Lessons from the Circle of Life

By Leslie Fiering

PROMPT — The way I see it ...

Do not go gentle into that good night,

Old age should burn and rave at close of day;

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

-- Dylan Thomas

When I was younger—in my early 20s—full of revolutionary fervor, marching for racial equality, to legalize abortion, for peace and to change the world, I recognized a kindred spirit in Dylan Thomas. With this poem, he became someone who, like me, was raging to continue the revolution by asking, begging, nay, truly demanding his father not give up that final fight against death.

At that time of my life, when youth and aspiration made the world seem so vast and worth exploring, I identified with Dylan Thomas’ exhortations. I saw the poem as an anthem. A call to drink in the world, to feed on its art, longing and life. Letting go of it would be a surrender of the worst sort.

Since then, I’ve lived another half century. I’ve loved, made art and cherished friends who have shared both the good times and the bad. The world is still vast with opportunities as well as, unfortunately, many of the same injustices to be fought against. That has not changed. But my thoughts on dying have.

I’ve lost too many life-long friends, lovers and family. I’ve witnessed far too many of their deaths to wish a raging, difficult demise on anyone. I’ve watched hale and vigorous people ravaged by chronic illness, physical and mental, until they’re wracked with pain and confusion, kept alive only through heroic medical intervention that prolonged pain and suffering in the service of life-at-all-costs (not to mention profit and legal cover from lawsuits to the very institutions charged with end-of-life care).

Prolonged pain and suffering can’t be called a good death. Not for anyone – the people dying or the family and friends who have stayed by them.

But I’ve also seen people I loved die in their own beds at home surrounded by those they love—by the people who had supported them both in fighting their demise when recovery seemed possible and then recognizing when it was time to let go.

Now, when I read Dylan Thomas’ poem, it still touches me. But in a different way. What I once read as a young man’s rant against the circle of life with its inevitable end, I now see as a bellow into the void of inexpressible grief and frustration that he is helpless to stop his father’s demise.

Rage, rage against the dying of the light, indeed!

At some point, we are all going to die. Going gently into that good night on our own terms within a circle of love is a gift.

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In her youth, Leslie Fiering lived nomadically until she settled down to become a technology trends market analyst, writing think pieces on the future of personal and mobile computing. Now retired, she writes both memoir and fiction and teaches writing from her horse farm overlooking the Pacific Ocean in Pescadero, CA.