The Art of Dying is another book by Peter and Elizabeth Fenwick. A couple of weeks ago I reviewed their book, The Truth in the Light, which was about 300 investigations of near-death experiences. The Art of Dying takes the process to its obvious conclusion, death. Or, as the book’s subtitle puts it, A Journey to Elsewhere.
While I enjoyed The Truth in the Light, it was a bit disorganized and redundant in places. The Art of Dying is better organized, and the chapter progression is more logical. It appropriately starts with The Start of the Journey and continues through conversations with caregivers, deathbed visions, and deathbed coincidences. There are chapters on bereavement and hallucinations.
An interesting chapter deals with clocks stopping and other inanimate objects stopping and other mechanical or electrical systems operating oddly or failing to operate. There is also a section on odd animal behavior. This is usually dogs, but not always, but dogs seem to have a unique relationship with humans and seem to have a special sense regarding imminent death.
The chapter progression then gets a bit more intense as the authors get into Visions of Light and Mist and the Search for the Soul. This inevitably leads to the whole question of consciousness, something that science continues to struggle with. No one seems to understand what consciousness is and whether consciousness can exist independently of the brain. The question really becomes, are near-death experiences hallucinations of the mind or remote viewing by a consciousness separate from the brain?
The books ends with, as it should, a discussion of what do we mean by a “good death?” The authors define “good death” as the person has died as he or she wanted to die. That can mean at home surrounded by loved ones or alone, all depending on each person’s choices. In most cases, it means dying with an untroubled mind, with conflicts and misunderstandings resolved. For most it would also mean death being near painless and relatively quick.
Religious beliefs, if any, come into this, of course. Mostly, this means people who believe in god. There are also many who describe themselves as spiritual rather than religious. The book gets into what it might mean to think of oneself as ‘spiritual,’ and it can be broadly defined. And, of course, there are those who are neither religious nor spiritual. I enjoyed one quote from a non-believer, “I am not a believer, but I am curious to know what happens next.”
Then there is the issue of reconciliation, meaning clearing any unfinished business in terms of conflicts with others. Many on their deathbeds try to reconcile in order that they may go in peace.
I particularly enjoyed the last chapter on Coming to Terms with Death, although I don’t think my death is imminent, I do like being prepared. I’m mindful that it is hard to prepare for the moment before our extinction, not knowing what is next, but knowing it is inevitable.
Both books provide a viewpoint that death is not something to be feared. But the final passage in this book sheds light on the limited nature of any insight that can be provided:
A nobleman asked Master Hakuin:
‘What happens to the enlightened man at death?’
‘Why ask me?’
‘Because you are a Zen master.’
‘Yes, but not a dead one.’
No comments yet.