Making Friends With Death

Is the most important moment of our lives the moment of death?

I appreciate your comments. Some of you email me directly. If you could comment in the post instead, that would let others enjoy your insights too. For those who prefer listening, here’s the audio.

Last week I wrote about sorrow. I’ve not “recovered,” and that’s a good thing. I’m raw, sensitive, wide open to feel. Minutes ago my wife got a text alerting us to the progression of my brother-in-laws stage four cancer; they’ve just discovered a tumor in his liver. That may be that.

I immediately sprang a leak, tears streaming down my face. Bob is a wonderful man. I felt sadness and anger. Why does he suffer this way while manipulating assholes live to 90 with millions of dollars and six houses? OK, it’s God’s will. I get that, but my learning right now is to be honest with what I’m feeling, not sugar coating it any more with spiritually justified denial.

This week, my theme is making friends with death. I began writing this last week but it now seems suddenly that much more appropriate.

Anyone here expecting to avoid death? Anyone planning for death? Does that sound weird? Well, we plan for vacations, for retirement… why not death? It seems important enough. If we can agree that it makes sense to

1. accept we are going to die,
2. plan for it,

then perhaps we can take a third step and make friends with death, even look forward to it. Let’s not rush the moment! But… it’s coming. And I believe it’s the most important moment of our lives.

A neighbor recently survived a 21 day fast from food, technology, and relationships. She emerged as if reborn. She told me that during her adventure, a friend visited her in a dream to inform her that she (this dream visitor) was dying. My neighbor told me how this person communicated that news with joy, anticipating the falling away of her ailing body. There was gratitude and appreciation, no fear. Leaving her program, my neighbor learned that this friend had indeed died, just after that visitation.

A friend of ours here died recently. At his memorial service on the beach I offered these words: “We mourn for Andy as he leaves our world, while others celebrate his arrival in theirs.” At the time, I remembered being present for the birth of a friend’s baby. We all wept for joy as that tiny being emerged. I tried to imagine Andy’s arrival in that other world. What a scene that would make!

Many of us believe in life after death. I have friends who’ve described near death experiences. While the details vary, every one of them reported that it was a beautiful peak experience. I imagine that death is like a graduation ceremony from Earth School. And we’ll find out exactly what we graduate into after that ceremony.

Astrology, Human Design, Gene Keys, etc. all describe how we are designed, determined by our date and time of birth. A Capricorn is very different from an Aries; a Manifestor is different from a Generator. What if the moment of our death is just as important in setting up our character traits and life trajectory in the next world? That would make the timing of our death as significant as the timing of our birth.

I had a revelatory experience over twenty years ago up in Canada when I was given the date of my death. It was a powerful download, dropping in the middle of a storm on the wild side of Vancouver Island. I decided to honor this vision by buying and setting a countdown timer for that date. I’ve watched the days and years tick down ever since (half the time has vanished now), towards 2041 and my anticipated graduation date, on a day between May 1 and August 24.

When would you like to graduate? If you meditate on this, sitting with the question: “When will I leave this world?” you might come up with a date. So, I don’t totally believe in mine and you don’t have to accept your intuition as carved in stone either. We’re just playing a game with our imagination … with a significant purpose. It could be the key to a positive experience of death. And it could unlock hidden treasures.

Tony Robbins, that giant motivator, once had 3,000 of us in his Hawaii Date with Destiny program climb to the top of a 40 foot pole and jump off. I remember standing there, utterly alone, with the off-shore breeze blowing, the pole swaying, and my legs trembling, finally getting up the nerve to leap for the rope… only to drop like a stone and miss it, activating my harness and slowly sinking to the ground.

I’d forgotten about gravity.

I wonder, will death be a trust leap like that? And, if so, wouldn’t it be wise to become as light as possible before we jump? In my mind, that means planning for our death by incrementally shedding everything we’ve accumulated in this world, so we can leave the way we arrived, with nothing but ourselves.

I pity the financially obese. Imagine dying with millions of dollars, scores of homes scattered across the world, cars, boats, planes, businesses… If I were weighted down like that, I couldn’t jump very high. Conversely, if we plan for death, ensuring we’ll have enough of all we need but cleverly setting things up so that when the moment comes - having picked a date as a placeholder to enable intelligent planning - we’ll be ready to make that leap, naked, light, and energetic.

Could how we handle that final moment make a difference in where we end up? Or what we’re like in that world? Maybe, maybe not. But it’s an intriguing idea. I invite you to take this idea out for a ride and let me know where you end up.

What about the feeling? Let’s imagine that together right now. So, the last moment has come. This is it. Wow. OK. Feeling … a little scared, uncertain, then a long, slow, calming wave arrives, washing through. It’s all right. Nothing is over. This is just another beginning. Double wow.

What’s next? We’re going to find out … any moment now! Oh, here comes more sadness, another wave. And, it becomes real. I float in an emotionally charged daydream. Sunset. I will miss sunset on Maui beaches, writing!, loving, singing, hiking, dancing, coffee and chocolate. I will miss my Beloved, everyone I love. It’s almost unbearable now, but, leaning in with my freshly opened heart, I find that I can bear it. I’m safely wrapped in my imagination, preparing for the real moment. It’s coming and I can feel it. Not too soon please … but I’ll be ready.

And, my final words: “Something wonderful is happening!”

What If?

What if our entire life is a preparation for that final moment, like training for an Olympic event? This puts everything into a very different perspective. Moment by moment we might ask: does what I am doing, saying, or thinking contribute or distract from my training program? Am I becoming more ready or less ready for that transitional event?

Age contributes to this interest. I don’t expect a 20 year old to ponder on death. But many of you are in my age group and perhaps it’s appropriate. I invite your comments, thanks for sharing with friends, for subscribing, and for caring about the deeper side of life.