During my years as a hospice physician--a career path I switched to in the midst of devastating grief over the suicide death of my father--I experienced a profound spiritual transformation.

 

Sitting at the bedside with people as they were navigating their last days and taking their last breaths provided me with a precious opportunity to learn from them.

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They taught me what really mattered to them when every other part of their identity had gradually slipped away. They looked back at the lives they had lived and told me stories about suffering, love, forgiveness, presence, purpose, surrender, and impermanence.

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I listened to their warnings that 'life isn't what you think it is." I wrote down their stories and studied their wisdom, even as I was struggling with my own overwhelming grief. 

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Over the years I changed how I lived my life and by following the lessons of my unexpected teachers I found peace and joy. Eventually I wrote the book 7 Lessons for Living from the Dying: How to Nurture What Really Matters so that I could share this wisdom with others.

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These 7 lessons have guided me for decades and I continue to spiral through them, always discovering new layers of woundedness and new potential for growth.

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But recently memories from my early life have returned to me. I recall the hours I spent climbing trees, picking wildflowers, following streams with my father on fishing trips, gathering rocks and leaves, watching birds, and listening to the wind.

 

And my soul remembers that those same 7 lessons were initially taught to me through my interactions with nature. No wonder they seemed so familiar when I heard hospice patients describing them. I had been a student for my entire life--and these lessons formed the curriculum.

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Now I'm creating a path for others to follow.