Tuesday, January 15, 2019

A Conversation with Death circa 2001

As I was cleaning out old files in my computer, the below document popped up. Written in January 2001 during a workshop called "Compassion In Action," it was an exercise in talking to Death. The purpose was to train participants to sit with dying war veterans who had no family or friends. 

My wishes are to know who you are because you are not a being and yet so many see you come to them like the Grim Reaper, as I saw you escorting my father over the bridge to the other side. Why are you a being as well as a portal?

Well, imagine me to be a manifestation of Divine Will cloaked in black with a sword as a projection of your fears. Or perhaps more well stated, I am the grand settler of scores. With me, all is swept clean, what is wronged is righted, what has been undone is completed. With me, there are no more excuses, no more denial, no more of “I'll do it tomorrow.” I am the grand finale for your limited thinking, not I who am the cause of this but your own attachment to fixed and rigid thought forms. In this sense, you mortals see me as limitation. But this is just the smallest aspect of who I am as seen from your limited perspective.

I am the great beyond, the Void, the all that ever was and ever will be. I am the Alpha and the Omega, the I Am Presence. I am your birth into Godhead. Rejoice, I am here as your greatest servant. If I come in robes of black know it to be the Grand Illusion. The Grim Reaper is a harvester, is he not? Reaping the fruits of your life. So celebrate this harvest, which will tide you over in the chilling winds of winter as you make your long journey home to the eternal sunrise.

I am freedom from all limitation and grief if you allow it to be so. And if you chose to wander into the Beyond, it is not I who is the cause of this but your own limitations and attachments.

Can there be such a thing as no death?

I am the train conductor so my existence is a temporal phenomenon. In fact, I am merely a signpost that signifies the point at which the illusory world of appearance drops away like an old suit of clothes. Now go in peace angel friend.






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