The Beauty of Darkness

We are counting down to the longest night of the year, the shortest day, the time when our ancestors feared the light might disappear altogether as daily the sky darkened earlier and earlier. Although in our modern times, this is one of our most frenetic seasons filled with holiday parties, bright lights, frenzied shopping and crazy drivers (umm, sorry), in the ancient days this was a time of stillness, of gathering quietly together, of building a fire as big as we dared to ward off the darkness and fight comfort in the warmth and light reflected off the faces of our community as we told stories of surviving the darkness in years past.

One thing that remains the same is that we humans tend to want to ward off the darkness. Then it was with a fire, now it is with all those parties and shopping expeditions I just mentioned. And we do this not only in the long nights of winter, but throughout the year. We have night lights, and bright inside lights– some even scheduled to automatically turn on at dusk, even if we’re not home; we have a multitude of blue and green and red lights blinking on all of our electronics, we ward off insomnia by watching the Late Show on television. We have flashlights and candles at the ready, all to ward off the darkness that we have been wired to fear.

Danger, we believe, lurks there, in the darkness, where there is just enough ambient light for us to see shadows menacingly crouched, ready to pounce.

And we have learned to do the same in our own, interior world. We fear the darkness, the shadows of our lives, we don’t want to be still and sit in the silent night of our fears, and terrors, our shame and regrets, our ugliness that is as much a part of our human birthright as is our opposable thumbs and our ability to draw meaning from life. We would do almost anything to not have to spend time in the darkness of our souls.

But the shadows in our world, those moments we’re not proud of, those memories we fear because they bring a grief so overwhelming it might consume us, might eclipse forever the light of our days; those dark thoughts of despair we’ve had, those times when we failed ourselves, all of those are equally a part of who we are as the medal we’ve won, the promotions we’ve received, the love we have shared. And it is only when we can learn to love the beauty of the darkness that we can be fully alive and centered in our light.

This Sunday at All Souls, as we sit on the precipice of darkness, with the longest night of the year beckoning, the choir will be performing our winter cantata called "The Beauty of Darkness." In it, we will explore through song and word, how we can find the beauty, the gifts, the lessons that await us in our darkness, how we can discover the darkness is nothing to be feared by rather to be embraced. I hope you will join us for this special service. And also, don’t forget the Solstice Party which will be this Saturday, from 6-10 at All Souls where we will celebrate with food and drink, and music and rituals, the returning again of the Sun.

Happy Holidays

I am imperfect. And I am enough

Last week I went to a class on Whole-hearted Living and Loving. It was based on the book, "The Gift of Imperfection" by Brene’ Brown. Many of you are familiar with her ground-breaking work on the impact of shame in our lives. The book covers many ways to bring healing into our lives, to break the hold shame has over each us, in differing ways.

One of the things we talked about in class was how we are enough. How we are flawed, and frail, and that’s okay. The facilitator talked about the stories we tell ourselves, how we think if only we can..... we will be worthy. She invited the class to share some of their stories aloud. Some mentioned getting a better job, or losing 10 pounds, or finding the perfect partner. If only that would happen then they would feel worthy.

Of course they’re worthy now; we all are. But the lies we tell ourselves, that were instilled in us so early that they are almost our native tongue, say otherwise. We can be so quick to find flaws within us, to feel unworthy in our lives. I was speaking to a friend the other day who is struggling financially and how she felt so unequal to the task of giving the right amount of the right quality of Christmas presents to her family and friends. If only she could afford better presents, then she would be worthy. Another friend mentioned how she feels invisible with her family– as if she isn’t good enough for them. If only they would be proud of her, then she would be worthy. For me, I feel unworthy when it seems as if my best isn’t good enough– in any situation, as a friend, a parent, a minister, a sibling. If only I could be enough for those in my life, then I would be worthy.

Often the holidays can heighten these feelings of unworthiness, the bright lights and cheerful holiday music seeming to highlight even more our shortcomings, our "unworthiness." I invite you to think of those things that make you feel unworthy– that if only you had more of, or less of then you’d finally be worthy. Now imagine saying that same qualification about your best friend, your child, your parent, your partner. Probably you’d never say of your child, for example, "if he only lost 10 pounds, then he’d be worthy!" or of your best friend, "if she only got a better job, then she’d be worthy." It sounds just as ridiculous to say those things about yourself, when you think of it, doesn’t it?

As we enter the thick of the holiday seasons, mid-way through Hanukkah and rocketing towards Solstice, Christmas, and Kwanza, and the end of the year, I encourage you to be gentle with yourself, to consider trading in those old, tired, false beliefs about yourself for something shiny with joy and possibility: the truth that yes, you are imperfect. And you are enough. Write it on your hand if it helps. I did. Happy Holidays.

The smallest act of kindness is worth more than the grandest intention. – Oscar Wilde

Last Sunday I preached on the intersections of hope and gratitude, how those two always combine to create a generous life. I ended the sermon by handing out DIY Advent calendars. This consisted of a blank December calendar page and a list of Random Acts of Kindness with the suggestion to put one in each day of December. I said you could tailor it to your beliefs or schedule. If you wanted it to be like a traditional Advent calendar, it would end on Christmas Eve, or you could end it on December 21^st, in celebration of the Solstice, or do just the eight days of Hanukkah, beginning on December 16^th, or the week of Kwanza beginning on December 26, or the whole month of December! Why not??

I got this idea from a face book friend, who in turn scooped it from the website http://www.coffeecupsandcrayons.com/. Here’s the link if you missed the service. On this website, there are actions listed in each date, so you can just use that or print your own blank December calendar and fill in what you uniquely want to do (in good ole UU fashion!) The main thing is to just do something that fosters kindness and gratitude and hope in this season.

There has been a lot of troubling news coming across the airwaves in recent weeks and it can be easy to feel cynical or downright despairing regarding the strange species of humanity. This Advent Calendar of Kindness is a way to dispel the negativity and instead seek to instill beauty and wonder. In this season of Joy to the world, why should we not be the Joy that advent awaits? Why should we not be the holy one come to bring wholeness to our world? Why should we not be the bright star in the sky that leads those who seek to miracles of justice and hope and love?

I filled out my calendar with my RAKs (Random Acts of Kindness) on Sunday night. I confess, I used some more than once. I liked the thought of leaving a happy note or kindness stone for someone to find and decided I would do that for more than one person. I haven’t candy-caned a parking lot yet, but it’s on my list!

What I like about this practice is the intentionality of these random acts of kindness. On Monday, my day off, I normally like to lie low and not leave the house, but I realized I had put offer my place to someone in line for that day, so got dressed, went to the store to buy some non-essential items, all so I could say to the person in line behind, "you go ahead of me." The smile on that man’s face was priceless, particularly in this season of shopping madness where people come to fisticuffs over the last blue sweater on sale.

Today, I am donating books I no longer need to our new outdoor mini lending library. I have chosen only a couple, as per the instructions of the mini library team, but am setting aside others to donate as these books disappear.

What about you? If you were in church on Sunday and took home the DIY Advent calendar, what have you and your family done? How has the experience been? If you didn’t get a chance, here’s the link again, to the pre-made calendar, or you can just use a blank December calendar page and fill in the blanks with these suggestions culled from the website:
RAK Ideas

1. Give up your spot in line.
2. Donate money to an organization you participate in.
3. Pay for someone else’s coffee.
4. Send cards to service men and women.
5. Tell jokes to make someone smile.
6. Donate food to your food bank.
7. Donate pet supplies to the shelter.
8. Help someone do a chore or other job.
9. Do yard work or shovel for a neighbor.
10. Donate books you no longer need.
11. Pick up litter.
12. Donate to a charity
13. Put packaged bag of microwave popcorn with a RAK card on redbox DVD kiosk
14. Donate toys to a children’s hospital.
15. Donate a pair of new pajamas for kids in a shelter.
16. Make get well cards for someone who needs them.
17. Bring coffee to your teachers.
18. Make holiday decorations for others.
19. Make ornaments for your neighbors.
20. Donate new toys to Toys for Tots.
21. Feed the birds.
22. Candy cane bomb a parking lot.
23. Call a relative who lives far away
24. Make a thank you card for your librarian
25. Give a compliment to a friend
26. Tape change to a vending machine
27. Smile at everyone you see today
28. Give your outgrown toys to a charity
29. Take cookies to the fire station
30. Bake pies to take to friends as a surprise
31. Leave a happy note or kindness stone for someone to find
32. Give someone a hug coupon


Let’s make a conscious effort to do random acts of kindness in these holiday times so that we might indeed bring joy to the world!

Hunger Games in America

This past week I’ve been watching the first two Hunger Games movies in preparation for the third that will be in theaters soon. The story is set in the future and it follows the lives of Katniss and Peeta, 16 year olds who are "tributes" in the annual Hunger Games. These games have been going on for 74 years (in the first movie)in the country of Panem–which appears to be a futuristic reconstituting of the United States and Canada -- and consist of choosing a male and female tribute from each of 12 districts, chosen from all those between the ages of 12-18. It’s call The Reaping and each eligible child’s name is place in a bowl; one is randomly chosen to be that year’s tribute.

The tributes are then sent to the Capitol where they are trained, interviewed and generally paraded about for the entertainment of the citizens of the Capitol. Finally, they are released into a computer controlled "natural" environment where they must fight each other to the death until only one remains: the Victor.

Why would the world allow such a horrific nightmarish version of "Survivor?" It’s simple. There was an uprising over 75 years ago, with the 13 districts attempting a coup over the controlling Capitol. The districts were forced back down, district 13 was annihilated, and the Capitol initiated the Hunger Games as a way of keeping the districts in their place, a reminder that for those outside the Capitol, life is dangerous and unkind and the only way to survive is to fight one another rather than the forces of greed and power and domination that comprise the government and citizens of the Capitol.

So for over 75 years, the people of the different districts have lived divided lives; they separated from one another by what their districts offer in terms of supporting the Capitol. Three of the districts are known as Career districts; they are wealthy because their services are in high demand (perfumers, masons, supplying seafood) while the remaining 9 districts supply coal, technology and other things but live in abject poverty. The Capitol will give extra food to a family who is starving, but at a cost. Their eligible youth will have their names added more times in exchange for this small amount of food and grain. Because the three Career districts don’t have to worry about their day to day survival, they actually train their children for the Hunger Games and eligible youth will volunteer to be the tributes each year. They have the highest amounts of victors.

Why am I telling you all this? Because I have been thinking of how we live in our own version of Panem in these days. We live in a culture in which those with power and money and the right skin color control those of us without those things. We live in a culture, in these days, in which every day there is a Reaping among the less fortunate and people are killed in some unofficial Hunger Game which rewards those with the most violence, those who use what little power they have (such as the Careers) to defeat and dominate those who have even less.

We live in a culture, in these days, in which we are pitted against one another as surely as the districts are in the Hunger Games and, as long as we are forced to fight the other tributes, we remain blinded to how the Capitol–those with money and power and influence– is the greatest threat to all of our well-being.

Twice, in a 10 day period, we have witnessed Grand Juries refusing to indict white police officers for their murder of black unarmed citizens. When you consider that of all the Grand Juries convened in our nation, only .01% come back with a decision not to indict, it is hard to imagine that race had nothing to do with these two decisions. When a black tribute is taken down by a Career tribute (police are not part of the Capitol, they just come from a more privileged District and have trained for this fight) and there is no outcry, it is because we are too busy trying to survive in our own corner of the Hunger Games.

Oh there are exceptions, of course. In the first movie, Prim, a first year 12 year old girl, is the one chosen to be the District 12 tribute, but her 16 year old sister, Katniss volunteers to go in her place. At the end of the first movie, Katniss and Peeta, her male counterpart from District 12, are the two remaining tributes. Rather than one of them kill the other, they choose to take their lives together, as an act of solidarity. The Game Maker immediately stops the game and declares them both Victors.

And while the person selecting the names in each District always begins with the saying, "May the odds be ever in your favor," of course the odds are not equally weighted. There are those with more chances of being picked because they traded that possibility for more food, and each consecutive year you’re eligible, your name is added again, so a 13 year old has his/her name in twice, a 14 year old, 3 times, and so on. So that the odds are increased that you WILL have to play this game simply by virtue of you having survived another year.

And this is definitely true for young men of color in particular and for all who don’t fit into the Capitol’s norm. Even those in Career districts who are comfortable and feel secure are being manipulated by the powers that be. You know this is true if you say, "Well, they looked menacing. They were in the wrong neighborhood. He was shoplifting! He was selling untaxed cigarettes!" As if this would excuse the way in which the officers shot down one and killed the other in choke hold that has been outlawed for 21 years. Do you see how similar that is to saying, "She was asking for it! She shouldn’t have that short dress? She shouldn’t have been walking alone in that neighborhood?" when we speak of rape victims? Say rape victims of young white high school athletes who are demonized while the perpetrators play in Friday night’s big game? Do you see how that plays into the Capitol’s hand? ***

This is also true if you say, "A white person in the same situation would have had the same results." This ignores the fact that the odds aren’t equal and that some folks (people of color, the poor, queer folk, trans folk, women) have their names in that particular bowl a hell of a lot more times than others. ***

When we do these things, not only do we turn a blind eye to the real problem of systemic racism and sexism and heterosexism that controls this game, we also fail to help those tributes who "win" like Darren Wilson and Daniel Pantaleo escape this game we’re all in. They are victims of this manipulated setting as well.

And, like Katniss and Peeta, many have found ways to break free; to choose another way than that proscribed by the Game Maker. #### As a reviewer on Amazon.com said of the movie:

"this film is first and above all about much more important things: how to keep hope, not lose the courage and preserve humanity and dignity under a totalitarian oppressive regime."

And this is the star shining brightly in the darkness of these days: that there is always hope, if we work together, if we agree to stop fighting other people and instead fight the system that has held us down, that wants only to keep our attention on fighting one another so that we won’t threaten their power and wealth.

The third book is being made into two movies. The first one, as I said, is coming out soon. Having read the series, I know how this particular story ends. The one in which we are currently living though, depends upon us. Which way will we go? What plot line will we carry through? How will we end our own Hunger Games so that the odds are always ever in all of our favor? Only we can determine that. Choose well.

*** If these statements make you feel uncomfortable, I highly recommend these following articles that break down the statistical realities of racial profiling and racism inherent in our system:
Repetive Motion Disorder; Black and White Denial in America

UU World aarticle by CLF Minister Rev. Meg Riley

Article by on the ground UU minister, Rev. Krista Taves

####Click these links for articles on those who have broken free of the Game
Story behind Devonte Hart and white officer hugging

Story about white St. Louis officer gaining trust of black community without military gear

Story about someone who succeeded and hasn't forgotten those still in poverty

　

Life will break you. Nobody can protect you from that, and living alone won't either, for solitude will also break you with its yearning. You have to love. You have to feel. It is the reason you are here on earth. You are here to risk your heart. You are here to be swallowed up. And when it happens that you are broken, or betrayed, or left, or hurt, or death brushes near, let yourself sit by an apple tree and listen to the apples falling all around you in heaps, wasting their sweetness. Tell yourself you tasted as many as you could. -- Louise Erdich.

Tonight, at All Souls Unitarian Universalist Church we will once again be hosting the Transgender Day of Remembrance Candlelight Vigil to honor those who were murdered in the past year due to transphobia. The list is long. Tonight 81 names will be read, with ages ranging from age 8 (Alex Medeiros, who was beaten to death by his father, on February 18, in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, for refusing to cut his hair, liking women’s clothes, and dancing) to age 55 (Mary Joy Añonuevo who was stabbed 33 times in Lucena, Quezon, Philippines on October 21st, 2014.

Of the names that will be read, 16 were killed in the United States; 10 of those were Trans women of color. Of the names that will be read, many will be listed only as unknown woman or man, lives lost tragically with no identity by which we can remember them. Of the names that will be read, virtually all of them were killed in extremely violent manners, showing the level of hatred and rage these killers had toward their victims.

As the above case of Alex Medeiros illustrates, transphobia isn’t exclusively about transgender people, but about fear of those who are different, who color outside the norms of societal restrictions on gender performance. We will never know if little Alex would have grown up to be gay, transgender, or straight; his father took his son’s future away based on his own transphobia and fear of difference.

Why is there such a disturbing level of violence towards Transfolk and those perceived as gender-non-conforming? What lurks in the unconscious that would cause a father to beat his son to death for dancing? And what can we do, besides light candles once a year to create a safer world for our
Transgender kin?

For one thing, we can tell the truth. We can tell the truth to our children who ask us about bodies and genders. We can say there is a wonderful diversity of combinations of bodies and souls and sometimes they match what culture wants to see and sometimes they don’t, but we’re all uniquely wonderful and cherished; we are all of inherent worth and dignity, as we Unitarian Universalists like to say. We can insist on the overthrow of the pink aisles and the blue aisles that exists in toy stores, that continue the lie that there are "boy" toys and girl "toys." For that matter, we can begin campaigns against department stores who insist on "gendering" clothing. As if a few pieces of fabric stitched together is somehow meant for a boy or a girl just because of how it’s designed. We can speak to the managers of our local restaurants who have restrooms designated for "men" or "women" and ask that they consider making them gender neutral. I mean seriously, who of us has gender separate bathrooms in our homes? And yet, this is a fear Transfolk navigate in their daily lives: do I risk using the bathroom that fits me most and possibly get beaten up or worse, or do I try to hold it until I get home? We can check out the non-discrimination policies where we work and, if they don’t include transgender employees, advocate for that change. And, for that matter, why not talk to the boss about the bathrooms at work, too?

We can come to events like tonight’s candle-light vigil and listen to the names being called, see the pictures of those no longer with us. We can feel the weight of their loss, the sorrow of their tragic deaths, and we can also remember the joy they held in their lives, the ways in which they lived authentically in a world that holds no space for them, and realize how, at the end of the day, they tasted the sweetness of as many apples as they could; we can be grateful for their lives, and their legacy, and we can carry forth their memories into our communities, so that the sweetness of their lives will not be forgotten.
　

　
A friend of mine posted this on her Facebook wall today:
A quote from the Amazon show Transparent to honor this years Transgender Day of Remembrance.
"Are you saying you're going to start dressing up like a lady?"
"No. All of my life I have been dressing up like a man. This is me."

Let's light candles and pray for a day when everyone can truly go through this life as they are.

"When you have once seen the glow of happiness on the face of a beloved person, you know that [you] can have no vocation but to awaken that light on the faces surrounding [you.] In the depth of winter, I finally learned that within me there lay an invincible summer."

-- Albert Camus

Every time I watch the above video I get verklempt. (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZMG2vNVq0ww in case your tablet or phone doesn't load the link) There is something about the joy of the flash mob providing a spontaneous commentary on people connecting. The video’s tag line of life’s for sharing is perfect for this type of shared celebration: life, connections, hugs, complete strangers applauding you, telling your story of coming home, or being so far away from home and all the hope and angst and triumph and arrivals and departures inherent in an international terminal in the airport.

And doesn’t it seem that life is sometimes a series of airport arrivals and departures? Where we are in a state of flux, ending a journey and coming home to loving arms, or leaving loving arms to head to ports unknown. And wouldn’t it be grand if we actually could see and touch and feel the love and support of a cast of thousands on our journey through life? A great cloud of witnesses as the Christian scripture (Hebrews 12) tells us surrounds us, encouraging us to throw aside everything that hinders us in our race, in our epic journey?

Most of the time, however, we feel as if we’re on our journey alone; as if there is no one to see
our lonely struggles or homesickness or even applaud our happy homecomings.

How would it change us, change our journeys, our pit stops and detours if we realized we weren’t alone? That there were others cheering us on, waiting for us, ready to give us high fives as we pass by on wherever our journey is leading?

And how can we be the flash mob that greets other travelers on their journeys? What would happen if we remembered we’re all in the international terminal and it’s our vocation to awaken that light of joy, of connection, of encouragement to those we pass who we might, in another time and space, simply pass by, unseeing and uncaring.

My hope is that each of us will feel, in the coming days and weeks, that sense of being welcomed, wherever we are on our journeys, of being celebrated as we continue on our path, regardless of where it might lead, and that we would joyously go up to others, even those whom this world would define as strangers and say to them (particularly the ones who seem lost, or travel-stained or bone-weary) that they are not alone, and give them a flower or a hug or a brilliant smile and tell them you’re with them, you’re proud of them and that, whether they’re coming home or leaving it for the first time, whether they’re escaping something or running joyously toward something, that we are there for them, that they are not alone, and that we really are all connected. There, no matter how cloudy the sky or cold the night, is where our invincible summer lies.

　

　

I would not tell anyone else that he or she should choose death with dignity. My question is: Who has the right to tell me that I don't deserve this choice? That I deserve to suffer for weeks or months in tremendous amounts of physical and emotional pain? Why should anyone have the right to make that choice for me? – Brittany Maynard

　

Last week, 29 year old Brittany Maynard quietly took a lethal dose of barbiturates and ended her life; her husband and mother were by her side. This was not a suicide caused by depression or despair, but rather a thoughtful and anguished decision made after Brittany had been diagnosed with terminal brain cancer early this year. Although there were treatments such as radiation offered, the reality is that the tumor was of such a size and was so invasive, that though the treatment might have extended Brittany’s life by a few months, it could not save or heal her. So she, along with her family, made the decision to take advantage of Oregon’s death with dignity law that allows people with less than six months to live to take a prescription overdose and die peacefully.

Because Brittany made her decision public in an attempt to advocate for greater awareness of the realities of living with a terminal illness there has been much debate in the public square on whether she should have been allowed to choose how her life ended.

She writes that she thought about just not doing the radiation treatment and dying in hospice, naturally, as the cancer consumed her brain but said the emotional and financial toll on her and her family made that a non-option. Instead, she chose to deal with the growing complications of the cancer until after her husband’s birthday and then, on Saturday, November 1, choose her time and manner of death.

According to the organization where Brittany volunteered, only five states currently offer death with dignity options for those dealing with a terminal illness. Montana is the most recent state to join the ranks. There are active campaigns in several states, including Colorado, where Charles Selsberg is working with the state Attorney General to get legislation on the books allowing death with dignity here. You can read his story  in an open letter to the state legislature published in the Denver Post.
Reading the comments on articles regarding Brittany’s choice, I’m dismayed, though not necessarily shocked, by the degree of judgment leveled at Brittany and her family for choosing to have control over her death. Some suggested she acted cowardly, others stated that she’s burning in hell, and still others told stories of their own or of their family members who suffered similarly but chose to fight to the end.

What is so frightening about death that we, as a society, can compassionately put our pets "out of their misery" but don’t allow the same generosity to humans? When did we allow the medical profession to take measures into their own hands that prolong the quantity of life, if not the quality.

My own father, Odd, suffered from lung cancer that had spread into his brain. Although they did brain surgery to remove that tumor, they could not remove the tumors in his lung and soon enough it would travel back to the brain. The solution, although there was minimal chance of survival for my dad, was to use directed radiation on his chest and brain. Although he had recovered from the brain surgery remarkably well, the radiation wore him down, made him lose some of his capacity for language (he couldn’t recall words easily any more, which frustrated him greatly) and ultimately died, six months after his diagnosis, after lingering near death for several days. In retrospect I would have advocated for no treatment, at the minimum. In fact, even the doctors who treat us, often refuse that same treatment when faced with a terminal illness, as reported in  this Guardian article because of the debilitating side effects with no real hope for a cure.

So why the resistance to allowing people the same dignity and comfort we offer our pets? Surely, much of this antipathy is based in ancient texts and religions where ending one’s life is forbidden, regardless of the death sentence already given by a person’s body. And maybe there is an innate revulsion at the thought of intentionally ending a life that is encoded in our evolutionary DNA that compels us to strive to survive. Definitely there is a fear surrounding the mystery of death that makes some people want to hold on to this body and this life for as long as possible. And, as Brittany says in the above quote, that is a personal choice to make, no one– not the government or church– should get to make that decision for you.

As someone who has seen friends diagnosed with cancer that is successfully treated I understand and am grateful that in many cases, a disease can be successfully treated with radiation and chemo-therapy allowing the person to live a long and healthy life, although they had to deal with a great degree of discomfort and pain caused by the treatment. The difference is in the diagnosis and the chance of success.

As someone who has experienced first hand the devastating grief and trauma of a suicide I can clearly see the differences between choosing your own manner of death in the face of a terminal diagnosis of cancer or ALS or other fatal illnesses, and the anguished, often violent killing of one’s self in a moment or season of depression, mental illness, bullying. In those cases, there is help available to the person who is contemplating suicide. In those cases suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary, solvable problem and the damage done to the families and loved ones in the wake of such a desperate act is immeasurable.

That’s not what Brittany did. Brittany, with the full support of her husband and family, chose to end her life with dignity, in peace and comfort. It was a selfless act of utmost bravery and love for her own life. As a minister who has sat at the death beds of more people than I care to count, I can understand the sacredness of slipping away into death with or without the aid of medication. Her death was no less sacred or meaningful because she chose not to suffer undue pain and agony first.

At the end of the day, what is important to me, is that the person who is facing a certain death within a short span of time has the choice to take that decision away from the cancer or other illness taking over their body and make their own peace with their living and their dying.

This past February, my frail, elderly cat Nala went rapidly downhill in terms of her health. After consulting with my veterinarian, I called an organization that euthanizes pets in their home. I sat with Nala on my lap in our favorite spot and held her and stroked her while the vet administered the drugs that would cause her heart to stop beating. She died in the home she loved, in my arms; she died with dignity, knowing she was loved.

If the time ever comes when I’m in a similar situation, I hope I will be afforded the same dignity.