Death Cafe write-up: September 2015
“Accepting”, “Connections”, and “Comfortable” were three of the words used to describe people’s experiences of attending our September Death Café, which was held in our regular locale, Lazy Bones Lounge. The usual mood lighting did nothing to dispel conversation which was as always lively, humorous and at times reflective.
I recently posted an online advertisement for Death Café Marrickville and was some-what surprised to receive an email in response, the only one in fact, with a one-sentence statement, “Go away … you stupid perverted creeps”. While discussion relating to death-related matters and issues might not be everyone’s cup of tea, or piece of cake as it so happens, my experience of Death Café Marrickville is that people find the conversation and exploration of ideas a wonderful opportunity to clarify and orientate their own understanding of what ‘death’ means for them. There is the opportunity to learn from others, as there is to simply listen or to sit quietly in a state of inward reflection.
When I was a teenager I used to love going to cemeteries to sketch headstones. In addition to being historical and medical repositories of societal deaths, graveyards are interesting places. Not only because they house mortal remains and walking amongst headstones can bring one sharply face to face with one’s own mortality, but because they are so infrequently visited by the living; if you want to get “far from the madding crowd”, visit a cemetery.
It seems to me that cemeteries have been dealt a cruel blow by popular literature and I wonder if their once common depiction as the dwelling places of restless souls and the locales for demons and witches communing with the devil, as well as a whole host of other ghastly ghouls with nefarious intent, has in some way contributed to the fear and morbidity people have toward them.
My mother was always alarmed by my behaviour and seeing it intrinsically flawed in some way frequently voiced her concern for my mental health and wellbeing. Who knows, perhaps my mother thought I was a “stupid perverted creep” as well. We often judge others based on that which we ourselves don’t understand, and while the subject of death is a challenging one for many people, for others for reasons known only to themselves, it isn’t.
Death Café is about story-telling, and in the story-telling those present find a sense of connectedness to death, not in a morbid or distressing way, but in a way that informs and educates. While people find a sense of connectedness to death through others, they also experience an internal reconnection; with memories which may be bitter-sweet and with deceased loved ones, sometimes long since passed.
These are moments of great intimacy and revelation, as through the sharing of story we gain, just for the briefest time, an insight into our collective ‘humanness’. We see the nobility of suffering, the humility of strength, and the rawness of heartache, and in the reciprocity of sharing our story, whatever it might be, we see that we are not so different from one another and that death, rather than being divisive, or even “creepy”, has in fact been unitive.
