Talking about death and grief isn't easy, especially in our always online, awake, and bustling world. The job of a modern death doula is one I respect tremendously.
While reading this post, sitting by a lake, the thought kept arising (along with little fish and one turtle) ; This is death- all of it- the sun, the teeming bird life, and the rest. This chapter supported a curiosity towards instead of closing against death. Perhaps letting go of outmoded thoughts is a kind of apoptosis too. Thank you for your writing.
May 29, 2023·edited May 29, 2023Liked by Chloe Hope
I ponder how we miss the function and constant presence of death in our very bodies and the world around us, part of each moment. I find that I feel much less fearful when this change is a constant companion rather than an unwelcome guest. I appreciate so much your article and also the acknowledgement that being with loss (such as of a career or job) sometimes feels more tolerable than that of a beloved homeland or loved one. I think our avoidance of death is functional to a point, but has left many at the mercy of overwhelm more often than not in world where we chase immortality instead. May we have the courage to be with the uncertainty of constant love and loss, so that we may be able to tolerate the inherent grief that comes with letting ourselves appreciate our precious but mortal relationships to others and this changing world with such intensity and intention.
I have much to say about your subject but will hold my fire--except for this: Julian Barnes in _Levels of Life_ says "Every love story is a potential grief story." And from my own experience, way too recently, "the centre will not hold" W.B. Yeats.
I fear not existing and have done my whole life. However, I'm reading Plato's The Last Days of Socrates, and in the Phaedo Dialogue, Socrates is asked why he doesn't fear death, why he's not attempting to escape his death by poison. You know what Socrates said? He said that a philosopher should not fear death if she has spent her life seeking truth and wisdom. To him, the body is just an instruction, what with all its needs for food, shelter, sleep, and other desires. So it's unlikely we will ever arrive at this truth and wisdom in this life. And in death there is just the soul and eternity.
Reading the Book of Chuang Tzu after three years of mindfulness practice yielded this thought.
We fear and lament death because we cannot fully *be* in *this* moment. Instead we dwell in yesterday and tomorrow.
Someone or something we love dies and our sorrow really centres on the imagined future moments they or we will no longer enjoy - even though we are not enjoying them anyway and never can, as an a priori matter of fact (by which I mean there is only ever *now*). It's selfish and irrational, but doubtless served us well in evolutionary terms. Like a lot of things we can't help feeling.
Conceptually knowing this mostly doesn't help, though. It's just interesting to realise, at least conceptually.
Thanks to Adam Nathan for introducing me to your work, Chloe. This is such a beautiful and thought-provoking piece of writing that provides a perspective on death that I hadn't considered. I can't wait to read more from you.
I cross posted this exceptional writer (Chloe Hope) on my site, but the brief text you are allowed to provide didn't have room for what I'd written about her work. My full appreciation here:
Glad to have found your Substack.
Talking about death and grief isn't easy, especially in our always online, awake, and bustling world. The job of a modern death doula is one I respect tremendously.
Looking forward to reading more!
While reading this post, sitting by a lake, the thought kept arising (along with little fish and one turtle) ; This is death- all of it- the sun, the teeming bird life, and the rest. This chapter supported a curiosity towards instead of closing against death. Perhaps letting go of outmoded thoughts is a kind of apoptosis too. Thank you for your writing.
I ponder how we miss the function and constant presence of death in our very bodies and the world around us, part of each moment. I find that I feel much less fearful when this change is a constant companion rather than an unwelcome guest. I appreciate so much your article and also the acknowledgement that being with loss (such as of a career or job) sometimes feels more tolerable than that of a beloved homeland or loved one. I think our avoidance of death is functional to a point, but has left many at the mercy of overwhelm more often than not in world where we chase immortality instead. May we have the courage to be with the uncertainty of constant love and loss, so that we may be able to tolerate the inherent grief that comes with letting ourselves appreciate our precious but mortal relationships to others and this changing world with such intensity and intention.
This is amazing, Chloe. Courageous cour age - of the heart. So beautifully and so simply introduced. You make the ‘unthinkable’ inviting.
💖
Excellent read Thanks 😊 Are you moving on to death energy soon?
It is quite wonderful to begin imagining this image!
I have much to say about your subject but will hold my fire--except for this: Julian Barnes in _Levels of Life_ says "Every love story is a potential grief story." And from my own experience, way too recently, "the centre will not hold" W.B. Yeats.
I fear not existing and have done my whole life. However, I'm reading Plato's The Last Days of Socrates, and in the Phaedo Dialogue, Socrates is asked why he doesn't fear death, why he's not attempting to escape his death by poison. You know what Socrates said? He said that a philosopher should not fear death if she has spent her life seeking truth and wisdom. To him, the body is just an instruction, what with all its needs for food, shelter, sleep, and other desires. So it's unlikely we will ever arrive at this truth and wisdom in this life. And in death there is just the soul and eternity.
Reading the Book of Chuang Tzu after three years of mindfulness practice yielded this thought.
We fear and lament death because we cannot fully *be* in *this* moment. Instead we dwell in yesterday and tomorrow.
Someone or something we love dies and our sorrow really centres on the imagined future moments they or we will no longer enjoy - even though we are not enjoying them anyway and never can, as an a priori matter of fact (by which I mean there is only ever *now*). It's selfish and irrational, but doubtless served us well in evolutionary terms. Like a lot of things we can't help feeling.
Conceptually knowing this mostly doesn't help, though. It's just interesting to realise, at least conceptually.
Thanks to Adam Nathan for introducing me to your work, Chloe. This is such a beautiful and thought-provoking piece of writing that provides a perspective on death that I hadn't considered. I can't wait to read more from you.
I cross posted this exceptional writer (Chloe Hope) on my site, but the brief text you are allowed to provide didn't have room for what I'd written about her work. My full appreciation here:
https://www.adamnathan.com/p/death-and-birds-chloe-hope