As a mere mortal, we appear to be subject to death, the end. Logically, that limp body appeared lifeless, something different from the person I loved. Inside my brain, I stared at him in numb disbelief, and knew he was gone. But where did “he” go, because I was still holding his hand.
I witnessed the blood drain from his face, turning his skin gray, his warmth vanishing shortly after. And then I was left with a dichotomy of thoughts that ran amuck inside my mind. His body is here, but he is gone. I have spent months reconciling the rich emotions of grief, tight roping or the act of funambulism, both peace and pain along the fence of neuroscience and spirituality.
Being raised in the west, I find my mind often seeks scientific explanation. Even though I realize that science has surpassed many of our western beliefs, I then ponder if we get stuck in a way of thinking that is restricting. Is it possible our outdated beliefs become a form of emotional baggage? And we understand how our baggage causes us to suffer.
This morning, I mused, could “he” be like this little reflection of light that I just noticed disappearing against the glass?
I understood logically, the sun was reflecting off my slowly wandering watch face, refracting the light so this bright oval orb projected onto the chair that sat across the room. But then I had this thought, could this little light be shifting my perspective on death? Be a clue, a message to open a new perspective?
I allowed my mind to release attachment. Continuing to move my wrist, I watched the light shift its position from the front of the chair seat until it crossed paths with the side table, hit the window and instantly vanished. Logically, the orb still existed, I simply couldn’t see it until I reversed the position of my wrist once more, and there it was.
My muse continued to expand, is my awareness of what is, a reflection of what I can see? After all, a birds vision has 2-8 times greater acuity than the human eye, or witnessing with awe the murmuration of thousands of birds impossible even for Canadian highly trained snowbird pilots. Or, consider a dog’s hearing or a dog’s sense of smell 10,000 times beyond human sensorial capacity.
So, what else could be outside of our capacity of awareness?
Could death be very different from what we see at first glance. I believe. Part of the stumbling block to our awareness could be our current and limiting world view, the one we have been taught decades ago may still be deeply embedded into our psyche. Beliefs once held are difficult to change. But when we search for answers, due to painful emotions, we may find ourselves confronting newer beliefs, and that can be transformational.
What I noticed was that as I encountered something outside of my beliefs, it first felt like stepping off a merry-go-round, out of sync. Or like taking a sip of too hot coffee that needed to cool a little bit before I reached out for another sip. But like anything we get better with practice! I found that old ways of thinking actually inhibited my ability to heal. I became ready and willing to do whatever it took to feel better. Milton Erikson once said, people change only when it is too painful to remain the same, and I believe.
When we grieve, we may need something solid to hang onto
Because life may feel so out of control, at times we feel like we are grasping at thin air. We may hope that there is someone or something holding the wheel. And yet even though we may fear change, we need to change because nothing will ever be the same again. And if change feels scary, it could signal more trouble.
In Science America, John Horgan reviews something called the terror management theory; “agreeing that we cling more tightly to our believes when facing mortality.”
At these times, I encourage you to let go and lean into faith. Because believing there to be something more that gives meaning or purpose to our experience, offers relief. Faith can feel intangible and yet it exists all around us. Life is filled with limitless intangibles. The abstract, the invisible and ethereal all make life a little sweeter. For example, could we ever measure one person’s love over another, compare friendships, limit the size of passion or put a ceiling on dreams. There are so many things we can not quantify, and death or life after death, may be one of them.
This is where, halfway through my coffee, Quantum Theory enters my mind
Everything we thought to be true, cause and effect, determinism, mechanistic views shattered. Things are updated, and then we are asked to keep up with the change, but do we?
Until we do, it may leave us clinging to outdated information of time and space defining life, death and everything in-between. And none of that may be helpful. Updating our beliefs means accepting expanded human potential, because both QT and Biocentrism dissolves the box that set limits for human potential for hundreds of years.
Grief has transformed much of me, and now
I happily leave behind the tsunami of beliefs surrounding death. Because even though death may appear pretty final, I know in my heart it is simply a transition. So, when the heart you love stops beating, I encourage you to tune into the research of Dr. Michael Newton, Dr. David R Hawkings and read Signs by Laura Lynn Jackson or lean into Biocentrism. Because, once again, Dr. Robert Lanza recently wrote in Psychology Today that reminds us, “The mathematical possibility of your consciousness ending is ZERO.” If you haven’t heard of Lanza before, Dr. Lanza made Time Magazine’s top 100 most influential people in the world in 2014, he’s both humorous and a smarty-pants.
And then, we can open another potential conversation; if we do believe that consciousness does not end, what could that look like? Celestial divinity? A celestial body is typically thought of as the sun or the moon, a natural body located outside of the Earth’s atmosphere, or a celestial being, an angel or a God; not limited by space, time, cause or effect.
I wonder if our mortality may hold one key to the truth about death and dying, because it asks us to open our minds and hearts and consider the possibility of divinity.
At 27 Adele Anderson survived a plane crash. That life and NDE experience, followed by the death of her husband, forever changed her perception of life, death and life after death: that choices and “SOUL”utions exists even in life’s most dire and painful circumstances
She knows now that life always offers us more than we may see at first glance. Understanding that the choices we make every day can change how we cope, thrive and ultimately the trajectory of our life.
For over 30 years she has had holistic practice. Homeopathy for body health. Neuro-Linguistic Programming to regulate equilibrium for the mind; reprogramming, empowering mental process. Spiritual rituals and Akashic Records Reading that soothe the soul.