Notes

 Out of the blue I find a FB page that I had opened ages ago, that I had actually forgotten about; but God works in very mysterious ways and keeps reminding me now and then of you- He forces me to look more deeply than just a daily prayer for you. I have the " Quetzal" blog I haven`t seen since I put it up, which contains the same. Here are just a few random entries-as you know, there are so many more; I stopped at "100 something"-maybe one day in my old age I will publish the rest, as well as my notes to you. I just have to "laugh and cry, and cry and laugh about it all again"-as Leonard Cohen puts it, as I read your awesome words; I hope you will feel the same way as I do. Really worth reading.

Words written say so much more than the spoken word. They are all your notes from different years; some newer than others. Mmmm so many! How did you do it-by magick?  Mind you, I did a fair bit of writing also. It was my daily ritual like prayers-now it`s only prayers. You have become a daily bead on my rosary. Oh, what tangle webs we weave-remember; love, undivided loyalty? 

I thank you for all from my heart. I do love you so very much- but you know that, don`t you? The Calla Lilies are for you.

Inspire
-Beloved arany Cicukam

You inspire me. And that is the biggest understatement the world has ever known. Why?
Because you are the lotus crown in the infinite sky of my heart, and I love you so damn much that I get to feeling like Taz, who could express that love to you better than I ever could, being the Tazmanian Devil and all.

Woman, you are my life, and were you the very cup of death so still would I drink of you even unto the glory of the ages. Amen

With endless love to my love, my heart, my little dragon.
Kisskiss...
Indigo 

United in blood
-Cicukam

I know it`s a bit early...but when I saw us there so nicely posed, how could I resist? We are one heart together. And one sky. Sometimes you might think that I am just saying that...but in you the whole of me falls together. Flesh of my flesh, blood of my blood. And for all my days will I follow you...ever my every psalm of gratitude and of wonder.

Kissing you softly, my angel. I miss you ever so terribly today and it seems as though the closer we come into the surrender of communion with one an other the more beautifully it hurts.

Draco Indigo

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Joystick
A big hug!
-S.......
My cicukam!
Ooooh, but still wonders never cease? My lovely baroness--she remembers but a single dream and it just so happens to be the very one whereof it can only be said that I ain`t even in it?! ROLF. I will get back to you on the dream anyway, my darling sweetheart, as well as 11:11.

And are you having fun with your brand new vroom-vroom? Makes me wonder nostalgically back to the days before automatic transmissions. Behold, my S...... with a joy-stick.LOL

Alas, I must bid adieu for now. To punish you I will meet you in a dream beneath the Jacaranda.You shan`t remember.

Indigo 

-Quetzal

Why certainly dearest! You may most any of my things anytime you wish. So the short answer is yes..but the long answer will take me so far beyond my alotted twelve lines that I will not now begin it.

Aaaah, but I mingle my passion with your fiery breath. I burn. I burn. I stoke the delicious amber of your wrath with my tail--exhort you to fry the creepy critters to a crisp! My bood-lust is stirred. I remember the wild ride across the Eurasian steppes, the joy of pillage and plunder. So have it my Magyar queen. make Atilla proud.

Kisskiss darling!
Draco

Unholy

-Edes arany Csillagom

I am missing you, rather, my dearest heart, my cicukam...but when you wax philosophical, not only do you make my day, but behold--my tail takes on a life of its own!

Be well dearest. Even Christmas shall pass. Just a few more days and it will be over. I am planning a little Christmas sermon for Assisi...a fiery little bloodfeast, full of hail-stones and dragon-shadows, that goes without saying. No Christian that dares read it will soon forget the stirring of the Elder gods--let alone my personal take on this most unholy of annual occasions.

Kisskiss, sweetheart darling.
Indigo-Sky Dragon

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Solstice♥
-My dearest S.....

Aloha my scaly angel!

Just a quick note, in pencil, on this our second solstice together. Still hoping against all hope that you will indeed receive a certain package in the mail before next year. Meanwhile, I have become a writer in residence of an on-line magazine with a readership of six million. A paying magazine, that is,contract and all, for ten articles every ninety days.Let us call that a beginning, shall we?

It`s about time I was paid for the only thing in life I`m passionately good at. And though I am a crusty old fatalist, beneath it all, I am also a dreamer.

Sostice-Sky Dragon

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Csilllag
-My deares Edes arany Viragom/Csillag

You know something, S..... dearest? You are just about the most precious lizard that ever laid an egg! I thought I would let you know that, hmm? Even I get to feeling right amorous on occasion, and especially today, on account of a simply wonderful coincidence.

See, I spent a most pleasant afternoon wrapping something that will be put on a mule-train to you, tomorrow. For you, of course. And then your package arrived...brought `round by a certain old witch whom I have decided is being fed too well. That is neither here nor there...but that ravishing likeness of you just made my day...(picture I mean)

and then...it all made my day all over again when I placed you most prettily upon my alter, betwixt the moon and the sea and an ancient tree, while merrily sucking on Werther`s Original.

Like I said, dearest--that is what I call superior timing. I really do not deserve you. be that it may, my tail is superbly long and it knows not half my modesty. Why, back on the home world I could wrap myself up in it from top to bottom, all of seven layers deep! But now said tail is all for you--every last inch of it. And I will wrap it around you like...sin!

And on that pleasant thought
Indigo

Muggles
-S.....

Remembrance, Peace, Compassion

...so, like I was saying! The little details ..who can be bothered with cranky Muggles when, between the earth and her Moon, riding the solar winds to radiant power, you have an infinite universe of love within which to play at unfolding the sky in your heart?

All that, my puszta Dragon...and I have you. What more could I want?
kisskiss sweet dove. Hold fast My every breath is yours when we fly together.

Enjoy your time with your Auntie...brush up on your Magyar. It`s only life after all.

Holding you close, my compass star.
Ciao,
Indigo

Birth
My dearest sweetheart-light, hope, promise

The birth of light, of hope, of glory. Promise? Aye, you have my word on it.
Just now...checking up on you again. Missing you like mad and loving you
so sweetly.Kisskiss darling.

Your cuddly little fire breathing lizard...
Indigo-o

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Apache
-My edes darling Ducky-Wucky

Blessing,
May the sun bring you new energy by day.
May the moon softly restore you by night.
may the rain wash away your worries.
May the breeze blow new strength into your being.
May you walk gently through the world
and know its beauty all the days of your life.
Apache blessing.

And ooooh ducky, I sooooo love you. Might this prayer come to you on the
wings of a goose. Might it keep you warm all day. Might it find you at peace
by moonshine when you return, even unto my heart and the fire of my love.

Indigo

Frustration
-Quetzal

Hoping for better days ahead.

After that little stunt She deigned to pull yesterday I was more than
ready to toss the entire consecration. Maybe blessed Saint Peter
would have thought it funny to nail Her in the head with a divine
coconut.

Truly this is the only logical explanation I can come up with.
Obnoxious and in seriously bad taste in what that ill-timed message
remains, nonetheless. And but for the hapless messenger --oh my dearest Cica!

Should I let you off the hook? Throwing lit matches down the maw of
a rumbling volcano is ever so endearing, and I simply adore my brave little dragon.

Kisskiss
Lucientien

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 Pressure

-My sweet fire-kitty--May the longtime sun shine upon you!

Aloha my angel.Just checking in with you after that huge low pressure
system that moved across the state these couple of days--but you
know me and pressure. Otherwise, like you, I`m just coasting along...
in-gathering my disciples, lost in endless prayer, and one day flowing
into the next like fog and snow of autumn.

A sad and beautiful time, my thoughts drawn by the soft touch of the
raven dark angel and the slow, inexorable passage of fleeting years.
Time for the haunting melodies of Faure, hmm?

Time for sweet kisses of wormwood and long embraces, on which winds
blow.

Indigo

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 Bottom of FSnakes
-S....

Hi sweetheart. Here is to wishing I were as dumb as an ox.So, I`m going
into sequestration for a few days to contend with my fiendish mind.
I do have a lot to tell you, but soughing was never easy, even for snakes,
thus will it have to wait.

I will be back soon my love--I promise. Pray for me in the meanwhile.
hard. For both mercy and inner peace. Tell M. to cut me slack before
I go over to the other side.

Meanwhile I will be drinking structured water by the gallon and bathing
in holy oil, as well as the sweat of my unholy brow.

Kisskiss my sweet cicukam.
Indigo

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Sewing
-My arany Cicukam

Well beloved , twas this or the Raphael with naked baby. I looked at
her for a long time and thought
...I know just what she is thinking, namely:
``Holy shit on a hot brick--they actually say that I`m still a virgin?``

See, no-one in their right mind actually chooses to be a warrior,
let alone god`s mother. So, when you can, you sit down and chill
with a bit of sewing. Know what I mean?

kisskiss, my sweet angel.
Indigo ..

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Fritz
-Darling

Oh my dearest sweetest cicukam. My heart goes out to you and your family. Come seek shelter there, in the pine-scented vastness of my solitudes. Look to the stars and remember where little Fritz has gone to become a sunbeam of hope in our heavens to shine his light in the outer darkness.

Be it the cat or the goldfish that the cat ate...a death in the family will be ever just that. But he was loved, and that was his gift to you. May you ever honor it.

So call me if you have a mind to, and we will do it together.

Indigo Olie 

How ?
-Meine liebste

Oh how do I love thee? Hmm? In all of thy infinite ways, my fiery Baroness.
For behold, I woulds`t become jealous even of time itself. Indeed, my
ardor cannot countenance so faithless a paramour before thee, and now
as winter fast approaches I would to keep you warm within my embraces,
letting not so much as time betwixt our lips, my faerie rose of cold and desolate lands.

Oh to behold yon flower of thy graces born in our Lady`s infinite midnight burning. No flower wet with teary dew can to thy lips their likeness bare!

Indigo Olie Dragon 

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Remember
-Darling

Do you remember when roses actually smelled like..well, like roses?

As I was grazing about the vales of Avalon today, in my search for my next missive to you, I chanced to begin, upon a whimsey, to make a list of my heroes. And O! What a strange crew they turned out to be! Much like their captain and his lady, woudn`t you know? And even two popes were even among the precious lot.

Saille, by the way, is my sacred tree. Saille is willow, and with her branches I weave our dreams.

Thought I`d pass that along...just because..you know? In dreams as intimate as the breath of the rose petals I sing to love my sweetheart on the haunted lakes of yesterday and tomorrow, in the rising of the cold mists of the twilight...and find that She is you. My Proteas, by the sea from whence she came all dripping.

Think that canst match your madness with dreams. I hail from all times which are not, and never were but the slow passing of a wizard.
O

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Owl
-Oh my sweet Love. You are all the wonder of life itself.

And while you were sleeping, I flew through the snow covered forest in the shape of an owl, hunting for mice and for wisdom.

 Dream 

- River-soul

Last night, I dreamed that I was breaking bread with none other than Lord Krishna. I had pitched my tent in the desert. He came to me there with Radha at his side, and in my presence he had prepared the couch for our repast. I took from the hand of Lord Krishna my sustenance and from Radha was I given a drink. I sat between them. And I ordered the Lord himself to desist from his pleasures until we were done! Naturally, he thought this outlandish request exquisitely funny. The mortal dares command the blue-skinned god of love. Indeed.

I had awakened, already yesterday, into a deeper dream.Two lines had come to me, and beckoned--I know not whither.

``From out of a cup of lapis lazuli dids`t I drink an ocean of stars; wisdom`s own light in the roaring flame``.

Take my hand , S....... And FLY.

When I understand more of this I will use words to point the way. Until then I will scream like a hawk against the cliffs. Or do you understand?

Never will I leave you behind. For ours is the kingdom of the heart. And ours is the power and the glory thereof, for now and forever, world without end. I Behold the shaking of the earth as I rise in rivers of lava to claim the rocks as my very own, stripped bare and slowly in their element.

Olie

S......., River-soul. I invoke you. Would you know of my love? 

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Angel
- My beloved Cicukam

Tis you who are my angel. And in you do I place my trust.

... 

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WInd

As I sit here on the deck in silence and look around mindfully, so many things around me seem to have a vibrant life of their own that we seldom think about or notice. There is the beautiful melody of the wind-chime as the gentle wind makes it sing, a little woodpecker eagerly searching for insects as he moves up on the trunk of our ancient maple tree, the song of innumerable beautiful little birds with their unique songs fill the air, while a tiny ant scurries along busily. Even some dandelion seeds coated in tiny white fluffs are, dancing in the breeze trying to find a home. 

The air is much cooler, due to a huge storm last night-still some dark clouds looming, brooding over us. The river has widened considerably, and it has turned from being crystal clear to a murky brown as it races down towards the lake. All looks fresh and new; even the myriads of purple, pink, yellow and blue wildflowers on the bank seem to have gotten a more vibrant colour, as they enjoyed the good shower.

As I contemplate life deep gratitude fills my heart, for as I sit here I realize that everything in life has a mission, even the wind-chime. How very blessed we are to see all this beauty, to be part of it.
But then, who or what has drawn up the blueprint for this magic?  For these missions? What is the purpose? What is the intent? What is the goal?  I think each one of us have a different answer to these questions- but most of us do have one-that is we are part of all, we are part of creation- we are the very essence of of God

Only

Yesterday sadly, I heard that a friend of mine died-she was three years younger than me- this happenstance is enough to start wondering about existence. There has been so much death around lately-not in my life personally, but in the world which makes one think of life most seriously, which forces us to look at things straight in the eyes; God sure works in mysterious ways.  Funny thing the mind-it plays tricks on us. I think the Buddhists are right when they say that there is only the present moment; but they forget to mention that "all" is the present moment for the mind. It all exists at once-thus no past or future, as all is happening at once, like different dimension all flowing simultaneously.

Now, I would lie if I would say that I  know or understand the concept of time-I try to understand the most simple version as Michio Kaku explains it, but still I cannot think outside the box. I do really think that this  is what is meant by that-"sin" while  eating that proverbial apple there in paradise-us realizing that we don`t really know anything and we so very much yearn to know. We yearn to be told that there is eternity, we yearn to know that our life is not in vain, we yearn to know that we belong, we yearn to find our "other self"-the bottom line is that we yearn to know GOD.

As I examine my life-not that it is anything special, however probably by the simple logic of deduction, we are - for there is no other me or you; our experience, nuances and contribution to life is special; the greatest and the smallest have equal opportunity in existence-it just seems that one is less important than an other, as some get more attention or advertising than an other. Death walks us up the path to this realization that we are actually contributing to the expansion of the universe-writing the actual code of the continuity of life by each action we take. Perhaps that is what is meant by free will. Now, by life I don`t simply mean- temporal life but by the very aspect of existence in the eternal.

So, there is method to this madness that I am staring down to-day-that is the acceptance that nothing ever experienced is ever lost, for once created it can never be undone, wiped away or forgotten- be that in which ever way it was experienced. We can re-visit each moment, each experience each action this very moment. There is no time, no age, no year, no matter what the mirror reflects back- soulwise, we feel the same and in our hearts and heads it all lives....the secret is never allow ourselves to file all the information away in closed drawers or let those letters fade away on dusty shelves-for that is what real death is.

Nothing

I was listening to Stephen Hawking-the subject:"There is no God"-what a lot of crap. I do believe that he maybe the greatest physicist , but also he is the bitterest soul on the planet-probably because of his condition. According to his deduction, mathematically with the help of Einstein-he has concluded that negative energy + positive energy is ZERO, thus the "big bang"originated from ZERO or nothing.

Matter, Energy, Space is needed to create the universe-according to him; thus a black hole exploded  "the big bang"-and gave rise to "time"and "space" at the same instance-before that was no space or time thus, there was nothing-his conclusion -there is no God, as there was "nothing".

Ok- I agree to the point of nothing-but the problem with this theory, is that even if there was ZERO; what was before-even if we say there was no time or space. Expanding and contracting eternally is a great thought, but what about before this process??- as he says eventually the universe  will contract back to a black hole. Mmmm, what came first -the chicken or the egg? I am not going to go on- as one can go around in circles eternally-so just think about it .

Vanished

 
How appropriate this above visual--love has vanished, has flown away! Dishonor is a sad, sad situation-the most disenchanting, disappointing feeling in the world when one`s trust has been shattered in one that one loves. When one sees clearly and sees the soul of the other in a clear light, all its darkness and the lies is most heartbreaking. Love is not a noun, neither is it a game but a verb-sadly of which you are totally unaware, but I should have realized a long, long time ago whom you really are. But love is blind, dumb and deaf , in a sense I am the lucky one, for you are to be pitied for you have no idea what love really is. Lord-I am so very disappointed in you, in myself. You call yourself a man of God, a deeply spiritual soul --really.....?

Ecclesiastes 

To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:

A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted;
A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up;
A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance;
A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;
A time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away;
A time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
A time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace.

End of things that are, end of roads travelled well, end of patterns, end of love. As the  Old Mariner said--The bible says all good things come to an end.--So it has finally.

You see darling fire and water don`t mix--we were deluded.

The only  word that comes to my mind is "cycles" -they end. This time for good-no matter what, this time no going back and what`s more I have no desire to. I now see clearly that nothing was real, it was all a lie and it was a time of learning for my soul. Prior--last year I felt bad, thought I had done wrong, now I know that I have done nothing , and the fault lies elsewhere. Sadly-my heart aches not for me but for you, for you shall spend the rest of your life filled with regret, searching something you already have had. My poor, poor, poor Cica what enormous loss you are facing-the consequences yet to come.

We had two chances--now no more ever--even were we would have an other, I am finished, I am at peace and I want nothing to do with you--ever. You see I did no wrong--you did, most shamefully. I have destroyed all memories of you--to the last letter, last e-mail, down to the very last word-all gone. Deleted, erased and burnt. You are now dead. I feel light, easy and at peace--maybe one day we shall meet in heaven--that is if we recognise each other, which I very much doubt. I have embarked on a totally new path, new life--without you and have erased all memories of you from my heart and mind. It was a strange weird relationship anyway what we had--it was twisted, insane and abnormal, no wonder it couldn`t survive. I --in my deranged mind, because of my romantic soul, with a heart filled with love for you thought  that we were different, and that we were destined by God--. NO-. God does not make exceptions--in God`s eye we are all the same.

I had to look up he word "grokked" I don`t even know how to spell it--but you were right when you wrote it in regarding love--to my Naomi character. I should have realized it then whom you were, whom you are-- someone whom is an illusion. Fantasy--all that was in your mind and probably mine as well.We are two mixed up, crazy, insane people--with strange imaginings which never happens, especially without meeting face to face.Wasn`t all your fault, I ran with the illusion, or is it delusion?

I am ever so sorry to have taken up so much of your time, many years, this is no short time--I know all your letters were just simply-empty words that looked good on the screen-. I am sorry that love seems to elude you for you are a good person and deserve better. But--God as His way, reason and purpose for our trial and tribulations.

I wish you all the best--but nothing of you has remained in my heart--I have blotted  it all out--physically, mentally and emotionally everything. I do feel free. I have been set free. Goodbye my sweet Cica, my beloved heart--you were truly loved for a mere moment in time-truly, honestly and from the heart, few can say that. Be well--and wish you a long and happy life. For some strange reason I feel light, happy and at such tremendous peace--knowing I have done nothing wrong and my life is unfolding in a most spectacular way in so many areas lately. God is good to me.--Why? I have no idea--but My Lady and My Lord are good to me--they love me as I do Them. They are  merciful and loving and I see clearly many things and why this and why things are as they are and how things will be.

May God be forever be with you, and angels guide you to His Sacred Heart and to Her Immaculate  Heart, my poor beloved lost Oliver. May you find what you seek. One thing that remains of your presence,  is your occupation of one bead on my rosary daily-the last bead on the first decade of " the caplets of Divine Mercy"-that moment you are always thought of, prayed for and always will and always have a place there;  one can never have enough prayers, and grace from God. I am sure.

I am happy and at peace--thank you. All is -"Blowing in the wind'. There always comes a time to say goodbye. But the question is-did I ever love you? Well, we shall all see the others heart one day.


Suzie

For you in memory of us:

How many roads must a man walk down
Before you call him a man?
Yes, 'n' how many seas must a white dove sail
Before she sleeps in the sand?
Yes, 'n' how many times must the cannon balls fly
Before they're forever banned?

The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind
The answer is blowin' in the wind

How many years can a mountain exist
Before it's washed to the sea?
Yes, 'n' how many years can some people exist
Before they're allowed to be free?
Yes, 'n' how many times can a man turn his head
Pretending he just doesn't see?

The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind
The answer is blowin' in the wind

How many times must a man look up
Before he can see the sky?
Yes, 'n' how many ears must one man have
Before he can hear people cry?
Yes, 'n' how many deaths will it take till he knows
That too many people have died?

The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind
The answer is blowin' in the wind

-Bob Dylan

Memory collection

It is raining this morning, and I remember well  each time it rains that I once wrote to someone I love deeply -that I send kisses with each rain drop- Mmmm, I wonder if he remembers when it rains? There are so many things we love as human beings, yet we are as different as each snowflake. One of my favourite songs is "I love..."by Tom T Hall-when I hear it  It always reminds me of things I love. Strange, but often these things, these thoughts get lost in the mundane and the hustle and bustle of life, yet these are really the most important things that give meaning to our lives, spiritual as well as  temporal.

I am a collector of memories- Gloria Vanderbilt in her biography, that was on CNN the other night put it very succinctly- that all that happened in her life has never passed, it is always present-there is no past; all is present. I used to think that way, and I sort of lost it it the shuffle of life- but I have decided once more to revisit it- especially with all the things I have put away in -boxes, trunks, binders and such weird places that I even smile at.

I have things one can hardly imagine-nothing gets thrown out; well, not important stuff like letters, notes, birthday cards, books with flowers pressed within their pages- I even have an Andersen  storybook my grandfather gave me at age 10, and my cherished "autograph book" from when I was 12...with so many delightful messages ...., hundreds of nick-nacks  each with their very own unique, special story, old rusted keys, corks from bottles that lived through special dates, stones with messages written on them, serviettes from distant places, shells-each one with a special connection, some with profound insights written on them marking the moment....., coral picked up on distant beaches, driftwood from Tobago, old school stuff, my fountain pen, pencil box, my Latin text book-even my black with red stripes school jersey and hat band from grade 5 when I was at the convent...., old dolls with plastic heads;battle scarred with arms missing- but still cherished dearly , toys,-my very first stuffed brown elephant when I was 7.... old boxes that gifts arrived in, even a crystal rainbow angel and a blue silk scarf.

The strange thing about  this is each time one revisits or looks at these items a whole story is re-created in one`s head- so I agree all is the present . But then of course there are other things that trigger the conceptual mind, I simply adore that are continually around me ; especially rainy days like today- and so many things - like music how amazingly it transports us back to different times, the fragrance of the ocean, the gentle flow of the river  here in my back yard, the smell of the grass after rain, the silent falling of snow, the sound of birds at dawn, walking though the forest and seeing what beauty lies in creation- always reminds me of different times and places that have touched my heart.....well and above all else the thousands of photographs hiding everywhere which are the actual witness to my life-each one telling a story of that special moment-whether I was 2 or now- it all flows back  and beacomes the present; all is alive and well within my heart all these things that I have enumerated in this post contributes to my life- this one and the one to come....we take nothing with us except the memories that all of these things, event and actions have evoked within spirit.

Re-posted: On death

Le bon mort

 

My dearest Baroness;

You are truly a wondrous joy to wake up to! And you need not worry.  I am as healthy as a horse.  When I was operated on my entire team of doctors was pretty much convinced of my immanent demise.  Except for the chief of staff and my surgeon, who didn’t believe it for a minute.   

During that time I was fathoms deep within a mythical drama and more concerned with the business at hand than with anything as utterly superfluous as what was going on all around me—  The business at hand was dying.  And having done it once, I can say with the absolute certitude and conviction of direct experience that I am even less afraid of going through it again than I was then. 

Indeed, dying is very much a part of life.  You deal with it like you deal with anything else that happens to you. Overall, I am decidedly proud of myself for how I handled it.  I was dying extremely well, and with consummate grace.  It was a powerful, peaceful and profoundly beautiful experience.  I went into it with surrender, lucidity, awareness and without regrets.  I had no concerns, physical, mental, emotional or spiritual.  I was in a state of absolute concentration.  The process engaged me completely.  I made out my will, selected an executor for my estate, and comforted my beautiful little circle of family and friends who had disconsolately gathered around me.

 

In those days I did a life review.  I looked back upon my life and counted it fulfilled.  I had lived a good life and was altogether pleased with how it had all turned out for me.  My life had been rich with tremendous blessings and with deeply lived experiences.  Nothing had been left undone.  My life had not only been beautiful but perfect down to the last detail.  I was completely unafraid.  Dying was an inseparable part of that life that I had been given to live.  It was in no way a termination, nor yet a transition, but simply a continuation of my life, although at an intensity of spiritual focus impossible to capture in words.   

I was given to surrender to my life.  I was given to embrace it completely and in a state of radical trust.  I was given to realize that I had done what I had set out to do—what I had been put on earth to accomplish.  I was at peace.  I new that I was loved—unconditionally—and that by the very process of dying itself.  And I saw that it (death) was truly an angel and that I was resting in her arms, enfolded by her lovely wings…protected and completely safe.

And then I died. I had talked it over with the nurses, and with my parents:  I would only accept palliative care.  And I would die at home.  And but as you said, my angel had other ideas.  I had made myself a promise years ago and was about to make good on it. 

  
Well, what can I say?  Dying is not something you ever get over.  Those people that have actually died only to return, and I am now one of them, live with this experience for the rest of their lives, even should they forget everything else.  Not everyone has a classical NDE, of course.  And by classical I mean an experience of dying which generally begins with an egress from the physical body into the environs of a long, dark tunnel at the terminal end of which is perceived to exist a beautiful, golden light.   


As you no doubt know yourself from the literature, it is reputedly better than any Hallmark card, what with rainbows and angels and or Jesus, spirit guides, relatives, a life review, pearly gates, poopless pets, bad music, flowery fields, Greek architecture, golden cities, friendly aliens, pink panda bears, devas, quartz crystals, burbling brooks, apple trees or whatever else.

 Not for me.  I had none of that.  Indeed, I would have instantly dismissed all such window-dressing as outright morphine induced hallucinations.  Which only goes to prove that you get what you pay for.  I did not go anywhere.  There was no tunnel either.  As far as I know, Suzie, I did not die into my astral body at all.  In fact, I had no bodily experience whatsoever, let alone the memory of ever having had a body to begin with.   It was very much like going into narcosis.   There was no transition of any kind.  I was in my hospital bed.  

 Then I wasn’t there at all, in that hospital bed in downtown Phoenix, nor had I ever been there since before time began.  Instead, I was acutely aware of myself as being within a psychological space of literally infinite extent yet of intensely concentrated awareness throughout, and although there were no objects within this space, neither could I say that it was any more empty than it was full. The terms simply did not apply. 

 The space did not, however, contain itself. Of that much I was certain, at the time, although I now no longer have even the slightest ghost of a notion as to what that actually meant to me.  Light there was, to be sure, which is to say that it was not dark.  The space itself was light and if I had to give it a color I would say light blue, although the coloration of the space was more the idea of color than any color 

What held my undivided attention was my immediate relationship to this space.  Within it I felt completely and exquisitely safe.  That, and I knew and understood myself to be absolutely and unconditionally free--not only free of pain, worry, concern or care, but free of even the very concept of freedom itself. The sense of sheer exhilaration that this engendered…the sense of ecstatic omnipotence…was nothing short of exquisite.   

 Being completely above and beyond the biochemical soup of the mind-stream, not so much as a single trace of human thought could disturbed my awareness of the absolute soundlessness.  I did not think.  Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say that within the infinite expanse of myself I apprehended thought from the inside.  At any rate, not so much as a single conceptual truth held even the slightest validity.
  

I knew this without knowing.  In other words, I had no memory whatever of a state of consciousness wherein there could be experienced that which we call cognition, let alone conceptual truth.  And yet,  I was well aware of my actual condition, namely that I was dead, although this was of little interest to me for some reason.  The potent immediacy and clarity of my awareness held me enthralled.  

 I experienced myself as embedded within this beautiful space as though I were a cell deep within an organism. I experienced myself as distinct from this space, and yet I was inseparable from it in ways I could not even begin to describe.  I was supported by the space, which was and yet was not myself, and I could say that terms such as benevolence or malevolence simply did not apply to it (or to my individuality as I then experienced it).  It understood feelings abstractly, much as we would understand a mathematical formula if we could ever get to the essence of numbers themselves. 

As regards death…from the standpoint of consciousness (not from the standpoint of consciousness expressing itself as a particular physical organism)  I can only say that it (the infinite space) understood death in much the same way as we ourselves, generally, can be said to understand such biological processes as digestion and elimination.  In other words, we take such things for granted and don’t give such profound mysteries a second thought so long as said mysterious processes are doing what they are supposed to be doing.

Whether I was going to live or die, or rather, as to whether or not I would live again or remain dead was a matter of complete indifference to the consciousness within which I swam.  That was, evidently my own business. Besides, as far as the light was concerned, the actual state and condition of my biological expression was a mere technicality, unlike my consciousness, which was a deciding factor throughout the experience, but not in any way that I could ever understand let alone translate into so crude an invention as language.  At any rate, the space decided that the illness that had taken my life had served its purpose and that I was now well.  I mean this literally.

There was no time element involved, let alone a reversal of the condition—whatever it may have been-- that had killed me. The trajectory of the illness was, quite simply, stopped at a point prior to my decision (to accept this one particular death as definitive for myself). And I do mean, simply. There was nothing in the least bit portentous let alone dramatic or spiritual about what was, for the Space, as basic and elementary a mechanical operation as breathing is to us.  And yet, there was nothing impersonal about my return either. 

The unfathomably immense awareness, as well as the intimate presence of the Space within which I found myself, would not let any harm come to me—ever. It had my best interests at heart, if such a phraseology could even be applied to it in the first place.  The space was immutably supportive of me in every conceivable way, although, if pressed, I would have to say that it was not focused on my life specifically--was in fact only as aware of my existence as I am of the continuity of my dreaming self while not actually dreaming.

I wonder if all of this sounds rather bland and boring to you!? Nothing could be further from the truth though. Dying was about the least boring thing I have ever done, and I only wish I could dictate notes on the entire process the next time I begin to undergo it. So much is lost.  So many nuances of the experience escape us.   And but then, there was my resurrection, which was actually no such thing, because the very word itself implies a staged process from one condition or state of being toward another.  This did not happen.  

 I was dead.  I was not dead. I was gravely ill.  I was not.  Just like that.  For all I know I simply altered my focus of intent, and nothing more.  At any rate, it is completely beyond the capacity of the English language to describe simultaneity.  My intent was to be conscious within, and as, that particular physical body with which I was then associated both spatial and chronologically. With the intent, the actuality thereof.  I could as well have created for myself a duplicate body as re-enter my old one.  In fact, the non-experience of coming back to life was exactly like that of dying. If there had been a transition between being alive and being quite dead then I missed it.   

There was, and of this I am certain, no discontinuity in my consciousness, let alone in my awareness.  In other words, the appearance of demise is an appearance only.  There seems to be a cessation of life.  Naturally, the body ceases responding to stimulation of any kind, but this I now know from personal experience—there is no lapse in awareness for the deceased. Hyper-lucidity would be more to the point.  There is, however, a trickling down of cognitions and perceptions—not unlike after-images, or echoes—as the experience is partially assimilated into another frame of reference.
 

Well, I will not insist upon having died.  On the other hand, there is the unshakable certitude regarding the veracity of the event itself.  There is something about dying that is profoundly convincing, hmm?  Nothing, and I do mean absolutely nothing, will ever convince you that you didn’t go where you actually went.  Indeed, it is far easier to doubt in ones own existence than it is to doubt the possibility of the continuity of consciousness after the death of the physical body once you have actually gone and bought the tee-shirt, if not the farm, so to speak only to return. 

Qualitatively, the state of consciousness of the recently deceased is as definitive and as distinctive as being hit by a bus.   It’s like Zen though. No matter how you try, you cannot describe it.  Not like this stops you from trying though.  See, we are so fine-tuned to the particular qualities of consciousness characterized by that strange attractor of that continuum referred to as human life that we are as aware of any alterations in it as we are aware of any deviations in that matrix constituting species recognition.   

Being dead is as different from being alive as being awake is from dreaming, and as dreaming itself is from induced hallucinations, and as these are from trance vision, and as visions are from sitting on a cactus whistling to the wind.  Despite my having been on morphine at the time, and hallucinating like it were going out of fashion, I was not hallucinating when my heart stopped beating, nor was I hallucinating when it began to beat again some time later.  As I said, I can’t prove that.  Proof is in the pudding.  

And where does this leave us?    That you makes me deliriously happy.

All my love and hugs and prayers and kisses,