Wise Hope, Part II

On building a reliable mind.

“Why are you here?” she asks the six of us.

None of us can answer clearly—we’ve been called. None of it makes much sense, yet each of us have taken several deliberate steps: two meetings, writing intentions, getting fingerprinted for background checks. Hospice training consists of a series of talks, readings, stories of real-life scenarios and a series of rules to follow as we voluntarily serve those who have fewer than six months to live, given their diagnosis.

Even if we think we know why we’ve come, we don’t.

Agnes Pelton, Sea Change, 1931.

Our teacher is an angel who’s spent her adult life serving folks nearing the end of their time here on Earth. Spending weeks compiling comprehensive binders to help guide us, her eyes betray both a bone-deep fatigue and a complete dedication to the deepest mystery. I love her already.

After more than a dozen hours, intervals of weeping with listening eyes, it’s clear this will be the work of a lifetime. She references Teepa Snow, a font of information and frequent reference regarding the care for those with dementia, as our de facto virtual guide.

Also abundantly clear: our overarching task is to build a present, stable mind.

First, a short sitting—couple minutes to drop in.

Here’s what I know: In the absence of living in community, what I can do is place myself in situations to serve others who might derive some benefit from my humble service, especially our elders.

Below, what I’m learning; a few notes on the meaning and practices of hospice, and more importantly, on how we practice building a reliable mind of responsiveness.

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