Let's talk about death...

Grape leaves: the cycle of life

A few months ago, I signed up for a dinner party where death had a seat at the table. You could even say death was the guest of honor. 

Talking about death isn't something most of us who grew up in western culture are comfortable with. Sadly, because not having those oh-so-important conversations can make loss even more devastating. 

And not only do we not want to talk about it, many of us don't have cultural rituals to guide us when loved ones die. In some cases where we do, those rituals we grew up with don't fit anymore. 


This isn't a post about grief; I write about that enough. This is a reminder to all of us to do the things that must be done—the hard things, those caring things that make life easier for those left behind when we, too, leave this mortal plane. 

#DeathDinners

My dinner with death was last Saturday, and yes, it was fascinating, and yes, death was nearly the sole topic of conversation.  

Based around 'death over dinner' events (#deathdinner) started by University of Washington professor Michael Hebb in 2013, the dinners grew from a graduate course called Let's Have Dinner and Talk about Death. In 2018, Hebb authored the best-seller, Let's Talk About Death Over Dinner; from this website, you can also learn about hosting your own dinner with death. Why over dinner? As Hebb notes, the dinner table is the most forgiving place for a difficult conversation.

The dinner I attended was hosted by former lawyer now end-of-life coach Ann Forrest Burns. (Do check out her site; it's fabulous and you can learn some things. Do it; it's safe to look.) There were six of us around the table, and we started our conversation by sharing the first memory we had of a significant death. 

The impact of loss

My dad was my first significant death, but not a memory of my own as he died shortly after I was born. But my mom mourned his death until she, too, left the mortal plane when I was 38. That was big. 

Other losses left an impenetrable mark at an early age. My caregivers and my reasons-for-being all died within a few short years of each other: first, my aunt, who died when I was 8; she said "goodbye, daddy" to my grandfather as she was taken from the house on a stretcher—and then never came home. My grandpa left me the following year, and three years later, my grandmother. I was 12, and her death signaled to me that anyone I cared about—or who cared for me—would leave. Hence my modus operandi for the next couple of decades—being left became an expectation, and I looked for love in all the wrong places. 

Since then there were countless others—cousins, friends, pets, and other family members, few from a 'ripe old age' and largely from lifestyle choices. When someone in my family lives to 80 or 90, it's cause for celebration. There are few of them. 

As a little girl, I attended many funerals because of a large, extended family, and while uncommon today, when I see a funeral procession drive by, I still get choked up. I was often in the family car leading the way. 

Death upon death

Mortal death isn't the only death, though. My mom died an emotional death after my aunt died, closing off and shutting down—that, too, left an indelible mark. And when those we care about lose their quality of life, that may be a series of deaths, as they lose the ability to do what they love. Often, this is a prolonged death. 

Planning ahead 

Death can break apart families. Pre-planning can make a difference. 

I have a Canadian friend who works in the industry and helps people pre-plan. She's been highly successful financially not because she's great at sales, but because she's truly passionate about helping people. Death is hard enough on those left behind; when we plan ahead so others don't have to, we lessen their suffering. She knows this at a deep level.  

Talk with those you love about your needs and desires. Do you want your life sustained if it means you're hooked up to tubes, incubators, or various other machines? There are legal documents that leave no question, and it's best to work with a professional (you can find them in all price ranges). A health directive, or living will, is a must-have to ensure you're taken care of the way you want to be when you can't make decisions for yourself anymore. And don't be smug; this can happen at any time—an accident, or an illness that comes on suddenly. 

When the time comes: 

• How do you want to symbolize your time on earth? 
• How do you want your family taken care of? 
• Who do you want to benefit from any means you may have left, or any of your prized belongings? 
• Do you care if there's a service, and if yes, how it's done? 
• Cremated or buried? Where? We even have a choice of 'green' services now. 

You may think these aren't important, but when the time comes, they're important to those still standing, and the fewer decisions they have to make, the easier it is during a time that's anything but easy.  

Be curious

On Saturday, we also played the game Morbid Curiosity. It's a combination of trivia questions and conversation starters. While some of the trivia answers are humorous, many inform or help you think about options to consider. Conversation starters were either thought-provoking or entertaining. If you need help getting the party started, this game will break the ice. 

Meaningful death

Our lives have meaning, not just for us but for those who care about us. Our death will have meaning, too. Let's help those we leave behind with those most difficult decisions, so they don't have to when their wound is wide open. 

I'm grateful that death doulas are becoming a thing. It's a much-needed service to help us make choices that are meaningful while we still can, and help us navigate the complex industry that death has become. 

Don't wait

While my mom talked about her own death and did some of the pre-planning (thanking lucky stars for the People's Memorial Association here in Washington), I was less-than-impressed with our family's funeral home, the place where I spent enough of my childhood to still have strong memories. If only there were death doulas, or end-of-life coaches, then. It would have saved confusion, frustration, and heartache. 

Don't wait. This is far too important, and it's never too soon. Talk, plan, or find some help. Or host a #deathdinner of your own. It really isn't morbid. We had great conversations, plenty of laughs, and some good food, too. Here's the link again, just in case it helps. 

If you like this post, or this blog resonates with you in any way, please feel free to share it, comment below, or send me a message. I'm also available for one-on-one coaching—you can find me here.

Beyond resolutions: Setting intentions for 2014

Sailing in Shilshole Bay

Resolutions are made to be broken. Or at least, in my world, they are. So I stopped making them.


Now I set intentions. 


There's spaciousness around intentions. They're more about being than doing. Resolutions are, well, resolute.  A hard and fast destination.

Intentions are powerful. Yet flexible. They're a little like sailing - you set a course, but despite best laid plans, there are many unknowns to be discovered along the way. What is known is that sails will need trimming, the course adjusting.

Intentions allow room to shift directions, course correct, enjoy the journey, ask questions. It's being in the moment, and noticing what's working, what's not, and continually making choices. There's still a place for goals; goals help propel us forward. Setting an overall intention supported by incremental goals has a strong likelihood of succeeding.


They work.  


Today, I'm looking ahead at what I want to create, this year and beyond. What do I want my life to look like? What steps can I take to get me closer? How can I be the creative force in my world - designing a life that works for me in every way?

While I'm now firmly planted in midlife, I don't want to leave the rest of my life to chance. None of us know how much time we have, and even though we're all mere specs on the space / time continuum, I want to make a difference with the time I have. I want my minutes to count. My regrets thus far are few; I know now when I feel afraid, it's almost always my clue to step toward, not away. My gut tells me which.


I wish.


Yes. I wish. Over the next few weeks, I'm going to wish big, dream big. I'm going to look at those dreams and wishes, revel in the absurd, and celebrate the unobtainable. And then I'm going to look at these with a discerning eye:

• What is it about those wishes and dreams that appeal to me? 
• What makes them desirable? 
• What meaning do they hold for me? 

Then I can start making them real - or the parts that count. I'll state my intentions as though they exist right now. I'm designing my life on my terms. One incremental step - or maybe a big leap - at a time.

Nothing like a little health scare...

... to catch my attention. It might still be a scare. I don't know yet. When I got the results of my last blood test, I had a bit of a surprise.

Food yet to be.... I am also grateful
for my grandfather's garden as a child.
He taught me to love fresh vegetables.

I have exercised and eaten well for most of my life (although I cringe to think of the Vienna sausages, margarine, Crisco, nacho cheese Doritos, Top Ramen and fast-food burgers of my early years). I made a big change in my mid-20s, though, when I made the connection between food and health. So whether by design or by luck, I've stayed pretty healthy and at a good-for-me weight. And at mid-life, that's no small feat, really, especially given my family genetics. But my recent blood work showed slightly high cholesterol (the kind that isn't supposed to be high) and elevated liver enzymes.

I think I know why my cholesterol is high. I'm barely moving. I sit all day at work. I haven't exercised - much - over the last two years or so. The first year due to... well, not sure why; the last, due to injury from trying to do too much too soon. I've gained some weight. I'm sluggish.

The liver enzymes sent me spinning. With any luck, the high numbers are a fluke and related to the two glasses of wine I'd had the Saturday night before my Thursday morning blood draw. Since I so rarely drink now, the guy at the supplement store said it's possible. Still, I couldn't help but flash back to all the years I over-consumed: the self-abusive teen years, the early 20s backslide, the early 30s divorce, a couple of single years, and then trying to keep up with my hard-drinking social circle until about 40, when I finally had enough. Chances are, any damage from those years would have shown up sooner (thank god for teenage resilience), so right now I'm just counting my blessings and trusting that maybe I have a higher purpose and that all will be well.

What this did, though, was got me moving again, in a much bigger, consistent way. As I've mentioned in previous posts, I've exercised since my late teens (despite countless bad habits to counter-weight the benefit in those earlier years), but stopped running - my exercise of choice since anxiety kicked in at 32 - in late December, 2009, when I lost my resistance to cold temperatures and couldn't make myself leave the house for much of anything but work. I did, however, continue to go to the climbing gym pretty regularly til June, 2012. Good for strength and balance, but not for maintaining general fitness or keeping off the weight from a mostly sedentary lifestyle. In 2010, 2011 and the beginning of 2012, I dabbled in exercise doing things like Zumba, marina walks, and 'dancing' in my living room aerobic-style to Motown, alt rock, post-punk and some 70's classics (I sure hope nobody can see through my curtains) - but nothing consistent to maintain an acceptable level of fitness.

In June 2012, I decided to start running again - slowly, just a run / walk routine. But I quickly added in some stair climbing from the beach to upper Golden Gardens park, and damned if it wasn't too much too soon. An injury sidelined me. Despite joining a gym in November, it's been nearly a year since I've done any kind of consistent exercise.

Now I'm in physical therapy for what I thought was plantar fasciitis but appears to be more hip and glute related due to sitting too much. My calves are insanely tight, and my poor feet aren't able to handle the burden. I am now on a regimen back to health: a run / walk program, heinous glute strengthening exercises called 'fire hydrants', and a variety of other stretches and toning exercises. It seems to be helping - my body feels better and I have more energy, but the real test will be the next blood draw. I don't have the genes to be a slacker. I just don't and I know this.

I do have other things in my favor. When I read about liver health, I give myself points for these:

Black beans, brown rice, avocado
and a dollop of sour cream (all
organic) - a typical weeknight dinner.

• My daily diet is better than most. I love kefir and yogurt, I've always loved vegetables, and I don't eat a ton of fruit or meat - and when I do, it's likely organic and, in the case of meat, grass-fed. My morning cereal is gluten free and my naturopath says the amount of soy I use in tea and over cereal is nothing to worry about. Black beans are a favorite, and I've given up white rice for brown. I don't eat junk food, or rarely, and nothing with high fructose corn syrup goes in my body. Ever. I am a label reader. And I avoid aspartame and sugar and white flour and rice (mostly - sushi being an exception, although I prefer sashimi), and attempt to be GMO-free. I admit I indulge in Theo organic dark chocolate every single day, and I do like tea and coffee for their caffeinated impact. I've started making a green juice every few days. And I finally found a Kombucha I like (GT's raw, organic gingerade - yum!). 
• My supplements are the result of previous blood draws - I take only what my blood work shows I need - D3, DHEA, cod liver oil, cal/mag and a thyroid boost. And the only drugs I take are allergy meds.
• Most of my personal products are nearly toxin-free, with organic ingredients when they're available. I use soaps, shampoos, cosmetics (except mascara), lotions, potions and household cleaners and detergents that are free of the most egregious additives. I do get my hair colored. I'm not a complete purist; I'm not interested in looking my age (although my "real age" according to my biometrics is 38 - that I can live with!) and I want to always look my best. But I also want to age well and stay healthy.

So the piece that's missing was vigorous exercise and while I'm not there yet, I'm getting there. I have left my personal little pity party that kicked in with the injury behind and I'm about six weeks into my new plan and so far, so good.

Now I'm crossing my fingers, saying a few prayers and asking for grace that my next blood tests come back within normal range. My mantra: I'm healthy in every way. I'll keep you posted.

Celebrating older women

I heard a story on our local NPR station recently that piqued my curiosity enough to explore further. New York photographer Ari Cohen has made it his mission to photograph style mavens over 60 on the streets of New York. Despite their advancing age (many are in their 80s and 90s), they're still very much embracing and celebrating life and themselves, and living out loud with what they wear.

Check it out here.

As a young girl, I was surrounded by interesting older women. Friends of my grandmother - Mary Swift and Mary McKagen (grandmother of Duff) - were stylish, creative, talented, outspoken, and both very prominent figures in my life at different times. A pale yellow skirt made from fine wool with exquisite detailing by Mrs. Swift was my introduction to couture at a very young age. Ms. McKagen's sense of humor stayed with her 'til her final days and my visits with her are unforgettable.

There was Hazel Schultz, a friend of my father who kept his memory alive for me. She was a hat model in the 1920s. The afternoon we spent in her attic opening hat box after hat box was my version of heaven at that moment. Already a hat collector, she sent me home with a couple dozen ranging from 1940s military style, 1950s pillboxes to 1960s mod and so many more. The stories behind those hats! If only I'd written them down...

My neighbors Mrs. Bean, Dorothy, Old Mrs. Wurm and the spinster Miss G (whose German last name was hard to pronounce) each had their own special style and made their contributions to the world and my life. I'm also lucky enough to have hats from each of them except Miss G, who insisted on wearing scarves to cover her thinning hair (one of those many things we potentially have to look forward to...).

My great aunt Vernis was my own Auntie Mame. Her laughter and zest for life were contagious, and she always maintained a positive outlook. When her second husband died after a long illness, she reconnected with her first husband who was still wildly in love with her. They remarried, and spent much of their final years together boating in the San Juan Islands. She drove a Cadillac, wore bright colors, always had her hair done, and never left the house without makeup. With no children of her own, she indulged me in meaningful ways. It was from her that I developed my love for vintage clothes, hats, gloves and handbags, playing dress-up with her lovely castoffs. She was a rare gift - so different than the others in my family.

These are just a few who have inspired me and who I could aspire to be like as I age.

I love it when stereotypes are smashed and cultural myths about aging defied. This becomes more important to me as I age and contemplate what aging means to me. One day I will be considered 'old' by societal standards. What does that look like? I certainly don't want to feel old. And I don't want my style to be dictated by my age - how I dress, the length of my skirt or how I wear my hair. And I really don't want collective expectations to hinder my ability to live as loudly and fully as possible.

What concepts about aging do you want to break?

By the way, I'm excited to note there's an Advanced Style documentary film in the works to be released sometime this year. I don't know any more details but if I hear of any, I'll post them here.

Sedona: A visit to Inspirational Drive

People flock to Sedona for inspiration, healing, connection, and so much more. Sedona is indeed inspiring, but I only learned after returning to Seattle that the house where I stayed was on Inspirational Drive. How appropriate is that?

Being home and back at work after only a few days there feels a little surreal. It's a bit like transporting myself out of this realm and into another. Everything you've ever heard about Sedona and its beauty or other-worldliness is true. And my perspective feels forever slightly shifted.

Just do it...

My intent was solely to visit and catch up with a friend of 20+ years who moved to Sedona from Vancouver, BC about five years ago. We met at work shortly after we'd both relocated from the US, newly married, and our status immediately connected us. While we've stayed in touch via phone, Facebook, email and text, our last in-person visit was three or so years ago when she moved her personal possessions from the chilly damp air of Vancouver to the radiant dry heat of Sedona.

She came through Seattle with a U-Haul filled with the contents of her storage space, not quite certain of her decision to move. I get that; it was hard for me to come back to Seattle, despite having grown up here. Sedona's small and the landscape entirely different, and it's a plane ride instead of a short drive away from everything familiar. But her family - daughter, mother, brother and sister had all moved here, in that order, and she wanted to be close to them.

I have missed our personal connection, so a visit has been on my radar for a while now. But it was never the right time. So early this year, I determined it was now or never and to just. set. a. date. Time and resources finally aligned, or maybe it was meant to be.

The nature of things

They say everything for a reason, yes? This is even more pronounced in Sedona, so apparently it was no accident that I landed here now. I am transitioning into my role as coach, claiming my life journey as valuable, stepping into my natural gifts, and open to so much more. And more is what I got. Here's a sampling of who I met, where I went, what I saw and what I learned about:

• Lightworkers, healers and shamans (oh my)
• Art, nature and unrivaled beauty
• Organic, vegan, green and raw
• Sacred space, mystery and majesty
• Chakras and the divine feminine
• Natural spring and kangen water
• Ascendant masters, spirit guides, and visiting Pleiades
• Higher vibrations, energy and sunshine 
• Yoga, rebounding and hiking
• Smudging, altars, gemstones and crystals
• Stars - a brilliant, beautiful star-filled sky
• Wonder, awe, and ... peace 

Sedona is physically, culturally and spiritually rich. While it's a relatively young city (1902), its rock / sand formations have been millions of years in the making and it's renowned the world over (perhaps universes and/ or galaxies, too?) for its vortexes and the profound energy found there as a result. UFO sightings are common. Some call it a "spiritual Disneyland." And some of the Native American cultures believe the land is sacred and shouldn't have been built on at all. True or not, Sedona does a decent job of ensuring its design laws honor the landscape in texture, color and feel. And it's not hard to summon images of rugged pioneers seeking their fortunes amidst the iron-laden soils of this wild west outpost.

One thing I was surprised by, however - given Sedona's beauty and their apparent commitment to keeping it that way - was the seemingly limited recycling / compost options. I'm curious and would like to learn more about what they're doing, or not doing - and if not, why not. I would think, given the level of earth and general environmental consciousness there, that options for both would be everywhere. If Seattle can have compost and recycling bins in their shopping malls, well, anything seems possible.

Connection

After a shuttle from Phoenix, I met Lori at the gallery where she works in Tlaquepaque, an art center in the center of the city, arriving in the middle of a new show opening. My favorite piece by the featured artist was called "Lightness of Being." Lightness of being has been an area of focus for me for the last couple years - reclaiming that feeling of lightness I recall from my unencumbered youth (usually noticed when I skipped school on a sunny spring day, but that's another story; I remember the feeling and want it back).

Lori at Thunder Mountain

Earth Wisdom Tours

Of this earth... or not

Hiking at Thunder Mountain followed the next morning, and we scored an Earth Wisdom jeep tour with Lori's brother that afternoon at no charge due to a cancellation. Earth Wisdom holds the only tour permit to access key locations that are otherwise inaccessible except privately with the right vehicle. Our fabulous dinner at Elote Cafe featured a tableside "hello" from its renowned chef.

Sunday coffee came with introductions to wisdom seekers, embodiments of spiritual masters, and shamans. And really good coffee. Shopping with Lori's daughter and granddaughter followed, and the weather turned overcast. We spent the last daylight hours at Cathedral Rock, a spectacular red outcrop, and one of four main vortexes. Back on Inspirational Drive, we watched a video about tapping into your own psychic abilities and Lori prepared a delicious, healthy meal. She later offered a card reading, and I gratefully accepted. She's a gifted reader, and I have new information to work with, and more tools to explore.

A Monday morning visit to Lori's daughter's place gave me insight into new technology that I don't have the words or understanding to explain. But I purchased a Level II pendant that is purported to increase my energy and/or vibrations. I will learn more and share later (I still need to read through this). But it's fascinating work, and I am happy there are people doing what they're doing. Our planet needs this. But it's even bigger than that. And again, I have no words. Yet. I didn't know it then but it's exactly what I wanted.

The shuttle back to Phoenix was as uninspiring as Sedona was inspiring, and it felt like a long journey back. The 'green' juice Lori made me for breakfast, however, suggested it might be time for an overall detox. It's rare that I'm happy to spend more than a couple hours at an airport, but in this case, I didn't mind. And it gave me time to reflect.

Grace

I entered this weekend with no expectations, no set plans, and a willingness to just be present and see what showed up. Grace, love and opportunity showed up for me, and I am again counting blessings. Lori and I have an ongoing friendship of give and take, sharing, supporting and helping each other, and this was evident throughout the weekend. I love what my friend is up to, and I think she feels the same about me. Inspirational, indeed.

Finding wellness in Vancouver

This year marked the 21st year of The Wellness Show in Vancouver, BC. For the third year in a row, I've made the trip north to see a friend who manages the cooking stage, and find out what's new in the world of wellness. It's hard to believe it was 20 years ago I worked on the show's marketing copy, and the changes I've experienced over those two decades.

My wellness journey started in my mid-20s when I came to the realization that lifestyle trumps genetics. I made significant changes that I've built on and refined ever since. From fitness to food, it all matters. We are our own best health plan. Information changes over time with more research and experimentation, though, so gut sense - literal and figurative - plays a part. Events like The Wellness Show help educate a general audience, introduce new products, pathways and techniques to the tried and true, and remind us that there are no shortcuts to health, much as we'd like them. 


The antitheses to healthy eating: Leaving the convention center on Sunday,
I walked by this food truck. I noticed their restaurant on Robson Street
while up for the show last year. Hardly a health food, I couldn't resist
the photo. It's a food trend I just don't understand.
And I hear they're everywhere!

While I didn't attend any of the workshops or seminars, I learned a lot just walking the aisles and talking with vendors. A few of the key things I learned or noticed this year:

• Coconut is everywhere - from crunchy chips to organic milk, to face creams and good-for-you candy bars. It's the latest trend and while I have been a coconut fan for years (I both cook with and use the oil on my skin as a night cream, add flakes to my breakfast cereal, and I adore coconut curries - and dare I say it? As a kid, I loved Almond Joy candy bars and just about anything coconut...), I worry about resource depletion once something finds its way into our obsessive culture.
• "Raw" chocolate bars are chalky and bitter and not yet worth the cost.
• Nordic Naturals fish oil is an easy access product that I can feel good about buying. However, a wallet-sized card I picked up lets me know which fish are the most contaminated and over-fished. It leaves just a small list of what I can feel good about eating.
• Nature's Path rocks my world. I love their products. They sponsor the show and promise not to sell out to a major corporation like so many other good brands.
• Natural cosmetics are improving. Except mascara (for me). And if you're in the northwest and local is your thing, Lavera and Benecos are based in Kirkland. And for those who have more luck than I do with products, Lavera mascara is apparently rated the best in the natural cosmetics world. 
• Coffee with mushrooms tastes fine, but I didn't notice a kick. Tea is a burgeoning health trend.
• For the lactose intolerant, naturally aged cheese is your friend. A raw milk cheese vendor explained that cheese aged over time loses its lactose, but most cheese bought in supermarkets is quickly processed. 
• Pets need healthy products, too, and there's no shortage. From wet and dry food to natural supplements, it's available. Grain-free for cats is the way to go (I didn't ask about dogs). 
• I'm not crazy about what's traditionally considered "health food." And I'm never going to be vegan. The vegan cheezcake just didn't do it for me.
• Common Ground magazine is still publishing and this makes me happy. They do a great job of educating their readers about issues of significant importance be they global, national, regional or hyper local.
• Wellness is a body, mind, spirit experience. There is no separation. And there are myriad ways to nurture and satisfy all three.
• Wellness skews female. And most of us want to look young and healthy as long as we can. 

Held at the Vancouver Convention Center on Vancouver's downtown waterfront, even the location says wellness. Across the inlet are the North Shore mountains, what seem like just a hop and a skip away. The Grouse Grind, three ski hills and endless hiking trails await anyone who's fit and ready - no matter the season. And the 1,000 acre Stanley Park is just a few blocks away, with hiking trails throughout and a seawall / cycling / walking path that rings the park.

While I was well on my way to wellness prior to moving to Vancouver, it was during my years there that I notched it up a number of rungs. I fell in love with hiking, sailing, running, and healthy food, and it was living in this clean, coastal city that changed my awareness about environmental practices and living lightly on the planet. Living with a vegetarian (who managed her MS in large part through diet), seeing a naturopath, and starting a regular massage regimen all shifted my perspective about managing my own health.

I wouldn't want to live there again, but it's sure nice to visit. I'm grateful for the friends, the experience, and the greater good that came from it.

Oh - and floating is back! The Float House is opening in April in Vancouver, and a search turned up several float locations in the Vancouver / Seattle / Pacific Northwest region. Long since closed, the Float Zone on Vancouver's 1st Street was a favorite, followed by a tank at Ballard Massage in Seattle, decommissioned years ago. Unless you're claustrophobic, you really must try it sometime - there's nothing like complete sensory deprivation (I'll take mine without music, thanks) for complete relaxation. This may be as close as you'll get to floating on a cloud.