A few weeks ago, I had the privilege of sitting down with Dahr Jamail and Barbara Cecil to discuss their new series in Truthout (Truthout.org) entitled “How Then Shall We Live: Finding our way amidst global collapse.” The monthly series invites readers to face the darkness of an uncertain future, not with fear but instead with the open, honest, and humble heart, mind, and spirit required to hold all of the emotions that come with deep change - from grief and despair to beauty and possibility.
It was not the first conversation about the ecological collapse that I have had over the past few months. Due to a lack of any meaningful action on climate change, compounded by a growing list of additional environmental and social stressors, what used to be a fringe topic relegated to prepper-websites is now on the minds of many. It raises the obvious question that Barbara and Dahr’s series speaks to: how then shall we live?
This idea of collapse is not a distant possibility. For many in America it’s already here, now. Little or no access to healthcare, food, shelter, and clean drinking water is a reality for many Americans, especially those living below the poverty line, which more and more are crossing over into each day. But the hard bumps have yet to hit. A damning new UN report has revealed that over 1 million plant and animal species around the world are now at risk of extinction. We are not just talking about the death of a few animals and plants on the other side of the planet; we are talking about the destruction of systems that support human life as we know it.
For those of us who have not buried our heads in the sand, facing such overwhelming global challenges compels our rational modern minds to jump into action and “fix.” Of course, we must work to put the fires out where we can; however, amidst such complexity, for many of the challenges we face there is no easy answer. Perhaps before we rush to fix, seeking silver bullets through AI, geoengineering, genetic modification, or some other techno-capitalist hail mary, we might first benefit from the ancient contemplative practice of deep listening. Perhaps in the face of such challenges, our answers are coming up short because we’re asking the wrong questions and therefore casting our attention towards symptomatic rather than root causes of distress.
Part of the practice of deep listening entails opening up to the multifaceted aspects of life and self that we have been denying. At this moment, I can think of no truth more heartily denied and avoided in dominant western culture than that of death. Within the reality of death lies a paradox that is crucial to our understanding of the lived experience: that our relationship to life can only be as healthy as our relationship to death.
Death as a Doorway to Life
Throughout his long career, the Swiss psychiatrist Carl Jung held steadfast to the notion that whatever uncomfortable truths we repress interiorly, we will unconsciously create on an exterior level. If this is the case, then one could conclude that the driving force behind the precarious nature of the times we live in—Earth's 6th mass extinction, climate change, the threat of nuclear and bio-warfare, and all of the other social and environmental stressors we're up against— is being largely unconsciously driven by modernity's deep-seated fear of death. This unaddressed existential dread fuels our fear of change, our fetishization of youth, and most importantly, it frames the dominant cultural mindset of scarcity, which drives greed and an insatiable lust for power.
Part of the problem arises from the fact that we no longer have the psychic resources and understandings to hold death in a generative way. The dismantling of indigenous, religious, and mystical worldviews, coupled with the dismantling of community, has left us alone to stand and stare into the existential void with nothing but a smartphone in hand: “Siri, what happens when I die? Siri, how should I hold the reality of my mortality?”
Staring into the void, alone and without resources, is a terrifying task that, for many, can be traumatic. However, in suppressing the reality of the void we deny ourselves the wisdom of its deep and dark mysteries. And, in doing so, we run the risk of not only mental and spiritual stagnation but of physical annihilation. That is the paradox of the psyche, the challenge of life, and the great teaching of mythology. To not get annihilated, one must turn and face one’s internal fear—not with arms raised and fists clenched but rather with a sense of compassion, acceptance, and curiosity. Such a position soothes the nervous system, disarms the psychic defense, and allows for integration through which new understandings can unfold and emerge.
The wisdom of ancient alchemy reminds us that in facing our fears, we create the psychic heat and energy necessary to catalyze transformation. For those of us comfortably positioned in dominant western culture; if we seek to create systems that live in right relationship to life, then we must do the uncomfortable and necessary work of rekindling a healthy relationship to death on both an individual and collective level.
Resources for the Journey
Facing and working with the psychic energy of death is no different than working with the power of electricity. Without the proper tools and expertise, one runs the risk of getting electrocuted. However, with the right tools and understandings, the energy unleashed can turn darkness into light. So, what are the right “tools” to ground us safely in such work? Love, gratitude, the numinous (awe, mystery, wonder), beauty, creativity, generative grief, the earth, and, most importantly--community.
These are useful tools because each, in their own way, has the power to evoke an experience in a person that can allow them to connect to aspects of life that are relational and therefore larger than oneself. It is from this transpersonal (i.e., beyond the self) relational field of reality where we can then engage in a non-analytical conversation with death that is generative; because the communication is not happening in a linear or logical language-based framework. Instead, it unfolds metaphorically, symbolically, somatically, creatively, or synchronistically through the intelligence of our souls, bodies, hearts, dreams, and the environments around us. Thus, my felt experience when I engage with these “tools” creates a physical, psychological, and spiritual grounding that allows me to face the void and hold the tension generatively without becoming overwhelmed.
As noted above, an essential resource for such a practice is community. When we work together to peer collectively into the unknown, we have more resources to lean on and a stronger container to hold the psychic energy cultivated through such a process. This allows for a more in-depth inquiry, which creates the space to explore other elements connected to death, such as uncertainty, change, the unknown, and grief.
Another vital tool in this process is creativity. By channeling the tension of fear through creative outlets such as freewriting, dance, self-designed ceremony, singing, etc., we allow the tension to move through the body, rather than get stuck. Through non-analytical and creative exercises, we can integrate the energy and use it in ways that can expand our awareness, imagination, and felt-sense of possibility.
Reclaiming the Great Mystery
What does death have to teach us about life? Death teaches us perhaps the most essential quality in life: humility. It is impossible to walk away from the void without it; humility is the first step on the path to right relationship. Through humility, we open to the recognition of the miracle and sacredness of life, and in that recognition, we remember how little we actually “know.” In holding our own beliefs lightly, our empathy and compassion become more accessible, and we can better relate to others. This humble openness creates the space for a more authentic, somatically-based connection to life, out of which arises a deeper level of respect and sense of responsibility to live in right relationship to and with the sacredness of life.
As touched on above, the first step to such a process is a willingness to listen deeply, to not just our fears, but also to our grief as well as that which inspires us (beauty, gratitude, awe). From this generative ground of receptivity, we make the space for new questions to arise that may lead us to a more complete and holistic understanding of ourselves and the world. So it is in that spirit that I leave you with this set of questions to explore in your own way, with and in your own communities:
What are the social/emotional costs of living in a death-phobic society? How does our cultural denial of death help reify the system and structures we live within? What wisdom is never allowed to blossom due to the dominant cultural fetishization of youth? What healing do we miss out on in not giving ourselves and others the permission, time, and space needed to say thank you, I’m sorry, forgive me, I forgive you, and I love you when death of any kind is near? What gifts slip through our fingers when we deny the grief associated with loss and change? What beauty do we rob ourselves of in being afraid of change? How can you use your own gifts to support yourself and others on the path to reclaiming a healthy relationship to death and in turn to life?
