Chloe's sacred everything

Unfixed interview

There are times when I'm with someone at the end of their life or I'm with a tiny bird and there is that moment where I'm just like Oh, Oh yeah, I think there's some God here.

I love more deeply because of death and birds.

-Chloe Hope, end-of-life doula, baby bird carer, author of Death & Birds

Sharing time with Chloe this past month felt like a forest bath, a Maranasti “death awareness” meditation, and an expanse of dancing fireflies. I found myself numerous times throughout our conversations wanting to reach into the computer screen and bear hug her beautiful existence as she discussed her work as an end-of-life doula, a baby bird carer, and the way these two extremes demand the gift of her attention.

Bringing oneself into the present isn’t always easy, and Chloe is the first to admit this, but instead of refusing the distracted and disjointed parts, she recognizes that presence doesn’t need to look a certain way. Sometimes it involves falling apart and being present to discomfort. Other times it requires gratitude and recognizing the brevity of everything. For Chloe, presence is less a state of eternal Zen and more a refined attention to what is and then allowing that attention to reveal the inherent preciousness and sacredness of everything. Her Death & Birds column is a soaring contemplation on the sacred—transforming, expanding, reminding and restoring her many readers through her unflinching commitment to experiencing truth.

At some point in our lives, we all will be initiated into the language of impermanence, some through tragedy and others through death of a loved one or terminal illness. Often the deepest lessons in life come through hardship. While others cower, Chloe draws near. She stands on the cliff, teeters on the vital tension of opposites and through the alchemy of her attention, resolves duality into hushed and screaming beauty.

Just as birds rely on the stars to know where they are, I rely on birds to know where I am. If when in their presence I am not awestruck by the wonder of our shared existence, it is because I am not truly there.

Note about the recording: It appears that whenever Chloe and I get together, technology decides to behave like a rabid specter. The transcript is clean but the audio and video are a tad temperamental. If you choose to listen, I’ve put the two muddier audio sections in bold for easy navigating. And while it looks like we ran to our bedrooms to change outfits midway through the interview, this conversation actually happened over the stretch of a few days, feeding our specter jewels, candy and time to keep her somewhat tame.

Transcript:

Kimberly

Chloe! What a joy to get to spend some time with you. I mean, it's just goofy because we've actually had 15 minutes or so already together, but now we can actually for real get started. And I want because you have so many fans and fans isn't even the right word, people that just feel expanded when they read your work and touch your mind. And so one of the things that I feel is very true with how you write is it's very present. So to get us started, just tell us a little bit about where you are and what you see outside your window.

Chloe

Awesome, thank you, hello. So I am currently in my little garden office, otherwise known as the fortress, and I outside can see, it sort of faces down the garden, and so I can see all sorts of different trees. Through the trees there I can see the valley and there's a field with horses and then there's one of the new bird boxes up on a tree there that has Great Tits in it nesting. There's a bird feeder obviously hanging on the outside of the office and then we have tulips and some fox gloves that are just about to come out and some bluebells, and there's in this direction a bird feeder, a really beautiful bird feeder that David made from bits of wood in honour of one of the little sparrows that we lost last year. So yeah, that's there. There's a lot of bird activity typically. It's a very distracting spot for me. This is where I do all of my writing and work when I'm not out and about. And it's wonderful and it's also very distracting but right now it's very very green and I'm very very grateful for that.

Kimberly

It sounds, what a beautiful collision of springtime and life, but then also you talked about the birdhouse that was built in honor of the starling (oops, I meant to say sparrow! sorry little guy!) that you lost and so sort of this, of course, true to Death and Birds, a little bit of both outside your window. Which brings me into my first question because most readers probably will already know your work on Substack and know that you are an end-of-life doula and also a baby bird carer, and you write Death & Birds on Substack. So this is a work that is sort of a profound opening and closing of life. And I don't think a lot of people, it's not for the faint of heart. Why did you decide to begin writing Death & Birds?

Chloe

Um, it was honestly, it was actually on a bit of a whim. I knew a couple of people who were already publishing on Substack and I really enjoyed it as a platform. And then I was kind of thinking to myself, Ooh, if I, if I was to do that, what would I write about? And the first and most obvious answer was death and birds because they're kind of the two things that preoccupy me most in terms of the stuff that I think about and the stuff that I dedicate my time to. Yeah, that and I suppose really because over the last few years before I started Death & Birds, which was nearly a year ago now, which is just wild, death and birds had really been enormously supportive to me in terms of feeling more at home in the world. And they've both been such incredible teachers over the years in different ways. And they both really allowed me to see and experience a preciousness that I didn't really know was so easily available until they showed me in their different ways. And yeah, I kind of, I wanted to share some of that. And I'm not, I'm not much of a, I'm not much of a sharer. I can be a bit insular by nature. So if you told me a couple of years ago that I was doing this, I would have thought I were insane. But yeah, I'm glad, I'm glad to be.

Kimberly

I'm so glad and I do not speak in a vacuum when I say that. Your writing is life-changing and I'm really, I'm sorry but I'm just gonna have to gush on you throughout this whole interview because you transform hearts. And it's not by, it's not preachy, it's just this sort of channeling of truth. And first of all, I want to just go back, I love that you said that you wanted to feel more home in the world and death and birds helped you feel more at home in the world. Only Chloe Hope would say that death makes her feel more at home in the world. Usually it's quite the opposite. So I love that this is just such a great opening for our conversation. Tell me, do you feel like there are similar qualities to death and birth since you're working on both sides of this life experience?

Like a felt sense, like physical, when you are in the presence of birth and when the presence of death, does your body respond similarly?

Chloe

Well I think, I think in lots of ways most of me responds quite similarly because they both, I was going to say require, but I don't know if that's true. They both deserve, and for me, demand, you to fully show up, like you to really, really be in the room and be present. You know if you're with someone that's dying, the lack of time necessitates that you don't waste the time that's there by not fully showing up.

So they definitely both demand a certain level of presence. And then I think you know, with the babies, they literally, they are literally demanding. Like they've just got wide open beaks, they're constantly, you know, every 20 minutes, if they're not asleep, their beaks are wide open and you're being yelled at. But also, you know, they demand your presence because it's a miraculous thing to be a human being and to be in the presence of something so tiny and so vulnerable and so new to the world and for it to be relying on you in that moment is mind blowing. And then also the fact that, you know, you're tending to this tiny little being that will one day fly. It's just massive, like if you stop and think about it, it's just so extraordinary. You know, as is being with anyone who has a very limited amount of time left in their existence. It's an extraordinary thing. So yeah, I guess what I'm saying is both there is an inherent preciousness to both. And I think also like whenever you show up really fully, for whatever reason, whenever you like really are embodying presence, you start to notice how beautiful everything is, just naturally. And so, so yeah, there's something very, very beautiful about both. You know, I don't want to...like just saying like Yeah dying is beautiful, there's you know it can be very scary and upsetting and painful and all the things and also there is an inherent beauty to it and there's a mystery to it and it is it's an extraordinary time as is any little being's first few days on the planet.

Kimberly

I was gonna say it almost sounds like it requires you to, to come into the moment with childlike innocence. That type of, that quality of presence, where any sort of conditioning or notions about death or birth, you just drop them and are able to feel the beauty in the mystery because I can't completely remember what it was like to be a child, but I do remember just being blown away by little things. And then we get used to them. And this sort of quality of presence that you bring into your practices and also your writing is almost to me, I wish I could know Chloe 10 years ago, I want to know is this sort of a muscle that you've been working on to come into the present moment in a more full and awakened way or is this how you've always been?

Chloe

Um, no, it's not, it's definitely not how I've always been. I think, um, maybe 10 years ago, I'm just trying to think what was going on. I was in a pretty hectic place, 10 years ago, to be honest. I have found, I've found for a long time, existence really tricky. So like being in a body and having to interact with other humans and navigate interpersonal relationships and the confusion that seems to exist in them. And yeah, there being certain rules that you have to follow and the body thing has always been really difficult. Being in a body has been really quite uncomfortable in lots of different ways. I mean that in terms of like sort of like emotionally uncomfortable and psychologically uncomfortable and literally uncomfortable like I have, I get a lot of pain in my body quite often. And so I think when I was younger you know, when I was like really young, everything was just truly genuinely chaotic because I was just looking for ways in which to not being in the constant state of discomfort. And I mean like emotional discomfort, psychological, spiritual and physical. And so I don't think I was actively looking. If I was actively looking, I don't know what I was actively looking for. But various things along the way have made enormous differences. And death and birds have been huge in that regard, as has my beloved David, who's a somatic therapist, and so his work has been so helpful in terms of me becoming comfortable in my body and understanding what is going on with it and what's happening when I'm in pain and the reactions that I'm having to the world, if that makes any sense.

Kimberly

Yeah, the somatic therapy is something that I explored decades ago, and it was the only type of therapy that really felt like I could access truth in a body that, similar to you, was always uncomfortable. And it could, in the hands of a good therapist, it finally turned me towards the truth instead of just sort of mentally regurgitating what I thought I was supposed to say and all of that. But I think it's interesting, Chloe, because your writing, there's this other Substack that I've been following and it's about she's doing some workshops on visceral writing. And I mean you could teach this class. Your writing is so visceral and in order to be visceral, we need to experience life through our bodies. And the contrast for you to just say on the heels of that, that existence was a challenge and that being in a body is a challenge. So it's so fascinating to me that you can say that and then also through your writing just feel so embodied. And I remember talking to you over Zoom a month or so ago, and you were describing your writing process. And can you share a little bit about that with our audience? Cause I think it's fascinating how you do this.

Chloe

Um, so it's, um...I can’t remember what I said. But it's tricky in as much as like there's not like an oh I do X, Y and Z. It's more of a thing where, obviously, I'll think about what I'm going to write and sort of let the ideas come through in as much as, you know, naturally throughout the days I notice the things that call to me and that touch me. And then when it comes to actually sort of getting the right words, it feels more like a thing where there's a feeling in my body, usually in my chest. And that encapsulates my response to the thing, whatever the thing is, whether it's to do with death or birds or just something important that I've seen. And I just try to let the words that match that feeling, that like hold the same tone or frequency as that feeling come. And then when they do, I feel its match. And then that's then. But so much of my actual like writing process is me sitting with my eyes closed, like just waiting. Waiting.

Kimberly

Yeah, that's what I remember you saying. I even remember your facial expression. It's like your eyes are closed and you're just, like if someone were to walk in the room and see Chloe writing, they'd be like, what is she doing? Because there's no fingers moving. It's just deep sort of listening, inward listening.

You wrote this gorgeous paragraph and I'm just gonna read it so we can jump back into the present moment. And I want to hear a little bit about how you access that.

So in your most recent essay called The Flight of a Bird you wrote, In my attempts at active orientation towards the sacred, I am delighted to continually find it everywhere. And in the times when I cannot locate it, I know that it has not disappeared, but that a part of me has been lost to distraction. Just as birds rely on the stars to know where they are, I rely on birds to know where I am. (I love that statement!) If when in their presence I am not awestruck by the wonder of our shared existence, it is because I am not truly there.

So how do you treat yourself in that moment when you you're you recognized you're not awestruck by the moment? What's what occurs in Chloe's mind and is there something you do to bring yourself back?

Chloe

Um, so, you know, there's the pretty typical just looking around and noticing and remembering that I'm in a body. Um, but you know, it's, it's tricky because a lot of the time when I'm not present, it's because for some reason, whether that's physical or emotional or whatever, it's often because for some reason I don't want to be present to what is present. So when that's the case, the first step is, I suppose, compassion really to whatever is there that I was wanting to avoid whatever's there that made me disappear. You know, that was a big thing for me when I was younger and for a really long time too. I think that I was pretty dissociated for an enormous amount of my childhood, my 20s and my teens. So, so compassion for the very brilliant choice to sometimes leave when things feel a little bit too much, you know. And then depending on what is there, like if there's something, if there's something beautiful I’ll turn my attention towards it, letting myself feel gratitude for it. And, you know, it's not always right or appropriate, but when it is, I remind myself of the brevity, the brevity of everything. And always when I bring that to the forefront of my mind, always whatever I'm looking at becomes very very precious. If that makes sense.

Kimberly

Yes, absolutely. I'm thinking about the times when I have wanted to jerk myself back into the present, where you're just like you started off by saying you can sometimes get critical of yourself and it never works that way. It's always a compassionate hand, as if there's still a part of us that's a child that might be afraid and that needs to be recognized that it's not safe in that moment and that's okay and that is being present. It's being present to the fact that this child isn't present because she doesn't feel safe and what an incredible act of love, necessary love for ourselves. I think we get caught up in what it's supposed to look like, you know, like, Oh, I'm present. So it means this and that this is what I see! This is what I feel! And it's not.

Chloe

Right, like presence is just this constantly zen thing, but no, sometimes presence is falling to pieces for whatever reason, because maybe it's appropriate to fall to pieces in a particular moment.

Kimberly

Yeah, that actually makes me, I want to ask you a little bit about your end of life work because I would imagine that requires a lot of presence and it's not always pretty. So first of all, has death always been a teacher for you and what drew you into this work?

Chloe

So death was not always, well, I wasn't conscious of the fact that death was always a teacher. I think I was always learning from it in some respect. I wasn't always conscious of its teachings that took me a little while. So it wasn't always a teacher, but it was always a feature. It was there a lot. I felt its presence a lot. And so I had a kind of tricky relationship to it for a while. When I was younger and fortunately that matured over the years, but it was something that I spent a lot of time thinking about and considering in various different ways.

You know, it was something that I was pretty comfortable with in terms of my own and then of course the totally normal universal deep deep fear of losing the people we love is ever-present. But I was fairly, I think you know in terms of like my doula work, I'm quite, I think I'm quite good at intense situations. Like being present in those.

So yeah, death, dying, grief, serious injury, like I'm good with that stuff, I'm okay with that, I don't get thrown by it, I don't feel the need to turn away from it. And if anything I appreciate how that stuff demands me to be present, there's no question when those things are going on. So... yeah I'm okay with intensity so I think that makes me suited to this work but then again it depends on your definition of intensity, I suppose.

Like, I can't handle bad acoustics or fluorescent lighting. Like those two things are too intense for me. But I can do death and dying and grief.

Kimberly

So death is okay, but the detergent aisle isn't.

Chloe

Yes, exactly that. That's the quote.

Kimberly

Which I think a lot of people will actually nod their heads at that. You know, one is natural and one isn't.

Chloe

Yeah, truly though. Jeez, truly.

Kimberly

So, you know, in my own work with Unfixed, there's obviously this necessity of letting go and we were talking about mortality and letting go and just holding hands with impermanence and I'm curious in your own experience working with the dying and even with baby birds who don't make it in the moment of letting go what takes its place and I'm not necessarily talking about like the afterlife or anything but I'm talking about if there's some sort of alchemy that needs to happen within us for that letting go to occur.

Chloe

Well, it's an interesting question. I mean, it's definitely one that I can't give a conclusive answer to. But you know, I think there's definitely opportunity in that place for an active letting go. But I think it's not always possible. The letting go, if when we're saying letting go, we mean dying. Sometimes that will happen without an active letting go in terms of like the end of resistance. Am I making sense? You know, ideally, ideally, of course, but it's not, it's not by any means a given.

Yeah, and I think you know it's interesting then thinking about with birds because you know sometimes we spoke about this a little bit, sometimes they'll just sort of take themselves off if they're with other birds one or just remove itself and get very quiet and then that'll kind of be it. And then sometimes with other birds, you'll see them like really in the throws, like proper death throws, like really there's like a lot of movement to it.

And, you know, I don't, obviously I have no idea when it comes to people or birds, I have no idea like what that process, whether it's quiet or big, is actually like, I've only ever seen it from the outside. But I don't know, I don't know if there is like resistance from the birds that are less quiet. I don't know if that's how it, I don't know if that is how it works. But I will say that I do think it's worth doing some work before one starts actively dying around that letting go of resistance purely because it saves that time being taken up by that.

Kimberly

Yeah, it makes me think of my kitties when they're scared or not feeling well. They just go and hide. There's nothing in at least in the cat body, —which reminded me when you talked about some of the little baby birds—where they just know how to remove themselves so that they can just be. Removing all the other senses and all the other experiences and distractions so they can just be with the experience of whether that's feeling yucky or feeling scared or feeling or preparing to die.

It makes me wonder if there is a precision of senses that in the act of letting go, that sort of necessitates that turning towards just the purity of the experience itself.

And just it's a little bit of a juxtaposition because as you turn towards it, you're letting go of it. Where it allows for the alchemy, the turning towards is the alchemy of the letting go.

Chloe

Yeah, yeah, it's an interesting, it's an interesting one, because, you know, I think, realistically, the closest, well, I mean, I did technically die briefly, but like, well, my heart stopped beating for a little bit a while back. But I think I, but I think obviously there's an enormous amount of assumption here. But anyway, I think realistically probably the closest that I personally have gotten to the actual death experience is through psychedelics.

And I know that that experience, if one is having a particularly powerful experience, is one that necessitates a complete turning inwards. And it's not even optional after a point. And there's lots written about that and whether that is exactly what's going on in dying in terms of DMT and all that jazz. So, you know, I think, yeah, it's an interesting thought what is exactly going on during that turning inwards.

Kimberly

Yeah, it's almost as if part of maybe the executive functioning of the brain just needs to shut down so that the other parts of us…Dave just went through the, he took the hero's dose in a psychedelic journey. And he had this moment of—he still tears up when he talks about it—where he felt like he was seeing the inner workings of the universe and he felt like he shouldn't be seeing it almost like this is not like Oh I'm not supposed to be seeing this somebody pulled back the curtain and I'm not supposed to be here.

Chloe

That's so sweet, that's so sweet, bless him. How lovely, how lovely.

Kimberly

So in that place of pulling back the curtain, and I think you do this, you've talked about animism and imagining something sacred and life-like in everything, even these silly computer screens that we're staring at. There is a life force in all of it. And I'm, there was an essay that you talked about, it was called Nesting. And you had a dream where you approached a man who was hanging belief suits on like a clothing line. And you tried on a few and one of them was, I'm Not Enough. And another one was, Everything Is Sacred. And that one you said fit, just right.

But that can be such a scary thing, “everything is sacred” is such a hard thing for human beings to turn towards. Just as it was for Dave when he's like, whoa, I'm not supposed to be seeing this. How did you come to this belief or this desire to see the sacred in everything?

Chloe

So I think I hear you, it's spectacularly difficult, that idea. And there are parts of me that have a lot of resistance towards it, even though it is something that I fundamentally do believe.

But I saw there was an image once and I can't remember life of me remember where I saw it, but it was sort of like a T shape and the vertical line of the T was like a swinging pendulum. And to the left side, it had dark. To the right side, it said light and at the top of the T it just said sacred. And I was like, oh, that kind of like really resonates and I'm not sure why. And it was just one of those things that really stuck with me. And you know, I can remember, I remember being quite young because my mother died when I was three. So, you know, I didn't know her.

But I remember being really young and asking one of my brothers, like, I think I just asked, did she believe in God? And he said, Well, yeah, in as much as she explained it to him when he was young, as “you know, if someone stubs their toe and they go, Oh God, or something irritates them, they go, Oh God, like what they mean is, Oh, everything.” She's like, “You know, because that kind of is God, like God's just everything.”

I was like, oh, that's an interesting, that's an interesting take on it. That feels a lot more resonant than God is like a white man with a beard in the sky kind of thing. And so from there, there's, you know, if well, okay, God's everything, then everything is sacred, even if some of it is deeply disturbing.

And then I got kind of interested in reading about non-duality and what not.

Kimberly

Wow. God is everything. So you've been carrying this around with you and gestating it and probably manifesting life experiences to challenge it. But this God is everything. The sacred is everywhere is a beautiful thing that is obviously manifesting itself now in the work that you're doing on Death & Birds and the work that you do with death and birds. There's this, this quality of the untouchable thing that we all hold. And it sounds to me like death and birds sort of turned you towards that untouchable thing that we all hold. And I'm wondering, since you can't touch it, how would you describe it?

Chloe

I think in various traditions, there's ways of speaking to it. I always imagined it as like a little kind of firefly. Have you ever seen, of course you have because you live in America, have you ever seen a firefly in real life? I'd not seen one in real life until year before last we were in Costa Rica and one night suddenly I was like What is happening, and there were just yeah these little flying glowing things it was just one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen I just couldn't believe it.

But yes, anyway, so sort of almost like a little firefly of consciousness in everyone. But I suppose, I think in Buddhism, it would be, is it like the diamond or the gem or something?

Kimberly

Mm hmm. The diamond heart.

Chloe

And then, right, in Indra's net, there's like where all of the points that cross, there's a little, I think it's a gem there as well, isn't it? Or a little drop, little droplet. Yeah, kind of, kind of that, just this like essential, essential, essential thing in everything. And you know, I, goodness knows, goodness knows what it is. I have no clue what it is. And never will, and that's all good. I love that I don't know what it is.

I've read a lot of sacred texts over the years. And I like, I feel drawn to some of the stories that suggest that “God” and I do that [air quotes] because God's a tricky word. It was a really tricky word for me for a long time, like saying God or saying prayer just felt so wrong because my experiences of religion had been so smothering and complicated and unpleasant.

But anyway, this idea that God pre the universe was busy being absolutely everything and understandably got a bit bored and so split into many billions and billions and billions of different things and made it so God's self forgot entirely and so we are just in this strange of game of hide and seek, of God looking for God's self and then sometimes finding it. And you know, I get it, it's a tricky thing to sort of hear and take literally and for a long time I was like, is it my side or sure? And then, you know, there are times when I'm with someone at the end of their life or I'm with a tiny bird and there is that moment where I'm just like Oh, Oh yeah, I think there's some God here.

And if God got split into everything, then there needed to be duality for it to work.

Kimberly

Yeah, for there to be infinite possibility too. I look outside and I see springtime and just this explosion of life in so many different forms. And I don't think any of that collaborative energy would happen without the tension, without the pull of the seasons, without the pull of the day and the night and the predators and the prey and that sort of infinite possibility that is born from the tension of opposites. At least that's sort of how I feel it and that's how I experience it in humans when we meet fellow walkers on this planet who have suffered—we all have—but you know, there's sort of this experience that is born in people that have really looked at the dark and found the firefly within that darkness.

Chloe

Yeah, yeah, totally. And I think, you know, I think when we, when we know things, we know them by their opposites or their absence, to some extent. So, yeah, exactly. It's all wildly necessary to know anything.

Kimberly

That reminds me of another one of your beautiful essays. They're all beautiful. I was just talking about this one with my brother. It’s called The Visitors. So this is the one where you were driving along the highway and you felt this deep ache of sadness and instead of going to Why am I sad? How did this start? What is the meaning of this?

I quote, I open my shoulders and tilt my head back gasping in between this first wave of sods a part of me wants to know to understand why this is happening what it is about whether or not it is mine but those details only hold so much relevance because while some is mine some of it is older than the trees and some is fresh green newborn grief all of it requires a body to move through.

So it's natural to make our pain and our sadness personal. What is it like when you can step into that other place where you open your shoulders and you just allow it, allow the visitor to be there? What's that like for you?

Chloe

It's tricky. It's not something that has come naturally to me. I think I spent many decades literally biting down on grief whenever it rose. I would hold my breath and tense everything and swallow just because for a long time it felt like what was there was too big and if I began to feel any of it, it would kill me. And yeah, over the years my love, David, encouraged me and guided me towards expressing little bits of it gradually. He would, you know, just kind of walk me through, talk me through, not biting down, not holding my breath when it came. And so I was able to tap into the ocean of grief that was there in a way that I was able to form a relationship with it and realize that it wasn't going to kill me and that it was something that I could work with to some extent and so now when it when it when it comes I typically if I am able, I let myself experience it because I mean, I’d like to be completely honest with you because I think that my grandmother and my mother both didn't do that really ever. And so a lot of it is for them.

Kimberly

You shared with me when you just brought your grandmother and your mother in, you shared with me in a comment somewhere along the line that sometimes you even call to your mother or your grandmother, daughter of, daughter of, daughter of, about like five generations back. That's such a beautiful practice to recognize the lifetimes before us that have been grappling with this unusual tension of opposites in so many different ways and so many different experiences.

Were any of them writers? Have you read anything they’ve ever written? I was just wondering if they come join you as you write Death and Birds.

Chloe

Well, I hope so. I'm more than open to it. I'm open to whoever joining, truly. I'll accept all the help I can get from whatever plane, truly.

There are parts of all of us who have been taught to toe the materialist line and need empirical evidence of a thing. There are still parts of me that feel like that and I love and respect them as much as I do all the other parts who are absolutely convinced that there's far, far more to it all than meets the eye.

Kimberly

That's the perspective I want to carry with me for the rest of my days. And you've inspired that in me, you really have. I respect you deeply. And so when I hear that, there's something in me that goes, yes, I want that too. I want that too.

Do you have a wish for people that are transitioning or even for those of us that have a few decades left or many decades? Do you have a wish for us?

Chloe

I mean, I think really my wish for, my wishes for everyone living is to realize that they are living and to pause to appreciate the preciousness of that as often as they possibly can and to put time and effort into loving every single part of themselves. Yeah, into loving every single part of themselves because I do have a sense that, I wonder if the end is very difficult, particularly difficult for the parts of ourselves that have gone unloved, you know.

So yeah, I think if we can just try and manage to find a way of loving it all. Yeah, and just appreciating the gift of our attention and not letting it be stolen by advertisers. Turning it towards...turning it towards things like birds instead.

Kimberly

I couldn't agree more, Chloe, and to me it's been, I think my own life necessitated that love of the rejected parts of myself so much that I ended up manifesting this constant dizziness, which was just like, No, everything in me was No, I will not. This is the one thing I refused because I didn't, I just couldn't. And what a beautiful thing to finally realize that I could, that the most impossible thing to love about ourselves, suddenly we turn towards and, and that it's, Oh, like, oh, it's okay. It's all okay.

So what a beautiful wish, that you have for others, because I can speak of it myself, that that is such a relief. It's such a relief and not just a spiritual relief, but an actual physical relief to go. Yep. Even this.

Chloe

Right, right, right. No, I know the amount of psychic energy and the amount of physical energy that all of us are using to refuse everything that we just don't want to accept in the present. It's enormous.

Kimberly

So I wanna ask one last question. Actually, I'm gonna read a little segment of a poem that came into my inbox today and I was like, Oh my God, this is a Chloe poem. Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer, are you familiar with her poetry? Oh, she's lovely. So I just subscribe to her and they come in my inbox, but it's called Bringing You With Me. And I'm imagining her her son committed suicide two years ago, I think it was. So a lot of her poetry more recently has been about death and dying. And she says,

Far away you are becoming
less flesh and more mystery,
less the man who wrote
uplifting quotes on the lunch board
and more whatever it is
that drives the willows to blush,
whatever it is that causes the crows
to caw, then hush, then caw again.

And there's more to the poem, but just that idea of life continuing on. That we bring each other along everywhere we go, even upon our deaths. And I'm wondering from my last question to you as an usher of birth and death, because I see you as that, a beautiful usher, Has your perspective on what matters most in life changed?

Chloe

You know, I don't know if it necessarily has changed. I think my perspective on what matters most has always been love. And I can't imagine that ever changing. So in terms of that, it hasn't changed. But in terms of how I love, in terms of how deeply I love, that's changed.

I love much more deeply because of death and births.

Kimberly

Yeah, that's perfect.

Chloe

Yay! You’re perfect.