Recently I drove two hours through the rain to be with my elderly mother through
her latest surgery. Although she laughed about it, she was deeply afraid. We
both are prepared for her death, and that consciousness has changed us. Over
the last couple years, I've lost friends, family, dear ones, both of my brothers.
Nine years ago, I caressed my father's hand as he lay in the nursing home after
a stroke. He'd been there for months, his organs nearly all shut down, in severe
and constant pain. I'd never before been around a dying person; I didn't have
a clue. Trying to help, I told him, "You can let go now, just let go, it's all
right." He came out of his twilight, looked at me, and struggled to say, "It's
not that easy."
It's never easy. There is no other passage of the spirit more complex, more
frightening, more transforming, or more mysterious than death. Lately there's
been an explosion of books and articles on the subject, as baby boomers barge
into their fifties and confront their mortality. Pagans have a uniquely valuable
perspective to add to this national discussion, and The Pagan Book of Living
and Dying is a compilation of much of our wisdom.
This book covers every aspect of death imaginable (except, curiously, that
of someone who is herself dying). Forty people contributed essays, poems, meditations,
rituals, songs, artwork, prayers, memories, spiritual travelogues, and practical
advice, making the book rich with perspective. Roughly speaking, Starhawk wrote
a bit less than half the book, including a great deal of the basic liturgy (rites,
prayers, and songs), and a series of essays that develop a cohesive thealogy
of death, exploring its meaning and mystery. Macha NightMare was editor and
project coordinator. This book is, in fact, the first such work produced by
Reclaiming as a group effort-itself no minor achievement. (A simpler version,
Crossing Over, was published by the Collective in 1995.)
Starhawk's thealogy of death is the connective tissue in this body of work.
As a unified conception of Pagan beliefs, faith, and practices, it is remarkable
for its insight and understanding. Starhawk reminds us that death is an essential
part of the cycle of being-birth, growth, death, decay, regeneration-and places
this core observation in its full context: "Imagine if we truly understood
that decay is the matrix of fertility, if we designed our products with that
truth in mind, as nature does, if everything we manufactured were recyclable
or could, in its breakdown, feed something else. Our landfills would empty and
our true collective wealth would increase. We might view our own aging with
less fear and distaste, and greet death with sadness, certainly, but without
terror."
The essential sadness of our own death is something we can rehearse, and meditations
here give a taste of crossing over. This opens us to understanding one of the
greatest gifts of death: savoring life. Awareness of death challenges our self-absorbed,
business-as-usual routines, and instead urges us to fully live our human pleasures
and joys-the colors of wildflowers, the scent of the ocean, the taste of cinnamon,
the touch of a dear one's skin, the passion of work-all the more precious because
they are of the moment and "their very ephemerality gives life a poignant beauty
that enriches us." When death is ever-present, we cannot put off life to a convenient
but vague future.
Stickier questions of thealogy come when examining the question of death and
consciousness. Does all that we know and do, all that makes us uniquely human,
dissolve at death? Starhawk proposes the theory of group mind as an answer,
that everything we learn as individuals feeds into and changes the collective
mind. "Every insight we have, every moment of growth in love and compassion,
makes those experiences easier for others to achieve." She links her well-known
model of the triple soul to this concept, and suggests ways to connect our consciousness
with our eternal Deep Self at the moment of passing.
Another thorny thicket is the Pagan conception of the otherworld. Starhawk's
thoughts here on the nature of the otherworld and its interaction with physical
reality are interesting reading for any magic practitioner, whether dealing
with death or not. She postulates that "while the energies and powers of the
otherworld have an independent existence, the shapes in which we perceive them
and the names we give them are creations of the mind." Thus a person's soul
ends up in the otherworld that she expects, whether it is the Christian hell
or the Buddhist nirvana-and expectations can be changed (instructions included).
Reclaiming's favorite vision of the otherworld is Avalon, the mystical Land
of Apples across the western seas, a myth hybridized and expanded from several
Celtic legends. While cautioning that myths are maps, and one shouldn't mistake
the map for the territory, most of the writers here seem to take Avalon pretty
literally.
At the moment of death, Starhawk writes, the veil between the physical world
and the otherworld is thin. "A great vortex of powers and energies is created."
Ancestors, spirit guides, deities may all appear to the dying one. There are
suggestions for helping the soul orient itself in its new circumstances, particularly
helpful if the death was violent, unexpected, and/or far away from loved ones.
As one might expect of any thealogy, blessings for the dead and suggestions
for memorial services are included in the book-essential both for guiding the
released soul and comforting the living.
The Deep Self entity takes the "time" it needs in the otherworld, then decides
to give human life another go. "The dead become the unborn, who return again
to life after an interval of rest, healing, and renewal." Belief in reincarnation
is well-documented as indigenous to pagan Celtic and pre-Celtic cultures, from
which we derive much of our craft. Starhawk's inclusion of karma in the "standard"
Pagan thealogy is more problematic. Originally from Hindu and Buddhist theologies,
karma is a complex philosophy that, in our pop culture, has been simplified
to a buzzword. Its briefest definition is that what a person does in one life
decrees her existence in the next incarnation. Although few would argue with
the basic notion of cause and effect, karma's validity is questionable when
taken out of context. As a religious philosophy, karma is inextricably linked
to transcendence: we are not our bodies. But Paganism is rooted in immanence:
the divine is in and of the world, not outside it. As Donald Engstrom aptly
puts it in this book, "we ARE our bodies, until we are not." Starhawk points
out several problems with the concept of karma, in particular that "karma can
easily become a rationale for blaming the victim, for accusing the oppressed
of creating their own oppression." But while she comes down firmly on the side
of the poor and the troubled, Starhawk then seems to adopt karma without asking
whether it really fits. She is on much firmer ground when she discusses how
difficult challenges are inherent in our human lives and push us to grow in
strength, power, and wisdom, that randomness has a role, and that energy tends
to attract similar energy.
It is always a risk to codify what are essentially individual religious beliefs-especially
in Pagan religion, whose practitioners are often earnest anarchists. Starhawk's
thealogy could use tweaking in places. Nonetheless she has thought deeply about
these spiritual issues and given them a coherent framework. As a working set
of philosophy, beliefs, and practices, her writing is heartfelt and often beautiful.
Of course Starhawk's is not the only voice in The Pagan Book of Living and
Dying, and she doesn't corner the market on thealogy. Beverly Frederick
and Doug Orton's meditation views the dying process as one of moving toward
unity with the cosmic energy. Vibra Willow's labyrinth meditations also offer
new understandings of the transformations that await. There are guided journeys
to Avalon to learn the way and chat up one's ancestors, and a trip to Cerridwen's
cauldron.
But death is more than thealogy. The book's strength is its mix of mystical
precepts and practical know-how. Here is Macha's fascinating account of pagan
death vigils, while an article on home cremation is quiet and touching. The
many stories of death resonate: death from AIDS and the deaths of children.
Marta Benavides's story of the violence in El Salvador and the people's affirmation
of life is an especially poignant perspective. Choosing death has another set
of complex dilemmas and spiritual reflections. Here are compassionate prayers
and rituals for abortion, a perspective on the emotional costs of suicide, a
discussion of assisted suicide for the terminally ill, notes on when and how
to pull the plug.
After death comes grief for those who are left behind. Rose May Dance's story
of persistent grief reminds us that despite our beliefs in regeneration, mourning
is tough. Particularly comforting is Anna Korn's suggestions for living memorials.
And to prepare us for the practicalities of death, Deborah Ann Light scolds
and cajoles us into straightening out our own paperwork (note, however, that
a lawyer is NOT required for making a will-do-it-yourselfers should check out
Nolo Press books).
Especially appreciated are the songs scattered throughout, meant to be chanted
softly to dying ones or belted out through the sobs at a funeral. Ours is a
tradition that asks for deep emotional involvement, and music is a direct route.
Anne Hill was the book's invaluable music arranger.
The simple act of reading The Pagan Book of Living and Dying hit close
to the heart, stirring memories of my beloved dead, deeper awareness of my own
death-to-be, love for the aching sweetness of the living world. Death will come
again and again in my life-until it comes to me. Indeed, as I wrote this review,
my close friend Stephen died suddenly, no matter that he was wonderfully vigorous
and healthy, an earnest spiritual seeker. This is the book I turned to. This
is the book that also has provoked many questions, forcing me to consider and
clarify and wonder. Surely this, too, is its purpose.
