Michael Stone’s death came as a shock to those who knew him. He died of an overdose, with toxicology tests showing the presence of fentanyl in his body.
Stone was a meditation instructor who grew up in Toronto. He had a global following, but almost nobody knew that he struggled with bipolar disorder.
CBC Radio’s Metro Morning spoke with Erin Robinsong, a friend of Stone’s, on Friday about his legacy. The interview has been edited for clarity.
He was so fresh, so generous, so thoughtful in really the most fun and deep ways.
I think a lot of our relationship was based on a deep love of books. If one of us read something we loved we would alert the other.
He had the most incredible taste. He loved Maggie Nelson, Philip Whalen. He had a beautiful mind.
We went to concerts. He was a beautiful artist and gave pretty much everything he ever made away, so it’s all dispersed.
I think that our friendship got real when my best friend was dying in 2010, and he just offered me ways to think about death that were the most helpful I’ve ever received.
Mostly he gave me 12th-century Japanese poems. But not in any kind of obtuse-teacher way, but because they were helpful.
He also could just talk about death in a way that was so real and opened up my thinking about it in a way that I had no language for before. It’s so unbelievable for me that this has happened
It’s also strange that so many tools he gave me and other people, we now have to use for him.
Pretty immense. For me, it felt a bit like what good art could do for people, in a person. He really opened up frames for people.
He inspired people to use the ingredients of their lives. He reminded people that what they needed was not really a better improved version of themselves some time in the future, but this idea also that this is part of the problem, that there’s something to fix or improve.
But really that by attending to our lives differently, just as they are, that that is medicine, maybe.
His impact was the best medicine. And I think it was very individual for people and it was so inspiring. And I think it will continue to be.
He told me a few years ago about the bipolar. I think I only truly understood the immensity of what that meant for him when this happened.
It feels so strange to have known that and not have understood more, or asked more, or listened more.
He was a very strong and functional person in a lot of the time, and it was possible to — if you didn’t live with him or see him all the time, and the last few years when it was getting worse we lived in different places — I would hear about it, but he was also so good at being good when he…