As humans, we are multi-modal in our capacities to learn. In other words, we learn best, and remember more, when we engage more of our senses. And if you have been a reader of these posts for a while, you know I try to include videos, links, and music at times to enhance the experience of engagement or to enrich the points being made. So the multi-media I try to include is my whole-hearted and pure attempt (intent) meant to enhance your experience as a reader and as a student of an Elder—my Dad. If you’ve pushed play:
The world has so much to offer. So much is lost when you don’t play and when you don’t push play. So much is gained and enhanced when you do.
So play. Come out and play. Play along. Push play.
And yes, you ALWAYS have the time.
But, we are a mix of individuals with our own interests, pursuits, and concerns. And in the end, you will always choose to do what you do with the time you have available to yourself to be a presence in the world. As time has gone on for me, and Dad has reinforced this with every moment of his current existence, I’ve learned that my time is way to important to fritter it away on anything that does not bring value into my life. I don’t like to waste my time and so I try hard not to do so—this is a mindful and reverent way of approaching the all-too-quick passing of moments. Likewise, it is never my intent to waste yours. So every word written, and every link offered, IS done with a whole heart, clear eyes, and an intention to add meaning to our shared engagement here.
So in that spirit, I would like to introduce you to Dr. BJ Miller. I can state with all honesty the trajectory of my life was altered when I first “met” Dr. Miller in the TEDTAlk I share below. From that moment, my life hasn’t been the same—and like all synchronicities in life, the engagement I’ve had with Dr. Miller and his work has had a tremendous impact on my caregiving with Dad. I cannot imagine how things might be different had these two paths not coincided in this present moment. In fact, had I not come across Dr. Miller a decade or so ago, Dad might not be living in our house right now.
I, for one, have watched this TEDTalk maybe close to two dozen times now (a talk that has amassed over 30 million views in total). It is one of the main reasons, so inspired was I by Dr. Miller and his work at San Francisco’s Zen Hospice Project, that I attended there a three day workshop on the principle’s of caregiving about which they are world renowned. The workshop was on the grounds of the San Francisco Zen Center itself (where I slept and also sat with the monks there for meditation (zazen) and Zen service) which is across the street and kitty-corner to what was then the actual Zen Hospice Project house.
The old Victorian-style home in the Lower Haight neighborhood of San Fran. Site of the former Zen Hospice Project.
Dr. BJ Miller
Awe
The positive emotions, ironically, haven’t been seriously studied by researchers over the course of the enlightenment and since the birth of psychology. Instead, all the negative stuff (neuroses, anxiety, depression, anger, etc.), aka “our shadows,” have been studied ad-infinitem. But this is changing. And such is the case of the emotion known as awe. Briefly, we can be “in awe” of so many things in our remarkable world. But we miss so much when we think the only sources of awe are “the major” ones: like peering at the vistas of the Grand Canyon or the Grand Tetons or Yellowstone; or staring at the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel; or gazing at the wonder of The Pyramids in Egypt; or Machu Pichu, or Chichen Itza, or The Vatican, or The Lincoln Memorial, or “The Viet Nam Memorial Wall.” Researchers have found the greatest sources of awe in our lives are actually the acts of everyday normal human beings that are grounded in kindness, compassion, and service. In other words, humans are in awe of other humans when benevolent acts of kindness are observed or when those other humans have obviously set themselves apart in some way in service to something greater—and they become even more “awe-some” when they, themselves, have overcome great odds.
One look at Dr. Miller proves this point.
In his TEDTalk, Dr. Miller echos what Dr. Ken Hillman shared that was highlighted in the posts the past couple of weeks (“Affirmations and Confirmations” and “Only Don’t Know”). Dr. Miller’s talk merits a full and uninterrupted hearing without much preemptive narrative from me—and like the request from a couple weeks ago, the experience will be enhanced if you have in mind someone dear to you who is experiencing the end of their life journey. And yes, you can use my Dad to fill in that void—but remember, you’ll be there soon enough yourself.
The Connection To Dad:
Each time I watch, I get something new from Dr. Miller’s TEDTalk. I watched it again, recently with Kristin, after many months had passed since I had last played it, and I was reminded yet again about the importance of slowing down when I’m with Dad; the vital necessity of compassion (“to suffer with”) in every encounter; the awe that exists in every ordinary moment; and the essential nature that our senses play in how we experience our worlds, really and solely, through our bodies. Dr. Miller himself, quite obviously, has his own compelling story that he shares at the beginning of his Talk. He states that what he has personally experienced, and because he makes it so visible to others, that that life narrative of his has made him a better palliative and hospice doctor which allows him to gain more immediate trust from his patients because it is so obvious he knows from where he speaks. This man knows excruciating pain and grief and loss. No one has to ask him about any of that. And he knows what it means to be so close to his own death.
An aside because he doesn’t speak to this in the TEDTalk: Dr. Miller could obviously cover up and hide his remarkable “disabilities” (I hate that designation/label btw!) with long pants, skin-toned prosthetics, and other means much like so many other amputees do for their own reasons. But instead, Dr. Miller explicitly chooses to showcase his limbs—which is why they are virtually always visible. Partly out of solidarity with his patients; never really as a visible badge of courage for what he went through—he’s more humble than that; but perhaps mostly, because he also majored in Art History in college, he keeps visible these parts of his body so that others can learn to see one human’s reality for the aesthetic beauty that it is. He says that to “deny the fact that he will never get his limbs back would be to deny his life”—so instead, he learned (“it took me a while”) to celebrate who he is. And through that choice of his, the rest of us benefit from another lived example that all life is, and should always be perceived to be, beautiful and unique and inspiring.
AKA a source of AWE.
Dr. Miller isn’t disabled—he IS differently-abled. And he reminds us we all are differently-abled in our own unique ways. Even an 84 year old retired farmer living with dementia.
Being embarrassed or ashamed about something that cannot be changed is a colossal waste of time and effort. BJ Miller lives instead to celebrate and teach—to Elder. If someone has a hangup about any of that, well, that’s their unfortunate problem.
Not so different if you, or someone you love, is living with Parkinson’s and dementia. Like Dr. Miller shows us by the living of his life so visually, our bodies and brains really are only empty vessels that harbor deeply within the true source that animates our lives. It is THAT source that matters most—in fact, it really is the only thing that does. You can take away limbs through disease or trauma; and you can disintegrate a brain through dementia; but nothing can touch the most beautiful source of our presence, our reason for being, in this universe. We should no sooner hide or deny the facts of my Dad’s diagnoses than we should expect Dr. Miller to do the same with his unique capabilities. Instead, we follow Dr. Miller’s lived examples:
We celebrate. Now is a time of celebration.
Now is always a time to celebrate.
My Dad is still my Dad. And although he lives with a companion known as Dementia, a companion who every day is showing up more visibly in each moment, the most beautiful parts of my Dad remain—deep within.
We see those with every kindness, with every tear of love, and with all the unspoken words of “I love you.”
So again, if you are playing along on your scorecards, prepare to be captivated. You are about to listen to an amazing speaker—when you are in the presence of someone who speaks so eloquently, and with such obvious grace, something inside you changes. You can feel it. So, as you listen, tune into your body and feel what happens. And look into his eyes often—there, you will witness the embodiment of compassion. Just through his eyes, you know he knows. His eyes speak eloquently all of their own accord. He’d have me watching even if he never said a word.
You are invited again to comment. We are community and we are in relationship through Dad’s example of Eldering.
Enjoy…and be mesmerized. And also find out why we fill our home often with the smell of fresh baked cookies, muffins, bread, and hotcakes! But you have to push play.
If you elect not to watch, well…then I’m not sure how to respond to that. Why wouldn’t you take 20 minutes to invite, experience, and appreciate into your life a sense of awe right now? You just might gain…some wisdom.
“You always have the time.”
“As long as we have our senses, even just one, we have at least the possibility of accessing what makes us feel human, connected.”
T plus 229 days…and counting. And each day we try to live just a little better, because dying is present. And as we do, we love all the stolen moments we gather as ferociously as we can. As we build toward Dad’s crescendo.
This is the last of the three-part “hard emphasis” on death that I wanted to explicitly lean into. Every time I do that, I learn more about myself and I become a better human and caregiver—and better son for Dad. Thanks for your engagement…as always. And for your patience with this heavy topic.
“Ars moriendi ars vivendi est.”
The art of dying is the art of living.
If you are interested in learning more around the work of Dr. Miller and the Zen Hospice Project, Netflix is streaming an amazing documentary short called: “Endgame.” Here’s the trailer; let me know if you watch the documentary.
Inspirational message.
I so wish I would have watched this a few years ago. ❤️ instantly have gained a new perspective on the role of care giver. Thank you for sharing!