A couple of days ago a longtime Waking Down in Mutuality practitioner and for some years now, also a Mentor, Art Pierce, called me. In his typical terse way he informed me that he had suddenly been diagnosed as having a perforated ulcer and was going in for surgery. Of course, he was not looking forward to the surgery. But he did not appear overly concerned. Presumably it was going to be a relatively routine medical procedure.
Art also asked if I would let a few of our friends know, and I said I would. i regret to say, other events of the day consumed me, and I forgot to do so.
This morning I learned first that the operation and ensuing procedures had failed, and that in fact Art was on life support and that, after his wife Dee and daughter Melina got to his bedside, he would soon be taken off it. A little later Dee informed me that in fact Art had died earlier, at 7:30 a.m. Pacific time, before she and Melina reached him.
Art was in his early seventies. He had health complications that, as it turned out, had worked fatefully against him. Suddenly, unexpectedly, he ran out of time in this life.
He also had realized a witnessing quality of Consciousness at least twenty years ago, long before he came into contact with my work. And, for all his odd, crusty quirkiness as a character, after his Second Birth awakening Art became a wonderful, trusted, and much beloved Mentor to others in their own awakenings and transformations.
i was talking with Michael Grossman, one of the Waking Down in Mutuality teachers, and he described how a single comment from Art had served him enormously years ago. Another of our awakened participants wrote me later in the day about how Art had mentored her with great care and wisdom, and how much she treasured his kind service and loved him dearly.
I’m titling this post “Celebrating Art Pierce’s Life” but I actually don’t know that much about his life. I just want to celebrate this man, this particular human being, who’d had — I do know this — such a longstanding passion for what really matters and what really means something in a human existence. Art was an iconoclast. He had a stubborn streak. Just recently we had a bit of a workout. I’d communicated something that, quite apart from any intention of mine, pushed some of his “authority issue” buttons, and we just had to work our way through it till we were done. He didn’t think twice about letting me know how he felt about whatever it was. I don’t even remember at the moment, except that it was something I was indicating to a group of people, and I’d had no idea anyone might take such issue with it. But, in his completely Art-esque way, Art was passionately dedicated to both his own true autonomy and the real nitty-gritty of mutuality. And sure enough, he helped me see how I’d failed to communicate in a way that honored him and the others as fully as I should and could have.
Linda is just reminding me of another of Art’s wonderful characteristices: he utterly loved animals and living creatures of all kinds. At one point his and Dee’s little dog went missing. Art was just devastated. He had no need whatsoever to maintain some kind of aloof, detached consciousness. His realization was way more truly embodied and natural than that. Art was surrendered into living, into real existence, into real loving and caring for other living beings. He suffered his dog’s disappearance without any buffers and then, when she was brought back to him and his family, he celebrated her return with utter relief and joy. P.S., he reached out to his entire network in mutuality and didn’t try to hide his grief and devastation, or to appear “cool” about what had happened. And he so gratefully acknowledged all our prayers and notified us as soon as the dog was returned.
As I’ve been writing this, Linda and I are also sitting at home, watching Sunday night TV — and feeling into who this man was. Linda broke down remembering one of the sweetest things Art did once for her. A few years ago, when he heard she was going to resume her career as a jazz singer, being an afficionado himself he went through many, many albums of his extensive jazz collection. He then recorded, by hand, hours upon hours of personally selected songs. When he was done, he wound up sending Linda eleven cassettes, full to the brim, both sides packed with songs. He told Linda that he just thought they’d help her in her music career. Linda said, “I was just blown away by that gesture. He had included some of the greatest jazz singers of all time in that collection: Ella Fitzgerald, Sarah Vaughan, Vicki Carr, and many others who most people probably have never heard of, but who I knew were among the greatest of the great. I was just so touched by the amount of time it took for him to compile this amazing collection of music for me. It’s something I will always treasure about this precious man and how giving he truly was.”
One of the other senior members of the Waking Down network, who’s quite naturally very psychic, let me know today that she had felt Art’s presence very strongly at one point after his death. And, she said, it was obvious he was, her words, “insanely blissful.”
Mike Grossman said that to him it’s obvious Art just couldn’t bring any more of the depth and greatness of Who he is into this embodiment; so it was time to move on. (My paraphrase.) Maybe so. Makes sense to me. That’s how I see it too. But who knows?
In any case, as his transition proceeds, I invite all of those who know him and who hear of him to celebrate his life and also, to take a couple of lessons from his death.
One is, let’s set up some systems so that when any one among us suddenly faces an emergency like Art’s operation, that person and his or her family know about and can easily get word out to the whole community. Art called me. I’m legendary for forgetting really important things, sometimes at really wrong or inauspicious times. And I did that after his call. I feel badly about it, yes. I should have made a big point of acting on it right away. But I didn’t. And I know me. I shouldn’t be solely trusted with such news.
The other side of this particular coin is, in Art’s situation I have such a strong sense that it was “his time.” If everyone had known he was going into surgery, would our prayers have somehow saved the day, and prolonged Art’s life? Knowing the details of his complications, I doubt it. But we’ll never know.
The way I figure, I can’t change what happened with Art. But I, and we all, can change how communications take place in our network of friends, colleagues, fellow travelers on our path. So, right afterward, this same day, I called another friend who’s now suffering a serious health crisis that had been developing undetected for years. And I asked that he please set up a system with his wife and family so they will know to contact several people in our community network should anything ever go seriously wrong and our community prayers might be needed right away.
On another level, there is a related and yet quite different lesson. And that’s one that death and calamity often teach us, but we are slow to take to heart. It’s simply that we cannot assume we have time. Art certainly wasn’t under the impression he had time to waste. But when he headed for the hospital to get his ulcer operated on, he had I think little or no idea that his life would soon be slipping away.
I started this current series of posts to our blog with announcements of anniversaries that mean a lot to me. Art’s death encourages me to dare even more than I was thinking I would, to speak truths of what I feel and see and sense are real, necessary, and auspicious in my life and our collective work. I’ve been biting my tongue about a number of things for a long time. Over the coming weeks and months, I will be doing that less and less.
When my time of dying comes, I want to be able to look back and see that I gave this life everything I could have…and that I long ago stopped holding back and hedging bets, trying to make sure I didn’t offend or challenge people, fearing the consequences of standing up for my vision and my mission and my passion. The fact is, if I extrapolate out from 15 years of work so far, at the rate things have been going, even if I live to a hundred I will have accomplished so terribly little of what I have long sensed I am here to be, to do, and to leave as my legacy. So the time has come for me, at least, to stand up much more forthrightly for what I am here for. I hope the same is true for you.
Perhaps you thought I was already doing that. Well, stay tuned. And…join me. In your own way, for your own truths, with your own passion.