We allow little mundane BS things to distract and steal our attention away from what’s important: being with and cherishing the ones we love most, caring for those who need and want our love, attention, and affection.
Lately I see so many posts on facebook by folks who have lost friends and family from covid and other illnesses, from accidents and mishaps, and sadly, self-endings.
And, some of us are getting old enough that we are beginning to fray and fade and peel away to the Rainbow Lands.
It’s devastating, shocking, when a friend or close person is suddenly just *not there* anymore. It’s as if we got slapped across our soul, an inner assault of not-there-ness. A big energetic hole where a very lively Being used to live within our heart and awareness.
In our society, we think and act as if we will live forever.
We have no real relationship to the reality of death, nor any regard for the idea of, or the force of, the plain fact that we die.
Truth is, we all die. Every one of us.
We don’t acknowledge that.
We lala on as if we will be here for years and years unending. We forget that, while we generally live for decades, our lives on this earth can snap out of existence in less than a nano-second.
We have no formal, culture-wide mental or emotional preparation for both the dying ones and the people around them — whether it be a gradual ease from life, or a sudden transition into the other side of The Veil.
Look at other cultures, especially indigenous ones — all of them have rituals and habits that prepare everyone for the passing of one of their families, groups or tribes, and for what takes place after the deaths.
Look at the Tibetan Book of the Dead — it’s a massive book, and will most likely take all your life to read and ponder and practice what’s in it. It’s an amazing training for living a good, fulfilled life, and prepare for a peaceful, light-filled death.
Why don’t we have that?
Then, too, at funerals or memorials, what happened to those crying, loudly sobbing mourners who used to come in to the place where the body of the deceased laid, and filled the air with shrieks and wailings and weepings and tearings of hair and beatings of chests?
They helped us mark the closure of a life, and to acknowledge that where there was a good life, now there is a shift — that life energy has gone, and the very energy of the planet has shifted accordingly.
And then there is this:
We don’t say, ‘I love you,’ or, ‘I appreciate you,’ enough.
I was upset, after my dad left us, that the last time we spoke I hadn’t said ‘I love you’ like I usually did. I still feel the grief in that. Yes, of course he knew that I loved him. But it would have made me feel better.
That’s what mourning is for, of course — helping the mourners feel better, helping them glide into the understanding that the deceased is no longer here on this physical plane.
We mourn deeply, thinking, ‘if only I had … ‘
But we didn’t.
Dying is a daily thing.
We walk towards it every second of our lives.
So what do we do? We allow little mundane BS things to distract and steal our attention away from what’s important: being with and cherishing the ones we love most, caring for those who need and want our love, attention, and affection.
What if we put our attention on
perpetuating a river of love through time itself?
Then death can go bug off — to hell with it! We’ll know that our love will last until eternity, on both sides of The Veil.
So we can keep on keeping on, knowing we all are loved and cherished as best can be.
Image: Cycles of Life
© Angela Treat Lyon 2022
text: © Angela Treat Lyon 2023
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