Dr. Frank Musten Obituary

It is a great sadness to announce the passing of Dr. Frank Musten on Wednesday, May 28th, 2025, at the Queensway Carleton Hospital at the age of 81.  Frank has been my beloved husband of 43 years, a teacher, a trainer, and a source of encouragement in all the adventures we had together.

Frank began his career in personnel selection and worked with colleagues in the Canadian Military and various law enforcement agencies. He transitioned to clinical psychology and was a much-appreciated psychotherapist, partnering with his clients on a journey of their lives and lessons. He often compared psychotherapy to being quiet in the early morning forest, waiting for the shy inhabitants to emerge. The Ottawa Mindfulness Clinic emerged as we learned life lessons about love, compassion, equanimity and generosity. Together, we hope we provided a space for learning to meet each moment with compassion and courage. When we facilitated retreats and weekly meetings to deepen the practice of being still in the face of turmoil and difficulties, we learned the power of practice in holding each other in times of loss, pain, and joy.

He will be missed by his beloved dogs, Yuki and Kaz and his cats Sprout and Riggs. We are grateful to all our neighbours for their friendship and support over the years. I am especially grateful for the clinical team of the Ottawa Mindfulness who joined in his enthusiasm for the practice of compassion and equanimity, and particularly grateful for the hard work of our Office/Clinic manager, who always kept the wheels running smoothly.

The Staff on ACE and the palliative team at the Queensway Carleton Hospital were exemplary in their compassionate and supportive attention to Frank’s needs.

For those who wish, memorial donations may be made to the Queensway Carleton Hospital Foundation.

The Summer Day by Mary Oliver

Who made the world?
Who made the swan, and the black bear?
Who made the grasshopper?
This grasshopper, I mean —
the one who has flung herself out of the grass,
the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,
who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down —
who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.
Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.
Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.
I don’t know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn’t everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?