Crossed legged in the garden with Dad - The 70’s
I've never been scared of dying. Sometimes, I've thought it would be a sweet relief to my heartache. My extreme sensitivity, empathy and mistreatment have caused great pain I would not wish on anybody. I have always managed to pull myself back from despair or have been pulled up by the belief and the lessons that flow through me when I am floored.
Using the word 'floored' is interesting, and even though it seems negative, it has been necessary.
In my lifetime, being on the floor has always given me the cradle and grounding I desperately needed. I can sleep there, curl up and cry there; I have often been brought to my knees out of pure gratitude, to the floor, head raised in love.
An altar can be anywhere and can be created by you. I pray; I always pray. I go to church when there isn't a sermon and without the congregation. Quiet, brief moments where no one or nothing can harm me. I sit, and I cry with joy in the presence of the light and calm and the honest release of residual pain.
We are neither fixed nor broken; we are human, and our process of understanding is our life.
When I was a child, I loved to sit at the feet of people, my mum and dad and their friends, and at family gatherings, everyone having conversations around me. I still do that today. Crossed-legged on the floor, that is me, always and forever.
I used to watch people's mannerisms and enjoy their elegance, and it is where I can hear others speak better, with no eye contact, just sitting and absorbing.
My calling has always been to teach and serve; I am a humble servant and a teacher simultaneously, which makes me read broadly. I have read books about palliative care to understand the inevitable, of learning how people on their deathbeds feel and how they communicate and succumb to the rest. They can be with the people around them who will not talk about death, yet some need to remember the joyful times and be philosophical about the bad.
Most people don't want to indulge me whenever I talk of people who have passed. Others can take ownership of someone's memory and question your love for them.
Someone might question what the person meant to you or what you did for them that warrants such grief. But love is love, and grief is grief. There is no measure by which we can ostracise people from their grief.
It's been hard for me as I don't have cornered-off topics and no-go zones with my heart, but it is a challenging subject for nearly everyone I know.
I've always been the camp that lets people talk about it and be there for support, not troubleshooting by sweeping things under the carpet but bravely facing all that it is to be human.
Years ago, I spent time with someone I didn't know very well who was dying of cancer in a hospice. I had only known her briefly and found her so wonderful and funny, and I admired her peace towards the end.
I am grateful for the experience I had with her.
I had a very close friend of mine who was in her seventies; when we met, she was still mobile and out and about, and I watched her deteriorate over time. She never wanted to discuss details of her history, but she was a trailblazer, well-travelled, an art lover, and an artist. She loved hearing about my life, losses, adventures, and quest to find love and meaning. I told her everything, and she was titillated by it all too. She used to make me roar with laughter. She said if she had my body, she would walk around naked and introduce me as her 'ugly' friend.
When she became housebound, she started to tell me about wanting to die. We talked of it many, many times. She had called Dignitas, the assisted dying centre in Switzerland, to see what the service provided. The whole thing, I think, was too costly, and getting there with the consent of others, I believe, may have been difficult for her. She also told me often that she would find a way to do it herself. I would talk through this with her. I supported her ideas, but I didn't encourage them either. It was not my place to.
One day, she invited me round to her flat, and out of the freezer, she pulled a plastic cup of yoghurt mixed with drugs that would be lethal together. Drugs that she had acquired. Although it was shocking, I did not believe she would do it. I kissed and hugged her and left, thinking she would not take the deadly cocktail. As I did not know how to contact her family members, I had to hold the information alone, and I believed she just needed to talk about it again.
In the morning, I rang her house a few times, but there wasn't any response, so I went up there and arrived at the same time as her carer. She told me my friend was in the hospital and had taken the overdose but had not been successful, which I was so relieved about, and went straight to see her.
She was still in A & E in a bed. She was extraordinarily chirpy and flirting with her doctor. I spoke to him (he was handsome). My friend had good taste. He told me the yoghurt had saved her by lining her stomach. He said it was as if she had thrown herself out of a high-rise building and landed on a thousand mattresses.
She lived for a few years more, and I was with her when she was naturally dying and attended her funeral; I loved her, and I still do.
I am from the school of reality, as all autistic people are, and I believe the whole world is in a state of coercion.
People talk with their limited beliefs about themselves and serve it like the law. But it is just their understanding. There are more than two ways to look at things, many perspectives and viewpoints, but sadly, open conversations without judgment are lacking worldwide.
I watch people running from themselves all the time; I have done it myself, of course, but we have to start educating ourselves about living a whole life, that we are all vital, and that we all deserve love and support. It is our one and most important commonality.
Most of us have had to have operations that we feared we might not recover from. We've had to put all our ducks in a row, plan our goodbye, and leave things in order beforehand. Some of us have had life-threatening accidents, and most women have had near-death experiences giving birth. Even to this day, so many women have traumatic, life-threatening birth stories that become just that 'stories.'
These are more than stories; they are our lives.
Having my children gave me a deeper understanding of my vulnerability and mortality. I use the word vulnerable not negatively, but life is fragile and needs to be enjoyed, protected, celebrated, and lived. Why are we pretending and hiding from the idea that we will expire and that this physical body will have an ending?
Everybody I have had to say goodbye to in death has never left me. I don't need to honour death by visiting gravestones, although I like going to graveyards. My people are with me every day. I talked to the deceased in conversation and in prayer.
I've seen people die, and it was a privilege to be there. I've watched people slowly kill themselves, which has hurt, and as I have discussed, I have known people who wanted to die.
I have historically had feelings that the life I'm living is too painful and, therefore, death would be a relief, but in more recent years, on my path of healing, I now want to live until I am 100. My new goal. A family member celebrated that birthday last year, and I thought, what a great aspiration for me. I want to live to 100 because I want to do so many things and have adventures, but if I don't get there, I know I already have a legacy, and I don't need to be fearful, but I can cry. I can stay in the moment because that is where the beauty is. I see and live profoundly, and my meditation is strong and beautiful. The gratitude I feel for all things means I'm living the most whole life I could imagine.
After my breakdown 3 years ago, that crashing feeling of, what the fuck I have been doing with my life was my epiphany, my life epiphany that I must become my authentic self before I go.
I have been headlong into eliminating parasitical people, changed my view, got to where I've felt safe and have wondered at my surroundings. Anywhere my heart is whole is heaven to me, which is everywhere. I was born with faith. I believe we all are. We are born to love, born with intelligence and wonder, and we are here to share that and to help others. So close to the source are we. Our senses, emotional intelligence, sensitivity and faith are hard-wired.
We need to teach the children that they matter. What they think and feel matters. No more, shut up, be quiet, but more, share all you know and your wisdom. Wisdom and truth can be dimmed when they scare or irritate other people.
Me flying a kite - Deganwy
There are people in this world who will simultaneously mine for your gold whilst telling you you are worthless. This has been my experience, and I have realised people will try to extract it from you for personal gain, fear, control, or all of the above. This is exploitation and coercive power.
I've always enjoyed the wise. Not people whose intelligence is used as a weapon, but someone who can converse without judgment and pure love. My grandfather was like that. I think of him a lot. He was so diligent and intelligent and always laughed easily.
We are born to live fully before we leave the Earth, and that is what I intend to do; it is what I am doing.
Live in the magic, live in the wonder, live in the present, be grateful, and know that whatever will happen will. Make amends.
People are fashionably bouncing back from operations, shock and illness, which I believe is a dangerous message. Take your time, slow down and meditate.
The best question in the world is 'How can I help you?'
When someone needs you, ask them how you can help, and if you love them, you will find a way to honour the task.
I've lived with the hurt of my feelings, of being misunderstood, and that quest to find peace is an ongoing journey and a development in my emotional intelligence. When we know that our only 'job' is to know ourselves, not in the eyes of another but purely from ourselves, a wonderful life emerges. I witness life's miracles, manifestation and the path of wonder, and I am happy.
Before I finish, I want to share this I heard through a Davidji meditation. It is believed that Steve Jobs' (the former CEO of Apple whose meditation practice was strong ) last three words were "Wow, Wow, Wow".
Live well, my friends, and may the end be glorious.
Love always,
Melanie x
Read
Tibetan Book of the Dying
With the End In Mind by Katherine Mannox
Quantum Healing By Deepak Chopra
Watch
The Room Next Door
The Curious Case of Benjamin Button
Meditate with Spiritual Healers
Davidji
Jon Kabat Zin