When the darkness rolls away

Quote of the day:

Find ways to allow people to exprience you. Will Craig from Huw's Weblog

I love songs that have something in them about emerging out of the dark to light, from night to day. Here's a line by Kate Wolf. I close my eyes when I sing it to experience the feeling, meaning of the words as they penetrate my soul:

The finest hour that I have seen, is one that comes between the edge of night and the break of day. That's when the darkness rolls away.

Lately I have been listening to Shalom Chanoch as I drive to and from work. In one of his songs about a lonely man walking in the dark and rainy night, he sings about emerging from night into the morning. Each time I hear one line, I choke up with tears:

My love, have no fear. Don't you know it is the most dark just before the [rising of the] dawn? (freely translated from the Hebrew here by me)

As I opened the door to let Molly and Ada out on this dark and cold morning, I realized that next week at this time it will be one hour earlier. The clocks are falling back. Bringing me closer to the edge of dawn. There is something mysterious, magical, and mystical for me about the edge of night, break of day, twilight or just before the dawn. I think I feel the same way about spring and autumn. It's the transition, moving between, changing to, emerging from, that excites and touches something deep inside me.

I am not sure why I am moved by this. Perhaps there is something hopeful about these times. However, I tend to think it is more about the tension between changing, emerging and unknown with repetition and the predictable. The flow between darkness to light and back again. Last night I described to Sally how it felt to hold Mar-Mar in my arms whispering to her that everything was going to be all right as she gave her last gasp of life. It occurred to me that I was not afraid in the face of death. Not when I was present at my father's bedside 25 years ago, nor with Charlie in 2001. In fact, each time I experienced similar feelings as when I am in the presence of twilight, edge of dawn or at the transitions between summer and winter. Death feels to me just like another one of those emerging, changing, predictable and yet, unknown transitions.

I want to befriend, and get to know more intimately, observe, prod, pry, explore the nature, characteristics and feelings attached with death and dying. There is something wondrous, beautiful, mysterious, real, and oh so meaningful for me about grief. For example, lately I have been thinking a lot about working with Hospice.

Yes, I know it is autumn right now as I write this. Leaves are changing and falling, squirrels and chipmunks are running around storing and eating the acorns that clunk down from our huge old oak tree outside the window. Pumpkins are everywhere, days are shorter, and Halloween is in the air. Oooooooh.

It is not the season that's affecting me - that's a coincidence.

It's the evolving me inside me.

Comments

[Danny]

I can so see you working in Hospice. Not that I want to see you leave education, though...at least not yet!! All I know is that the dying would be lucky to have you around. I guess you could compare some aspects of that work to your current professional work--helping to shepherd changing souls to a new place.

We had a very good experience with my mother's Hospice workers six years ago but I've heard horror stories of religious people in hospice care who try to shove their beliefs down the throats of dying people and their families. I think your spiritual (or whatever you prefer to call it) but non-religious stance would be such an asset in this work.

[Tamar]

I can't imagine how disrespectful that is, Danny: To hold families hostage when they are in pain like that and pour all one's religious beliefs all over them. Horrific!

Yes, am still hanging in there in education. I think it's my soul that's moving on ...

[huwlev]

Dear Tamarika, You certainly don't mess around. You go straight to the essence. What could be more important than educating teachers of the young and easing the way of the dying; welcoming us in with a smile when the darkness rolls away and helping us on our way when .... well, who can know whether dying is falling into darkness or stepping into light? Love, Huw.

[Gemma Grace]

Tamar~ Here's a link you might be interested in...
http://www.music-thanatologyassociation.com/NewFiles/What%20is%20music%20Thanatology.html :)

[Tamar]

Thanks Huw. And I wonder if dying is just simply stepping into nothingness?

Gemma - thanks!

[karen]

Hi, Tamar. I've come from amba's and wanted to ask if you'd ever read any of Elisabeth Kubler-Ross' books? I believe she was the lady who started Hospice (but, i also think Jim Morrision was schizophrenic, so i may be wrong!!)

i read her autobiography, I wish I could remember the title (something about butterflies?) and was truly tsken by this lady. She also wrote 8On Death and Dying* and probably many more books- I'll have to Google her.

I hope you follow your instincts- or is it the whisper of God's voice you hear in your ear? It's saying,"Pursue me!!" Go for it.

[Tamar]

Hello there Karen. Thanks for stopping by. Yes, I have read quite a bit of Kubler-Ross. Changed my perception of life by reading her, actually.

Nope - no god whispers in my ear but I have been feeling like this type of work will be very worthwhile for me. Will probably look into it. Thanks for the encouragement!

[ainelivia]

That magical time between the dark and the light, I do love that time. I recall sitting on a mountain once, well an Irish mountain, and I was only half-way up waiting for the dawn. And when it finally arrived I felt as if the whole world had woken up at my feet.

This quote is a preface by Ingmar Bergman to his story "The Hour of the Wolf". "The hour of the wolf is the hour between night and dawn. It is the hour when most people die, when sleep is deepest, when nightmares are most real. It is the hour when the sleepless are haunted by their greatest dread, when ghosts and demons are most powerful. The hour of the wolf is also the hour when most children are born".
From Four Stories by Ingmar Bergman.

[Tamar]

Ainelivia, this comment is beautiful. I especially like the quote by Ingmar Bergman (one of my favorite directors). Thank you.