I was fascinated by the idea of leaving behind an ethical will, sometimes defined as a description of a person’s hopes and dreams and thoughts about contributing to the world. In contrast to the material possessions bestowed in a conventional will, the ethical will challenges us to articulate the values that have meant most to us during a lifetime of practical experience. It is an attempt to describe non-material resources that can sustain our successors during future difficulties, providing them substance based on practical knowledge.
Something about this concept was floating around in my mind when I was introduced to Berry Morgan, a respected southern writer, nearing the end of her life. I was more aware of what I was hoping to glean from her life experience than what I could pass on from my own. I began visiting her regularly and as we got to know each other, I found in her somewhat prickly personality a resonance with my own. Her jokes made me laugh aloud and my laughter pleased her because, as she said, “most people don’t even know I’m making a joke.”
Without planning to I found myself telling her about a series of events that occurred in my life over a long time frame. They made me think about the existence of an afterlife. I wrote short vignettes about each one but I had never discussed them with anyone. Each event had been too special to allow for the possibility of it being trampled upon.
Somehow I trusted Berry even though she never directly stated believing my stories or not. All she wanted was that the quality of my writing should make them more convincing. Before meeting her I had often taken the writings out of my cabinet and edited them. Much to my dismay something about each re-writing seemed to me to weaken them.
The year and a half long conversation between Berry and me–she allowing me to transcribe stories she wished to leave to her family and her guiding me to improving my stories–eventually led to my writing a book, The Transparent Feather, after her death. It is the tale of our stories and of our relationship.
I think of the stories I told her as part of an ethical will. I had heard variations of my experiences from other people uncounted times but I’d never before spoken of my own witnessing. Each event changed something in me. The veil between life and death grew thinner. The afterlife became more substantive as did the subtle energies operating in this one. “Chance” meetings, unexplained feelings later confirmed to be correct, and helpful coincidences became significant items for further exploration.
In this video, Allison Hunt humors us with values learned from getting a new hip.
PRACTICE: Is there some idea that you value or believe that you’ve never expressed? Write a description of it or tell it to someone you think will respond in a positive or insightful way. Note what happens.
Contact. If you are wondering which incidents in your life could inspire an ethical will, contact me for a free 20-minute consultation, and we can explore some of the ideas you have.
OK, this is wonderful! Now help us with some basic instructions (?) or guidance in how to do it formally. I love it.