Lifeletter #113: The Things We Don't Talk About

“Only the unexpected is real.”

Nisagadatta Maharaj

Who wants to be invited to a death cafe? I never thought they would be very popular. I was wrong. In our town, there is a waiting list to get into our Death Cafes. I co-facilitated one a month ago, where thirty people came to sit and inquire into their relationship with death.

We invited the people who came to the cafe to explore two questions. The first inquiry, which was done with a partner, was this: “Please describe to me the ways that you avoid the reality of death, in your everyday life.” People expressed later on that responding to that question was difficult and painful. The ones who were listening also experienced a lot of pain and sorrow. I noticed this too, as I sat and listened to the whole room engaging in this inquiry. Whatever we avoid in our life is full of tumultuous, highly charged energy. Once we penetrate through the numbness.

The second question was very different: “What happens to you, right now, when you turn toward the reality of death?” What happened to many people that night at the death cafe was powerful and surprising. I’ve been pondering it ever since. I could feel the whole energy in the room change completely, as people asked their partners this question. Everything softened and opened up–people were united inside a field of great deal of intimacy and insight.

Later on, when we listened to the participants speak about this inquiry, I was stunned by the clarity and freedom and compassion that filled the whole space. There was a presence in the room that I have rarely experienced, except after days of meditating, or doing intense practice on retreat. My heart was so open as I heard what happened during that inquiry–I just wanted to keep listening to what everyone had experienced as they turned toward death.

People had all sorts of different experiences; it was the immediacy, the aliveness of each one that was so touching. What a miracle, that people were willing to give up their ideas of death, just for a few minutes, and encounter something naked, mysterious, and unexpected, which their fears and their images had never gotten close to. Many of them also had profound connections with their partners, people they did not know before that evening. When we have a real conversation about death, the personality takes a back seat. The personality lets go, because it doesn’t know how to be that honest, naked and vulnerable. We are able to see the being in front of us, the essence of who they are, and that is a rare moment. One woman spoke with wonder about the deep love that she felt for her partner, right out of the blue.

Ever since that night I’ve been paying a lot more attention to the other things we turn away from, in our culture. The things we don’t talk about, the topics that are practically taboo. Like money and sex. I notice this a lot in my work. Whenever anyone tries to speak to me about money, they get all choked up. Friends too. Who decided that money, like death, is something we just don’t talk about? Not really, not honestly, not in any depth.

We could ask those same two questions about money too, in relation to how transparent we are about it. “Please tell me all the ways that you avoid talking about the reality of money in your everyday life. What happens to you when you begin to speak openly about it?” Most of us wouldn’t know how to answer the second question, because we aren’t there yet. We just don’t talk about it.

And what about sex? I did an inquiry with two other people at a retreat in April on the topic of sex. We sat down together and just spoke, as honestly as we could, about our current relationship with sexuality. I laughed and wept, and was deeply liberated. I had no idea how much we are all struggling in this area. Or most of us. What the man said was very healing for me. He was close to tears as he spoke. I began to understand how difficult it is for a man who wants to move into a different way of being sexual. He feels so vulnerable, so afraid of making a mistake. How did I not know this before that inquiry? Because we don’t talk about it.

I was sitting with a group of women at the end of the summer, talking with them at the edge of the lake as the sun went down. I asked them what they would give themselves permission to do if they found out they were diagnosed with a terminal disease. One woman, in her sixties, said that she would like to make love to a beautiful young man, if she knew she was going to die soon. The courage and the freedom in her longing has stayed with me, worked on me, nestled into my heart and mind.

Now I’m thinking of hosting some money cafes and sex cafes. I know they wouldn’t be boring. In fact I have no idea what they would be like. And I feel the possibility here for some life-changing conversations. That’s why the vision is so appealing. Please let me know if you would be interested in attending such a cafe. And how you feel about coming out of the closet, learning how to talk about money, sex and death.