Tides

Hospice training started last night. We meet in a house right next to the ocean and all night I could hear the waves crashing. Seemed symbolic in a sense because my emotions were crashing on the shore of vast sorrow and then retreating into the mystery of the deep- the deep knowing that everything is unfolding as it should.

For the most part, last night was just an overview of what our role will be as Volunteer Vistors and a history of Hospice. There are 16 of us in the training, each with our own reasons for doing the work. Many of us have lost loved ones and those losses inspired us to help others. I am in good company.

We ended the evening with an experiential exercise where we were asked to imagine that we had been given one year to live. We had to write down what would be on our mind, what we would want to do with that time. Then we pictured six months and wrote down the same. Then one month. Then one day. Then one hour. As my time kept shortening, I felt myself let go of the lofty dreams and just focus on the most important thing in life: Love. That was a common theme throughout each stage. In my final months, weeks, hours, I wanted nothing else than to love and be loved and to be surrounded by it. To know I had lived my life to its fullest- loving fiercely and deeply- and for those I love to feel it to their core.

It was difficult to imagine my own death process but it also made me really look at what I value most. I spend so much time thinking negatively- about what I don't have but want, about what I don't look like but wish I did, about what I have yet to fix about myself- and maybe that isn't where my energy should be. Sure, still improve upon myself and challenge myself to grow, but don't become fixated to the point where I can not enjoy life. When I come to die, I don't want to regret that I wasted countless hours of my life feeling fat or broke.

This training is going to be a very intense journey into my deepest fears- loss and letting go. I am both excited and trepidacious. It's been a while since I really took a risk. This feels right as much as it feels daunting. I am sure I will have other nights like last night, where I got in my car and drove around crying before heading home. They might get worse before they get better. Those tears were part sorrow, part elation.

I am alive and I have a lot of living to do.