We put our 18 year old cat, Myla, down on Friday. She had been blind for 3 years, deaf for 2 years, and suffered from dementia for the past year. This meant that every time she got up from her bed, she had no idea where she was and would meow, sometimes mournfully and sometimes (seemingly) angrily. If I was home, I would usually pick her up, and sit on our recliner with a blanket to protect me from her claws. This was her only pleasure of the day—she would wash herself and sometime stretch out and sleep. However, her arthritis had reduced this pleasant time from 30 minutes to generally only about five minutes. It was time.
Those of you who have had pets know how deeply they can touch our lives and how deeply we feel their loss. My wife and I were together the rest of the day, a couple hours just holding each other on the couch, and then dinner and a movie at home.
The next day, I was aware of feeling flat, sad, empty and mostly kept busy. Part of me knew that simply sitting with these feelings was probably a wiser course, but I wasn’t ready. I cleaned out Myla’s things and got into some cleaning projects in the house.
5 Daily Recollections
Myla’s death and the daily news about corona virus is bringing on an increased awareness of mortality. One of the central teachings of Buddhism is to be aware of impermanence, that nothing lasts forever. There is a meditation that the Buddha offered called the 5 Daily Recollections that I practice often.
1. I am of the nature to grow old; I cannot avoid aging.
2. I am of the nature to become ill or injured; I cannot avoid illness or injury.
3. I am of the nature to die; I cannot avoid death.
4. All that is mine, beloved and delightful, will change and vanish.
5. I am the owner of my actions (karma); heir to my karma, born of my karma, related to my karma, abide supported by my karma. Whatever karma I shall do, for good or for ill, of that I will be the heir.
I don’t see this meditation as depressing or a downer, but rather a wonderful reminder to live today fully. When I allow this quote to sink into me in the morning, I feel more wanting to be more curious and open to what happens, and I know that makes me happier and more joyful. I came across a wonderful quote from Thoreau in describing his goals and intention for his retreat at Walden Pond: “I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life.”
Reminders
Speaking of being reminded, I did a brief search and found that I have used the word “remind” in more than half of my blog posts. I have often talked of the value of physical reminders like the laughing doll in the September 9 post and 24 Strategies for mindfulness during the day. I have another great reminder--a NOW clock that my wife game me several years ago. What time is it?” “Now!” Just seeing that clock often makes me laugh and often makes me pause.
At this point in my life, I do find myself pausing many times during the day, both to drop my awareness from my head to my body and to my heart, and to feel gratitude and appreciation for all that I have.
• Realizing that I am still typing as fast as I can, smiling and slowing down.
• Looking out the window and seeing our neighbors’ 5 year old and 2 year old running in the yard, smiling and pausing.
• Hitting a red light on my way to the grocery store and enjoying the next 45 seconds of breathing, smiling and slowing down.
• When irritated with the amateur drummer who moved in across the street, grateful that he’s not next door, and smiling and pausing.
Similar messages from other authors
Those of you who grew up in the 60s might remember Carlos Castaneda. He was an anthropologist at UCLA who met a shaman in Mexico whom he called don Juan. One of the lasting teachings from Castaneda was don Juan’s encouragement to view death as a presence that lingers just behind our left shoulder. If we have this awareness of our mortality, we are much more likely to live each day more fully.
In a similar vein, Stephen Levine wrote a wonderful book, A Year To Live: How to Live This Year as If It Were Your Last where he describes his one year experiment in living as though it were his last year. I remember reading that book with a friend and waking up (almost) every day for a year with the thought, “What if this were my last day.” I found the experiment to be powerful.
Grieving
Two days after Myla’s death, I got up feeling the sadness, the flatness, the emptiness, and decided to meditate. This time I was able to bring mindful awareness to the thoughts and emotions, not trying to get rid of them or even to heal them, but simply to feel them in my mind, my heart, and my body. As I write this, four days after her death, I am finding the urges to slow down and listen inside to my heart feeling stronger than the urges to distract myself with food, television, etc.
And I know that this is not a linear process.
And I know that it is important to remember to bring mindful attention to these feelings of sadness, emptiness, and even depression.
And I know that forcing myself to be mindful is also not the wiser course.
Death has a way of waking us up. Shaking us up. For today, when I think of Myla, I will pause to savor the memories, feel the sadness in my body and my heart, and also feel gratitude for all that I have.