Throughout my journey of trying to forge a path of healing, there is a theme that I have recognized again and again. It has been discussed by many authors and spiritual teachers in varying ways and also shows up in our religious texts. The theme is that we need to “Die in order to live.”
We see this in The Bible with the resurrection of Jesus Christ. We see this in the story of the Phoenix rising from the ashes. Dr. Wayne Dyre described a story where a bird played dead in its cage, so that the owner would open it to dispose of the dead body and only when that happened, could the bird fly free.
Transformation was certainly part of the path I was seeking when I made the decision to retire from my corporate job just one year ago. I am not sure I exactly embody the Phoenix, rising from the ashes or any of these other metaphors, but I had a thought yesterday that brought me a little closer to understanding what I think this way of living (“Die in order to live.”) actually means.
Three years ago while vacationing in Lake Tahoe, I had the luxurious good fortune of swimming in an outdoor hot tub (a large pool that was essentially a spa) all by myself. The air was chilled and crisp, the kind you don’t want to be in after being in a pool because it would be freezing. But it is refreshing when the pool/spa water is nearly 100 degrees.
I was basking in the sunlight, feeling gratitude overwhelm that here I was on a weekday (this was pre-retirement) sitting in the sun, at complete peace while moving at my own pace from one part of that oversized hot tub, to the next. “Doesn’t get much better than this…” I thought as I contemplated what to do next.
I made a decision to exit the water and in doing so reached for my fluffy white towel on the side of the pool. When I did that, my AirPods which were also white and had blended perfectly where I placed them a few minutes earlier, went flying into the spa. I quickly got out and turned off the water jets and jumped back in to try and find them.
Once the water was still, I spotted them on the bottom of the pool (also a great metaphor to save for another chat.) It had taken a few minutes to find them so they were submerged for a while. I placed them out in the sun, but didn’t have high hopes of them working again. I started thinking about mail ordering another set so I wouldn’t lose my music access while traveling.
Fast forward three years, to yesterday’s metaphorical thought on “dying” in order to “live.” As I removed my same fully functioning AirPods from my ears, returning them to the charger after a long walk outside, I had a surprising appreciation for this particular set of AirPods. Not only had they lasted through my Tahoe trip, but they still worked all this time later. I felt this deep sense of gratitude and almost “victorious” amazement as I contemplated the memory of finding them on the bottom of the pool.
And this brings us, albeit circuitously to my version of the “Die in order to Live” metaphor:
Since my AirPods essentially died in Tahoe, I had little to no expectation that they would continue to function. Walk after walk, week after week, month after month, they have continued to work. Each time I charge them I think “Wow, thank you that you are still here! I can’t believe you still work, it’s a total bonus!” It’s as if I am seeing them, using them and enjoying them for the first time, every time, I use them.
And cultivating this type of appreciation, happens also to be the goal of most mindfulness practices. For example, Buddhism uses phrases like “first face” to describe the simple state of our mind when we are in amazement and wonder, rather than lost in racing narratives applying labels, judgments and opinions like we mostly do when we are not practicing some form of mindfulness. (Find blog post on “First Face” by clicking here.)
Since I thought the AirPods were dead, I dropped my expectations of them. I was grateful for each and every time I went to use them and they worked! And the little orange light let me know they were charging! And the little green light let me know that they again, were ready to work and provide the much needed audio input that I wanted for whatever I was doing that day.
I started thinking about my own life and death. (Click here for another relevant blog post on this theme, called ‘Remember Death’.) I started thinking, what if I were those AirPods and I essentially had the freedom to surrender at any point? Since they were waterlogged and I figured they would not work, there is a fresh noticing each time they actually function. What if I approached even one moment of my life that way? How would the “Today is a non-repeatable gift that may be my last” approach change my perspective on things?
The short answer is that I am trying to find out. I truly only began to understand the meaning of this “die to live” thing when I could apply it to something completely neutral like a pair of AirPods. They were unattached to memories, labels and judgments. Little did I know that when I reached for that white fluffy towel on the side of the hot tub, I was actually planting the seeds for some deep, significant discovery and understanding three years later.
Kinda makes me wonder what I will plant today.