Healings FAQ No. 14, Stephanie Garr
Healings FAQ No. 14, Stephanie Garr
"What happens when we die is either so amazing or so terrifying that to know would make this life feel impossible."
A political truism, among my friends and family at least, is that when the going gets tough, the libs get searching…for real estate listings in Canada and Portugal. Certainly that was the case a couple weeks back, when all political hope seemed lost, and it felt like the country was doomed to backslide into a revanchist abyss. And so in between doomscrolling and asking anyone I could pin down how they were coping, I clicked through photo galleries for apartments in Porto, or Algarve, fantasizing about a world free from gun nuts, book-banners, and other various zealots.
It’s a fantasy, though, for the most part. Not only are there zealots and xenophobes all around the world, but I’m no more likely to pack up and move my family out of the country today than I was at any point in the last two decades, when feelings of despair at some job, or a broken relationship, or just the call of adventure got me fixated on the greener grass of foreign lands.
But today’s Healings FAQ guest, Stephanie Garr, is the rare person who made this fantasy their reality. She is the cofounder, along with her husband, of Big & Small Travel (he’s “Big” and she’s “Small”), and has spent the better part of the last ten years documenting her adventures as a professional nomad; so far they’ve explored more than 30 countries. I first met Steph when we were colleagues at a music streaming service in San Francisco twenty years ago. I was the embittered middle manager, and she was a brilliant writer with a deep knowledge for alt and indie music (that love is still going strong). When things eventually fell apart at that gig, instead of polishing her resume and finding her next tech job, Steph hit the road and never looked back, making the rest of us extremely jealous.
One last biographical fun fact: Steph is a former gymnast, so her signature move is basically doing handstands around the world. How cool is that?
Having seen and experienced so much of this great big planet of ours, I knew Steph would have some amazing answers for the Healings FAQ, and sure enough, she did. I hope you enjoy them as much as I did.
What happens when we die?
“Solo la morte è perfetta.” Only death is perfect. Those were the few words I understood from Dimitri, a Florentine artisan who has been teaching me the dying art of hand-stitched leather bag making. He breathes and sews by the adage that beauty is in the imperfections, “like a woman,” he added. Oh, how Italian, I thought, but also how perfect, not just for this particular exercise but for my own grieving process.
In April, my dad was diagnosed with stage 4 lung cancer. On May 20, he let go of this world. In my obit to him I said that I hoped he was unlocking some of the great mysteries that had always fascinated him.
I believe that whatever happens when we die is not something our brains can possibly comprehend. And that’s absolutely vital to our design. We’re not supposed to know. What happens when we die is either so amazing or so terrifying that to know would make this life feel impossible.
On a scale of 1-10, with 10 being terrified and 1 being it’s never crossed your mind, how afraid are you of dying? Explain.
At this very moment I’m at a 2. Because it’s certainly crossed my mind. But at some point between telling my dad I loved him for what I knew would be the last time and the message I received of his passing, I realized I wasn’t afraid of death. Because he wasn’t. Or at least he didn’t seem to be, which went completely against his stubborn personality. Yet there was a peacefulness that settled into him and none of it seemed as dramatic as I imagined it would be.
I realized that the dying part takes up very little space in my head. What I am afraid of is the myriad things that can make this life hell. Life is terrifying enough. And while I’m here I’ll try to make the most of it and count my #blessings daily and not worry so much about how it will all end. At least that’s what I’m telling myself today.
What’s the closest you’ve come to death? What did you learn, if anything?
This may be a bit abstract but the most I’ve felt an overwhelming sense of death was some 3,800 feet above the charming Bosnian capital of Sarajevo. Nowadays you can take a pleasant 5-minute cable car ride up Trebević mountain to capture stunning panoramic views of the city. At the top, you’ll also see the start of the bobsled/luge track built for the 1984 Winter Olympics, which weaves its way down through spruce and pine.
It’s now a ghostly site—over 4,000 feet of concrete decay marked with graffiti and bullet holes. Just 30 years ago the track was used as a strategic artillery area in which snipers hunted down citizens below in the longest siege of a capital city. Today, you can walk the whole thing and breathe in the human spirit in all its Olympic glory and disgusting savagery. This was not where death occurred but where it was carried out and you can feel it weighing down the air up there. What did I learn? That when humans try to play God they become less human.
Do you believe in God? Explain.
It’s funny, because I follow a YouTube channel called Easy Italian and they just posted a video titled “Do Italians Believe in God?” Imagine you’re walking down the street minding your own biz and someone comes at you with a mic, a camera, and this question.
I was raised Catholic and recited the Lord’s Prayer every night before I went to sleep, probably until around the time I discovered Nirvana (the band). Nowadays I’ll only walk into a church that’s at least a few hundred years old and probably contains a masterpiece or two. In recent years, I’ve seen my mom lean further into her faith and it’s certainly helped her through the death of her husband. But as an heiress to my father’s skepticism, I’m hesitant to trust in anything other than my gut, which has never failed me. I believe whatever it is that powers our intuition is some form of God.
And I fear that the more we get sucked into a reality where every question and concern that crosses our minds can be fed to a bot, the less intuitive we are becoming and the further away we are getting from “God.”
Do you have a spiritual practice? If so, what is it? If not, why not?
Not any formal one. I’ve practiced, studied, and even taught yoga. But I became disillusioned with both its religious origins and modern commercialism. I don’t feel comfortable adhering to either. That said, I have recently felt the pull to roll out my mat again. I think that deep breathing, sitting in silence, listening to music that moves you, and dancing like no one is watching are some of the purest ways to tap into that intuition I talked about above. I need to do more of all four.
Give me an example of a sacred text, for you personally—a work of some kind (book, album, song, painting) that’s essential to the formation of your spiritual worldview. Explain.
I have three that have been occupying my mind recently.
David Bowie’s “Blackstar.” I was never a HUGE Bowie fan, but something about this song (and “Lazarus,” too) resonated with me when it came out. I had just returned from a life-transforming trip abroad and I was in something of an existential panic and I just kept playing “Blackstar” on repeat. And then Bowie died. I wrote this about it back in 2016: “I can’t even explain why this track had been haunting me so much, other than that it is beautiful, mystical, and totally terrifying—like the most powerful images we come across on this planet.” Listening to it still makes my stomach drop and my palms sweat.
Spiritualized’s “Ladies and Gentlemen We Are Floating in Space.” Long ago I decided I wanted this song played at my funeral. I don’t know why. Maybe because everything about it makes me feel alive. A few months before my dad was diagnosed with cancer he told me he was going to read the book Sophie’s World and so I decided to as well. I never realized the title came from this book. I love it even more now. Thanks, dad.
Six Feet Under. Simply one of the best TV shows ever. I just started rewatching it again and it hits even harder the second time around.
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Healings is written by Garrett Kamps and edited by Tommy Craggs. Ayana H. Muwwakkil provides art direction.
Healings is about illness, recovery, spirituality, and related topics, and began in the summer of 2023 as a chronicle of Garrett’s battle with cancer. We make no guarantees that it will hold together, thematically speaking, now or ever.