What must I do to be at peace with myself so that I may live presently and die with grace?
Last week I watched Alua Arthur’s EndWell talk from 2019. In 14 minutes, she asked this question and articulated the unidentified thoughts and feelings swirling with my grief.
My first clue that I wrestled with these questions appeared during a brainspotting session in June 2023.
The therapist began, “When you’re ready, share with me what you want to work with this afternoon. As you do that, I will notice your eye gaze and body movements. From there, we will collaborate to identify several spots for you to process for the session. How does that sound?”
I nodded and breathed in through my nose. I took a moment to send love and warmth to the parts of me. “I’d like to work with the stress and overwhelm that happens when I receive mail or an email about my parents’ estates. It physically feels like an ocean wave comes along and wipes me out. I can’t float or tread water. I tumble around in the waves.”
The therapist nodded her head. Her face reflected warmth as if her face were one degree above neutral. Just enough to know that she felt me and held me but not so with me that my emotions took her away, and I needed to care for her.
“Ok, so you’d like to process the feelings of overwhelm and the ocean. A moment ago, I noticed your eye gaze toward the middle of my bookshelf, and it seemed like something was there. How was that for you?”
She pulled out her pointer and positioned it on a diagonal, pointing to the middle of her tall brown bookshelf stacked with rows of books. I felt an electric jolt as the ground beneath my feet transformed from hardwood to sand. “Yes. There’s something there.”
She nodded, “How activating would you say that is?”
“About a 7, maybe an 8.”
“Ok, I’ll put the pointer there, and you can begin processing,” the therapist nodded.
The tidal waves of emotion rose inside. My mind flashed to Dad’s first hospitalization. I felt like a bird observing my sisters and me in Dad’s ICU room. There were beeps, wires, and tubes. Dad’s body twitched. The wave of emotion is created inside. I breathed fully and deeply.
“Every time I receive a piece of mail from the IRS, I have the same feeling I did when Dad was first in the hospital.” I sank deeper into the chair.
The therapist gently validated me. “Yes.”
I felt another wave rise inside. My eyes focused on the pointer. This time, on January 26, 2022, I became an observer in my home. I saw myself descending the stairs for lunch after a morning of teletherapy sessions. I saw my spouse, Joe’s dour face.
“You need to call your Dad,” Joe implored.
And I knew. “My Mom is dead–isn’t she?” I asked.
His tearful eyes and bobbing head say yes. I collapsed.
The tidal wave of grief crested inside. Again, a deep exhale. Again, settling into the chair.
“Martha, it’s the same feeling. The feeling I had the day Mom died. The feeling I had when Dad was on a ventilator in the hospital. …I feel that feeling whenever I get a mail about the estate.”
This. This right here was it. No wonder it hurt so bad. No wonder it was so hard to focus and be present.
Martha nodded again. “Yes. Keep going and see where this takes you.”
My gaze returned to the pointer. In my mind’s eye, I saw my parents’ faces, and a montage of memories floated through my mind. I felt a warm wave of gratitude rise inside. I felt so much appreciation for my parents’ lives, the life they gave me, and the days I had. Life felt so precious to me.
“Zsu Zsu’s petals. I see Zsu Zsu’s petals!” I exclaimed. “I feel like George Bailey at the end of It’s a Wonderful Life. I feel so much gratitude…and joy?!? And it feels like the paperwork keeps me from…living.”
Somehow, my emotions shifted from the deep waters of grief to the gratitude and joy for my life and the gift of living.
At that moment, I started asking myself Alua’s question subconsciously.
What must I do to be at peace with myself so that I may live presently and die with grace?
Her talk expands on this essential question she invites all clients to consider. She then highlights the five areas most people explore when they ask themselves what they must do.
- Healing their relationships–who they loved, how they loved, and where they loved
- Getting their affairs in order
- Creating their deathbed
- Exploring their ideas about consciousness and the afterlife
- Unfinished business of living
As a matriarch, this question and four of the five topics on this list supported and guided me through the pain of my grief. They help me have the courage to face vulnerable conversations with my spouse and sisters, take risks professionally, recognize my rumination, and disrupt the pattern. This question and living in this new role held a mirror up and helped to differentiate what is most essential to me from what to let go of. This sounds very poetic, but letting go has meant more…well, humaning.
When I led worship, I often started the time of joys and concerns by reflecting that joy and sorrow are sisters. They live in the same house. I hadn’t yet discovered that joy and sorrow are sisters living in me. They live in you, too. Something about contemplating Alua Arthur’s question invites these sisters to speak. As we move toward the end of the year (and winter in the northern hemisphere), I invite you to ponder this question.