Death teaches us aliveness – part 1
How to be with death, decay and fear so that we may bloom towards life
If this essay sounds familiar it is because I originally spoke about this on Instagram stories a couple weeks ago. This topic feels like an important one to take a bit more deeply and to give a permanent home, so I brought it here to live on. I’m working on a part 2 that I’ve not yet shared publicly, so stay tuned for that in the next couple weeks!
Thank you for being here. If it resonates, give it a like, comment or restack. xo – holly
I’ve been thinking a lot lately about layers of death and decay.
Personal: complexes, beliefs, expectations, patterns, projections, narratives.
Collective: systems, structures, complexes, archetypes, norms.
Ancestral/ intergenerational: patterns, survival strategies, stores, traditions, trauma imprints.
And how these and more layers might be moving toward decay in order to make space for something new to grow.
Even though they’re necessary, seasons of death and decay can feel so wildly uncomfortable. And none os us are immune to that discomfort. I know I’ve been feeling it big time.
These layers, stacked on top of one another can feel like they’re pushing in on us, creating constriction. Like being wrapped in layers of winter clothes that aren’t big enough. One layer on top of another, squeezing in and making it feel as though we can’t breathe.
(If you’re not sure what I mean, next time you’re experiencing a moment of anxiousness or fear, have a look at what your diaphragm is doing)
In these moments of feeling suffocated by what is decaying within and around us, it’s so easy to forget the importance of the decay→death→life cycle. Familiar to get swept up in the fear that decay and death is all there will ever be. Fear of never again feeling alive, well, whole, in bloom.
The fear that things will never grow again is often where our protective strategies surface and hijack us from presence and the ability to stay connected to our inner adult Self; the Self that knows death is just a natural precursor for life. The Self that trusts when we can face what is with curiosity, softness, compassion and an energy that says, “welcome, death, welcome decay, welcome all parts of this experience,” that’s exactly the place at which we move from fear toward freedom and new life begins to grow again.
But the fear that death might be all we ever know is where we spiral, shut down, self-blame, numb, project onto others, fawn, react outside of integrity with our values, isolate, distract and do everything possible to avoid feeling the fear, grief, and whatever other feelings might be there as we turn and face reality head-on.
Now, this is not one more thing to make wrong about yourself. It’s just your humanity showing.
And… When we hold the somatic tension of that fear without numbing it, avoiding it or bypassing(overriding) it, when we witness it and showing up inside ourselves and welcome it as a teacher, that’s exactly the place fear begins to soften and we can remember:
All life comes from death. Things must die and compost in order for something new and more generative to grow in its place.
Instead of trying to avoid or manipulate the process of personal, collective and intergenerational decay, our work might actually be just to take really good care of ourselves inside of what feels like death. To create the conditions necessary for life to bloom again. Like a seed planted in the dark, we give ourselves ample nurturance, nourishment, solid and fertile soul, warmth, companions, patience, support and shelter.
So if you feel these layers of decay pushing in, and you sense that something inside of you feels deeply afraid for what these layers of death might mean for you, for our future… my invitation is to first just pause to notice and name that this is what is happening inside for you.
So much of the time we skip this pause and because our defense mechanisms move very quickly to help us avoid pain. The avoidance of pain and what might feel like death is deeply human! Reverently mammalian! Not a flaw, but wisdom from your animal body. But it is possible to grow the capacity to slow down with our automatic pain-avoidance strategies in order to really be with and digest said pain.
From here, you can then get really curious about what happens for you inside of this experience. Where did you go? What was your automatic reaction? What were the stories you were telling yourself? Are there places you’re projecting your experience onto others? Or places you’re moving from survival energy so that you don’t have to feel the fear, or sadness or anger or grief or terror that might be there? Where did your nervous system take you in an effort to keep you safe from that pain? Please try not to layer on any judgements here. We’re just mindfully self-studying our patterns as we relate to what feels like death.
And then we can ask ourselves two questions (see if you can feel for these answers rather than intellectualize your way through them).
The first question being: so what are the conditions necessary for life to grow from this place that feels like death and decay?
The metaphor of a plant works beautifully here; we can imagine a seed planted in darkness needing very specific conditions in order to grow… What would you need if you were that seed in the moment of darkness before breaching the soil and touching light again? What sort of conditions would support your continued growth and resilience? Get clear about what your resources are, and be deliberate about drawing them near.
The second question being: where might there already be life available here in the dark, and can I pour more attention there? Is there any sign that I’m already growing? That I’m already good? That things might actually actually going well?
The same way a seed reaches for the sun through the soil, we reach for life inside of what feels like death. A seed doesn’t cling, grasp or force. It just gently, in right-timing grows towards what it knows is good. When we pour our attention into what is already good and life-giving, more goodness and life can become.
adrienne maree brown says that what we pay attention to grows and in my experience this is true; the mental narratives we feed with our neurotic looping, self blame, and fear will only ever grow more neurotic looping, self blame and fear. Whereas when we remember our wholeness, aliveness, and innate goodness (even if just for what feels like a fleeting moment), and we consciously practice growing this sort of attention, we feed our sense of aliveness, wholeness and goodness.
This isn’t about bypassing pain, suffering or the harms of collective oppression. And it’s not about only ever wanting to feel good. It is to say that inside of and beyond the suffering there is still life. You might also call life by the name of spirit, god, mother nature, the universe, consciousness.
Whatever is decaying for you, something new is coming in its place. In order for something new to grow, things have to die in order to make room. Growth and change can often feel like death because things inside of us are actually dying so that new life can grow.
Death doesn’t inherently imply suffering; it’s actually our mammalian instinct to fear death that makes the process feel so painful. And like any hard feeling, we can witness our fear, notice it in the body, and stay with it long enough for it to pass through and dissolve. But be gentle with yourself as you learn to hold what feels like death and the fear the accompanies it. Resourcing is vital to the process of change– so that we can support our nervous system enough for it to recognize that we’re not actually dying, we are composting what is no longer needed.
Happy growing season🌱
My warmest always,
Holly
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