss as guests left your home, saying “thank you” and “good bye” at the door until they were gone. Why do we do this? Is it that we know, deep down, how delicate our connections are . . . that we might never see them again?
Ritualized departure is integral to the “hero’s journey,” a pattern identified by Joseph Campbell as part of drama, myth, religious ritual, and psychological development. “A hero ventures forth from the world of common day into a region of supernatural wonder,” he writes. You and I are on such a journey, venturing from the ordinary common day on this year-long exploration towards the supernatural wonder of conscious living. An underlying assumption, I imagine, is that some day we’ll return transformed, while in reality one or two will fall by the wayside. “Death has no obligation to serve notice,” says Raymond Tallis:
Sudden death is doubly shocking because it allows no opportunity for farewells, for settling one’s affairs, to tidy behind one, for saying that which has to be said …. (p. 15*).
I propose we dedicate the coming two weeks to getting to know our ways of enacting “farewell,” both in the past and from hereon. My plan, tentatively, is to —
#1: Make a list of people I have lost contact with, regardless of the reasons for our disconnect.
#2: Select three people to reconnect with. Find their address; write a card or letter, phone, but avoid the fleeting nature of email. Plan to state my intention and speak from the heart. Don’t expect anything in return, neither rebuff nor praise.
Jot down reactions, feelings and sensations along the way. Consider posting a comment here to encourage others. Bon courage, pèlerin!
* Tallis, Raymond. The Black Mirror: Fragments of an Obituary for Life. Atlantic, 2015, ISBN 9781848871281.
In Mexico. Vacations are a bardo experience. Leaving our life behind (with the possibility of never coming back–airl crash, etc). 49 days (figuratively) later being reborn back into our life (if we are lucky!), but a changed person, not the same as the one who left, having met so many positive and negative guides along the way–dieties disguised as ordinary people–that have frightened or coaxed us into recognizing ourselves as the clear light itself. Vaya con dios!
At the beginning of January, I said yes to Peter’s invitation to journey this year as if it is my last year here. It is February and I am still very much engaged with this particular “what if” question. I think about the invitation every day (not all day, but several times a day). Have I grasped what it would really be like to know I had one year to live (now a little less than 11 months)? Not at all. But I am living with more awareness of some new things I would like to include in my life and slowing making space for some of them. I am also becoming more aware of activities and ways of being I’d like to keep — in case my life does go beyond 2017 (smiles). Diane