tears

MH and I were watching a DVD of James Taylor and Carole King, live at the Troubadour.  The music was beautiful, and their friendship was evident and warm.  So many powerful memories of my college years came gushing over me, and I could feel tears welling in my eyes.
MH reached over, touched a tear as it came out of my eye, and said, "I see the needles coming out of your head.  Me too."

Death Cafe

I am two months into the local Death Cafe.  I'd heard of the movement, but assumed it was a Portland or Austin thing...no way.  It's at the Bohemian Grange Hall!  The idea started in England (same place where Hospice started...are the Brits more touchy-feely than I imagine?) One of the "rules" is that tea and cake be served at all meetings.  Another is that it is monitored to stay on track and not turn into a support group, grief therapy, or educational workshop. It is discussion-driven and casual.  The subjects, under the singular and taboo umbrella of Death, are as varied as the attendees, and are always interesting.
My take-away has been the same thing both times...if I am to have a "good death", I need to start paying attention to my life.  And the connections I make now and as my life unfolds. And the work I do. And the intention with which I do it. And my relationships...and how I nurture them. A tall order indeed.