Since we can be lazy, and tend not to bother, I have decided to include herein the death meditation that I mentioned in last week’s blog – https://wendykarasin.com/.

That moment was a reset for me. I had been leveled on a track of loss and darkness. Without available energy, and with parts of me wanting to remain where I was as a way to honor and remember my parents, I was stuck in my predicament.

This meditation, along with the passing of time, pulled me into a level of life where new air filled my lungs.

I could appreciate what felt good, as it sat side by side, with my pain and sorrow. My body, squarely centered on sitz bones and a purple mat, became a living vessel that could hold the entirety of me.

From the Epilogue of my memoir – The Moon To Play With, A Daughter’s Journey:

‘Recently, I attended a class in a newly built yoga studio with antigravity U-shaped swings that hung from the ceiling. The instructor, who was also the owner, was in her late twenties, loud as a Chinese gong, and carried a vente Starbucks caffeinated coffee to class. I wasn’t sure about this woman – young, loud, coffee to yoga – but she was a respectable teacher who provided substantive discussion and postures. 

The best class was the one I took in March of 2014, almost four years to the day after my mother’s death. The class progressed in its usual way until shavasana, which was, literally, a killer. Shavasana is the time in a yogic practice when students rest, take in what they’ve accomplished, lie on their yoga mats, and meditate. The shavasana she took us through was an improvised rendition of the Buddhist Death Meditation. 

Death meditations are supreme meditations, according to Buddha, and I now understand why. Ostensibly, a death meditation is performed to fear death less and appreciate life more. Tears rolled down my cheeks as I lay quietly, and contemplated my end. Vanessa took us on a journey as we moved further and further from the bodies we knew, imaging skin, tendon, and muscle that hung loosely from our bones. Vitality was siphoned as we slipped into a dull, listless, nothingness. Our breath slowed, our organs quieted, and our consciousness faded. The premise worked. As we gradually returned to inhabit our bodies, the vigorous rush of energy that whooshed in when we owned it, were there with it, remained present, was mammoth. 

One was reminded in those ten minutes that life ends, so play your living card robustly and extensively. Set your boundaries and rules. Stay in touch with the people you love. Decide what living life, not simply existing, means. Remember and keep alive those who have left us, and make the mark you choose to leave on the world daily, in small ways, because the timing of our deaths is unknown.’

Imagine the power and pride in becoming the person you want to be.

Perspective.