Living in the Face of Death

I see a new perception of death and dying arising.

Maybe 'new' isn't the correct word. Maybe what's arising is a process of retrieving what we lost some time ago.

We've become accustomed to pushing death under the carpet. We've come full circle because many of us are now tripping over it, and during our fall we see that it would've done us good to talk about it before we land six feet under.

As I've mentioned in a previous post, Death Cafes are on the rise. The one that I was fortunate to be a part of was a success. It felt great to stand back and observe strangers talking to strangers about something that is somewhat strange to talk openly about - death and dying.

I recently read an article in the Independent about the comedian Billy Connolly and how he's looking for a way to add comical value to his burial plot. He's thinking of putting touch-sensitive pads on his site, so when people stand on them it triggers a recording of his voice, saying something like, 'You're standing on my balls!'

Read the full article here.

Years ago I watched a documentary about a boy called Jon Kennedy who had a degenerative disease. It was very moving - but inspiring. He had a great attitude to death which positively affected the way he lived his life. Carved into his coffin he wanted a tin of baked beans. When asked why, he said he liked the idea of people looking at his coffin and saying, 'Why is there a tin of baked beans on the coffin?'

Spike Milligan's headstone is famous for saying the epitaph, 'I told you I was ill'.

How great is that!

Another reason why I believe that the way we perceive death and dying is adapting and evolving, is because of another article that was brought to my attention about a death doula. (A doula is another name for a midwife).

The article appeared in The Guardian. The 'death doula' is Rebecca Green from the UK. 

She was asked what she feels about her own mortality and she says wisely: "Death doesn't scare me because I don't know what it is. I suppose I'm saying that the unknown doesn't scare me. I find the idea that one day I won't be here any more strange and impossible to imagine. But it's also a fact that I haven't always been here – I only got here in 1969. Where was I in 1968, or 1945? I have no idea. It makes me smile to think of this." 

This is what the philosopher Alan Watts meant when he said that to think of where we will go when we die is like trying to think where we were before we were born. 

Ultimately, it's the same place. Life as we know it then feels like somewhat of a blip in the midst of eternity.

You can read The Guardian article about the death doula here. I highly recommend that you do.

At the weekend I was told about the work of the photographer Rankin and about his exhibition called Alive: In the Face Of Death. He presented portraits of people who were dying. It's beautiful. Unfortunately the exhibition was last year, but there's still quite a bit about it on the net that you can read; here for instance.

Also, look at the tremendous work of Felicity Warner, the founder of Soul Midwives. 

Look at the amazing Dying Matters

Can you see the bigger picture unfolding around us? 

Can you see that we're slowly changing our perception of death and seeing it as inseparable from life?

Can you see that this is the way we are heading?

Having a healthier view of death affects our view of life. Our way of dying affects out way of living.

He who makes an enemy out of death, is not on the best terms with his life.

One last thing:

Where were you one year before you were born?

...thought so.

www.gavinwhyte.co.uk

A Successful Death Cafe

I'm pleased to say that Huddersfield's first Death Cafe went really well.

I was extremely pleased by how it turned out.

There was a total of 13 people (that's including myself). It was held at the World Peace Cafe at the Vajrapani Buddhist Centre in Birkby. I don't think the discussion group could've had a better venue. A sense of calm and serenity ran throughout the cafe as people discussed death and dying - and ultimately life.

Due to the mixed response on Facebook and on the Huddersfield Examiner's website, I wasn't sure if those who had registered would even turn up. I would say that over 90% of them did (some brought their friends) - and afterwards they asked when the next one would be, which was always nice to hear.

The group started at 2:30pm and at about 2:35 a lady walked into the cafe. She went to the counter and ordered herself a coffee. I wasn't sure if she was part of the group and I didn't know how to ask her. Standing at the door holding a sign that said "DEATH & DYING" crossed my mind, but I thought it might put people off.

'I'll ask her,' a friend said.

He walked up to her and I heard him quietly say, 'Excuse me, have you come for the Death Cafe.'

The look she gave him was as if she was staring Mr G Reaper in the face. 'God, no,' she said.

My friend laugh, nervously.

This lady ended up joining the group and was one of the last three people to leave an hour after the group was supposed to finish. 

Even though it was a discussion group based on death, this was only a minute section of the vast range of topics that was covered.

95% of the people who came were meeting one another for the first time. When we talk to strangers we naturally want to share our stories - and over coffee and cake, we naturally listen. When we actively listen to someone it's not only them who benefit, but we do too. Without realising it, when we give someone our attention and our time, a feeling of worth arises within us.

We are giving of ourselves. We are contributing to the greater good.

As for myself, I had to do very little. The admin was taken care of by my good friend, Susan Dewhurst (Over The Rainbow Workshops) and beforehand, all I did was type up and print 10 questions that I thought could be used as a guide, just in case people were stuck for what to talk about next.

The questions were:

1. Do you fear death?

2. How often do you think of death and dying, and why?

3. Do you believe in an afterlife? If you do, how does this belief affect your attitude to death and dying? How does it affect your attitude to living?

(The same goes for if you don't believe in life beyond the physical world; How does this belief affect your attitude to death and dying? How does it affect your attitude to living?)

4. How do you think the Hospice movement has affected our attitude towards death and dying?

5. Do you want to be buried or cremated?

6. Why do you think people don't want to talk about death and dying? Why do you think it is known as a taboo topic?

7. Do you visit cemeteries?

8. Why do you think death is feared by the majority?

9. Have you ever read any books on death and dying?

10. Do you see death as separate from life?

If you're thinking of setting up your own Death Cafe (which is not a cafe but a discussion group based in a cafe) then I highly recommend.

Remember, talking about death is talking about life.

And life isn't that scary, is it?

www.gavinwhyte.co.uk

Playing Catch-Up

Going through some old files on my memory stick I came across a folder called 'Playing Catch-up'. I'm not sure if it's an old blog post or not, but I thought I would share it. I found it quite interesting to read.

I wrote it in 2011.

This was the dream; 

I shut the door behind me and walk away with a mixed bag of feelings, ranging from relief, fear, sadness and guilt. Then I see my car parked on the street and notice my clothes crammed on the back seat and all my trainers and shoes in the passenger foot well. 

It was crystal clear. 

Then I woke up. 

But this time there was no waking up. 

I'm living it. 

Every moment is exactly how I perceived it when I was asleep. I knew it wasn't just a dream. I felt it, but I couldn't decipher its meaning at the time. It was too vivid to be a dream. 

Dreams are fuzzy - premonitions and visits stay with you. They're meaningful. It's almost as if the formless part of you, the part of you that is beyond the restrictions of space and time, has experienced part of your blueprint and has decided to show you a snippet of it. Then with time you gradually catch up with what you saw.

It has happened to me before when I was working in a supermarket in my late teens. I 'dreampt' I was walking down the staff corridor and began to work my way down the stairs to the shop floor. But it was the feeling and the detail that stood out. 

That's how I knew it wasn't a dream. 

I knew exactly where I was . . . I'd worked there for five years and I hated it when I dreamt of work. I felt like I was being cheated of good sleep. But this was different because I felt ecstatic. A feeling of pure joy and lightness coursed its way through my dream-self. I even woke up with a smile on my face.

At the time I couldn't figure out its meaning. 

It took me about a year to catch up to it. 

The day came when I walked my way down the staff corridor and I whispered to myself, 'This is the dream.' I worked my way down the stairs and smiled. The feeling of lightness was in every step I took. I couldn't help smiling. 

What day was this happening on? 

My last day working at the supermarket.

            

It was almost as if a part of me was letting me know that one day I would move on from that place and that all I needed was a little patience.

And now it has happened again with the dream about my belongings in the car. 

I've caught up to what was shown to me about a month ago and it turns out I was being shown the ending of a long-term relationship. 

I unlocked the car door, got in and took a deep breath and it dawned on me how it works. 

I'm being shown the ending of chapters in my life. Every time a chapter is coming to an end, I get shown a glimpse of it when I'm asleep. Then I go about my life and I have no idea when I'm going to catch up to it. 

All I know is that one day, I will.

www.gavinwhyte.co.uk

A Test . . . How Enlightened Are you?

Well:

If you can live without caffeine or nicotine;

If you can be cheerful, ignoring aches and pains;

If you can resist complaining;

If you can understand when loved ones are too busy to give you any time;

If you can take criticism and blame without resentment;

If you can ignore friends' limited educations and never correct them;

If you can treat the rich and poor alike;

If you can face the world without lies or deceit;

If you can conquer tension without medical help;

If you can relax without liquor;

If you can sleep without the aid of drugs;

If you can have no prejudice against creed, colour, religion, gender, sexual preference, or politics  -

- then you have almost reached the same level of spiritual development as your dog.

Anonymous

www.gavinwhyte.co.uk

*Source

Just to Clarify . . .

The recent article in the Huddersfield Examiner about the Death Cafe seems to have caused a bit of a stir.

Due to the feedback I've received I feel like I need to clarify a few things:

1. Several people have said how they felt shocked to read that only females in their 30's will be attending the discussion group. This is an error on behalf of the reporter. (I don't think journalists are very good at the game of 'Chinese whispers', as we call it in the UK.) The reporter rang me up and asked me various questions about the nature of the discussion group, its purpose and what kind of people I expect to see there. I told him that two of my friends, who are both in their 30's and female, are going. I said that I expect there to be more women than men, as is usually the case at such events. I went on to say that it's a fact that men find it more difficult to talk about their feelings than women do. They find it harder to open up. Men see it as a sign of weakness, whereas women gain strength from their ability to be open and share.

What I didn't say was that there are only women attending the event. It just so happens that a few men who have registered for the first discussion group.

A friend of mine saw the article and said, 'I didn't know you was setting up a cafe' . . . which brings me onto my next point:

2. A Death Cafe is not a cafe.

I'm not sure who came up with the name "Death Cafe" but it's misleading. It sounds macabre and grim and quite gothic. It's not their fault, it's the thousands of years of badmouthing death that is to blame. The word death brings with it so many negative connotations, so it's no surprise that "Death Cafe" sounds like a mass suicide pact just after a skinny latte and a blueberry muffin . . . Great!

I prefer to call it Talk About Dying - abbreviated to TAD. This way, the venue (which, surprisingly, is usually a cafe) won't be projected as being frightening and eerie.

The article got shared nearly 300 times, which goes to show how many people are interested in shining some light on this taboo topic.

A few jokes popped up which made me laugh. Somebody said that they had been to a Death Cafe the other week but it was dead.

This one made me laugh the most, though: I went to one last week but there was coffin all the way through it.

Brilliant.

So, let me conclude:

• Everybody is welcome at a Death Cafe discussion group. You can be male, female, both or neither (?) Everybody dies, Everybody's welcome (that should be the slogan).
• A Death Cafe is not a cafe. It's a discussion group to discuss all things related to death and dying. Renaming it to TAD (Talk about Dying/Death) might be a very wise move. It certainly helps clarify things.
• Joking about death and dying can be funny at times, but it can also be a great way to mask our fear.

www.gavinwhyte.co.uk 

*Source

Dying for a Coffee?

Have you ever heard of a Death Cafe?

I hadn't, until the other day.

After my talk for the International Day of Happiness, where I spoke about having a daily awareness of death gives rise to happiness and gratitude, I was contacted by the organiser of the event who said she was keen to set up a group where the main topic of discussion would be death.

It sounds grim, right?

But it can be far, far from it, I assure you.

Upon searching the net, she found a growing trend for Death Cafes.

What happens is this: people meet for two hours and talk about death and dying whilst supping a hot beverage and nibbling on a piece of cake.

It's that simple.

I think it's a great idea.

It shines light on a dark topic - a topic which a lot of us prefer to run away from, but ultimately it will catch us up.

Have a look at the death cafe website: http://deathcafe.com/

There's a guide on there to set up your own meeting. You can search for Death Cafes near you. There's advice on what to talk about. There's loads of stuff! Have a look and see what you think.

I honestly think that talking about death and dying can change the way we live. So many of us think that life is continuous . . . and to a degree, I personally think it is (but that's for another post), but we can all agree on the impermanent state of this physical world. Everything about this physical reality is governed by the law of impermanence - there's no escaping it. 

We have given a name to this flow of impermanence. We have called it dying.

And it's about time we sit and chat about it - over coffee and cake.

www.gavinwhyte.co.uk

Dying to Live

When I was invited to do a talk for the International Day of Happiness, I jumped at the chance.

I was enthusiastic about it at first, but that enthusiasm soon began to fade. I started to have doubts about my ability to talk about happiness for 30 minutes.

How do you present a talk about happiness?

This was the question I asked myself over and over again.

I came to the conclusion (a few days before the event) that when we speak about happiness, we only talk of two things:

1. How we feel when we're happy
2. What gives rise to that feeling we know as happiness

Feelings are subjective.

They're very personal.

I can never experience a feeling for you and you can't experience a feeling for me.

I can't feel what you feel and you can't feel what I feel.

I might say some comforting words, such as, 'I know how you're feeling.'

But I don't, really.

They're just very nice words to hear when we're wanting reassurance that we're not alone with our feelings.

When, in reality, we are.

But we're OK with that, right? We don't know any different.

After all, we've never shared feelings before, have we?

Even if I say I know how you feel, it's still I who feels the feelings that I say are the feelings that you say you're feeling. Do you follow?

To cut out any further mind-bending sentences, let us conclude that happiness is a feeling and is therefore subjective.

And because happiness is subjective, I knew I couldn't realistically present a talk on happiness in 30 minutes.

I don't know what makes people happy! I have no secrets for peoples' happiness! What on earth can I speak about?

Then I asked the question: what makes me happy?

That would be a good place to start, right?

If I could speak about that, then I wouldn't be surmising about other peoples' states of mind; their emotional triggers and the filters of their mind.

At first I thought it might seem self-indulgent and narcissistic to just talk about me, myself and I . . . but that would only be true if I was telling them aspects of myself to benefit my ego.

And that wasn't the case.

I was going to tell them aspects of myself because:

1. I thought they would benefit from hearing about my philosophy and experiences.
2. It's the only thing I know!

I started off the talk by explaining my dilemma about not knowing what to talk about and reasons for this.

I told them the basic fundamentals which make up my own happiness, and would no doubt also make up theirs. Think Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs:

Physiological: breathing; water; food; sex; sleep; homeostasis; excretion.
Safety: security of body; employment; resources; morality; the family; health; property.
Love/Belonging: friendship; family; sexual intimacy.
Esteem: self-esteem; confidence; achievement; respect of others; respect by others.
Self-actualisation: morality; creativity; spontaneity; problem solving; lack of prejudice; acceptance of facts.

What I wanted to speak about was one area of life which seemed to be the undercurrent in all that I do.

It effects the way I look at life.

It effects the way I live my life.

It effects the way I perceive life and is therefore an intrinsic part of my own personal philosophy.

It's the one thing which I'm sure people weren't expecting to ponder on at an event focused on happiness.

Death and dying.

When I ponder on my own mortality, it gives rise to gratitude, love, joy, compassion, understanding; empathy, patience, contentment, motivation, ambition, and many more.

I've had an interest in the paranormal since I was a child. My parents said I was writing ghost stories at the age of six. At the library, I would run over to the non-fiction section and look for books on ghost sightings. I would revel in the black and white photos of the silky figures coming down huge staircases in old mansions.

I wanted to know what it was all about death and why people feared it. Maybe, as children, we all have an innate knowing that death is safe, but it's knocked out of us by our exposure to fear, through adults and the media.

Another reason why death plays an important part in my life, is that I've had three friends die before they're 30, so now, because I'm approaching 31, I feel like I'm on borrowed time. I didn't share this with the group to gain their empathy - thousands of people die everyday - death is as common as life - but my exposure to death has impacted my philosophy . . . and this is what I was wanting to share with them.

A good friend of mine died of cancer at the age of 22. He said to me, 'Gav, one day you're on the bus going to college and the next day you've got a brain tumour.'

Life unfolds like that sometimes.

But doesn't that make you want to live?

Doesn't that make you look around and think, 'Wow -  what a beautiful planet we share. Oh, look, I'm breathing - that's amazing!'

When I was in my late teens I was incredibly miserable. I was overly ambitious and my dreams just weren't happening fast enough. I didn't like myself. I didn't like what I saw in the mirror. I turned to smoking weed and I drank way too much. I was your stereotypical teenager, really, but I was suffering, nonetheless.

One day, I was walking my dogs on a grassy hill. There was no sound on that hill, apart from distant traffic and the occasional barking dog somewhere. My dogs were running around frantically; happy chasing leaves and their tails. I, on the other hand, was listening to the constant stream of thoughts going on inside my head. It was dreadful. I liken it to the sound of a football match.

Then I found myself staring at a tree. I stared and stared at this one tree.

Then my perception of the tree changed.

Then everything about Gavin and all of his problems; all of his past; all of his future plans; and all of his insecurities vanished in an instant, leaving nothing but awareness and a formless identity.

And that identity was shared with that tree.

I went from rock bottom to ecstatic laughter in an instant.

I laughed my arse off for a few minutes on that hill and I had no idea why.

As soon as the first thought came, Gavin Whyte came with it. It was a thought which asked, 'What the hell was that?'

I, now back to being Gavin Whyte, with his past and future etc, was confused. I thought I was losing the plot.

Still on the hill with my dogs and pondering on the experience, a voice came into my head and said, 'See everything as if for the first time.'

Now, I know it sounds crazy to have voices in your head - honestly, I do - but it happened.

This voice has made itself known three times in my life, and every time it grabs my attention and I have no choice but to listen.

You know when you read a book in your head? You know when you're talking to yourself in your head?

What does the voice sound like?

It sounds like you, right?

That's the trick of our thoughts. They use our voice which makes us believe they are us. But we are not our thoughts; we are their observer.

The voice that said, 'See everything as if for the first time,' was not my voice.

I don't know whose voice it was, but it wasn't mine.

And I had no control over it.

It just came - said its thing - and left.

As soon as I heard it, I stopped walking with my dogs and instantly thought I had been given a secret to life. A secret to happiness.

I continued to reflect on the mini message (which has profound effects if you do what it says) and then I thought, what if if you see everything as if for the last time, too?

So what happens when you look at something as if for the first time?

You eliminate the past.

You cut through all of your preconceptions and all of your 'knowledge' of that object.

What happens when you see everything as if for the first time and the last time?

You eliminate the past and the future.

With this perception, you know you've never seen this object before and you know that you're never going to see it again.

Also - you have to admit to yourself that you have no idea what it is!

With this mindset, calling a tree a tree makes no sense whatsoever!

Calling a flower a flower is nonsense.

Calling a person a person is ridiculous.

You have to admit to yourself that you don't know what they are - because you have no idea who you are either!

You have absolutely no idea.

But there is one thing which you do know:

That you, this nameless witness, shares the same energy and presence with everything else in the entire universe.

Looking at life this way, we see that we never die, because we were never born.

Death is a natural process in life which we have labelled 'death'. And this label brings with it so many negative connotations, which breeds fear.

We could go so far as to say there is no such things as death. There is only life because death IS life.

As Ram Dass said, 'Death is like taking off a tight shoe'.

The physical universe is in a constant state of flux. It's full, from moment to moment, of subtle changes which our eyes don't pick up. We only notice change after a significant amount of time has passed, or if there has been a set of circumstance which have caused a vast change in a small amount of time.

So when you do actually see a flower, it really is the first time you've seen it, and the last time you're going to see it.

That flower is always changing.

To assume it isn't is plain ignorant.

So many of us live our lives as one big assumption. We go to bed at night as if we've signed a contract which states that we're going to wake up in the morning. We think there's a similar contract in the morning which promises that our heads will rest at night . . . but there is no such contract.

Yet this is how most of us live our lives.

A healthy awareness of death and the fragility of this physical world and your physical form, brings you back to here. To now.

I finished the talk at the event for happiness with a few simple figures which put things into perspective for me. They're figures which I've stated previously on this blog, but I will repeat them here.

If you live till you're 80:

- you have approximately 4160 weeks here. (Half that if you're approaching or are past 40).
- you have approximately 29,200 days to shine. Match this with the number of sunsets to see.
- you have approximately 960 months. The same applies with the number of full moons to see.
- you have approximately 80 sets of seasons to make the most of.

How that does that make you feel?

I don't know about you, but it makes me want to live.

And when I start living, I'm happy.

www.gavinwhyte.co.uk