The inevitability of death has always been a source of dread and anxiety, across all ages and human societies. But the modern age has produced a new, very particular dimension to that primal fear.

Many of us fear not so much death itself, but rather the chaotic, disorienting and often extremely expensive process of dying made common by modern medicine.

But if dying is still inevitable, a messy and inhumane death it does not have to be. That’s the message behind journalist Katy Butler’s new book The Art of Dying Well: A Practical Guide to a Good End of Life (Scribner).

Butler, who discusses the book at a benefit event for the Mesa Refuge on Saturday, Sept. 7 at Point Reyes Presbyterian Church, has crossed this terrain before. Her 2013 book Knocking on Heaven’s Door: The Path to a Better Way of Death was part memoir and part investigation, offering the story of her father’s death as an illustration of what she calls “the Gray Zone,” the suspended state between an active life and clinical death largely created by modern medical technology.

“I felt I had laid out a problem in the first book,” says Butler, a long-time Bay Area reporter and writer. “I felt there was a need for a book that was about solutions, and that’s really the difference—this book says, OK, granted we have a broken medical system that is very fragmented toward the end of life, and we are afraid of death anyway. So given these problems, here are the workarounds—stories of people who have actually risen to the occasion and trusted their own best instincts to create a death that was less bad, or maybe even really good.”

The Art of Dying Well works best as a kind of handbook. Its seven chapters are determined by the particular stages of life, from “Resilience,” when you’re still active and healthy, all the way to “Active Dying,” the moment when it’s time to say goodbye. Along the way, each chapter outlines the attitudes and methods of preparation that can lead to a dignified and emotionally fulfilling end of life. The book’s format, says Butler, allows readers to return to it at different times in their lives.

“If you’re in the ‘Resilience’ part of life,” she says, “where you can still reverse a lot of health conditions, then you might want to read that chapter and call it a day, and put it away until you’re in some very different stage of life. And, if you’re in crisis, if there’s someone in your house who is dying, then skip the early parts and turn to the last two chapters and you’ll get a lot out of that.”

Butler’s inspiration was an antique text called Ars Moriendi, translated from the Latin as The Art of Dying. The text dates back to the 1400s and is a kind of medieval guidebook on the best way to meet death. She calls it one of the first bestselling self-help books. “It framed dying as a spiritual ordeal, and it named five different sorts of temptations and emotional struggles at the end of life, and how your attendants or friends could reassure you and help you through that.”

Though the fact of dying hasn’t changed, the circumstances of death have been upended since the Middle Ages. Butler, 70, started the writing process mindful of what links ancient ideas of death with contemporary ones.

“I do think there’s some commonality to what people think of as a good death. Clean and comfortable and relatively free from pain, having people that you love around you, being spiritually at peace,” she says. “Those things are still the same.”

The new book also offers up practical policy ideas to address what she calls a “technology-rich but relationship-poor” health care system. One such idea is a Medicare program known as PACE, which keeps ailing seniors out of hospitals and nursing-care facilities when it’s practical to do so, while still meeting their needs for home care, therapy and medication. The problem is, PACE is limited in its capacities and its funding. Still, there are many more down-to-earth approaches people can adopt to make a fulfilling end of life better for everyone—approaches that previous generations knew something about.

“You look at the ‘Greatest Generation,’” Butler says, referring to those who lived through the Great Depression and World War II. “They had stronger social networks and more of an understanding to bring a covered dish when someone has a major health crisis. We need to relearn some of those more rural or red-state values of neighborliness and being part of community groups. That stuff matters.”

Katy Butler appears for a reception and reading on Saturday, Sept. 7, at Mesa Refuge and Point Reyes Presbyterian Church. Reception, 5pm; reading, 7pm. $25-$65. Tickets and info at ptreyesbooks.com.

It hadn’t occurred to me that the wine scene in West Marin might have much in common with the wine scene in Ethiopia until I read an article that mentioned tej, the traditional honey wine of Ethiopia.

Then I mentioned this to Heidrun Meadery-founder Gordon Hull, who not only knows about tej, but has also sampled different kinds of varietal Ethiopian honey. Hull says, as he cautiously watches a tank of just-brewed honey-and-water mixture, that he’d love to import some for his own méthode champenoise—sparkling mead—someday.

For now, Point Reyes Station’s Heidrun focuses on making varietal mead from sources located on the West Coast, and in Florida and Hawaii. When Hull talks about “varietal mead,” he means the honey it’s fermented from comes from beehives deployed for the pollination of a particular flowering crop. Take California orange blossom ($25). Growers and consumers want oranges, but to get them they need orange tree blossoms to be pollinated—largely, by European honeybees brought in by professional beekeepers. But who cares about Oregon chicory blossom ($28), since there’s no fruit to eat? Chicory farmers need the seeds, and Oregon does big business in seed farming. The honey that results, that’s just gravy. Well, honey. This mead has an intriguing juniper-like aroma.

Because each honey, from each region and flower source, has a unique character, Hull explains as he pours a pitcher of clean-fermenting champagne yeast into a sterilized tank, his aim is to preserve that aroma’s expression in the mead, without the influence of native yeasts or souring bacteria.

My favorite mead from this tasting was Marin County wildflower ($40), from Heidrun’s line of “terroir” meads, lately renamed Bee-yond. The idea here is to express the whole range of flowering plants in the local environment, via bees, in a glass. This is reminiscent of rich, dark clover honey on the nose. But the finish is dry, an unexpected delight.

Set in a greenhouse, the tasting room features a long bar made from bee boxes and Champagne riddling racks. While the estate flower garden is a work in progress, and best to visit in spring and early summer, a curly-leaved willow tree shrouds an enchanted sylvan hideaway for picnics. Buy a bottle and they’ll bring it to you in an ice bucket. Just make sure to pick up some local cheese on the way here.

On Sept. 22 Heidrun Meadery hosts “Bee, Experienced,” a flower-to-flute experience. Don beekeeping suits and then enjoy a tasting. $90.

11925 Highway 1, Point Reyes Station. Open daily, 11am–4pm; 5pm weekends. Tasting, $15–$20. Tours Saturday mornings. 415.663.9122.

ARIES (March 21-April 19): John Muir (1838-1914) was skilled at creating and using machinery. In his 20s, he diligently expressed those aptitudes. But at age 27, while working in a carriage parts factory, he suffered an accident that blinded him. For several months, he lay in bed, hoping to recuperate. During that time, Muir decided that if his sight returned, he would thereafter devote it to exploring the beauty of the natural world. The miracle came to pass, and for the rest of his life he traveled and explored the wilds of North America, becoming an influential naturalist, author and early environmentalist. I’d love to see you respond to one of your smaller setbacks—much less dramatic than Muir’s!—with comparable panache, Aries.

TAURUS (April 20-May 20): Of all the children on the planet, 3 percent live in the US. And yet American children are in possession of 40 percent of the world’s toys. In accordance with astrological omens, I hereby invite you to be like an extravagant American child in the coming weeks. You have cosmic permission to seek maximum fun and treat yourself to zesty entertainment and lose yourself in uninhibited laughter and wow yourself with beguiling games and delightful gizmos. It’s playtime!

GEMINI (May 21-June 20): The ama are Japanese women whose job it is to dive to the sea bottom and fetch oysters bearing pearls. The water is usually cold, and the workers use no breathing apparatus, depending instead on specialized techniques to hold their breath. I propose we make them your inspirational role models. The next few weeks will be a favorable time, metaphorically speaking, for you to descend into the depths in quest of valuables and inspirations.

CANCER (June 21-July 22): Renowned Cancerian neurologist Oliver Sacks believed that music and gardens could be vital curative agents, as therapeutic as pharmaceuticals. My personal view is that walking in nature can be as medicinal as working and lolling in a garden. As for music, I would extend his prescription to include singing and dancing as well as listening. I’m also surprised that Sacks didn’t give equal recognition to the healing power of touch, which can be wondrously rejuvenating, either in its erotic or non-erotic forms. I bring these thoughts to your attention because I suspect the coming weeks will be a Golden Age of non-pharmaceutical healing for you. I’m not suggesting that you stop taking the drugs you need to stay healthy; I simply mean that music, nature, and touch will have an extra-sublime impact on your well-being.

LEO (July 23-Aug. 22): If you visualize what ancient Rome looked like, it’s possible you draw on memories of scenes you’ve seen portrayed in movies. The blockbuster film Gladiator, starring Russell Crowe and directed by Ridley Scott, may be one of those templates. The weird thing is that Gladiator, as well as many other such movies, were inspired by the grandiose paintings of the ancient world done by Dutch artist Lawrence Alma-Tadema (1836–1912). And in many ways, his depictions were not at all factual. I bring this to your attention, Leo, in the hope that it will prod you to question the accuracy and authenticity of your mental pictures. The coming weeks will be a favorable time to get fuzzy and incorrect memories into closer alignment with the truth, and to shed any illusions that might be distorting your understanding of reality.

VIRGO (Aug. 23-Sept. 22): I don’t know if the coming weeks will be an Anais Nin phase for you. But they could be if you want them to. It’s up to you whether you’ll dare to be as lyrical, sensual, deep, expressive and emotionally rich as she was. In case you decide that YES, you will, here are quotes from Nin that might serve you well. 1. It is easy to love and there are so many ways to do it. 2. My mission, should I choose to accept it, is to find peace with exactly who and what I am. 3. I am so thirsty for the marvelous that only the marvelous has power over me. Anything I can not transform into something marvelous, I let go. 4. Life shrinks or expands in proportion to one’s courage. 5. It was while helping others to be free that I gained my own freedom.

LIBRA (Sept. 23-Oct. 22): “When you’re nailing a custard pie to the wall, and it starts to wilt, it doesn’t do any good to hammer in more nails.” So advised novelist Wallace Stegner. I hope I’m delivering his counsel in time to dissuade you from even trying to nail a custard pie to the wall—or an omelet or potato chip or taco, for that matter. What might be a better use of your energy? You could use the nails to build something that will actually be useful to you.

SCORPIO (Oct. 23-Nov. 21): “I hid my deepest feelings so well I forgot where I placed them,” wrote author Amy Tan. My Scorpio friend Audrey once made a similar confession: “I buried my secrets so completely from the prying curiosity of other people that I lost track of them myself.” If either of those descriptions apply to you, Scorpio, the coming weeks will be an excellent time to secure a remedy. You’ll have extra power and luck if you commune with and celebrate your hidden feelings and buried secrets.

SAGITTARIUS (Nov. 22-Dec. 21): “No Eden valid without serpent.” Novelist Wallace Stegner wrote that pithy riff. I think it’s a good motto for you to use in the immediate future. How do you interpret it? Here’s what I think: As you nourish your robust vision of paradise on Earth, and as you carry out the practical actions that enable you to manifest that vision, it’s wise to have some creative irritant in the midst of it. That bug, that question, that tantalizing mystery is the key to keeping you honest and discerning. It gives credibility and gravitas to your idealistic striving.

CAPRICORN (Dec. 22-Jan. 19): The coco de mer is a palm tree that grows in the Seychelles. Its seed is huge, weighing as much as 40 pounds and having a diameter of 19 inches. The seed takes seven years to grow into its mature form, then takes an additional two years to germinate. Everything I just said about the coco de mer seed reminds me of you, Capricorn. According to my analysis of the astrological omens, you’ve been working on ripening an awesome seed for a long time, and are now in the final phase before it sprouts. The Majestic Budding may not fully kick in until 2020, but I bet you’re already feeling the enjoyable, mysterious pressure.

AQUARIUS (Jan. 20-Feb. 18): If you throw a pool ball or a bronze Buddha statue at a window, the glass will break. In fact, the speed at which it fractures could reach 3,000 miles per hour. Metaphorically speaking, your mental blocks and emotional obstacles are typically not as crackable. You may smack them with your angry probes and bash them with your desperate pleas, yet have little or no effect. But I suspect that in the coming weeks, you’ll have much more power than usual to shatter those vexations. So I hereby invite you to hurl your strongest blasts at your mental blocks and emotional obstacles. Don’t be surprised if they collapse at unexpectedly rapid speeds.

PISCES (Feb. 19-March 20): In the 13th century, the Italian city of Bologna was serious about guarding the integrity of its cuisine. In 1250, the cheese guild issued a decree proclaiming, “If you make fake mortadella . . . your body will be stretched on the rack three times, you will be fined 200 gold coins, and all the food you make will be destroyed.” I appreciate such devotion to purity and authenticity and factualness. And I recommend that in the coming weeks, you commit to comparable standards in your own sphere. Don’t let your own offerings be compromised or corrupted. The same with the offerings you receive from other people. Be impeccable.

Q: I have to go visit my mom, who’s in the hospital in another state. She’s really ill. Her boyfriend told me she’s lost a lot of weight and it might be shocking to see her initially. I want to be strong for her, but I’m a big crier. I cry on every phone call, and it’s awful. How do I show up for her and not let my feelings overwhelm me so she is not sad or worried about me and can concentrate on getting better?—Emotional

A: When you’re visiting a friend or loved one who’s seriously ill, it’s nice to show up bearing gifts—like flowers, magazines, and a paper bag you can hyperventilate into.

It’s scary seeing someone you care about all small and frail in a hospital bed. And this is your mom who’s really ill. Even so, the level of fear you experience when you see her is something you could have some control over. Neuroscience studies find that novel experiences are the most emotionally powerful, having the most intense effect on us. Additionally, psychology research finds that people quickly become acclimated to both positive and negative changes in their lives. Accordingly, seeing your mom for the first time will have the most gut-punchability.

To dial down the intensity of your reaction when you first see her, you could ask her boyfriend to take some video of her and send it to you. He should ask your mom first, of course, so it won’t violate her privacy, and perhaps cast what he’s doing as sending you a hello. If she balks at letting him, he could then tell her the real deal: that it’s to emotionally prepare you for seeing her.

The other major player in how you react to your mom’s condition is empathy. Neuroscientists Olga Klimecki and Tania Singer note that empathy involves our observing or even just imagining what another person is feeling and having that trigger the same sort of feeling in us. They give the example of hearing that a friend is sad because her grandmother is dying: “Our first reaction would be empathy, which means we would share the feeling of sadness and thereby know what our friend is going through.”

This initial bolt of empathy rises up automatically. But once you experience it, Klimecki and Singer explain, there’s a fork in the road, which is to say you can go one of two ways with your empathy: into unhealthy empathic distress or healthy empathic concern.

Empathic distress is a me-focused response—empathy that turns into emotional quicksand when we just keep “feeling with” a person (feeling and feeling and feeling) without doing anything to try to change their situation. In time, we get overwhelmed by the distress we’re experiencing at their distress. This often leads to what Klimecki and Singer call “withdrawal behavior”: our trying to escape our uncomfortable emotions by ducking out and leaving the other person alone with their suffering.

Empathic concern, on the other hand, is an other-focused response. It starts with our experiencing that initial bolt of “feeling with” a person who’s suffering, but then we shift into “feeling for”—as in “What can I do FOR you?” Empathic concern is basically empathy with an action plan, motivating us to try to make things better for another person.

The important takeaway for you is that you don’t have to let your feelings run the show, dragging you boohooingly along behind them. You can instead control your feelings by shifting from me-driven empathy, empathic distress, to mom-centered empathic concern. In practice, this simply takes redirecting your focus from how sad you are to how helpful you can be—emotionally and practically. Think Warrior Nurse instead of Drama Queen.

Really, your just being there is huge. And once you leave, you can start sending her cards a few days a week. This will help keep you from falling into the swamp of me-focused pointless distress, and it’ll be comforting for her.

Wellness conferences are all the rage these days. Just ask Gwyneth Paltrow. While San Francisco has seen a  number of women and lifestyle conferences in recent years like In Good Company and The What Summit, Marin had stayed behind—until now.

Futurewell, the inaugural wellness conference by Meg Adelman and Lily Riesenfeld, is coming to Stemple Creek Ranch on Sept. 6 offering a dazzling schedule full of movement, inspiration and, yes, plenty of talks about mindfulness, adaptogens and regenerative farming. Adelman, Wellness Director at the Novato-based brand Navitas Organics, and Riesenfeld, an entrepreneur who founded, among other things, Kinship, the Marin-based wellness consulting firm, joined forced to pursue a path taken by more and more brands in this niche, infusing the hype with real knowledge.

Recent   examples   of   a   responsible,  scientific   approach   to   marketing   wellness products   include  Dosist,   the   cannabis   brand   that   provides   consumers   with meticulous explanations regarding the various offerings, and Seed, a prebiotics brand that recently launched a test and an online course.

“Having spent years working in the wellness industry, we both felt there was a greater need to foster a deeper level of understanding about the environmental factors contributing to disease and the threat of climate changes undermining our best effort for self-care,” says Adelman. “Many wellness trends are so completely unfounded but that doesn’t stop them from taking off and being wildly popular. We want to popularize organic and regenerative agriculture as a solution for improving health across the board.”

In the program is a mix of self-care, fun and education; the highly popular workout The Class by Taryn Toomey, billed  as  the  epitome  of  the   mind-body connection, will make an appearance, and so will meditation and sunset yoga.

Breakfast by Navitas Organics, herbal teas and snacks, as well as a dinner curated by Alice Waters, will keep attendees fueled. Talks will range on everything from regenerative agriculture to food and developmental health, with presenters such as Jennifer Siebel Newsom, Waters and Andy Naja-Riese, the new CEO of the Agricultural Institute of Marin.

The ranch, as well as its geographical location, couldn’t be a better fit.

“Stemple Creek Ranch is a true example of what farming for a healthier future can really look like,” says Adelman.

“West Marin exemplifies in many ways the future of regenerative farming: it is the epicenter of where the Marin Carbon Project began, and where organizations like Marin Agricultural Land Trust continue to foster land  stewardship and  conservation,” says  Riesenfeld. 

“Sue Connolly, the founder of Cowgirl Creamery, once told me that if it weren’t for the public and private partnerships with the government that also supported organic agriculture, with incentive programs, West Marin would never have been able to have such a high percentage of organic and chemical-free farming. Partnerships, collaboration, and innovation supporting organic agriculture are features that anchor what we seek to accomplish at Futurewell.” 

General admission tickets are $495, including all talks, panels and food offerings, with  additional  charges for fitness classes, dinner and cocktails  available for purchase.

“We wanted Futurewell to feel like a mini-retreat,” says Adelman. “We’re combining everything we love about wellness and self-care with an educational platform that will help drive change.”