I like to think that I’ve gotten over my fear of death, but as soon as I’m on an airplane, that lovely idea goes right out the window.
I am sensitive to every little bump in the ride. I notice every minor change in the sounds of the engines without any idea what they mean. And above all else, I’m in an environment where I have absolutely no control over whether I live or die.
I often feel similarly when I’m a passenger in a car, but at least I have some ability to be an extra set of eyes for the driver. I can watch for hazards and help in some way. But I feel much more comfortable when I’m behind the wheel myself.
This brings up a lot of big questions for me:
Why am I afraid of dying?
Why does feeling like I’m in control make me less afraid?
How is this any different from the risks of a normal day?
Death is a certainty. We all know that. It’s the price we must pay in exchange for the blessing of life. And we have no idea when it will happen, but we walk around every day feeling as though death is distant, like it could never happen to us. Why? Because we’re in control. Then the moment we lose that control, the floodgates break and the fear comes rushing in to overwhelm us.
But what changed? Certainly not the circumstance. We’ve known that death awaits us all along. Only our perspective of the circumstance is different. For some reason, dying now is worse than dying someday.
But the reality is that now is the only time you ever can die. No amount of fear or control will ever change that.
So I am sitting there trying to keep calm, and I realize that all I want to do is hold my partner close and look into her eyes. To tell her I love her over and over again just in case these are our final moments. Which begs another question:
Am I only afraid because I don’t want to lose her? Or because I don’t want her to lose me?
There was a time in my life when I actually wanted to die.
Then there were times when I felt I had nothing to lose. That made me fearless.
And then came a time when I found purpose, and then love. The fear of death returned.
It’s amazing to see how vulnerability is a two-way street. We take off the armor, put down the shields, break down the walls around our hearts that we’ve put up against fear, and suddenly Love finds its way in. We’re opened up to the greatest connection and intimacy at the same time we open to the deepest sorrow and heartbreak.
And every last bit of it is beneficial to us. It is medicine. Some demand to label everything as “good” or “bad” but those terms have never existed beyond subjective judgement. The more we resist any of it, the more we choose to suffer. In our resistance, we build walls in a desperate attempt to keep out the pain, without realizing that we are keeping out the beauty, too.
In this, we realize that the armor we put on to protect ourselves is not just for the fear of death, but also the fear of life, and all the beautiful messiness it brings.
And when we accept it all; the painful and the blissful, we choose to heal instead.
Our heartbreak becomes wisdom. Our sorrow becomes compassion. Our grief becomes ever-deeper Love. Our lowest lows expand our capacity for the highest highs, and point our internal compass toward the balanced center. As we ride the pendulum to each extreme we see fuller depths of life, and learn to find the peace within it all. We experience all that it means to be human, shedding tears for both grief and joy.
I feel it’s important to note here that Death is not only present in our lives as the end of the body. Death also presents itself as the end of a relationship, the end of an experience, the end of ideas and stories and patterns. Archetypal Death is quite simply, the end that often brings grief, but always leaves room for new beginnings.
I once wore some heavy armor in vain attempt to protect myself from the pain. To maintain some sense of control, and trick myself into believing that I was safe from the suffering of death.
But now, I would rather feel it all, so when Death comes, I can welcome them like an old friend. I’ll invite them in with a smile on my face, knowing that I loved as deeply as I could, and kept that Love with me to my last breath, and whatever awaits beyond.
Photo for this post by Shannon Crandell