He also doesn't plan on stopping. In addition to doing speaking gigs and creating a mindfulcop.com site to get the word out, he's even taught his kids to meditate. Carson recommends anyone who is open to it-- especially those interfacing with the public-- should try an app like HeadSpace or take a mindfulness course just to see how it improves their life.
The following is my interpretation of a family member's journey to find peace with dying. I was close by with my sister and brother-in-law while they struggled to find a cure. I watched, listened, and gave support. The path to cancer remission is hard, and I honor those who fight it.
I started with a very basic definition of dead: something that's not moving or breathing. Then I explained how some things are never alive and others are alive for a while and then they die. And finally, I used Elmo's World type questions to help him sort out the ideas and the differences.
Along the road somewhere, deep into the night, I began to reflect on why it was so important for us to be there. Why were we making such an effort to see someone who would neither know we were there, nor have any chance of speaking to us? Was there any logic to it?
Death will definitely come. There's no avoiding that. Morbid curiosity will be sated. The scales will tilt to the point of falling over. I see no reason to place my thumb on them now.
The heart has many ways of calling us home, of bringing us into the poignancy of being alive, from moments of oceanic rapture to life-threatening illness. What I know to be true is that both are sacred, both are equal and both invite us into a palpable sense of what it means to be present, human and fully alive. Both are the call home.
I felt self-conscious for slowing everyone down, even though my dad and brother were nothing but encouraging as we climbed. But mostly, I missed my mom. I missed having her in the back with me, asking me questions, singing songs. I missed the lightness and easiness of it.
"Has anybody asked the patient?" Jessica Nutik Zitter raised her hand to pose that question some years ago, at a "Morbidity and Mortality" conference...
Grieving the loss of alcohol or the girl I was when I drank is just part of choosing to be sober. It's nothing in comparison to grieving my brother, which I think will forever be a part of life my. But no matter what it is that I am grieving, the process is the same and acceptance is the answer.
People say goodbye to beloved pets everyday so my experience is hardly unusual. Probably most clicking on this blog post can relate. But viewing such loss through a theological lens is not so common. A rather trivial incident turned my thoughts in this direction.
The "social model" hospice home, an uncommon prototype for hospice care, may have great promise for resolving some future end-of-life issues in the U....
There's been a big push in recent years to educate the public about Advance Healthcare Planning (AHP). The focus has been primarily on the forms ...
When someone says the word "bravery" out loud it sounds like it's from a book on noblemen or knights. I can almost hear the clank of sword on shield. Call it medieval if you want, but I believe in trying to be brave.
On Father's Day, if you are fortunate enough to have been raised by a great dad still here on earth, celebrate him with an extra dose of gratitude. If you've lost your dad, I know this day totally sucks.
I have been haunted by a deathbed promise I made 24 years ago. But now with the Aid in Dying movement growing, it's time to break my silence and lend a voice to help terminally ill people control their end of life.
I wish my father was alive. I lost him decades ago, when he was only about six years older than I am now. As Father's Day approaches later this month,...
Given the insights that Sheryl has already found and so generously shared, I have little doubt that, despite the utter depletion that her grief has caused, she will continue to regain her amazing strength over time in new and significant ways.
To manage our relationship to mortality and the overwhelming power of grief, we sanitize or sequester death and corpses with elaborate rituals and fierce taboos. But war explodes these boundaries and endangers the humanity of those we send to fight.
You might think that knowing what I know about death, God, Love and the Afterlife that I might not grieve. But I do because grieving comes from loving. You grieve whom love. Love and grief come together although they arrive at different times. You can't have one without the other.
Instead of thinking of it as her Papa leaving the earth, she urged her family to believe the idea that this wasn't his death, but rather the birthday of him becoming an angel.