The most common regret at the end of life

Over the past weeks I have been facilitating a support group for the volunteers who work in the Maison de Tara Hospice in Geneva, and I listen with them to the different conversations brought up by being close to people at the end of life. Because of this,  I was interested to read about the most common regrets which people have as they are dying. Australian Bronnie Ware began recording people’s last thoughts and now has written them down in a book called The Top Five Regrets of the Dying,  published last August. In it she says that she noted common themes emerging in the discussions she had with those who were dying and she lists the top five of these.

The most common regret which she found was “I wish I’d had the courage to live a life true to myself, not the life others expected of me”. This is not a surprise for me. One of the most important questions we can ask is  “Whose life am I actually living?”, thus ensuring as we go along that we are deepening our own sense of purpose.  However, what we can find is that we are actually stuck in a series of adaptations to others which may have made sense once, but which have outlived their survival value. In Winnicott’s description of child development,  if the parent is not present to the right degree for the child – maybe due to anxieties,  stresses or challenging moments in their own life –  the infant can lose touch with his or her  own needs and take on  the needs  of the parent or tune in excessively to the environment. In other words, we form  a “false self,” which is shaped in response to the demands and expectations of others,  which become for our young psyche more urgent and demanding of attention than our own needs, our “true self.”

As we move into adult life we can still have these internalized demands of other people, and shape our life,  our work, or even the relationship we choose  in response to them. For example, if the dominant concern or worry of the parents’ life centred around security, financial or otherwise, it is possible that the person’s adult life is somewhat guarded, seeking an elusive guaranteed safety. Initially this false self personality may be successful, as it finds energy to build up a career and a lifestyle that fulfills the inner demands. However, these ultimately fail to satisfy because we have become caretakers of another person’s development and  needs rather than truly following our own path. It is for this reason that many people wake up with a sense of emptiness and  loss and are led to question what they are missing. Their lives and lifestyle are not supporting their inner life. They have not set aside the necessary space to listen to their own deepest self, and a modern lifestyle does not support this reflection, with its emphasis on speed and external achievement. Thus a person can arrive at the end of life realizing that  they have not  “honoured even a half of their dreams“, as Ms Ware recorded, or spent part of their time living another persons life. Their lives will remain uneasy, leading to an ongoing lack of satisfaction or to distractions in the way of over-activity, or addictions to drinking, television the internet or relationships. Engaging with the deeper questions – setting aside space and time to reflect on our own deepest needs – is central to  arriving at the end of a life without regrets, in order to establish a more courageous relationship first and foremost with ourselves.

To ask every day “What matters in the end” is to create the possibility of a differentiated choice, the potential to overthrow the tyranny of our history, so as to honor something that has been always there, waiting for our courage. If we limit our aspirations to good health or making money, then we might as well, in Jung’s words, “quietly shut up shop”. …If we make the effort to become conscious of our fragmented nature, we need not blindly act it out. We may thereby also be empowered to decide as grown ups, what , in the end, really matters to our soul

James Hollis, On this Journey We Call our Life

Early morning thoughts on travel

If a man travels faster than the speed of a camel he is in danger of losing his soul.    Arab proverb

I travelled home to Ireland at the weekend and, as always, noticed how the different experiences –  and the changes one sees in familiar places –  touch and impress themselves upon the mind. Even short journeys such as these can make us more reflective, conscious of how our life is always changing and moving – a reflection on identity really. This is partly brought on by the fact that our identity in the place where we live may be partly due to our work, familiar routines and feedback from people who live there, and all these things may fall away the minute we step on a plane and journey to a place where we do not have those roles to play. It helps us to see how conditioned aspects of our self  is, from this  place now which is our home to that place which was once our home and from this time to the last time.  And as the visit ended and I was squeezed into a seat on the plane after an early rising and rush to the airport with its impersonal rituals and rules,  feeling pushed and shoved at a speed I did not want to go at, I reflected how “old-fashioned” means of travel –  by boat, train or even on foot –  allowed for greater  processing of all the thoughts and stimuli that passes through the mind on a journey.  It is  this processing which allows all the experiences be integrated and understood.

It seems to me that something similar happens in our inner life. In these past days and weeks I have talked with people who are journeying in their lives, and who are finding that they are not able to keep all the parts of their development  together, and this makes them feel somewhat disoriented, or confused. The wise Arab parable above challenges us to reflect : the soul can only move slowly, at the pace of a camel. However, often, due to the pace of life today and its demands, lives move too fast for the inner self  to keep up, and one suddenly finds oneself in a landscape where one has lost ones bearings. Often the message is given that we must always be active, busy and that slowing down is a sign of laziness or lack of ambition. For some people this means that the gap between their inner pace and the activities of their outer lives, be it in work or at home,  becomes too great and the result is a sense of unravelling or even of something akin to depression. It could be that their job lost its connection to the reason why it was chosen in the first place, or that changes in relationships meant that their inner resources were not being replenished. The act of keeping busy, often by doing the necessary things of work and family life, means that they have moved away from what is real and fulfilling, and they feel lost.

What can we do at moments like this, for we all face them in greater or lesser way as we journey through life?  We can but hold open the space, to listen to what our inner life is saying, even though that may take time to clarify itself. In other words, we allow time for our true self find the voice it lost because things moved so fast.  Taking time, slowing down, doing activities that ground us, routine tasks that do not require too much energy. Thus slowly we allow a new path to emerge, and see that the feeling of being lost is a  necessary one,  if we are to find what truly gives us life. Above all, we trust and do not make impossible demands on ourselves. For we are in transition, and have arrived yet; the soul knows what it is doing and will catch up, even if it takes its time.

Notice when you are rushing

Most of the time we go through the day, through our activities, our work, our relationships, our conversations, and very rarely do we ground ourselves in an awareness of our bodies. We are lost in our thoughts, our feelings, our emotions, our stories, our plans. A very simple guide or check on this state of being lost is to pay attention to those times when you feel like you are rushing. Rushing does not have to do with speed. You can rush moving slowly, and you can rush moving quickly.

We are rushing when we feel as if we are toppling forward. Our minds run ahead of ourselves; they are out there where we want to get to, instead of being settled back in our bodies. The feeling of rushing is good feedback. Whenever we are not present, right then, in that situation, we should stop and take a few deep breaths. Settle into the body again. Feel yourself sitting. Feel the step of a walk. Be in your body.

Joseph Goldstein, Transforming the Mind, Healing the World

Remember, when stressed today…

 
Sometimes the most important thing
in a whole day
is the rest we take between two deep breaths.
 
Etty Hillesum
 

Estblishing patterns of rest

The extent to which we are divorced from the complementary rhythms of restfulness and creativity is the extent to which we are cut off from patterns of well-being within ourselves and in our relationships. If we fail to establish regular practices of stillness and rest, our creativity will be either exhausted or shallow. Our countenance, instead of reflecting a vitality of fresh creative energy that is sustained by the restorative depths of stillness, will be listless or frenetic. This is true collectively as it is individually,and applies as much to human creativity as it does to the earth’s fruitfulness. Creativity without rest, and productivity without renewal, leads to  exhaustion of our inner resources.

J. Philip Newell, The Book of Creation

Staying open on this day

Often the busyness of our lives can lead us to forget the inner vision or the real reason why we set out on our journey in the first place. We can lose our sense of creativity and joy as we constantly react to the shape which our days impose upon us. Staying open to this space –  to our vision for our lives, to a deeper place of meaning, to nourishing the inner places of joy –  is a challenge as we face deadlines and the demands for success. How do we keep in touch with our true inheritance today?

In that first hardly noticed
moment to which you wake,
coming back to this life
from the other more secret,
moveable and frighteningly
honest world where everything began,
there is a small opening
into the new day
which closes the moment
you begin your plans.

What you can plan is too small for you to live.

What you can live wholeheartedly
will make plans enough for the vitality
hidden in your sleep.

To be human is to become visible
while carrying what is hidden
as a gift to others.

To remember the other world in this world
is to live in your true inheritance.

You are not a troubled guest
on this earth,
you are not an accident amidst other accidents
you were invited from another and greater night
than the one from which
you have just emerged.

Now, looking through
the slanting light of the morning
window toward the mountain presence
of everything that can be,
what urgency calls you to your
one love?  What shape
waits in the seed
of you to grow and spread
its branches against a future sky?

Is it waiting in the fertile sea?
In the trees beyond the house?
In the life you can imagine
for yourself?
In the open and lovely
white page on the waiting desk?

David Whyte, What to remember when Waking