Death and Rebirth

My death has me surrounded.

One morning the world had fallen away, and it was there. A scene of molten rock, spewing volcanoes, and ash clouds all around. Beings in the lava stared out at me with red rimmed eyes, smiling and laughing, inviting me to come in. I was tempted. They were having so much fun. But something stilled me. A question. Was this really as good as it looked. Were the happy basalt faces hiding a more sinister truth; the wailing sounds of those not wanting to die. Were these beings before me seduced into enjoying a lie. And so I resisted. Stayed on the banks of the orange black river, and waited for it to pass. Then one day it was gone. Replaced by frosted grass and meadows that tried to push the lava down.

Now death is trying a new tack. This time it comes as mist. A dense thick beguiling fog that enters my lungs and drives out the air. Like a boa constrictor, each time I breathe out it tightens its grip around my chest. And in the suffocation I feel the defiance of my resistance slowly softening and giving way. The mist has touched the part of me that thinks I cannot win, that is starting to question why I wanted so hard to live. It is caressing my darkest thoughts and asking me to dive in. To get lost in the fog and erase my memory of all the struggle and the fight. I am looking out at the world with silent eyes, considering the offer, thoughts and words locked up behind my placid face. Fading away unseen amidst the bustle of life. I see the glimmer of the sun behind the bank of clouds, streaks of brilliant white, yellow, and orange across the horizon. Then it is gone.

The darkness comes then. Heavy, paralysing. I cannot think. Cannot move. I just want to slump down and sleep. My muscles are toneless, deflated, like the melting wax of a candle that has been alight for too long. Wave after wave of memories and images are lapping incessantly along the shores of my mind. Snapshots of humanities cruelty, carelessness, torture, and considered targeted abuse and discrimination. I am looking up at the heavens, searching for answers. Searching for something that can help me. Screaming over and over, ‘Why am I here?’ ‘Why did I choose this for me?’ In the silent reply I feel powerless, opening up to the cold realisation that the only way out is through acceptance. But where is the line between giving up and surrender. Where is the division between puppetry and acquiescing to the divine flow. Hot salty tears blaze a jagged trail down my cheeks and there is a deep chasm of pain throbbing in my heart.

I see the glint of sunlight once again. This time like a luminous eye shooting shards of light down to the earth. It shows me water. A body of water shining like liquid mercury. ‘Surrender’ comes the reply. Allow Grace to hold you and carry you forward on the wings of her love. But control is hard to let go of. My boundaries too hard won to relinquish to some other being who thinks they know better than me. The warrior in me rises to attention, raises weapons as a silent warning to those who dare to approach. And still the crystalline waters lap gently at my toes, patient and knowing that all is well, that I will find the sweet tender heart of my torment and come to rest in the bosom of the divine goddess herself.

And just like that the dawn comes. The unexpected parting of the clouds and the sky becomes clear. Birdsong carried through the swoops and swirls of the murmurations overhead. My heart is open, finally releasing the survivors grip on my childhood tears. I have passed through the veil of Neptune into a magical world of gnomes and faeries, of dragons and unicorns, of sylphs and salamanders. Sacred geometry fizzes everywhere and my lungs breathe deep, my muscles soften, and compassion brings a tender view of my resentful attitudes. It is so clear to me now. We are all just walking our pain. Beneath the tension and the inhibition cower lonely little boys and girls who long to be free again. Who still have laughter and games in their bones. Who wish to race down the green hills and gambol like newborn lambs. I am suspicious of this openness, of this gaiety. Such vulnerability would get you killed in the old world. But there is no room for such density here. Only the joy of aligned souls and the desire to do good in the world. A wave of gratitude washes over me then and I feel glad to be alive. To have been given the opportunity to brave the storms of incarnation and to have survived it. The forces of beauty and love have been there all along and the purpose of our existence is to find it. Over and over again we are dropped behind enemy lines, hostile natives hunting us down to destroy us. And then we wake up, see it was all a game, see how much we have learned, how much we have grown, and how the heart’s capacity for love has expanded deep into dimensions long forgotten by humanity.

This is my message to you.