Note: this message starts out a little dark but hang with me…I have a point.
For those of you who have been on this list for a while, you already know, but this may be news for others: A little over four years ago, my father died.
His long illness was marked by uncertainty, worry, pain, and heartbreak. I remember (incredibly guiltily) thinking that when he finally died, I might feel some relief. Relief from the uncertainty, from the constant worry, and relief in knowing that he was no longer struggling with his own fear and pain.
But as anyone who has lost someone they love knows, grief
does
not
work
that
way.
Over the past four years, I’ve continued to process his loss. More recently, I’ve begun exploring meditation and paying closer attention to my own emotional and spiritual well-being. It’s been an uplifting journey, and one that has led me to some unexpected places.
One of those places was a book called The Five Invitations: Discovering What Death Can Teach Us About Living Fully, by Frank Ostaseski.
It’s not a book I expected to write about here.
After all, this is a space where I generally explore infant development, parenting, and Magda Gerber’s Educaring® Approach. And while I occasionally help parents navigate conversations about death and dying with their children, this is not a parenting book.
But surprisingly, it kind of was… Let me explain
Ostaseski offers five invitations for living fully:
1. Don’t wait.
2. Welcome everything, push away nothing.
3. Bring your whole self to the experience.
4. Find a place of rest in the middle of things.
5. Cultivate don’t-know mind.
As I read them, I had two immediate reactions.
First, these are things babies and young children already do!
And second, these are the very things I spend so much of my time encouraging parents to do.
Let’s start in my favorite place…with babies and toddlers!
Firstly, babies don’t wait for the perfect moment to engage with life. When something interests them, they explore it. When they’re uncertain, they may hang back and observe. Even the hesitant child is fully engaged in the experience of being hesitant. They’re doing exactly what they’re ready to do.
They welcome the world as it comes to them. That doesn’t mean they enjoy everything… They might squeal with delight, turn away in disgust, burst into tears, or protest with every fiber of their being…but whatever they’re experiencing, they are present to the experience. As I’m fond of quoting, Magda always said that babies will always find something to do…in any environment.
And in so doing, they bring their whole selves to everything they do – the joy and delight or the hesitancy or disgust…They haven’t yet learned to hide parts of themselves to meet someone else’s expectations.
They find rest in the middle of things. Very young infants often simply surrender to sleep when their bodies are ready. Older babies may play and then pause…move away from a toy, then return. They move between activity and rest according to their own rhythms. (And yes, sometimes they need us to help them find that rest…as do I sometimes…it seems the older we get, the harder it is for us to remember to slow down and rest…)
Lastly, and perhaps most beautifully, they live in a state of don’t-know mind.
They don’t approach a ball already knowing everything a ball can do. They discover it. They mouth it, roll it, drop it, watch it disappear, and discover it again. Each experience offers something new. And when we hold ourselves back from teaching, we get to live in that state of wonder, too, as I described in this short piece: Be Careful of What You Teach.
These 5 invitations are qualities I have spent decades observing in young children. Yet here they were, described in a book about what death can teach us about living.
But what about us? Check your inbox for part two, tomorrow…