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DYING FOR MEANING.

Many years ago, on an episode of the Oprah Winfrey Show, Oprah was highlighting what it means to be “happy." She interviewed five people in widely varying businesses, one of them being a funeral director (from a funeral home in Toronto of all places) and then had a psychologist analyze each person's demeanor, type of work and overall outlook on life. There were certain basic criteria from which the applicants were selected to narrow down the folks into shared categories of income and age and perhaps a few other life situations. At the start of the show the audience members voted on which guest they thought lived the most joyful existence based upon the short interviews they saw of each person before the psychologist's results were revealed. Guess who the audience voted for. Well… not the funeral director. Guess who rated highest on the psychological scale of joy, gratitude and overall happiness – yes indeed – the funeral director!

I happen to know that director, and it didn't surprise me one bit. His demeanor has always been commented on. His compassionate care. His sincerity. And this is revealing in so many ways and on so many levels. Public perception of funeral directors for many is still, perhaps, a notion of being morose and coolly formal. Some are. That is certainly not me. I'm quite happy and secure in treating people, even grieving people, with the same gentle frankness and shared understanding I would a neighbour I stop to talk with on the street. I'm quite alright with de-stigmatizing death as many of you know, while keeping it professional, because I recognize that I have a skill, as you do in the field in which you work.

What's different for me is that I will be taking part in the receiving end of what it is that I do and that brings everything I do into a very personal and yet, very universal, perspective.

And in this lurks a great secret. There are many of us who don't think about or desperately try to ignore our own mortality. Well, most humbly I say to you, we should be doing the opposite. Not dwelling on it in a morose way but using it as a tool to reflect on our lives and move forward more fully in tune with who we are and what we want from our limited days. Being lovingly honest with ourselves. Therein is the bedrock of where deep happiness and extreme gratitude may grow, making your life richer, dismantling that filter of denial and the illusion of perpetual days given us by the rising and the falling of the sun. And who knows what might pop up. I've never heard anyone ever say, “I wish I had worked more" or “I wish I had loved less" or “I'm glad I kept stopping myself from doing this thing I always wanted to do."

I firmly believe the reason the funeral director was the happiest, is because he was simply under less delusion than the others. He recognized deeply what his life is about. He recognized a time constraint. He was reminded of what binds us as human beings. And please notice that I acknowledged he has “his delusion" because we are all deluded to some degree. That filter is in us all. We think our things matter so much, our opinions hold more truth, ourselves – more important. But truly our lives matter only in so much as how we are, and who we are for ourselves and for others. Otherwise, we are on a blue and green island with no life or direction, waiting for the sun to burn out and the day to end.

UNTIL SOON. LIVE WELL.

THE UNDERTAKING

Like anything one undertakes in life, it is always a good idea to know why you are doing it in the first place. I smile at that word “undertake" because of my chosen field as a funeral professional. Some still use this largely antiquated word for what it is that I do, but the word has had a long history and meaning. “Undertaker" ... someone who undertakes a task, since 1382, has referred largely to a “helper" or “assistant" and became attached to the profession, and therefore myself at times, as someone who undertakes something we don't want to talk about."

It became quite apparent to me, early on, that the number one task for someone in my shoes is exactly that – to talk about it! It is after all, an area of expertise that no one is a complete expert in (including myself) regarding the afterword, but certainly can be known, prepared for and discussed in the foreword. My personal foreword was one of a relatively early acquaintance with death, a myriad of questions that opened for me about that, and then the privilege of becoming an “expert", giving information and helping others in a journey I too will explore more intimately than I already have. You know... “undertaking" the task in a big way, so to speak.

For many of you, if you have been reading the information and/or musings I put out through my posts on Facebook or through The Stratford Times newspaper to make life (and all things regarding death) more understandable, more enlightening or simply more revealing – you will know that it is my top priority to bring you information of relevance that everyone should know.

One shouldn't, however, feel bad if they don't know it. In my field of work, you can't know unless you know what to ask. Eventually though, the information will be needed and will be of value. That is the number one task of a funeral home – to empower people. Once folks know everything it is that they need to know, they can make the decisions they need to make. More importantly, they'll know what those decisions are going to be! If you have been reading past articles, you would also know that it is not my number one concern which funeral home you use at a time of need or where it is. There are plenty to go around. The information is the information and funeral homes should provide it!

At Rutherford Cremation & Funeral Services (James A. Rutherford Funeral Home) I've never been one to shy away from that call, despite some people's adverse reaction to it, because I recognize our cultural death aversion as getting in the way. If we are afraid to confront something, how can we treat it as sacred and human? I also know that people are hesitant to enter a funeral home unless necessary.

Therefore… I will be bringing the information to you in a series of Death & Dying Pop-ups in the city of Stratford. Casual as casual can be:

125 Downie Street, Stratford. Just south of Foster's Inn.
Wednesday, August 16 from 12 pm - 8 pm
Saturday, August 26 from 10 am - 5 pm
Thursday, September 14 from 12 pm - 8 pm
Saturday, September 23 from 10 am - 5 pm

Yes – you need merely walk in, take the printed information you need regarding dozens of topics – and walk out. But rest assured, for those slightly bolder individuals who have questions, they will all be answered, and we may even have an interesting conversation along the way. Come on down and enjoy some coffee, tea and treats. It won't kill you!

Death positivity is the willingness to discuss death because it is human, and it is loving to do so.

UNTIL SOON. LIVE WELL.

BE HERE NOW

A few weeks before I got married, my dear friend Phil gave me a gem of good advice. He said, “Stu...at some point in the proceedings, step back and just look at what's happening. Take it all in without any distractions – otherwise it will all be a blur and you'll forget what it felt like." I did that. And I still remember. I've been doing that ever since – stepping back. What that really means is being here, being present, paying attention. And even though many years later, “wife" has turned to “friend", the memory sits in a warm place. Sometimes that simple act of stopping can make you cry.

Another day in April – my now two-year old daughter, dancing in her princess dress at the foot of the stairs, oblivious to all, and I am descending those stairs. Freezing mid step, I watched her. Then looking to my right and seeing my wife in the kitchen, also frozen and watching her dance; both of us with tears in our eyes. That itself would have been enough, but then came the moment never forgotten. We gazed at each other and between us was the look that said it all... “my God, see what we have created!" I will never forget that. It binds me to her still.

Sometimes as we move through life, so much of daily living seems sublimated, doesn't it? Or we're unaware of it, like driving to work and forgetting everything about our getting there. Why is that? Boredom? Tiredness? Too many opinions about too many things from too many people running through our minds? No. We just can't slow down or take the time to notice or stop that voice in our own heads that keeps talking, talking, talking, distracting, distracting, distracting, giving opinion after opinion – instead of just breathing, seeing, hearing, and feeling. Being present.

One of my absolute favourite compound words is “nowhere," because with a short twist of that word it can become it's opposite and create worlds: “now here." Before, in my distraction I was nowhere and now, stopping and feeling this presence; now I have literally brought my awareness “here." And here is where I want to be. Here is where answers are found, where real joy can exist, where words spoken and heard are heavy or light or revealing. It's so easy to get lost in too much thinking.

We narrate our world partially to distract ourselves from it or to make ourselves feel better. It's a protection, a control. Ask yourself, for example, why we say things to ourselves like “Oh, there's a line up. I don't want to stand in a line, but I must... it's probably going to be like this later too. How many people? Four. Well, I've seen it worse... could've been lined up to the door."

That voice allows you to control and buffer the world and your reaction to it. But as we're narrating everything through our filter, we may not see the genuine smile of the person behind the counter or hear the gurgling laughter of the baby in the bassinet three people up the line or feel how good it is to notice the muscles in our legs because we decided to cycle to work this morning. And now we have our phones too, don't we. Designed to distract us. Made to keep that continual flow of mostly needless information washing over us.

“Now here" can bring the purity of our moments alive.

In a world of fast, how invigorating to go slow. In distraction, how luxurious to pay attention. In constant movement, how urgent it feels to just sit still for a while. Within the constant chatter, the truth we seek is in the silence.

Nowhere. We are already too good at that, and we have all too often, become unrecognizable to ourselves. Be here now.

UNTIL SOON. LIVE WELL.

ONLY A FOOL

In October of 1972, the band Steely Dan, with their fantastic jazz/rock fusion sound, came out with a response to John Lennon's 1971 release “Imagine." Steely Dan's song entitled “Only a Fool Would Say That" was a slap in the face perhaps, highlighting the highly improbable and impractical sentiment that “Imagine" put forward. Imagine no religion? Imagine no possessions? Imagine all the people living life in peace? Quite!

The thing about songs like “Imagine" or any artistic endeavour with a hope, a wish or a dream, is that they are meant to open one up to possibility. To something better. To thinking about who we are. Sure, it's quite clear that some human beings are far too bitter, far too self-absorbed to actually create what most of us would like to manifest; but in the very least, an idea could make a shift, could alter a behaviour, could remind us.

I think ultimately, songs like “Imagine" are calls for recognizing that one's character should mean more than one's social class. And it's that character (the mental and moral qualities distinctive to an individual) that makes us human in every way. It's our character that dictates our life choices, our relationships, the quality of our joy and sorrow. And it's our choices that constantly feed our character. We must keep it beside us at all times, like a shadow. If what we are feeding ourselves ultimately doesn't suit us, we will come to our end – ultimately dissatisfied.

This sentiment came to me upon my reflection concerning you, dear reader. Everyone who is reading this now. Why? I wondered that myself. Well, I think it is because it's this writing (whether it's read through or not) that acts as a balm for my soul, my character. It is plainly, something that I feel I must do and not doing it for a length of time – pains me. There are personal reasons for this of course. It's interesting to note that, as a father, my main concern about raising my lovely daughter was in the silent hope that she would grow to recognize her own character, her own particular quality of self in the world and be able to expand upon it or change it.

This might sound as though it is a given; that of course, one lives and grows and looks at themselves within the myriad events that happen to them in their lifetime. But no. There are many whose mirror is merely for glorification. And without the reflection upon their 'character,' they are seeing only movies.


And so, reflecting on these posts that I place and the monthly articles I contribute to The Stratford Times, both informational (for my work) and metaphysical (for my soul) – it made me see what it is that has always mattered to me. What parts of my character have never changed because they are, indeed, an integral part of who I am. It dawned on me that the things that I loved to do as a child, are the same things that I still love today and it's this that I recognized and hoped would be my daughter's revelation: to see herself in her best possible life. One that feeds who she is. That kind of a life might appear simple and straightforward, or it might appear busy and travelled.

For myself it's helping people in some way, it's the enjoyment and creation of music, visual art, and writing. If one of these things became an inability, there would be diminishment. One needs to at least try to move through life happy. There are plenty who struggle with that for very serious and unfortunate reasons. But for most of us, thankfully, there is a choice. The road not taken might be as gratifying as the one well worn. The choice is ours after all. We are called to make it. We are urged to be good to ourselves. Only a fool wouldn't do that!

UNTIL SOON. LIVE WELL.

THIS IS HOW IT GOES

I wake up. I`m alive. In the blink of an eye, I remember; I might not be, but for the grace of the gift. I lie there for a moment. I`m grateful. The day begins…

On the way to work I go the long way, through the park – bursting a deep verdant green in the summer months, a crisp white lace of wind-carved snow in winter. And everything I see in-between the time I leave to the time I arrive, is as involuntary and unbidden as the remaining seasons of springtime birth and autumn decline. And when I unlock the door and set my purpose and plans upon my desk; behind the labour, at any time…there is a part of me that waits, for “the call."

This is my work. It doesn't recognize time. I live inside it, because I am the one at the end of what is sometimes a long rite of passage for someone I don't know; where a new beginning blossoms for someone, I do. Or maybe, perhaps, it's a beginning for the both of them.

We sit at a table in their home, in their living room, outside on a deck or in the comfortable chairs of the funeral home chapel…and talk. Sometimes we laugh and sometimes we cry. And sometimes, I get the gift of who that person we're talking about truly was, and still is, for the one sitting across from me. I feel such gratitude for that. I feel such privilege. I feel connected. And at some point, always, behind our talking, I feel that out-of-body feeling that someone, one day, will be talking about me like this.

There are some, however, who are not ready for conversation. All they would like to do is have things taken care of. That's fair. For those who do, I know their healing will begin within the quiet moments alone, when they are visited through a memory that they cannot and perhaps should not, escape. Blessings that show up in bits of sound and smell and any little “thing" that resonates. Regardless – I do what it is that I do, that the many don't care to know about, but that some see the need for knowing.

And I think, when I die... what then? Who will speak of me? Who will laugh and who will cry? Then the thought begins: I hope I go before my daughter, before my partner, but I know all bets are off. That thought positions me in the heart of living, that uncertainty grounds me in love, makes me so present! And then… gift of gifts… I'm not fearful any longer of the way life wants to manifest itself, what it wants to reveal – because then death walks with me as “friend." One who will open a door that I hope to be ready to walk through. And I pray, if that door is opened for me at a time unsuspecting – I will have loved as greatly as I can bring myself to love. And that is all that is needed.

And so, at the end of each day I lock up the funeral home, I move through the park, I'm charged or tired, I eat and talk with the ones I love and then rest again in the arms of uncertainty and gratefulness. That tomorrow I will either open my eyes to another day or will have opened out the soul into another world.

UNTIL SOON. LIVE WELL.