Awoken By Death
An examination of how the death of a loved one can provide perspective in our lives; how we can, as a result, become more alive and find new gifts in the pain of loss.
“When death finds you, let it find you alive.” — African Proverb
Years ago, when I was forming a new band in my hometown of Detroit, I was scribbling random ideas and song titles in a notebook. This was a period of time where I definitely leaned toward the darker side of the musical spectrum, dabbling in hard rock, punk and heavy metal. I never actually used the title, “Awoken By Death”, until now.
A few days have passed since I learned of the death of my high school mentor, “Uncle” Russ Gibb. Russ was a pioneer in the music business, having owned the legendary Grande Ballroom in Downtown Detroit as well as being the DJ who infamously announced “Paul is Dead!” starting the still-debated rumor that Paul McCartney died (and was replaced with an imposter!) But this is not a post about conspiracy theories. It’s about my reflections on the aftermath of losing someone and how death can offer clarity and perspective.
Upon hearing the news of Russ’ passing, I initially felt, well, kind of indifferent at first. After all, I hadn’t seen physically seen him in about 20 years, so there was a distance between us and our connection was not what it was in high school. Unexpectedly though, as I started to reflect on the memories with him, I was overcome with grief and sorrow. The magnitude of his presence in my life and the gift of his wisdom was something I had really contemplated in many years.
“Death is not the opposite of life, but a part of it.” — Haruki Murakami
High school. What a painful time for me. I felt so much confusion, anger, pain and disillusionment. When I was 14 years old, I felt completely out of place. I was bullied, literally spit on, fucked with and generally felt a sense of profound nihilism toward life. Having come from a private Montessori school and then thrust into a public school system with no friends or allies was a very discombobulating experience.
I was full of anger, vitriol, piss and vinegar. One day, I was fighting with a skinny kid named Nick in the hallway when I heard a voice that sounded like the Penguin from Batman, “Hey Kid! What the hell are you doing? Get over here!!!” I stopped fighting with Nick and spun around to see this old, gravely, well-dressed man sitting in a computer chair in the hallway. I think it was the film and video department. My first thought was, “Who’s this old fool?” Little did I know that this old fool would see something in me that no one else saw. That he would give me an outlet, a reservoir, for my anger, pain and disillusionment. That Russ would inspire me and give me the opportunity to share my thoughts and feelings through film, video and acting.
To say he changed the course of my life is not hyperbole. It’s absolute truth.
I went on to win multiple awards for my student films and get a scholarship to Columbia’s film program. Things that I would never have imagined in a million years were unfolding in my life. Because this man decided to see something in me, to invest in me, and ultimately, helped me believe in myself and my talents that I didn’t know were even present inside of me. He became my first mentor, a father figure and a friend.
“People living deeply have no fear of death.” — Anais Nin
He showed me things that I’d been hiding. I actually didn’t want anyone to see my pain. To see how much chaos I felt from feeling abandoned by my own father. To know how much I hated the abusive kids I went to school with. I was hiding my rage, my pain and just skating through life. I was not living deeply. I was choosing the easy way out. Nihilism, victim consciousness and disengaging from life… those are easy choices. The difficult choice is to acknowledge our pain, our sorrow, our heartbreak — and to find places to channel those feelings into something beautiful, radiant and constructive. That takes work. That takes courage. That takes effort. And Russ was the first person to show me how to do that with an art form.
As I’ve been reflecting on his passing, many thoughts have arisen. Aside from his mentorship and an unyielding belief in me, the gifts of HOW we chose to live his life are ever-present. He thrust himself into his work in the music industry. As a club owner, DJ, entrepreneur and media visionary, he was a man who saw the future, who invested in long-term thinking and was willing to take risks. His stories are legendary in the annals of rock and roll history. I remember many times sitting starry-eyed listening to his stories about Jimmy Hendrix, Led Zeppelin, The Who, The Doors and countless other musical luminaries. And I’m like, “THIS guy is my teacher!?!?”
“For life and death are one, even as the river and the sea are one.” — Khalil Gibran
The gifts in death are myriad. Even though his physical body is no longer here, I can see how Russ’ legacy, his energy, his contribution lives on. Death is somewhat of an illusion. We have been so conditioned to think that if someone’s physical body ceases to exist, that THEY, as a Being, have also ceased to exist. But I don’t believe that. I believe that the quality of the energy we create here while we are alive has a ripple effect. That all of the love, wisdom, self-awareness, generosity and contribution we cultivate and share lives on far beyond our short lifespans. That the energy we cultivate “feeds” something greater than us; that we are part of an energetic lifecycle, or rather, an ecosystem, that consumes and records what we create and cultivate in our lives.
“No one is actually dead until the ripples they cause in the world die away.” — Terry Pratchett
That ripple effect. It is very, very real. In the wake of my reflections on the gifts that Russ gave me, I’ve noticed dozens and dozens of messages on Facebook talking about how much he affected people’s lives, how he contributed to their greatness, how he brought so much inspiration, joy and hope to the world. How many careers he helped people forge. How his fingers imprinted the worlds of music, art, fashion and digital media. Russ, as a human being, may be gone. But the effects of his legacy and life continue to shimmer in the cosmos.
“To the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure.” — J.K. Rowling
We all know death is coming for us. Death is undefeated. It’s all-world. It’s the heavyweight champion of the world who’s never lost. And yet, especially in Western culture, we play this illusory game where we act like it’s not going to happen to us. We fear death. We push the idea of death away. We engage in an ageist, youth-obsessed, materially-driven society that makes every attempt to convince us that the right surgery, powder, makeup or clothing will somehow allay the inevitable…
You’re going to die. And it ain’t that far away.
This is not my attempt to be morose or macabre. It IS my attempt to show you that we cannot take this life for granted. That when we play small, try to placate or please others, ignore our intuition, stay silent to things that matter or flat-out deny ourselves our dreams… those are little deaths in and of themselves. So many people in this world are physically existing, but dead inside. This is the folklore and horror of the zombie archetype. There are billions of people on the planet who are the living dead. Just because they’re sucking air doesn’t mean they’re alive. Are you one of them?
Because if you are, that’s okay. There’s still time to live. To say yes to your heart. To clear away any resentments, pain, fear, anger, regret or hatred that lives inside of you. To let go of any bullshit that you know doesn’t serve you anymore. To simplify your existence, whittling away the layer of all that is not you and getting to the raw, pulpy core of your true Being.
If anything, death is a wake-up call. Losing someone close to us, through all the grief and mourning, can show us how much we are lying to ourselves. It can show us how little we are actually risking or how we shrink back to the challenges of life.
Death can show us how to be more alive IF we are ready to see the gifts that it offers us. And hey, the reality is that we have no clue what happens to us after our bodies die. So we may as well live as fully as we can while we are here now. So, the question I want to ask is: how can you practice being more fully alive right now? How can you let the parts of you that are inauthentic die? How can you show the world who you truly are and boldly declare that your dreams and your life have value and that you matter?
You don’t have to lose someone to start waking up and stripping away the layers of all-that-is-not-you. You can start today. Deep down, you know what needs to live inside of you. What’s been calling or screaming for you to pay attention to. Only you know what that is. And I hope that you listen, and answer the call, with patience, grace and compassion for yourself.
“Be like a tree and let the dead leaves drop.” — Rumi
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This writing was originally posted on Wellevatr.com.
