As Benjamin Franklin said in 1789, `Nothing in this life is certain but death and taxes.’ And, while some of the wealthiest people in society try to find loopholes and off-shore accounts to avoid the latter, there is nothing anyone can do to escape the former. We are all going to die: get used to it!

Death is a part of life for every single living thing and yet, we humans are constantly in search of ways to live forever. Modern medicine has created an expectation that all illnesses can be cured. But that is far from the case and, if they could, imagine how overcrowded our little planet would be. We have to die in order for future generations to thrive and yet, in the West, death is a taboo subject. People avoid writing their last will & testament in case it’s `bad luck’ and heralds their demise. Nothing halts a conversation quicker than broaching the subject of illness and dying. It’s as though talking about death will induce it there and then – the lightning rod of doom: Speak my name and I’ll strike you down! 

Personally, I want to be prepared – or as prepared as possible. No one can prepare for the bus that mounts the kerb or the shop window that crashes to the pavement. But what I have done is make sure that my will is written and signed (and witnessed – it’s no use otherwise) and my wishes are known to my family: where I want to be buried, what songs I want sung and poems read, whether or not I want a memorial of any sort and the fact that I want to donate my organs – just in case the oak tree at my back decides to uproot itself on top of me as I sit by the lake. Stranger things have happened!

I always think that sudden death must be very difficult for the family and friends who are left to mourn. There’s no chance for saying goodbyes: no opportunity to say all those things you wanted to say but never got round to. But, for the person who passes, it’s often quick – with little time to suffer. For that we can be grateful. When someone is diagnosed with a terminal illness, however, although there is the time to say and do everything we want to; to make our peace, the pain and suffering can be drawn out and is hard for both the person dying and their family. I know: I’ve experienced both with my family and friends. The swings and roundabouts of mortality.

My distant healing list currently includes five people who are at the end of their lives on this plane. They range from 82, down to just 39 years of age. The younger ones are the most difficult to accept. We want them to get well. We absolutely do not want to lose them at such a young age. And it’s hard to accept that it’s not within our control to say when loved ones should or shouldn’t die.

A couple of years ago, I was asked to send Reiki to a baby who was diagnosed with leukaemia aged just 4 months. When sending Reiki to those who are critically ill or at the end of life, I say the following prayer:

If now is their time to pass, make their passing peaceful and pain free; if now is not their time, make their recovery swift and complete.

Sadly, the baby died a couple of months later. For whatever reason, it was his time to go. For a few months he brought joy to those who loved him and his memory will be remembered through a trust fund set up by his parents to help others in their situation. But he was not long for this world.

A little while ago my granddaughter, then aged about 8 or 9, asked me, `Granny, what happens when people die?’ Gosh – that was a tricky one. She had lost one granddad and an uncle, her parents are humanist, her other grandmother is a Catholic, her step-granddad is a Buddhist and my beliefs are spiritual but not religious. How to not offend anyone – or upset my granddaughter? And yet I will not to lie to children or try to sugar the pill.

So I said, `Well, if you talk to your mummy and daddy, they’ll tell you that we’re on earth to make the most of our lives and, when we die that’s that. If you talk to Grandma, she’ll tell you that we go to live with Jesus in Heaven. If you talk to Granddad, he’ll tell you that our souls, the bit inside all of us that makes us who we are, will come back to earth in another form.
The reality is, no one knows for certain. So, really it’s up to you to decide what feels right for you. ‘

And that’s all any of us can do – find out what belief works for us, live life to the full and focus on making ourselves and others as happy and fulfilled as possible. And, in the meantime – preparation, preparation, preparation. Talk about what you want; make that will and don’t leave the house on a sour note. You never know when that great oak might fall!

As I watched the geese preening themselves this morning – all standing on one leg as they did so, I was filled with admiration. Having had both encephalitis and viral meningitis in the past, my own sense of balance leaves much to be desired. Despite having practised yoga for more than a quarter of a century, my Vrksasana – or Tree Pose – is less like a mighty oak; more like a reed in a howling gale.

But finding it difficult to hold my balance one one leg doesn’t impact hugely on my life. What did impact my life, however, was the reason I ended up with two different brain viruses (in the space of 7 years) in the first place: my entire life was out of kilter. I was working as a teacher, looking after my three children. Running them to their: ballet, drama, netball, tennis, gymnastics, parties, play dates and everything else involved in raising kids. The object being, ironically, to support them to become `well balanced’ individuals.

I was also supporting my parents and brother through illnesses that would turn out to be terminal – 200 miles away. All my energy was going between my children, my parents and my job. No space for me anywhere. So what did my body do? If the brain is the control centre of the body, mine pulled the plug. It shut down! Forced me to stop and focus on myself.

And it was shortly after recovering from viral meningitis that I began my journey with Reiki. I firmly believe that no experience in life is wasted and, certainly, my brush with these two crippling illnesses led me to my life’s purpose – for which I am eternally grateful.

Some years ago I had a client who worked like a man possessed. He was up early, worked late, went in at weekends and hardly took any holidays. On the rare occasions he did take time off, he was ill: flu, chest infections, shingles, vomiting – you name it. Once, when I asked him if he had any idea what his body was trying to tell him he replied, `Not to stop working.’ Doh! Wrong answer!

The late Dr K. Bradford Brown says,

`Life keeps turning up the volume until we hear the message.‘

My client simply wasn’t hearing the messages. But, being totally honest, how many of us do hear what Life is telling us until our bodies shut down or, worse still – die!

The phrase work/life balance is widely used these days but, within that, there must be space for us. It’s no use balancing work, kids, parents and housework if we don’t add ourselves to the equation. We are the linchpin of our own lives and the lives of those we support. Taking time for ourselves is NOT being selfish: it’s the very opposite. It’s enabling us to keep doing the things we want – and need – to do in life: put food on the table, pay the bills, raise the children, care for the elderly and, most importantly, enjoy the company of those we love for as long as possible.

Work + rest + play + ME = a balanced life.

Simples!

The mist on the lake this morning carries it’s own magic. The colours are more muted than usual; the sounds slightly softer. It’s an altogether more tranquil place when mist shrouds the water. I love it. And, I remembered to take my phone with me to capture the moment today!

Yesterday was an altogether different start to the day. It was bright and sunny – and warm for the time of year – but I left the house in a huff and forgot to take my camera or phone with me. In fact, I didn’t even meditate – I just sat and brooded – for a while.

The trigger was an inconsequential moment: a gesture intended to be helpful that went awry and I got cross. Not, blow-a-fuse, scream-the-house-down, slam-the-door-so-that-the-whole-road-know-about-it cross; just annoyed enough for it to spoil my sacred time at the lake.

Most of the geese at the lake are Canada Geese, a few Greylag Geese but, for me, the most beautiful of them all are the Egyptian Geese. Their plumage is vibrant and their eyes are beautifully contoured – hence the name. While I was sitting on the bank (purposefully NOT meditating) two Egyptian geese swam up, paddled out of the water to within a few feet of me and began a magnificent mating ritual. They stretched out their wings and bobbed their heads to each other, circling and honking in a moving display of courtship. I was mesmerised.

Of course, I couldn’t record any of this because I’d stomped out of the house in a strop without my phone!

The Dalai Lama says: anger is what we do to hurt ourselves when others make mistakes. And yesterday demonstrated that to me. To compound the situation, after the geese had swum off together side by side, a wren, normally timid little birds, hopped down and began pecking the ground nearby. Another missed photo opportunity – all because of my irritation.

I’m not saying that all anger is bad. I believe that anger about some injustices can galvanise us into taking action. But getting het up about the minutiae of life, when it’s just other people being themselves and not behaving the way we want them to, is a total waste of energy. Energy that could be far better spent creating loving gestures, or sharing magical moments at the lake with others.

And, of course, nothing lasts forever. Moods pass, mists fade, the sun comes out and life moves on. The tiff was forgotten by the time I got home filled with awe and humility at the scenes Nature had allowed me to witness. Another lesson learned – hopefully; don’t sweat the small stuff!

No lakeside meditation for me today – gardening instead, which I always think of as very meditative anyway. Meditation doesn’t have to be sitting cross legged on a special cushion chanting,`Om‘: it can be anything that clears our mind of the everyday chatter that goes round and round. Sitting knitting and being absorbed in creating a garment is very meditative, so is painting, angling, sewing, swimming in fact, any act that stills what the Buddhists call the chattering mind.

We all have it, that inner dialogue. Some people call it a`monkey mind‘ constantly on the move, jumping from one thought to another, never settling: some organisations such as More 2 Life, a personal development movement started by Brad Brown and Roy Whitten, refer to it as Mindtalk.

I have a recollection from childhood of Popeye with an angel on one shoulder and a devil on the other. A very graphic representation of his inner dialogue. That devil was his Mindtalk.

It’s the way we sabotage ourselves. The chattering mind is always critical. It tells us that we can’t do something because…. and then fills in the blanks with any number of negative thoughts that have plagued us all our lives; we’re too old or too young; too short or too tall; too loud or too quite, boring, useless, stupid …. on and on it goes like a turbine, generating more and more self doubt.

When I was thirteen, a boys said to me, in front of several other teenagers, `My mate said you were pretty.’
Having a grandmother who always referred to me as `handsome’ (which in my book meant masculine!) I glowed with pride and allowed myself to take in this complement – and from a boy as well! I was over the moon. And then he followed it up with `Yeah, pretty ugly!’

He laughed. All the others laughed. And I wanted to crawl away. The belief that I was ugly was planted in my chattering mind and came out every time anyone paid me a complement – for decades!

When I saw a photo of myself, I saw a nose that was too big, lips that were too thin, teeth that were crooked. That chattering mind just wouldn’t shut up. Apart from the fact that physical beauty is subjective, it’s also superficial. Real beauty comes from deep within us – and it’s based on authenticity and truth. And, truth telling is the only way to silence those chattering minds of ours. Telling the truth is the angel on Popeye’s shoulder, counteracting the devil on the other.

I am much older now and, hopefully, wiser than I was at 13 and have spent years working on myself and my demons. I attack my chattering mind as I attack my garden; weeding out the dross, getting rid of the dead wood and self criticisms. Instead, I nurture the plants – and thoughts – that I want in order to create a place of peace and beauty.

But gardening, like self improvement, is not a one-off job. We need to be constantly alert for those naughty little weeds that will keep coming back and sabotaging us: the couch grass of our minds. We need to dig deep and haul them out by the roots – again and again and again. It’s a lifetime’s work.
But, even if you do keep cutting out the dross, don’t expect it to be all sweet smelling roses. The loveliest gardens will have barrows full of manure heaped on them regularly in order to bring out the best blooms.

So be prepared for shed loads of shit in life – it will make you stronger and you’ll grow more beautiful as a result!