Half of one of my teeth fell out recently (related to a motorbike accident a long time ago). An extraction of the other half was recommended due to complications. It seemed like an easy decision to make. After all, it was at the back of my mouth, it wouldn’t affect the ‘functioning’ of my mouth or the visual aesthetics of my smile.
Several days later, I gently explored the new space that had opened up in my mouth and was so surprised to feel the grief that welled up. Not the kind of grief that overwhelms you for a moment, the storm in the teacup that is fleeting in its experience and expression, but the kind of soul grief that aches all the way down, that is so exquisite in its depth and vastness that your whole Being is enveloped by it. The tone of it vibrating down to your roots.
On my own journey of awakening, through the ‘dark night of the soul’ that which I clung to in the darkest moments was continually the thought: ‘This too shall pass. I will regain what is lost, my health, my body, my relationships. This is not permanent. This too shall pass’. Touching that empty space in my mouth opened a gateway into a space where I came face to face with ‘This shall not pass. This is permanent. This is forever’. I touched upon my mortality. Upon the fleeting nature of this human experience. Viscerally feeling death. And it brought me to my knees.
The paradox: the pain was exquisite. Feeling the beauty of life, and touching upon the reality of death, was an experience that allowed me to open to myself in spaces that had remained untouched. It required courage to be in that space. To not run from it by relating and aligning only to the cosmic experience of infinity and eternity. Underneath the surface, touching my mortality and surrendering to it allowed for a wave of ecstasy. The art of being human.
With love, Tanya
I love Jason Silva, his words on mortality resonate.