Caring for people who are dying can be an intense,
intimate, and deeply alive experience. It often challenges our
most basic beliefs. It is a journey of continuous discovery, requiring
courage and flexibility. We learn to open, take risks, and forgive
constantly. Taken as a practice of awareness, it can reveal both
our deep clinging and our capacity to embrace another person's
suffering as our own. The following excerpt from an article
by Paramanada in Dharma
Life magazine illustrates the beauty and complexity of the
experience of working with the dying and bereaved.
In my time as a volunteer I never felt that
I was up to the task of caring for the dying. I was not good at
making small talk. I never found the right words. The platitudes
you resort to when visiting a friend in hospital - 'don't worry,
you'll be back on your feet in no time' - are inappropriate in
a hospice. I was most comfortable with those very close to death.
Between life and death, they existed in a twilight world, drifting
in and out of consciousness. Sitting without words, holding an
emaciated hand, listening to the rasping breath. I found this situation
easy to stay with.
I would try to let go into my own breath, feeling
that every time I breathed out I should not expect to breathe in
again. I tried to hold a sense of loving kindness, accepting the
person I was with completely. I felt that if I could breathe out
completely it
might somehow be a little easier for the person whose hand I was
holding to die. When I sat with the dying in this way I also knew
that my experience was highly subjective. It struck me again and
again that even in such close proximity, death remains completely
hidden. As the philosopher Martin Heiddeger said: 'Death is not
an experience'.
I never felt completely at ease as a volunteer.
What do you say to someone when they have moved closer to death
every time you see them? And not just in the abstract sense that
we all are moving in that same direction, but in the very immediate
sense - that they are losing control of their body, and their life
force is ebbing away day by day. Very few clients seemed to want
to talk about death, at least to me. More often they wanted to
talk about their lives. All too often they had bad feelings towards
their families or others who they felt had let them down in one
way or other.
t
is true that some people become beautiful in death, they come
to a place of what can only be termed grace
- but this is not as common as some of the recent literature on
dying and the hospice movement imply. Volunteers and members of
staff felt a strong desire that the dying person should have the
best possible death. In nearly all the cases I witnessed this was
indeed true, as the hospice was a caring and warm place. However
I did not often witness a spiritual transformation. It is hard
to know what is going on with someone as they draw near to death:
many are heavily medicated and confused. I was often amazed by
the acceptance of those facing death, but I wonder if that was
the result of a natural, in-built reaction to the process of dying.
Among the volunteers I saw a desire to ascribe
this acceptance to some spiritual insight, but I think this had
more to do with the needs of those attending than the experience
of the dying person. I became increasingly uneasy about the New
Age image of a good, even a redemptive death. We all need to make
death seem OK.
A year after I finished
working at the hospice I was asked to take part in a practice
day for present and former volunteers. I was given a short slot
to say a few words and lead a brief meditation. I was pleased
to be asked, as I have great admiration for the volunteers and
staff.
I made two points. Firstly,
no matter how closely one has been in contact with death, through
the support and witnessing of others, death remains a mystery -
something unknowable - and perhaps this remains true even at our
own death. Secondly, and more importantly, even a 'good' death
does not and should not be understood as making up for a life that
has been unhappy or selfish. It does not put right the appalling
neglect of society towards many of its less fortunate citizens
(many of the people that came to the hospice were homeless or living
in awful situations). Nor does it make up for a life that has not
been well lived.
Looking back, I think I became a hospice volunteer
because I wanted to face the reality of death, and the fact that
I will die. I left the work no wiser about the nature of death,
but perhaps with a little more resolution to try to live my life
with kindness and courage.
- By Paramanada From issue # 15 of Dharma
Life
Loving kindness as a foundation of hospice work
shows us that the smallest acts performed with love bring greater
happiness and success then those performed with indifference or
out of a sense of duty. It's not so much who you are or what you
know but how you are that counts . True
compassion arises from an understanding that suffering is a universal
experience. This awareness motivates us to give the best possible
service to all regardless of their beliefs or affiliations.
We strive to be open, non-judgmental and equitable
to everyone. Understanding that individuals exist in a state
of interconnectedness as part of a larger community. In this context
we share responsibility for the well being of other members of
our community. This is what motivates us to use our training and
experience for hospice work and to collaborate and promote teamwork. We
are committed to the empowerment of the patient their loved ones
and the community as a whole.
You can join us in this work based in loving kindness in several meaningful
ways. You may choose to volunteer ,
to work directly with the dying or bereaved or to help in the East
Shore, Kaslo or Nelson communities.
You may also wish to become part of this team
through your financial contribution, which allows the caring, compassionate
work of hospice to continue.
Please contact
us to explore the possibilities.
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