As I’ve told you before, this year is turning out to be one of major soul-searching on my part, and major changes in the way I approach life.
I’ve shared with you my attempts to overcome my fear of horses, my journey into the worlds of technology, my Silver Sneakers exercise program.
Another bugaboo has reared its head. I signed up for a life-coaching phone session with Jeanette Meierhofer, someone I met years ago at the Shakespeare Tavern. I made the appointment on something of a whim, but the results of it surprised me.
What I hadn’t consciously recognized is that I’m afraid of dying. I never, ever thought of myself as dreading the final reaper. I’ve shared with you how peaceful my father’s death was, and how I wanted to choose a death like his, for he showed me that dying could be a conscious, loving choice.
I’ve always scorned Dylan Thomas and his insistence that one “not go gentle into that good night--rage, rage against the dying of the light.”
But, that was when I was in my thirties, forties, fifties. Now that I’m halfway through my sixties, I’m beginning to realize that I might not have as long ahead of me as I thought I’d have.
And I don’t wanna go. I want to rage against it.
There are still too many books to be read, too many books to be written, too many places to visit. There are grandchildren to watch grow up, friends to laugh with, songs to sing. Thank goodness I talked with Jeanette about my fears. When we started, she asked me where, on a scale of 1 to 10, my fears lay. I felt like a basket case. My fear was up around a 7 at least. She listened compassionately, asked intelligent questions, and left me with a couple of assignments (should I choose to do them). By the time the appointment was over, my fear level had dropped to a 5. That felt like a big change to me.
And then I watched the movie The Children of Chabannes, a documentary about people who were rescued as children from concentration camps and taken to a school at Chateau Chabannes, in France. These people, the ones still living, were in their seventies, eighties, and nineties, and were still going strong, still living productive lives. What wonderful role models. “Jeanette was right,” I told myself. “I don’t have to shrivel up. I can keep right on living a productive life.”
Once I slept on it, I was down to a 3 or 4.
So now, all I have to do … is … do it!
BEEattitude for Day #497:
Blessed are those who serve as role models and show the rest of the bees how to live, for they shall leave the hive a better place.