“Just as when we come into the world, when we die we’re afraid of the unknown. But the fear is something within us that has nothing to do with reality. Dying is like being born: just a change.”
Kahlil Gibran
Entries
Whether we’re standing at the threshold of welcoming a new life or saying good bye to a loved one, we’re facing the unknown.
Birth is a transition from a world we don’t have memories of. We come into this world that is completely unknown to us. We spend nine months in our mother’s womb where we’re familiar with our surroundings, we touch, we hear, we feel, we’re comfortable, but there’s nothing we know about the world that we enter into, and as far as we’re concerned that world doesn’t even exist.
I often hear clients say after sound baths that they feel so connected to something unconditionally loving and familiar, that the sound waves remind them of home and fill them with a sense of belonging. I believe sound can offer a safe connection between the worlds. You and your partner can connect with your baby in this way before they’re born. I like to imagine that the sounds they hear in utero can remind them of the place they came from and help them transition into this place, making labour and birth a safer, calmer and more peaceful experience.
Exits
We all experience loss. It’s a part of life. Yet somehow we don’t know how to survive loss. We’re never ready to lose someone. Just a bit more than hundred years ago it was natural for us to wash, dress, mourn, bury our dead, these days we hardly even see the body of the departed, it’s taken away by a funeral home, the details taken care of by professionals who didn’t even know the person who was most important to us. People gather at the funeral, we might feel supported and held for a few days, then everyone leaves and we’re expected to be done, be normal again, possibly causing very little inconvenience for people around us. Most of us want to be done with it, move on, shut the door, escape, numb and forget. There are a few that want to dive right into it because we feel that only by experiencing the deepest sorrow, the darkest night of the soul can we start climbing up again, come up for air and breathe and live and love feeling deeper, richer, embracing life with gratitude. I am one of these people.
I lost my dad to cancer when I was 13. My mother died ten years later. I’ve lost a number of pregnancies and had what it then felt like endless number of unsuccessful IVFs. My partner died of a sudden heart attack in 2016. I was never taught how to deal with grief, I was not helped by professionals, and the remaining family around me was busy with their own process.
What helped I realize was music. I sang. I sang in choirs as a child, I sang as a professional performer, and as I was using my breath and voice something gradually started to move and shift. I was gifted with so much beauty and love. I never expected the journey to be so enriching and beautiful. Today I support people in transitioning from this world to the next with sound baths in palliative care and assisted death, and hold space for those who grieve, helping them on their journey of healing.