Here’s something I’m not sure I’ve shared on this podcast before: I am a third generation Eagle Scout. My father, my grandfather, my two brothers and I were all not only Boy Scouts, but made it to the top rank. In fact, my Dad was the Scoutmaster of our troop–Troop 5 in Ann Arbor, Michigan. Growing up, Scouting was a big part of our family.
One of the times I think most of my Dad these days is when we’re putting up our family’s sukkah. After we get everything assembled on our deck, I take some pieces of rope and tie the poles to the railing, which helps stabilize the sukkah in the wind. As I attach the rope to the pole with a clove line hitch and then wrap it around the railing and tie a two half-hitches (yes, that’s actually what it’s called), I’m kind of transported back to my childhood and learning to tie those knots with my Dad. It’s literally a tie that binds.
This is the seventh in our miniseries on family. Last week we discussed how we can bring more mindful awareness to the relationships between parents and children as everyone gets older. We talked about how so much of that transition is about mindfully holding on and letting go. Today, I want to move even further along the family lifespan and focus on letting go even more–maybe the ultimate letting go, in the process of aging and, eventually, dying.
I started with this image of tying knots because in my experience it’s evoked by a phrase we recite as part of our memorial prayers. It also appears on many Jewish headstones: tehei nishmato tzarur bitzror hachayim, May this person’s soul be bound up—like a knot—in the bonds of life.
What does that actually mean? One answer is that we’re praying that the soul of someone who has died is living along with many other souls in the world to come. But based on my own experiences of loss and remembrance, I would suggest it might also be a prayer that their memory, and even a sense of their presence, remains alive in we who are still living in this world.
Like a knot, that presence—or, more precisely, the intertwining of our own presence with those who have departed—can be tight or loose or something in between. It can get stronger or weaker. It can hold on firmly or it can allow some give. So the metaphor really makes sense.
But the image of the knot—and all the emotions that surround it—doesn’t just apply when someone has passed away. It also colors so much of our lives and relationships. Because deep down we all know that the mortality rate for human beings is 100%. That can provoke a lot of emotions, including fear and anxiety.
Yet here’s the thing: If we can approach aging in a mindful way, we can actually experience more openness, more ease, more loving and generosity. And that goes not just for elders approaching their final chapters, but for their families and loved ones. It’s kind of ironic: By loosening the knots, we strengthen the ties. That, I think, is what many of us hope for, and it’s one of the reasons to practice mindfulness: it helps us be aware of how we’re tightening or loosening our knots.
Here’s a short practice that can help.
Take a few good deep breaths. Allow your body to arrive. Allow your mind to settle.
With each exhalation, see if you can bring a little more relaxation to the body. If you’re feeling some tightness in your body, try to bring a little softness there.
And now, if it’s comfortable for you, I want to invite you to very gently hold a truth you already know: Everyone you know is mortal, including you.
What do you notice in your body as I say that? What emotional tones can you sense? Does it lead to a tightening? A loosening? Something else?
There’s no right answer to this question. I just want to invite you, here in the safety of this container, to touch in with this ultimate truth. Because it’s a truth we so often try to evade, and we can tie ourselves and our relationships in knots when we do.
And now, with this in the background, I want to invite you to imagine what it might be like to remember a loved one who is growing older—or to be remembered by others yourself.
Again, what do you notice? Tightening and holding on? Loosening and letting go? Something else? Just notice what arises.
Sometimes the simple act of noticing is enough to bring some softness where things have felt hard. See if that might be true for you now.
My hope is that this brief practice can bring a little more gentleness to the fear that can surround aging and dying. And if we can bring that gentleness, then the bonds that hold us together can, amazingly, become stronger and more enduring.
Blessings for the journey. Know that I’m on it with you.