The Journey

In my last post, I mentioned a series of issues that have been circling through my hemisphere of late and of which I have been delving into and working on. Among those is one of the biggest challenges with which we will grapple while on this earth, and that is Death.

I realized that I have consciously avoided writing about this up until now, and there are a couple of reasons for that. 1.) This subject runs so vast and deep that it almost seems ridiculous to think of wrangling it into mere words. 2.) I have so much to say on this subject, from so many varying levels and angles, that I hardly know where to begin. Nevertheless, there are few subjects more worthy of deep reflection and exploration than the looming issue of Death. For today, I just want to breach the subject.

I spend quite a bit of time, within myself, contemplating death. For some, that may sound morbid or terrifying. The truth of the matter is that we avoid death with the childlike naiveté of, “If I don’t look at it, it’s not really there.” The simple refusal to look long and hard at this supposed monster waiting in the wings is the single source of power that it possesses. Once you begin to look at death, to really, really explore the subject of death, it begins to lose its menacing power. In fact, it loses all credibility whatsoever. After awhile, it is revealed as nothing more than a farce, a shadow in the night, a misunderstanding at best.

The frustrating thing about death is the seeming absence of data. In our logic-and-reason driven world, we’re addicted to stats, “proofs,” and “hard evidence.” The exploration of death, however, requires going within, calling upon feeling and intuition, and first-hand experience. That last one might sound confusing, but there’s not a one of us here who does not have (or will not have) a direct, first hand experience of death. Whether it be someone close to you dying, a near death experience, or an encounter with the dead, each of us has, or will have, a story to tell. From these experiences, there is actually an overwhelming amount of data and information on the subject available to anyone with a computer, an internet connection, or a library card.

And then of course, we will all one day have our own, personal experience of passing through the curtains called “death.” That’s right. I hate to be all insensitive about it ‘n shit, but…You and I will die. Most people will live their entire lives unconsciously driven by the fear of this experience, and yet will do everything within their power to avoid ever acknowledging, much less dealing with, that fear. These days, I find the issue of death more fascinating than scary. But then, I’ve spent some time swimming around in it.

A couple of weeks ago, my grandfather died. He was 92 years old. He died of cancer, specifically, melanoma.

For me, this world has changed on a fundamental level. Just think about it. I’ve never known this world without my grandfather in it. He’s been here my whole life. He walked and talked and worked on the face of this earth for 92 years. That’s a pretty good stretch of time to occupy a single body. He built things, he grew things, he bought things, he sold things, he owned things–lots and lot of things–and he knew things. And suddenly, in the blink of an eye, he is gone. All the things he owned, all his money, all his earthly endeavors still linger on, but the man himself is gone entirely from the physical realm. What remains is the obituary I have printed out. 9 sentences… Nine sentences! 92 years of life wrapped up in nine sentences!!??

When you start to think really hard about it, it becomes ridiculous. It doesn’t even make sense. Where did he go? Where is he now? What happened to him? What is the point of all that he accumulated and seemingly attained in his 92 years if, in a blink, he has just disappeared, never to return? Futility…

There is a reason that it doesn’t make sense to me. There’s a reason that I cannot wrap my mind around it. There’s a reason that death frustrates us all so terribly! And that’s because it is a lie. It is not true. It is not real. It is a trick, an illusion. We cannot understand how this living, breathing, animated being can suddenly be ripped from existence. We intuitively know that this is not possible because we intuitively know that our loved ones, and we ourselves, are more than a sack of flesh and blood. The body grows cold and begins to decay, and we are confused because there’s no way that the person we know and love can be that dead corpse laying in the ground. It defies everything that we instinctively, intuitively feel to be true and real. And yet, the physical senses in which we are so invested, which we find to be so convincing, seem to insist that it is possible to die.

There is only one real conclusion that can be drawn from this and that is: You cannot trust your senses. The physical world that you hear, smell, see, touch, and taste is not Real. It looks real, it feels real, it sounds real, I agree. I know that it all feels very real, but the closer you look at it, the more holes and cracks appear in this story. It’s like the Truman Show. You’re not getting the whole story. There’s something more behind the curtain. There’s more to this drama than what is being perceived by the naked eye.

I am convinced beyond any shadow of a doubt that it is not possible to die. Yes, I know my body will someday stop functioning, my heart will stop beating, and my senses will cease to perceive the world around them. But I–not Christina, the personality, the persona, the human, but I–have existed long before I came into this world and will continue to exist long after I leave the human form. So will you. Whether you like it or not or accept it or not. I’ve seen and experienced too much to ever doubt this fact again. And not only are there piles of data, experience, and even science to point toward this, but every great spiritual master and teacher of any time has taught this. Jesus went so far as to prove it. This whole death story is a sham.

Yes, bodies die. We lose the ease of reaching over and giving that person a hug, having a casual conversation, or sharing a meal. We grieve over the sense of loss we experience from the absence of these familiar things to which we have grown so accustomed and likely taken for granted. But we cannot truly lose a person. Our means of communication may change, and we may not be able to “see” them with our physical eyes, but as the Course teaches, nothing Real can die. And once we make our own transition from the physical to the non-physical, we will be better able to conceive of these ideas which seem so foreign and strange to us now.

So where does that leave us? Well, you cannot fully contemplate death without delving deeply into the contemplation of life. If we cannot die, but our physical death renders all our earthly acquisitions and “accomplishments” useless, then what is the point of all this? I believe that there are deeply meaningful accomplishments to be made here, but for the most part, they are overlooked and ignored. It will never matter how much money you made or obtained. It will never matter how many or what kind of things you accumulated. It won’t matter whether you were the President, a CEO, or a pauper. When you leave this world, whether at 29 or 92, you don’t get to take a damn thing with you, not even your body. So why the hell are we all so obsessed with this trivial, meaningless drivel? Money. Status. Titles. Houses. Cars. Careers. Fame. Not one of them will change or alter your ultimate destination.

But there are certain “accomplishments” that will make a difference, and there are things that you can take with you. Love. Peace. Gratitude. Humility. Abundance. Joy. These things can not only be attained here on earth, but they go with you. Your mindset matters. Your focus matters. Your goals matter. When I take that big ol’ stage dive through the final curtain call, I want my treasure trove filled with the stuff that matters, the stuff I can actually take with me. So that’s how I’m going to live my life: acquiring and cultivating that which holds true value.

The average American life span is 78.7 years, worldwide it’s 70.1. According to this, I’m right around half way through my years here on the earth. Half way! In many ways, it feels as if I’ve hardly even begun, and yet, I’m almost half way done. At this point, I feel confident that I can leave my body at any time with no regrets–that I will have done my very best to grow and learn here. But considering how quickly the first half has slipped by, I am more determined than ever to make full and total use of the remaining half of my years here in the service of acquiring and cultivating that which matters, those things that I can take with me.

On the morning of March 18th, 2015, Jesse Franklin Cummings, Jr. slipped out of his body and passed through the curtain between the physical world and the spirit world, playing his part in the story of death. But he is not gone. And I don’t mean that he just lives on in the hearts of friends and family, “gone but not forgotten.” No. I mean something much more concrete and real than that. His presence has been both felt and heard, and in not so long a time, we will see each other again.