"Teach us to number our days that we may gain a heart of wisdom." (Psalm 20:12)
My father often spoke of death as a homecoming and was as prepared as he could be for his transition in 2007. Doctors had suggested procedures to prolong his life, but he insisted on dying at home. He did not want to be medicated or intubated, and we respected his wishes.
After a stroke which left him paralyzed, he was discharged from the hospital and we took him home. He could no longer speak, but he had just enough strength to contract the muscles of his fingers and thumb. With my finger in his hand, he could squeeze. “If you can hear me, squeeze my finger.” He squeezed. “If you’re comfortable, squeeze my finger.” Squeeze. “If you’re thirsty, squeeze my finger.” No squeeze. “You are not thirsty. Is this correct?” Squeeze. If computers could be programmed using 0s and 1s, I reasoned we could communicate volumes with a simple squeeze. “Are you ready to go home?” Long pause. Squeeze.
The atmosphere was somber, but celebratory. Many people who loved him stopped by the house to pay their respects. My mother, sister, aunt, several friends and a man like a son to him were at his side when his vital force began ebbing away. We thanked him for the good he had done. We shared experiences. We took turns reading passages from the Bible and singing hymns. His breath became erratic. The time had come for him to experience the Reality of Death, the Great Mystery.
The time of his departure was at hand. The sky was pink. The sun was tucked behind a cloud. It looked like a one eyed Cyclops, or like the eye of God surveying the city, seeing all. On December 31, 2007 at 1:15PM, my father gave up the ghost. He took his final breath. I checked his pulse. There was none. The spirit that animated him returned to the Mystery that gave it. He departed as he came- helpless, fragile, vulnerable… and loved. I stood at the foot of his bed. “You have fought the good fight; you have finished your course; you have kept the faith.” Darkness fell. His body grew cool. He returned to peace. I would go to him; but he would not return to me.
At last you have departed and gone to the Unseen.
What marvelous route did you take from this world?
Beating your wings and feathers,
you broke free from this cage.
Rising up to the sky
you attained the world of the soul.
This phantom world gave you false signs
But you turned from the illusion
and journeyed to the land of truth.
Yours is now the Soul of Souls!
Now you have gone to rest
in the arms of the Beloved.
-Rumi
In our home, death was not taboo, nor were we shielded from it. My father presided over many funerals and sat vigil for the dying. When I was a child, I remember accompanying my father to a funeral for an infant. I still recall the swollen, misshapen head of the small child resting in his coffin. He looked as if he had been molded by an amateur attempting to sculpt a child out of clay. It wasn’t quite right. There was nothing adorable about the baby in the coffin. No innocence. He looked monstrous. His face was swollen and discolored, his eyes were sewn shut. His body had begun to decompose and I could smell the rot. I was a child staring at a child who wore the face of death. I felt fear. I could not pretend it away. My father did not coddle nor comfort me, as his intention was not to comfort, but to instruct.
In introducing me to Death, my father gave me the gift of truth. In The Seven Habits of Highly Effective People, the late author Steven Covey suggests we live “beginning with the end in mind.” Death is the end; life is terminal. And death is the starting point from which to live more intentionally. My father lived with this end in mind. He put “first things first”- another of the seven habits. My father preached on death often and showed us how to live a meaningful life: how to love, how to endure, how to serve, how to stand up to injustice, how to pray, how to fast, how to forgive, how to transcend suffering, how to live life more fully, more courageously, more authentically. From him, I learned to accept and embrace death, the finality of it. Death itself was servant to the One who created the Waster to destroy. My father challenged me from a very early age to confront what I could not escape and to work within its confines. I also learned to walk into fear to learn its nature. Without illusions, I was trained to expect destruction and loss and death. Beginning with the end in mind, we learn to embrace the brevity and preciousness of this life.
I respected our Christian tradition, and was curious to learn more about others. Like Nachiketa, the boy in the Upanishads who visited Yama, the Lord of Death, I, too, wanted to know, in life, the secrets Death had to teach. Although I could not learn directly from the Lord of Death as Nachiketa had in the allegory, I could explore what others had to say about death and life after death.
In the Tibetan tradition, death is a bardo, a transitional stage or intermediate state between death and rebirth. As in many religions, our thoughts, words, and deeds in life determine the fate of our souls after death. Dying can be a period of intense spiritual progress and is viewed as an opportunity for liberation. Whilst conscious, we may seek forgiveness and forgive, relaxing into acceptance, letting go of attachments, extending love to others, expressing gratitude for lessons learned and for this precious gift of life.
Bronnie Ware, a hospice nurse, recorded the top 5 regrets of those who had entered the bardo of dying. The regrets of the dying can inform the living. The top 5 regrets are:
I wish I’d had the courage to live a life true to myself, not the life others expected of me.
I wish I hadn’t worked so hard.
I wish I’d had the courage to express my feelings.
I wish I had stayed in touch with my friends.
I wish that I had let myself be happier.
We can turn the regrets of those closest to death into positive affirmations to help us lead a more fulfilling life:
I live courageously, boldly and authentically.
I work harder on myself than I do on my job.
I practice communicating mindfully and compassionately; I listen deeply-without judgment.
I value and nurture relationships with family and friends.
I pursue my passions and happiness unapologetically and promote the good of the Whole of which I am a part.
Beginning with the end in mind, we learn to appreciate the moments that make up the minute, the hour, the day, the year... and live life accordingly. For when Death approaches, there will be no negotiations and no extensions or exemptions.
As consciousness begins to unravel, we enter the stage of dissolution. The vital force wanes as death draws nearer. In many traditions, clerics begin administering last rites at this stage. In the Tibetan Book of the Dead, the following instructions are given as the breath is about to cease:
The time has now come for you to seek the Path. Your breathing is about to cease. You will be set face to face before with the Clear Light. You are about to experience it in its Reality, wherein all things are like the void and cloudless sky. At this moment, know thyself; and abide in that state.
According to the Book of the Dead, when the breath has ceased, the vital-force sinks into the nerve-centre of Wisdom and the Knower experiences the Clear Light. As the vital-force continues its journey through the right and left nerves, the Intermediate State momentarily dawns. When all the symptoms of death are about to be completed, the following instructions are whispered in the ear:
O nobly-born, do not let your mind be distracted. This is the moment of death. Take advantage of this moment. Resolve, for the good of all sentient beings, to keep your effort focused on love and compassion towards them.
In the Tibetan Buddhist tradition, there is a technique for the dying called tukdam. The practitioner enters into a meditative state before death and remains in that state post-mortem. In the first scientifically peer-reviewed study on the phenomenon, researchers wrote:
Tibetan Buddhists believe that this state, known as tukdam (thugs dam), enables one to achieve spiritual liberation by experiencing the fundamental nature of mind that is said to be especially accessible at the time of death, when the mind is believed to no longer register sensory impressions or engage in conceptual elaboration. All humans are said to have this opportunity, as it is believed to arise naturally during the process of dying, but only advanced meditators are thought to have the ability to apprehend and use that experience for spiritual realization. According to the tradition, this meditative state manifests externally as a delay in, or attenuation of, the processes of postmortem decomposition. The visage of those in tukdam is described as radiant, their skin remains supple and elastic, and the area around the heart is said to be warmer than the rest of the body.
When the matriarch of my ex-wife's family was dying. A Catholic priest came to administer last rites. I found parallels between traditions.
I remained by her bedside throughout her transition, praying and whispering words of guidance and comfort. Buddhists meditate on tutelary dieties. We meditate on Christ and speak of angels and saints. In the Tibetan Book of the Dead, the dying are enjoined to "remember whatever devotional practices you were accustomed to perform during your lifetime. Meditate upon your tutelary deity." In our case, our guide is Jesus Christ. As with my father, the songs and verses came easily. During my vigil, I recognized the value of our faith and traditions and found value in traditions of others.
In the Tibetan Book of the Dead, whatever fears or terrors arise are recognized as reflections of one's own consciousness. The Knower is enjoined not to fear one's own thought-forms. As a guide, I quoted Scripture that affirmed our faith, to fear not. I encouraged her to trust, expand into Truth and surrender to Love. I did my best to comfort and reassure her when she expressed doubt and fear.
Is this the way? I don't know. But in all cultures, there seems to be an intuitive knowing and similar approach to the dying process. Without schooling, many know to comfort, to express their love and gratitude to the dying.
Wrote one woman:
A few hours before my precious husband passed, I pulled the side rail down on his hospice bed. There wasn't room for 2, so I moved up as far as I could above his head and wrapped myself around him. He had become unresponsive. I just talked to him and told him how happy he had made my life and talked about all of the good times we'd had. I told him not to be sad, that we would see each other again, on the other side. Our favorite thing to say to each other, was the poem, 'To The Moon and Back'... After I had finished talking about our life I sang the song to him and even though he he had been unresponsive, I got the faintest little smile from his lips. I know he heard me. I smothered his face, hands and chest with kisses. I told him that he'd been in a long hard battle and that he didn't have to fight anymore, that he could just rest now. He passed over about 4 hours later.
What do we truly know of the mystery we call death? Who among the living can give us an account of death? Who has wandered to those remote precincts and returned to speak of the journey?
I learned that there were those among us pronounced clinically dead who had returned to life. They related their near death experiences (NDEs). Many of these NDEs shared common threads. Most spoke of out of body experiences, of tunnels and lights, of beautiful realms, of encounters with spirits, entities, or loved ones who had died. Many reported experiencing a life review. Their history played out as if panoramically and their perspective included not only their own but everyone with whom they had interacted. In this way, they understood why karma, or destiny, unfolded as it had. Many reported peace, an absence of pain, and a pervasive sense of absolute and unconditional love. Few wished to return to this Earthly body. It seemed too small and corruptible to fit an eternal, all-encompassing Soul. These themes were common and were often expressed in cultural terms.
A Japanese woman shares her NDE. She describes Heaven in Buddhist terms as the "Pure Land." She says she was greeted by loving Souls that appeared as "shining beings" like "balls of light."
An Egyptian woman shares her NDE. After being struck by a car. She was in a coma for over 20 days. Her heart stopped twice. Though clinically dead, she had an out of body experience and could see and hear conversations in the room. She was welcomed by her grandmother (long since deceased) who told her to return to her body saying it was not her time.
After suffering a heart attack and pronounced clinically dead, a Brazilian man had an out of body experience. He approached a light. He saw his entire life flash before his eyes.
A man in Hong Kong had a similar experience after his heart stopped. He, too, had an out of body experience and could receive the thoughts of those on the train platform where he fell after his heart attack. Then he heard a kind, divine, God-like voice that comforted him and said he would be healed.
A Spanish woman had an out of body experience and could see her body on the operating table. She felt peace. She was greeted by a being.
An Italian man relates an NDE he had as a boy. He describes a beautiful, halcyion place where he felt safe. There was a beautiful pulsing light like the Aurora Borealis. A kind man took his hand whom he knew to be his maternal grandfather and whom he had never met in life. There was a simple knowing, a transmission many describe as telepathic. He told the boy he couldn't stay. It was not yet his time.
A Russian man recalls his NDE and the timeless dimension he entered and the harmony and wisdom he found there. Like most, he did not want to return to his Earthly body. Upon return, he thought the Soul to be eternal.
There are many more such stories from around the world.
Recently neuroscientists were able to record what happens inside the dying brain (Vicente et al., 2022). Results were obtained from an 87-year-old patient who had had epilepsy and suffered a fall. She was monitored with an electroencephalogram to detect the seizures, but during the recording of the brain waves, she had a heart attack and passed away. Evidence shows the brain has bursts of activity similar to memory flashbacks. So the idea of a life recall, a life review, or of life passing before one's eyes may have some truth to it. Their research suggests that the brain may remain active during and even after the transition to death, and "may possess the capability to generate coordinated activity during the near-death period."
In a 2023 study, researchers identified a surge of gamma wave activity, associated with consciousness, in the dying brains of comatose patients. The activity was detected in a neural hotspot associated with dreaming and altered states of consciousness- the junction between the temporal, parietal, and occipital lobes in the back of the brain.
In another recent study (Simon, 2023), researchers uncovered the source of a "wave of death" in the brain that appears at the end of consciousness. When the brain stops receiving oxygen, its stores of ATP—a critical molecule that serves as the primary energy source for all cellular activities—are rapidly depleted. This causes disruption in the brain's neurons and a massive release of a compound known as glutamate—an essential neurotransmitter that sends signals in the brain and throughout nerves in the body.
"Neural circuits seem to shut down at first...then we see a surge in brain activity—specifically an increase in gamma and beta waves," neuroscientist Séverine Mahon, who is with the Paris Brain Institute (PBI) and one of the study's authors, said in a press release.
"These waves are usually associated with a conscious experience. In this context, they may be involved in near-death experiences reported by people who have survived cardiorespiratory arrest," Mahon said.
After this, the activity of neurons gradually diminishes until a state of perfect electrical silence in the brain is reached. This state corresponds to flat lines on an electroencephalogram (EEG)—a test that measures electrical activity in the brain using small electrodes attached to the scalp.
But this silence is quickly interrupted by a wave of death appearing on the flat EEG, which reflects a sudden phenomenon that scientists call "anoxic depolarization." This phenomenon appears to initiate cell death in a region of the brain known as the cortex.
"This critical event, called anoxic depolarization, induces neuronal death throughout the cortex. Like a swan song, it is the true marker of transition towards the cessation of all brain activity," Antoine Carton-Leclercq, an author of the study who is also with the PBI, said in the press release.
The slow-moving wave of death spreads throughout the cortex until consciousness is finally extinguished. The wave spreads in two directions—upward and downward—from the neocortex.
But it does not always signify permanent death. Indeed, the effects of anoxic depolarization can be reversed if the subject is resuscitated sufficiently quickly and the brain is re-oxygenated. This process is marked by a "wave of resuscitation," which heralds a slow recovery of brain functions.
All of this evidence suggests that death is not a fixed point, but a process. For example, if a patient flatlines on an emergency room table, the doctor can call the time of cardiac arrest, but the process we call death may be just beginning to unfold.
In one recorded case, a pregnant mother was rushed to a hospital after her mother found her unconscious. She was placed on an external ventilator and pacemaker, and transferred to the neurointensive care unit, where doctors monitored her brain activity. She fell into a coma, and her family decided to it was best to take her off life support. She was taken off oxygen. As reported in the Guardian:
There was a surge of activity in her dying brain. Areas that had been nearly silent while she was on life support suddenly thrummed with high-frequency electrical signals called gamma waves. In particular, the parts of the brain that scientists consider a “hot zone” for consciousness became dramatically alive. In one section, the signals remained detectable for more than six minutes. In another, they were 11 to 12 times higher than they had been before Patient One’s ventilator was removed.
“As she died, Patient One’s brain was functioning in a kind of hyperdrive,” Borjigin told me. For about two minutes after her oxygen was cut off, there was an intense synchronisation of her brain waves, a state associated with many cognitive functions, including heightened attention and memory. The synchronisation dampened for about 18 seconds, then intensified again for more than four minutes. It faded for a minute, then came back for a third time.
In those same periods of dying, different parts of Patient One’s brain were suddenly in close communication with each other. The most intense connections started immediately after her oxygen stopped, and lasted for nearly four minutes. There was another burst of connectivity more than five minutes and 20 seconds after she was taken off life support. In particular, areas of her brain associated with processing conscious experience – areas that are active when we move through the waking world, and when we have vivid dreams – were communicating with those involved in memory formation. So were parts of the brain associated with empathy. Even as she slipped irrevocably deeper into death, something that looked astonishingly like life was taking place over several minutes in Patient One’s brain...“The brain, contrary to everybody’s belief, is actually super active during cardiac arrest,” Borjigin said.
In 2019, I experienced my own NDE. I was by a trail in Mexico with 2 friends and lost consciousness. I was unconscious for about 20 minutes according to them and had stopped breathing for an unspecified span of time.
Many of the most salient features of NDEs were present: witnessing a being of pure Light that exuded absolute and unconditional love; there was a life review, an acceptance of death, an absence of fear.
Were it not for my children, I would have surrendered to the Light. But I knew they would not understand and that my departure would cause them confusion and unnecessary suffering that could be avoided if I remained in the body.
My work was not done. I chose to turn from the Light. It was as if my spirit were compressing back into a corruptible body. I felt like a man who had just taken a shower and was immaculately clean putting back on stained underwear that hadn't been washed in months, a sweat stained shirt that had never been cleaned, filthy pants, dirty socks, and worn shoes. As I descended, I felt the heaviness and torpor of this dense, physical form and the old, familiar pains returning. I welcomed it all.
When I opened my eyes, I was lying on the ground with my head to one side. Every blade of dried grass seemed sacred to me, every insect, every bird, every clump of desiccated Earth. I looked up. I noticed layers of white cirrus clouds dancing on a canvas of blue sky. The sun was not as luminous as the Light, but reminded me of it. It was all holy.
My sense of proprioception (the awareness of the body in space) was rebooting and I felt disjointed- as if one arm were longer than the other or my lower body was disconnected from the trunk. I felt disoriented, but the experience was curious.
I sat in wonder and timeless awareness. I felt like an infant who realizes that with thought, he could make a finger twitch or leverage the arm and prop the body up to a seated position. A deep sense of reverence for this precious life flooded my being.
Then a sadness descended as I took inventory of the meaninglessness that had been my life. It took me a few years to fully appreciate what Sadness was wanting to express.
My affairs are in order, but I remain Earthbound because I still have work to do. The little self abides in Darkness. There is still a meanness, a coldness, a cruelty here. There are resentments and hatreds and fears. Impurities have cemented themselves around the Heart-Jewel. I remain arrogant and prideful. So, the Blacksmith must return the Sword to the fire and hammer it again and again. Outwardly, I appear righteous. Even in secret, I live a principled life. But inwardly, I am "full of hypocrisy and iniquity." (Matthew 23:28)
Until I work out the consequences of my thoughts, I will continue to suffer. Meditators train to uncouple from thoughts. Thoughts are considered immaterial, vagrant, ephemeral... but they do have power and cannot be dismissed so lightly by unenlightened aspirants like me. Until we assume responsibility for them and destroy our attachments to them before Death does, they retain their power.
While my actions and words are kinder, many of the thoughts I keep are violent, lustful, vile, dangerous, foolish, vengeful, and unwise. I have not cut these when I should have. Although I have cultivated virtue and materialized the better thoughts, these suppressed thoughts still work their mischief in unforeseen ways. They add to the confusion and suffering and Darkness of this world.
Even though I spent my life serving others, I was skirting the work I had to do. The ambition to save the world was a diversion from the real work of saving myself from the hell I was co-creating. The self-improvement was egoic. I eliminated vice and became proud. I adhered to moral principles and became judgmental. I began to assume responsibility for my thoughts, words, and deeds, then grew indifferent to the suffering of those who did not hold themselves accountable for their thoughts, words, or deeds. I subjected myself to a strict regimen of exercise, sleep, and nutrition thereby optimizing my health, and I blamed others for choosing to remain "fat, sick, and stupid." In overcoming my insecurities, I imagined myself better than others. I extended kindness to all sentient beings whilst wishing a swift and violent retribution upon those who didn't. My heart was still bound to darkness, and how great was the darkness. As it was written:
...if thine eye be evil, thy whole body shall be full of darkness. If therefore the light that is in thee be darkness, how great is that darkness! -Matthew 6:23
I could not articulate these sentiments then- which partially explained the sadness. But I knew viscerally that I had more work to do. At the time, I was not privy to see beyond this lifetime. And while I have made progress, I sensed that there would be many, many more lives ahead until the dross was removed and the Essence was purified.
This could be the hallucination of a disoriented mind undergoing the trauma of a near death experience, but it serves as a workable hypothesis all the same. To be more kind and compassionate, to forgive and to love more fully won't diminish the little self or impoverish the Soul.
Therefore we do not become discouraged [spiritless, disappointed, or afraid]. Though our outer self is [progressively] wasting away, yet our inner self is being [progressively] renewed day by day. -Corithians 4:16
Death is the universal solvent, it burns through every illusion. This experience allowed me to see through the game I was playing. Death is no respecter of persons. Death destroys all that seems to be, all that is transient. "Vanity of vanities, says the Preacher, vanity of vanities. All is vanity!" (Ecclesiastes 1:2) For all my seeming piousness and self-righteousness, I rebelled against the Light and doubled down on my pride.
Once I regained my strength, the illusory "I" self returned. I requested solitude after reassuring my friends that I was OK. I told them I would rejoin them shortly. My mind was clear and my heart was contrite. I sat in meditation with my eyes closed. I was startled by a grunt and opened my eyes to see a stunning bobcat about 8 feet away peering at me. Bobcats are solitary and reclusive. This one was grunting to get my attention. He ran about 30 feet before turning around again to look long at me. Was it serendipity? I thought it magical, as if the bobcat were welcoming me back to this beautiful world of form and wonder! What is this Mystery and profound gift we call life?
My experience is not uncommon. There are many channels on YouTube dedicated to NDEs:
Skeptics might dismiss these anecdotal experiences as the final gasps of a dying or traumatized brain. Brain activity spikes prior to death. Studies have shown evidence of surges in EEG at or in the period following clinical death (Chawla et al., 2009; Auyong et al., 2010; Norton et al., 2017). Excessive carbon dioxide in the blood produces tunnel like effects. Lack of oxygen can produce hallucinations. Using ketamine and other drugs, scientists could replicate many of these experiences, suggesting that consciousness is merely a neurochemical response to the trauma of impending death.
Veridical near death experiences challenge this assumption. A veridical NDE is one in which a clinically dead person reports verifiable facts acquired while in the death state that they could not have otherwise known. Dr. Raymond Moody studied NDEs. I cite two examples from his research:
"An elderly woman had been blind since childhood. But, during her NDE, the woman had regained her sight and she was able to accurately describe the instruments and techniques used during the resuscitation of her body. After the woman was revived, she reported the details to her doctor. She was able to tell her doctor who came in and out, what they said, what they wore, what they did, all of which was true."
In a second instance, “a woman with a heart condition was dying at the same time that her sister was in a diabetic coma in another part of the same hospital. The subject reported having a conversation with her sister as both of them hovered near the ceiling watching the medical team work on her body below. When the woman awoke, she told the doctor that her sister had died while her own resuscitation was taking place. The doctor denied it, but when she insisted, he had a nurse check on it. The sister had, in fact, died during the time in question."
Some skeptics dismiss the methodology behind these claims, asserting that many were reported by the patients themselves years after the event. These are valid critiques. But, what of those validated by clinicians?
NDEs suggest that a part of consciousness survives physical death. But then what? The Department of Perceptual Studies at the University of Virginia School of Medicine has been conducting 50 years of active research into claims by children between the ages of 2 and 5 who speak of memories they claim to have had in previous lives. Of the 2,500 collected cases, about 2,300 have been coded and entered into their database. Examples of comments a child might make include:
“You’re not my mommy/daddy.”
“I have another mommy/daddy.”
“When I was big, I …(used to have blue eyes/had a car, etc.).”
“That happened before I was in mommy’s tummy.”
“I have a wife/husband/children.”
“I used to…(drive a truck/live in another town, etc.)”
“I died … (in a car accident/after I fell, etc.)”
“Remember when I …(lived in that other house/was your daddy, etc.)”
While it is not uncommon for a child to make such statements, what distinguishes these is their persistence, detail, and incongruity with their current life situation. Upon investigation, many of these recollections match up with the lives of those they claim to have lived.
When my nephew was 2 and just beginning to talk, he told me that before he was born, he was floating in the clouds with God. He said that God put skin and bone on him and he entered his mother's womb. What he said was similar to a commonly held Native American belief of the Great Lakes region. A spirit chooses his or her parents. The spirit then comes to Earth to hover around his or her mother while she carries the fetus until it finally inhabits the body, or "niiyaw," the Ojibwe word for vessel.
I knew nothing about the University of Virginia study then. But I remember being perplexed, so I took notes to record what he said. We were a Christian family. My father was a minister. I did not accept the validity of reincarnation.
Over the years, I have come across research and books that challenged my assumptions and stretched my imagination, returning me to a beginner's Don't-Know-Mind. These accounts allow me to see events and people in a way that is more open and compassionate.
As a boy, I enjoyed reading Aesop’s fables. I did not have to accept talking lions or rabbits to appreciate the lessons. Staying open to other interpretations focuses attention away from what my mind thinks it knows. These stories open the mind to Mystery in more expansive ways, challenging my own hubris. I read religion and philosophy like this. I do not need belief to appreciate the import of a tradition or faith. The universe is 13.7 billion years old. I am approaching 50. To assume that my life experiences and belief systems explain all phenomena (seen and unseen) is arrogance that can be both dangerous and limiting.
What follows are 3 accounts that invited me to question what I thought I knew. The first story challenges the egoic identity which identifies with race, gender, nationality, religion, etc. These attachments are the root of much suffering.
As I considered this, I imagined a Nazi solider returning as a Jew (and vice versa), a Christian fundamentalist returning as a Muslim (and vice versa), a man returning as a woman (and vice versa). This framework accounted for why many people have peculiar interests, why some feel uncomfortable in their bodies, why people have particular personality types, strengths and weaknesses.
Again, the point is not to present this as truth. For if I truly believed these anecdotes and knew with certainty that my Soul was immortal, I would live far more boldly. I would have taken far greater risks knowing that if I died to this body, I would put on another and another and another. I might be more judicious in choosing the next life, much the way I take time in deciding what to wear for an important meeting. I would not mourn the passing of loved ones, but celebrate their homecoming. If I truly believed that I was a child of the Light, I would love much more intensely and unconditionally. I would be more patient and compassionate of others- especially those who were against me. I would laugh more at the silliness of it all knowing full well that it was never real. My immortal Soul would enjoy this illusion of being human for a little while. I would not take my character or role too seriously. I would be much more provocative, less conforming; more daring, less cautious; more passionate, less withholding; more tolerant, less judgmental; more compassionate, less critical; less fearful, more loving. I would rewrite new scripts with more love, laughter, joy, and adventure.
But, as of this writing, by my thoughts and actions I declare that I am not wholly convinced. I remain fearful, serious, cautious, heart-broken, wary of love, and little- a little loving, a little compassionate, a little adventurous, a little courageous, a little self. Yet these anecdotes are enough to challenge me to question what I think I know and to stretch my thinking. The heart becomes more open and curious and compassionate.
The second account is an NDE. Lewis Brown Griggs invites us to reframe adversity.
That we are here to do some soul work is compelling. The idea challenges me to reconsider my work not in terms of the title or role I assume, but as a quality I want to embody and work toward expressing. For one, the work might be to extend compassion, for another to practice forgiveness. Some of us must learn to let go of fear or control, others how to express from one’s highest being. The curricula for one may be to discover the beauty within, for another, it might be to learn to remain equanimous through suffering. Everything else we imagine as our work, is of secondary importance. If my true work is to learn to love unconditionally, for example, I can do that as a janitor or as a CEO. The role I assume is not as important as the way I use my role to connect with others. After all, a carpenter modeled love and compassion for generations. Jesus Christ is not revered for his joinery or framing skills, but for his example. He modeled forgiveness, charity, compassion, and love. For Christians, he serves as an ideal by which to measure the perfection of our capacity to forgive, to serve, to love.
In Seth Speaks, the author puts forth the idea that we choose our circumstances: our ethnicities, gender, race, birthplace, etc. We make agreements with other souls to play certain roles (e.g. I will be the father; she will be my confidant; they will be our adversaries). We immerse ourselves into these roles, receiving guidance from the multi-faceted, multi-dimensional self as needed. The drama that unfolds is for the good of all. From this perspective, the soul is not singular, but larger, more expansive, non-localized, plural and interconnected.
Dolores Cannon's books offer even more possibilities, multiverses, and fringe claims. Again, we are not accepting any of this as ultimate truth. My goal is to approach the Unknown with a curious and open mind.
There are more grounded works with deep insights into the human condition. In Man's Search for Meaning, Viktor Frankl, a neuropsychiatrist and Holocaust survivor, chronicled his experiences as a prisoner in the Nazi death camps.
Even under extreme duress, Dr. Frankl wrote, we had the freedom of choice, the freedom to choose our own response. Stripped of clothing, imprisoned, starved, beaten with the butt ends of rifles, prisoners still made choices: whether to curse or forgive, whether to share or steal, whether to aid or abuse fellow prisoners like the kapos did; whether to love or hate.
We who lived in concentration camps can remember the men who walked through the huts comforting others, giving away their last piece of bread. They may have been few in number, but they offer sufficient proof that everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of the human freedoms — to choose one's attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one's own way. And there were always choices to make. Every day, every hour, offered the opportunity to make a decision, a decision which determined whether you would or would not submit to those powers which threatened to rob you of your very self, your inner freedom; which determined whether or not you would become the plaything of circumstance, renouncing freedom and dignity to become molded into the form of the typical inmate. Seen from this point of view, the mental reactions of the inmates of a concentration camp must seem more to us than the mere expression of certain physical and sociological conditions. Even though conditions such as lack of sleep, insufficient food and various mental stresses may suggest that the inmates were bound to react in certain ways, in the final analysis it becomes clear that the sort of person the prisoner became was the result of an inner decision, and not the result of camp influences alone. Fundamentally, therefore, any man can, even under such circumstances, decide what shall become of him — mentally and spiritually. He may retain his human dignity even in a concentration camp.
Our choices are influenced and informed by our beliefs. Another survivor of the Holocaust, whose name I can't remember, recalls witnessing crowds of people being marched to the gas chambers. Some were in tears, some were full of fear, others were rejoicing and singing songs of praise. What accounts for this? The event was the same for all. Death was imminent. There was no hope and no possibility of rescue. Yet, each approached death as they had lived. If I believed that this life was just a play and that my Soul was returning home, I too, might celebrate. But, fortunately or unfortunately, my faith has not been tested to this degree.
Whether by gas chamber or peacefully during sleep at a ripe old age, death comes to us all- to the Nazi guards and to the prisoners, to the doctor and to the patient, to the pauper and to the king. There is no escaping Death.
The final account challenges my assessment of "good" and "bad." Most of us would judge illness as bad and health as good, for example. In this talk, "Dying to be me!" Anita Moorjani shares the lessons cancer taught her.
Several times weekly, I meditate on death. There are many practices. Often, in meditation, I die to ego. There is no self, just awareness. Sometimes, I perform long breath holds- retaining the breath from 3 to 6 minutes. As I sit in the stillness, I reflect, "If this were my last breath, could I surrender in peace- or is there still work to do? Have I lived boldly enough? Is there still some grievance to forgive or fear to release? Did I love enough?"
In imagining my own death, I contemplate the inevitable deaths of loved ones: my mother, sisters, relatives, friends, pets... even my children. This practice reminds me of the brevity of life and encourages me to live life more fully. Let me express what is in my heart now- not bedside as Death approaches and they fall in and out of consciousness. Aware that life is brief, may I forgive them their faults, extend kindness and compassion, and love unconditionally.
There are analytical practices and other meditative techniques that help us grow. Mantras like "I am not this body, I am not these thoughts" may help us decouple from identity with mental constructions. There are generative practices that use imagination to envision the kind of qualities we wish to cultivate. We might, for example, imagine that we are of the Light, or imagine divine beings, saints, angels, etc., providing us guidance, comfort, or counsel. Practices like metta, loving kindness, prayer, or tonglen also help us connect with others from the heart. There are contemplative practices where we imagine dying, death, decomposition, and complete dissolution.
It is a curious fact that this body (which presumably has never died) yet knows how to die. As the body's expiration date approaches, organs begin to fail, we lose appetite; temperature, blood chemistry and breath change. We flow in and out of conscious awareness. Breathing becomes irregular becoming progressively deeper and sometimes faster- followed by temporary apnea (cessation of breath). This is called Cheyne-Stokes breathing and often occurs 1 day before death. Minutes before death, the body breathes agonally. Agonal breathing is a natural reflex that occurs when the body is not getting enough oxygen. It is not true breathing. It is a tell-tale sign that someone is at Death's door. Often the jaws and eye lids are relaxed- the mouth and eyes are partially open. There is nothing to fear. The intelligence that animated the life decouples and disentangles from the body leaving behind the shell. The process is the same for all living beings.
Decomposition for all is the same. The process proceeds through four natural, predictable, and orderly stages: autolysis, bloat, active decay, and skeletonization. Each stage is characterized by specific changes in the body, including the release of gases and fluids, skin discoloration, and stiffness of muscles. Not all cells die at the same rate. Certain cells have the ability to transform into new multicellular organisms, exhibiting new functions even after death (Noble et al., 2024). Post mortem, enzymes begin digesting themselves. Bacteria and other living microorganisms aid in decomposition.
While you still have time, go within. Know Thy Self and fix what needs to be fixed, forgive what needs to be forgiven, mend the breaches, face the fears, heal the wounds, spread love, and be peaceful.
It's been 5 years since my near death experience. I've been granted more days to address what still needs to be addressed. I've removed layers of impurities, only to discover still more. My day to day experiences, adversities, challenges, and obstacles provide feedback. Often I refuse to accept Reality as it is. Often I resist the Isness of Life. But, I've been granted another breath, another moment, another opportunity to learn and grow, to accept and forgive, to extend kindness and compassion, to dare, and to love unconditionally.
May these words encourage reflection. We will all face death and the Mystery beyond it. May we live life accordingly and appreciate the moments that remain with wisdom and gratitude.
First published 10/15/2021
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