"How do you show up at a funeral when you are a part of the 'murdering' family?"
~ Grace Havnaer
This is a poignant quote from my friend and mentor from one of her classes I took on cultural appropriation. It has stuck with me and rummaged around my mind, attaching itself to many other scenarios than what it was originally referring to. I place it here at the beginning of this piece of writing as a pin in which to come back to.
On the morning of the dark moon in May, my household awoke to find our guinea pig lying in a funny way that told us she was not well. We rushed her to the vet only to be told she had suffered some kind of internal brain trauma. There were no external markings so I asked how this could be and the vet simply said 'this can happen in guinea pigs'. What 'this' was though, was still a mystery.
Over the next two days she would either get better, or she would get worse and if it was the latter he suggested we might want to consider euthanizing her. For the rest of the day we kept her bundled in blankets by our sides or on our laps and tried to encourage her to take some water and food.
The subtle cues of impending death are not something we have been taught to look for or nurture. Actually, we have been trained to avoid any such cues altogether and almost forcibly push past them with actions that scream to us of life. Shove some food down an unwilling bodies throat, coax them to walk when all they want is to lie still, speak frivolously to cover the silence and keep oneself fussily busy should the stillness of decay rear it's head.
The day with our guinea pig went along those same lines, interspersed by moments of interruption from within me- moments my psyche glitched and my wild instincts sniffed out what was really happening. 'Death is near' I heard. My youngest son was also much more attuned to the undercurrents of deaths breath, crying a river while the rest of us uncomfortably shifted around the room. 'She's still here' I soothed. 'lets focus on giving her lots of love'.
By 8 pm that evening she began to take her last breaths. I knew it the moment I saw it but I did not speak it. Her body started gently convulsing in a wave like pattern as the last forces of life were expelled from within her. My kids didn't really see it for what it was, but were drawn to her nonetheless and we each took turns holding her and patting her while soothing her with our voices.
And then she lay still- no gasping, no more waves of convulsion, no jitters- just absolute stillness.
My older kids turned away and looked a little distressed while my youngest son turned toward her, grasping her in his arms and wailing with the depth of an oceans floor, gushing with tears. My own eyes welled up just from looking at him and while my heart broke I was also struck by an overwhelming beauty.
Is this what it means to 'do death well'? Is it simply a turning toward it, a looking directly into the eyes of it while fully feeling the torrent of emotions that may or may not arise in its presence?
And what happens when we refuse to do this, when we look away, cover it up or pretend it isn't happening?
I think it's very clear what happens when we turn away. it's what we have done as a collective culture very well. Turn away from death and destruction, pretend it isn't happening, whitewash all the ways in which we experience it, put it in the box of 'over there' so that it's not within reach. Ignore, redirect and sanitise.
"Oh, everything's fine, let's just go back to normal, that never happened, let's not talk about that, be positive..."
But death doesn't go away. Quite literally we must all face our own impending death as it looms over life reminding us our time is limited. Without it, life would not have the same significance. This body would not be so precious. The work that stirs our souls and begs to be born through us would loose its urgency, maybe even its potency.
Life suffers when death is ignored.
Our bodies suffer when we know not how to let go, to breathe out after we breath in, to lay still after dancing all night. We become disembodied, we squelch anything that reminds us of its presence and move away from that which makes us feel too deeply.
When we look around and see the darkness breathing upon our necks what is one to do?
And what if, returning to the original quote at the beginning of this writing, we are ALSO part of the 'murdering' family, meaning, we are part of the cause of death?
Lets widen our view from the personal experience of my guinea pig, where I can easily assume we were not the cause of her death, and look to the collective experience of death instead. That which we have all been feeling and traversing the last couple of years, both on the societal, structural level as well as the environmental and personal levels.
Can we look it in the eye as the current systems crumble around us and our mother cries from exhaustion, as the death of our destruction upon the planet, original people, and ourselves is revealed in its putrid ugliness?
If we are in fact walking through a collective long winded funeral, in which we are also the cause of that which is dying or already dead, how does one continue to walk?
Certainly not haphazardly, with a bellowing voice or a lack of presence. Surely there would be a level of sorrow, some tears to grieve, condolences to be given with the humblest of hearts and the deepest of prayers. We may need to make room to hear anothers fury while also making space for our own. We may need to get conformable with being uncomfortable and using that discomfort as a sign post towards aliveness.
But lastly, let us not forget, that at a funeral there must also be a celebration, a coming together in joyous memory, to play and dance and sing. Because new life is always born from the ashes of death, new hopes, new dreams, new imaginings of what could have been & therefore what can be.
My prayer moving forward is that we all begin looking death a little closer in the eye, that we lean in to the discomfort of taking ownership for our part in it, and that we also remember to sing, dance and play in this beautiful garden of the Great Mother.
For this is the moment of dreaming and rebirth in which we must all traverse to find the trail that leads us through the collective mothers birth canal.
What is it you are dreaming for and what is it that you mourn for my loves?
Xx Vanessa
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LASTLY …
I would love to share some of the work I’m currently birthing and offering to the world.
I’m launching a 7 week embodied immersion with GiGi called MAMA ROOTS, which is going to be an immensely nourishing deep dive into our bodies and the creational current of aliveness that is the Great Mother. Rooting down to rise nourished, nurtured, activated and enlivened. This is the process of ecstatic birth and a crucial piece to our part in the collective birthing process.
You can read more about this program through the following link: MAMA ROOTS
AND…
A while back I ran a taster session with my friend GiGi on the Hag. It was the same night my guinea pig died and felt very ominous and apt for the experience, albeit also very intense!
You can watch the replay through the following link: HAG
Feel free to reach out with any questions regarding either.