The topic of death has been on my mind as of late. And last night, synchronistically, one of my tribe (spiritual friend group) members, sent out a suggestion (from @soundstrue) to all of us, to give the below exercise a try. When she sent this post to us, I was watching Dead Poet’s Society on television. This film is actually quite life-heavy/death-heavy, and as I was watching, I was already becoming inspired to express something deeper. Her cosmic timing was perfect for me, and that is one of the amazing things about having a tribe. At any given moment, even if we are all doing our own things, living our own lives, we are always somehow collectively tapped into one another. Thank you @erinswaves.
Below is my free-writing exercise on the topics of death and sanctuary. I invite and encourage you to try this as well, especially during the fall and winter seasons, when many things are running through their own cycles of decay, death, and rebirth.
DEATH AND SANCTUARY
I imagine a coffin. A body in a box. As if life was the hard part and death is where they could not wait to be. They are comfy and cozy in that box, although dead nonetheless. But my concept of death is not lying in a cold box. My concept of death is alive. It is dynamic. It might be better than life. Or easier. Or at least the same, but different. Mom is dying. It is happening. It is a force. We cannot control it. It is bigger than God. Or maybe it is God. Maybe this is the clearest way to God there is. Maybe this is the one and only time in life (besides birth) when God is transparent. Maybe as we are taken through death, God is closest to us then. I feel God now, as he/she begins to take Mom. We can feel his/her presence too. It is so strong. It is terrifying. Because it is so big. It is like one of those dreams I have when an unfathomably large wave, taller than buildings, is about to crash over me.
Film still from Geostorm
And in the dream, it feels like, “This is too big. This is too much. How will I survive this? How will I escape?” And in that moment, I know I will not. I have also had dreams when the wave actually crashes over me, and I am submerged under water, and I am fine. It almost feels good, like a surrender. What if that is all that death is? A release. Why is that so terrifying? It feels terrifying. But like everything terrifying, it is always the bits leading up to the thing, that feel the worst. The actual thing usually feels divine in some way. Like conquering a fear. Like the first time I rode a water slide. And my first roller coaster. Torture before. Invincibility after. Is that death? Is life the torture part? Maybe not all of it. But much of it. Maybe life is the art of managing torture, and death is the reward for that mastery.