We hear a lot about befriending unwanted parts of ourselves. So I wondered if this same language could be applied to our own awaiting destiny. After all like any part that makes up a whole, death is born with us and dies with us. It is an intricate part of who we are and has its own set of expressions.
CDT (Conversing with Death Education & Therapy) states that within every person is an untouched unconscious that contains a death quality, a part if you will. This quality contains the voice of mystery and wisdom regarding death-and-dying. (The variation between CDT’s idea of parts and parts therapy is that the death quality transcends time and space and can be attached to various names: Higher or True Self, God, Universe, Higher Power, Healing Self, etc.)
By creating space—using the empty chair, role play, etc—therapists can help clients come in touch with this part and, thus, reconcile it with other aspects of our being that struggle with existential negotiations.
Aging and Death Meditation
Since we do not know on a conscious level the how and when of our fate, it is safe to make assumptions and imagine a possible path of dying. Many undergo aging, the discovery of a terminal illness (we will all die of something), followed by a final sequence of events until everything shuts down.
Below are three sets of prayers or reflections that follow this map of death. You can use the stages separately or collectively, with groups, and with individual clients or patients.
Stage I – Aging
“May my body be at ease with itself as skin and bone no longer follow the path of youth; may I be at ease with growing limitations in each muscle, limb, and movement; and when the body’s function deviates from cultural expectations, may I relate to it with a kind and fair OK; may I call the aches and pains by a more gentler name; when the body stiffens like in the mornings, may my words to it be like warm, soothing oil; when the body cannot compete, may I cheer anyway as I would for an child; when my clothes are converted to briefs and nightgowns, may I realize that the body too is like exchangeable cloth; when I’m lying in a borrowed bed, may I also consider that I am living on borrowed time; and when I exclaim in frustration, “This body,” may I cushion my reaction with a loving mother’s voice, “This body.’”
Stage II – Discovery
“When my body is told it has limited time, may I be tender toward and understanding of it as I do with those who are suffering; when I see illness as an intrusion, may I also see it as completion; and if I must fight, may I do so with friendly competition–with nothing to prove and nothing to hide; if the end result isn’t to my liking, may I find courage to talk with it rather than react against it; when I refuse to lend an ear, may I simply become still; if I am consumed with unhappiness, may I also find it in me to be kind; when I am filled with fear, may I embrace the grief underneath; and when it hits me of loved ones I will separate from, may I equally take notice of the inessentials I will leave behind.”
Stage III – Death
“When I am dying, may I find the strength to welcome death as I would a friend; when I feel the last breath coming, may I breathe into it and not demand one more; when I am fading away, may I see it as permission to let everything go; when I cannot recall the loved one standing at my side, may I leave them with a smile anyway; when the heart barely moves, may I hear it as a beat to a soft love song; and when the body becomes still and cold and stiff, may I somehow embrace it with the warmest goodbye.”
