That title probably emits less brightness, more infinite darkness. Stay with me!
I heard scientist and scholar Pelin Kesebir speak on Seeing and Loving Life for What It Is. Pelin studies the psychology of happiness, and her Phd research focused on death. In her lecture, she shared that the biggest obstacle to happiness is our attempt to control that which is beyond our control, plus our resistance to reality vs. how we wish things to be.
Ultimately, Pelin asserted that on a fundamental level our denial of reality stems from our fear and denial of the inevitability of death; causing us misery. If we find some acceptance of this 100% certain fact of life–death– instead of resistance and misery, we might fill our moments with gratitude and meaning.
You could feel the discomfort in the room. American culture is death-denying and anti-aging. It strikes me how literally the commonly marketed phrase “anti-aging” describes our American mortality values; not only on a cosmetic level, but on a psychological level. Anti-aging is inherently anti-reality. No wonder everyone needs anti-depressants!
I find Pelin’s work validating and comforting, not only because I have a dark little heart, but also because it normalizes our suffering. Sometimes I experience positive or “happiness” psychology at odds with the reality of human suffering. Pelin’s presentation showed me the connection; that we can experience contentment and happiness more easily when we stop fighting the inevitability of discomfort, suffering, and death.
Knowing our days are numbered can imbue our moments with brightness and meaning. Knowing the weather is changing helps us appreciate that rare 75 degree sunny day or gives us an excuse to hunker down on a rainy day. Recovering from an illness often gives us a new appreciation for our health. Acknowledging our suffering as a natural part of living can help us move through misery more easily/quickly–without beating ourselves up for lacking a positive outlook 24/7.
When Pelin says goodbye to her loved ones (especially her family members who live in other countries) she often considers the fact that she might never see them again. It makes her even more present in the moment. While that might sound too heavy or morose for the American psyche, consider the fact that friendships and relationships are always changing. You might not be saying goodbye forever because the person could die, but because dynamics between people constantly shift. Maybe you want to savor a rare night of total hilarity with your siblings a little longer, or revel in the death of a totally sucky date with your partner. Impermanence can be positive!
This acceptance of death in no way means giving up on life or that grief and suffering have no place– of course they do, and especially in the case of tragic death or catastrophe. While I don’t fear my own death, I hold a ton of fear over losing loved ones. I did my graduate work with bereaved families who endured the untimely loss of a child or spouse, and watching them recreate a life worth living– eventually holding hope for others walking a similar path–helped brighten my views on loss and resilience. Celebrating Thanksgiving at Kajsiab House last year, seated amidst survivors of war and surrounded by joy song and story, dazzled me with the brightness that can shine even after loss and death beyond our worst imagination.
Are you suuuper peeoohh’d right now that I promised brightness and gave you death? This is good practice. Life brings us endings all the time, despite our preference. Planning for them can be a luxury, a gift, and can shape your experience in many positive ways (read Necessary Endings by Dr. Henry Cloud). I contemplated, studied and sat with different ending scenarios for two years as I wrangled with the culmination of LTYM. My career coach had to remind me that everything dies eventually. Planning a “good death” for the project that both celebrated its grand finale and honored the integrity of the project ultimately left me with peace in that decision and brightness in its wake.
Whether we’re changing jobs, watching our kids grown up and leave the house, managing a health or personal crisis, or caring for ill or aging loved ones– a little more acceptance and curiosity over our place and limits of our power in the natural world, and a little less clammy clenched hands control-seeking may in fact help brighten our precious numbered days.
Thank you, Pelin!
This is so good.
I spend time here and there being annoyed that so many people today seem to think that being happy 100% of the time is the norm: it isn’t. Pain and suffering is everywhere and one never knows when it’ll hit home. It’s so smart to appreciate the little things and live in the moment as much as possible. So often my happiest memories carry me through the bad times. Love this post! Thank you!
I remember reading a book about Buddhism and it saying that life is suffering. I thought that was such a pessimistic view of things and it annoyed me so much that I quit reading. Years later, however, I get it. Happiness is not constant. It can’t be. In embracing that fact, we can appreciate it more when we have it. I’m struggling mightily with my own mortality even though I know it’s inevitable. I’m a work in progress.
I love that you use memories to carry you instead of grieving them. Thanks, Melisa.
Yup, a lot of people have that reaction and I could see it around me in the room–especially a younger guy. I’m a work in progress, too, Vikki. Pretty sure the Dalai Lama would describe himself that way. I read a quote from him somewhere–when asked what level of enlightenment he’s reached (there are many, they are numbered). He said he was on the ground looking up at the very first one. I loved that answer.
I didn’t know that about your grad work. Very cool.
The hospice group was key to my recovery after my loss last year. Integrating the reality of a loss into our lives as we move forward definitely makes them richer, I think. I may be sadder than I was, but I’m better. More in touch with what matters to me. There is absolutely nothing to control about grief and I think that’s why it’s maybe the most transformative force.
We do such a crap job here with aging and death and I think talking about it this way is so important.
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