Feeding the Wolf

The sky is filled with low, undulating clouds that look like hammered silver. It reminds me of the beauty of things that go through incredible stresses and pressures. Diamonds. Molten metals. People.

The beloved husband of a friend is dying. Ten years ago, RH fell from a billboard he was putting up. One of his vertebrae was crushed in the fall, and he became paralyzed from just below his armpits to his toes. He did not become bitter. Neither did DH, his wife. Instead RH became an artist, and they both became yogis.

Until recently, when pressure sores made it impossible for him to sit in a chair, RH was an enthusiastic yogi, according to our mutual teacher. What an amazing thing that is. This courageous man allowed others to help him in such a way that his mind and heart could expand through the practice of yoga. His must have been a very large heart from the start.

Yesterday DH sent word to our yoga kula (community) that Rich has come from the hospital to the care of hospice. When I stopped by later that morning to bring some necessities, she told me about a story from The Tao of Willie Nelson that she and RH had read during his hospitalization.


According to Native American legend, each of us carries two wolves inside us. One is filled with anger and hate and bitterness; the other with peace and love and grace.
As a grandfather explained this to his grandson, the grandson was filled with awe. The boy asked which wolf was stronger.

"The one you feed," the grandfather replied.

Despite everything, DH is determined to feed only the wolf with which she wants to live.

Let's all join her. And please, please, if you pray, pray for these wonderful people. If you meditate, please hold them in the Light today. If nothing else, send loving, kind intentions their way.

And your own.

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Two quick notes: First, from my days as a hospice volunteer, I know how many people call and say, "If there's anything I can do. . . ." Their phones rarely ring. Shocked, stressed, sad people rarely have the presence of mind or the time to figure out what they need. If you genuinely want to help, formulate a plan and call for permission to carry it out.

*Food is almost always welcome, but real, healthy meals are better than sweets. Homemade foods that are or can be frozen are best of all—they can be used as the need arises.

*Use disposable containers whenever possible. Bake a casserole in a foil-lined dish and freeze it. Remove the frozen casserole from the dish and wrap thoroughly. If you can't avoid using things that must be returned, mark them clearly. A piece of masking tape with your name and phone number written in Sharpie works great. For that matter, mark anything you bring. Many people want to send thank you notes later, and it's too much to expect them to remember who brought or did what.

*Staples are always necessary when crowds gather. Paper towels, toilet paper, napkins, paper plates, cups, plastic forks, are very useful. They create the need for trash bags. Bottled water is always welcome. Kleenex is critical. Coffee can be a comfort for some. Milk is especially helpful to families with children. Do what you can.

*Crowds gather in the early going and at the time of the funeral. Surprisingly, this is the easiest time for most loved ones. It's later, when the crowds go home and the mess remains that most people fall apart. It's very kind to show up for the aftermath: clean up, address envelopes for thank you notes, be simply, silently present when appropriate.

*If you help clean up, be very sensitive to touching things that belonged to or were used by the late loved one. Those things are totems for many, and really should be touched by invitation only.

*Above all, LISTEN. Let the bereaved grieve. Be present while they tell stories, cry, laugh, whatever. A good trick I learned in hospice training is to place your hand near (or under) the other's hand. They then feel welcome to take your hand without feeling they HAVE to if it's not comfortable for them.

Finally, my mother is having surgery on her shoulder this afternoon. The surgery itself should be fairly simple (repairing a snapped tendon and removing bone spurs, etc), but she's a 72-year-old Type II diabetic. And nothing's ever simple for her. Please remember her today as well.