Death

Below are some words I wrote today while contemplating life and death. They are reflective and contemplative I suppose and they seemed to spring from that deeper place of stillness that's beyond the surface level of mind; that deeper level of intelligence from which all fresh ideas, insights and creativity emerge. I share them with you that you might simply consider them - not with mind and through the filter of belief systems, but with the heart.

In a way death seems so cruel...savage almost. But it’s not. The consciousness comes to reside here for but a short time and then it moves on. The flickering dream-forms of this world come and go, come and go, ever changing, ever in motion. Birds sing, the sun shines, clouds continue to drift across the blue sky, blossoming trees sway in the morning breeze. This has happened for millions of years before this unit of consciousness stepped in and will continue to happen long after it has stepped back out.

The enduring element, a string unbroken, is consciousness. Things appear in consciousness and then disappear again. I am not this body or mind. Neither is anyone I ever meet their body or mind.

What am I? Awareness, unconditioned consciousness. That is all. That is everything. And it is the building block out of which the world of form is created, in much the same way that the ocean is responsible for the wispy clouds that travel across the sky in ever-shifting shapes and which eventually return again to the ocean. However long a time it takes, they eventually return to their source. How can that be in any way tragic? Is it not in fact something sublimely beautiful? Perfect symmetry, perfection in the rhythm of what we call “life” in the phenomenal world, the world of “things” born of the void of “no-thing”.

Ignorance of our true nature and the true nature of all things is the number one cause of all suffering in the world. When we dwell solely in the surface level and have no awareness of the true depths of life, the vast ocean that lies beneath the rippling surface, then we suffer and the cessation of form is a grave tragedy. This is because we’re locked in the world of 'things' - things that come and go and can be taken and destroyed. We are unaware of the vast immeasurable field of unity, the invisible and unmanifest, the deathless realm that underlies and sustains and is the true essence of all particular things.

When the form returns to the formless, in many ways it is more a birth than a death - a rebirth of unimaginable proportions and a return to wholeness, to the very ground of creation...a blissful, undivided, undifferentiated unity. The only tragedy in this is the tragedy of our own misunderstanding and ignorance. The truth is beyond the mind. And it’s always more beautiful than we could ever possibly imagine.