Our relationship with death is a funny one. It is the only guarantee with life and yet many of us live as though it won't come knocking on our door. Or perhaps we accept that it will happen, but far into the distant future, when we are content with a long-lived life. But that is not always the case. This week the world lost both Jane Goodall and Manchán Magan. However it is Manchán's death that has me swimming in grief. He was so young, he had so much left to give and discover, despite achieving so much already. I am genuinely griefstricken at his loss. I have sobbed like this at the death of famous people only twice before; Sinéad O'Connor and Steve Irwin (I was 13 and a proud owner of a My Animal Kingdom collection, my bedroom posters of wild animals outnumbering the ones of Avril Lavigne and Orlando Bloom...).
Losing people we care about is never easy, but I do find it so much harder when of course, they're young, but also when they dedicate their life to heal the cracks in society that recently feel more like trenches. The people who break the 'rules' and remind us that things don't have to be this way. The path forgers. The dreamers. The empathetic hearts. It's like we're losing a guiding light. A north star...Which way do we go now? Are we doing it right?
But no one lives forever. All our heroes will leave us at some stage, and we go on with their teachings in our pockets. We've got this. We can do it, achieve the world they were fighting for.
Recently I have tried to embrace how inevitable death is, and use that to motivate me to not waste hours of this precious life staring at a screen or critisizing my body. The gratitude that has grown in place of worry has been immense. There are better teachers of impermanence than I, but I'll copy a meditation here from Plum Village - a legacy left by another trailblazing teacher, Thich Nhat Hanh:
This meditation has had phenomenal effects on my mental health. My mam was diagnosed with stage 4 breast cancer this year. It has spread to her brain and unfortunately, there's no complete cure, but we are hopeful that consistent treatment can rid the worst of the disease and give us many more years on Earth together. Did the acceptance of death, thanks to the above remembrances, take away the sadness at mam becoming sick? No, of course I am sad. We all are. But with the acceptance of death comes a little bit of peace. And gratitude, believe it or not. Death will come to us all. He has only announced his intended visit to our family on this occcasion. Many others don't get that chance. A sudden accident or illness and no opportunity to say goodbye. That's a much harder road to be thrust out on. Death with no warning. I am grateful for the reminder of impermanence, though I do hate to see her be in pain. That sorrow I shift again to gratitude of my own health. I choose to treasure it while I can. Likewise I don't choose to think "Why her? Why us?", those thoughts just bring about despair. I choose to just accept what is not in my control, and focus on what I can do. I can make tea, drive her to appointments, listen to birdsong together. I can try to create peace where there is suffering. We all can. And Manchán was magnificent at doing the same and then some. A cultivator of peace. A bringer of joy and curiosity. I am terribly sad at his loss, as I will be too when I eventually lose my mam, but I will try use this sadness to motivate me make the best of living Earthside while I'm here.
I would have loved to hear Manchán telling us the story of his journey to the spiritworld. I can picture the glint of curiosity in his eye, a smile curling, as he captures the experience in rich adjectives as Gaeilge. Alas. If we were to hear that story, we would have everything. Some things must remain a mystery.
I believe his death will be like that of an ancient oak. He supported so much life, human and non-human alike, while living in this realm. He went back in time to reconnect us with our indigenous language and culture. He went to the source of life. His work is the solution to most, if not all, of the problems life on Earth is experiencing. The solution is so simple, many doubt it to be true. Reconnect with our land and our culture and you'll find we are all one. He began weaving all this back together, and this action will continue forever, growing, and growing. Nourishing forevermore hundreds of thousands hearts and souls. Thank the gods he penned the curiosity of his marvelous mind, and captured his adventures across ancient Ireland and beyond for us to continue learning from! Thus, like the oak who supports over 2,000 species in life, and tens of thousands in death, Manchán's legacy will support us for decades to come. His body will soon return to the earth, and his teachings will transcend generations. In that sense, he will live forever in this realm.
I do wish he had longer with us, but as he said himself, he was not meant for this world. The spirit world made more sense to him. Hopefully he'll visit us in our dreams. Until then, let's walk along this path he's woven towards a richer world, in more ways than one.
Slán go fóill Manchán, see you on the other side.
