I have been meditating still, I just haven’t had the time to post on WordPress on a daily basis. I apologize to my followers.
I’ve been doing a lot of metta, but today I focused on my breath.
Meditation Poem #62
how precious is each breath
each my last
I don’t talk about my vocation as a chaplain a lot, but I’ve worked in hospital settings to currently a retirement community. Grief, loss, and death seem to be reoccurring themes in the life of chaplaincy.
I do enjoy being a chaplain in more of a communal setting than the random visits that happen in a hospital setting, but it also makes it more difficult when people die. Pastors and ministers are people too, and it’s sad, when I am constantly saying goodbye to people I form a deep bond with. However, I know God is using me and my gifts to journey with folks as they approach the end, or approach the ultimate new beginning for those of who believe that death is not the end.
It’s interesting what our pop culture says about death. I know Star Wars takes myth and views of multiple religions and blends them in one; I equated Zen Buddhism and Taoism as the largest spiritual inspirations of Star Wars. The Force seems similar to the Great Tao that cannot be named. Jedi masters like Yoda act as strange Taoist sages, or eccentric Zen monks that talk in paradox. I am still unsure where Force ghosts fit into all this, but it does strike to this notion that death is not the end for all of us that we are still tied to life by the Force even in death.
In Christianity, there is a strong sense of the communion of saints. Saints aren’t necessarily force ghosts that come back after death to give us wisdom, but they do speak to us through the walls that divide life and death. All of this to say that what separates life and death is not as clear as we make it out to be. I love the Buddhist notion that each breath leads to our last, and this is not to make us depressed and withdraw from life, but the awareness of death allows to see each breath as a precious moment and gift.
life connects us,
weaves us together
into a beautiful tapestry
When you’re young, you think you are immortal. We are taught the value of our lives lie in what we produce, and what we accomplish.
But at the end of the day, as you age, it’s not your possessions, wealth or prestige that matters.
The question at the tip of one’s tongue in old age is did I love well? Do they know I loved them? Do the ones I love love me? Unspoken moments of “I love you” are often the biggest regrets in our lives.