1000 Arms

 

We know that it will happen but usually, we never know when. Death comes to us all one day and yet so many of us, at some level, live thinking otherwise. In recent years, I have confronted the idea of death by listening to Ram Dass talking about “conscious aging”, reading the Tibetan Book of Living and Dying, studying Shamanism, offering my own course to others on Conscious Aging, and speaking with my Mom about the subject. I asked her if she was scared of dying to which she replied, “No. I just wonder where I’ll go.”

With all the intellectual pursuit, I’ve had an opportunity to feel it in my bones and heart, as last weekend, my 88-year old mother died from complications of Covid.

To give context to this, my Father died in 1982 at the age of 46 from cancer. People, including myself, were stunned by his rapid decline and death…he was meant to live forever in my thinking. At the time, none of us had any skills around making sense of his death and my reaction was one where I simply tried to cope. He died in California during my first semester of university and I flew back to Australia to continue my studies. I would find myself crumbling as I sat in classes and don’t truly remember much about the six month period that followed. I’m thankful that I had a wise friend who took me by the hand to student health and introduced me to a counselor who, at the very least, allowed me to find some way to keep my head above my emotional tsunami.

I tamped much of the grief deeply within my body. I didn’t know how to grieve, I didn’t know who to turn to, and instead of allowing myself to fully feel, I numbed out and stuffed the emotions into dark corners of my being. It took 34 years for me to fully process the grief of my Dad’s passing with a cathartic release during my yoga therapy studies.

I am grateful for my daily practice and courage I’ve had to muster to talk about death. Someone asked me in the past few days how I was doing with my grief and I replied that it felt familiar, unlike what I experienced with my Dad, but more like what I experienced with one of my dogs. It comes in waves and I have allowed the waves to come, without stuffing down or ignoring, but feeling deeply into the present moment. And the remarkable thing is that I’m okay surfing all of it.

Part of my practice this past week since Mom’s passing is to chant, meditate, cry ugly, reflect, talk to others, and head out in nature. I took the week off from work in order to feel the passage of my Mom’s soul from her physical body into the next realm. I feel truly content that she is finally free of her dementia, her physical challenges, and her own limitations of this earthly existence.

As I have shared the news of canceled classes due to Mom’s death, the other thing that has been incredibly powerful is the feeling of being held by 1000 arms of love and compassion. Hundreds of people have sent condolences to me and my family.

I was reminded of the energy of Avalokiteśvara the bodhisattva who embodies the compassion of all Buddhas. Like Avalokitesvara, Guan Yin is also depicted with a thousand arms and varying numbers of eyes, hands, and heads, sometimes with an eye in the palm of each hand, and is commonly called "the thousand arms, thousand eyes" Bodhisattva. In this form, she represents the omnipresent mother, looking in all directions simultaneously, sensing the afflictions of humanity and extending her many arms to alleviate them with infinite expressions of her mercy, while the thousand eyes help her see anyone who may be in need. (Nationsonline.com). I have chanted to Guan Yin countless times and have become the recipient of this energy.

I feel my own Mother wrapped in the arms of the omnipresent Mother, and knowing the infinite source of compassion, I feel enfolded within the same vibration. Thank you to everyone who has reached out to me and my family. We feel you.