"I study death"

There was a time in my life when I was met with my own death and I pushed him away. Now he is met with his own death and he is drawing me closer. - CG, 2017

I had a botany professor introduce himself like this: "I study death." There was no "hi class," or "welcome to class," he went straight for the jugular. I found him to be so intriguing and I wanted to know more. As it turns out, he studied plant senescence, which can be understood as programmed cell death. When I think about death now, he comes to mind almost immediately. His fascination with death, albeit plant death, was unforgettable.

Death and dying is something we (humans) don't often like to talk about. Such topics could be considered morbid and forbidden, something that should be avoided or shoved deeply into our unconscious. For some people, however, death, or the thought of it, can bring about sexual fantasies and arousal. For example, autassassinophilia is a paraphilia in which a person becomes sexually aroused when faced with the risk of being killed. The wide range of experiences and ideas about death are much too large for one blog post, but I would like to introduce the idea of death just a bit.

A few years ago, I was deeply immersed in the work of Irvin Yalom. One of his books, Staring at the Sun: Overcoming the terror of death, explores how confronting our fear of death and our own mortality can help us live more fulfilling lives. His personal journey as well as his patients' journeys through their death anxiety were illuminated through one theme that really stood out to me: the importance of interpersonal connectedness.

My first exposure to discussions about death was in an undergraduate independent study class. My university provided many opportunities for us to create our own courses, so I created a course on the Satipaṭṭhāna Sutta, which is a discourse in the Pali Cannon. This class took me on a personal journey through how I experience my own body and it illuminated the obvious: I, too, will die. Incorporating buddhist philosophy into my life has been life altering; initially I thought of the idea of impermanence as terrifying and de-centering. You mean to tell me that nothing is permanent? If nothing is permanent, then what is the point? For many, this question is easily answered: Heaven. For me, however, that answer just was sufficient. I started to think about what would happen to all the living beings on earth years from now; what will happen to the animals, trees, and all the human bodies buried into the ground. Life needed to exist - I just could not see it any other way.

A few years after I finished this class, my professor developed an aggressive form of cancer and passed away. My last memory of him was of us doing a meditation together at a local coffee shop; I remember his voice, his smile, his compassion. Prior to his passing, I was in denial of my own death; I could not cry when someone close to me would die. This amazing human being changed me in so many ways, but perhaps the most memorable was that his death was the first over which I cried. By crying, I was acknowledging that not only was his life impermanent, mine was too. He would be gone forever, but I too, will be gone forever. His compassion, generosity, warmth, and connection to those he loved, including me, allowed me to grieve his death more fully so I could let go, not only to him, but to my anxiety that I will one day follow in his footsteps.

I'm not sure how much of my patients' anxiety is brought about by fears of death. I do plan on writing about this again. However, I will say that for me, the leaning in to the idea of impermanence has been a significant paradigm shift in how I think about life and death. I would never tell my patients that they should think of impermanence this way, though I think about it all the time outside of the therapy room. I am also not afraid of talking about death and dying with my patients, and I have also found that many of my patients don't mind talking about it either; we may just need to give them permission.

- cg