I Died With My Eyes Open
Today I would like to return to your awareness an aspect of the Human condition that ultimately succumbs to the biological experience we call life. Yes, death seems inevitable and inescapable. There are those who appear to cheat it at times but sooner or later we are all paid a visit by that rather grim-looking, cloaked entity who gestures with a scythe.
When that mythical bony hand comes knocking, there will be few places to run and hide. The idea of venturing into the unknown can be a terrifying proposition for us— and there’s certainly no greater unknown than what waits on the other side. The tendency to fear death is perfectly natural, perhaps even necessary. Yes, death is to be avoided at all costs, and yet we find ourselves fascinated by this mysterious and most prodigious of all eventualities.
In the following paragraphs I intend to die. Yep- that’s right, I’m going to choke on a Giuliano jalapeno-stuffed olive and pass over the great divide into the ever after. I’ll tell you all the things I see and feel along the way. Now mind you, this is only a simulation, as I am in no particular hurry to experience the real deal. But I’ve imagined such a moment a good number of times, and so in this sense it’s just another day for me.
“An olive of all things,” I think to myself as I asphyxiate. It would have been considerably better and wiser to have chewed it rather than inhale it. But they tasted so good and I got a little carried away. If provided the opportunity to reconsider my lackadaisical attention to chewing and swallowing, I certainly would now seek that option. No such choice is on the table. Seems I remember a variation of the Heimlich maneuver that could be administered in a lonely and dire circumstance such as this. Still thinking there’s a chance my olive will pop back out.
Well that’s the pits. There’s genuine urgency now. The adrenaline is pumping, which doesn’t seem to help my current situation whatsoever. This thing is not going to pop out and so I find myself in a frenzied state of panic, fear and dizziness. The struggle is initially intense, but before too long I feel my body hitting the floor and staring up toward the ceiling. I never noticed that cobweb in the corner before. Someone should really take care of that.
At the edge of consciousness I find that I’m now no longer concerned for me but how others will be affected. I sure don’t want to upset anyone, but it would seem my fate is sealed— I’m a goner. I’ve walked away from serious car wrecks and even survived picking a fight with someone twice my size. I suppose either one would have offered a more spectacular exit. But an olive— yes, that delicious little olive, would ultimately spell my demise. I find the irony both terrifying and amusing. As I slip into unconsciousness I am finally relieved of my struggle.
I thought it was mostly hype, but sure enough I’m now staring into a bright white light. I can’t seem to take my eyes off of it. It is beautiful beyond words and so welcoming. I sense I’m between two worlds, yet my mind still functions as though I’m having a living Human experience. I’m no longer tethered to the ground like before. I’m free to float about and observe the world from this vantage. I’m not really aware that I’m dead, because all this seems so perfectly natural and familiar to me. That’s when I look down and notice myself looking back up at me. Damn— I died with my eyes open!
I’ll tell you now that’s not what I wanted. Ever since I was a little kid I thought how creepy it would be to see a dead person with their eyes still open. And yet there I am, dead and blue with Marty Feldman-like, bulging peepers. I try to reach down to close them but my hand can’t seem to move anything. I’m a ghost. I find being a ghost rather interesting and not nearly as spooky as I thought it would be. But I’m still concerned about my loved ones. I don’t want them to discover me like this; bulging eyes and an olive in my windpipe. Sheesh!
Little Help from My Friends
I’m not alone. There are others like me— in the between states of here and there. Some have been around for ages, although time is not the same ticking clock that we know of. We’re all connected in an almost telepathic way and none of this is surprising to me. What’s odd is that heavy, fleshy container I used to occupy. Without spirit, it just doesn’t hold my appearance anymore. Just a body now, a shell of my former existence- and those eyes- yikes!
I’m acutely aware of my energetic state. I’m not sure what’s holding my consciousness together, as I’m fully capable of clear and independent thought. There are many familiar faces here to greet me. I laugh because this part of the experience seems rather stereotypical. I think to myself how cliché and perfect all this is. But it’s nothing like a family reunion where there’s always a residual tension just below the waterline. This is a real reunion fully expressed in the light of unconditional love, knowing and compassion. And there’s a connectedness with all things big and small. Everything has a resonance that somehow speaks to me. This is a blissful state, and indeed a heavenly place to call home. At the moment I can’t even fathom why I would ever choose to be among the living. There is simply no comparison.
This previously forgotten realm in the afterlife seems far more real than the sensation of living. Everything has come back to me in a flash. It’s almost like I never left. If one has ever had the experience of returning to a job after being away for a while and jumping right back in without missing a beat— well, that might begin to describe what I’m feeling in this space called death. Yes, it is indeed a transition or metamorphosis, but nothing ever dies.
There is still a window open for me to return to my former life, although there would be significant challenges I would have to face. The choice is mine. I opt out. I don’t want to go back to that world. Truth is I didn’t really care much for those things I read in the news. I don’t like war and all those evil machinations. No thanks, I’ll stay. It’s at that moment someone, somehow, finds a way to close my eyes. Whew! What a relief.
Life is But a Dream
Have you ever been sleeping and missed being awake? Not likely. Have you ever been so tired and exhausted that all you could think about was going to bed? -Very likely. The physical state of sleeping can be maintained by the body for months and even years. People in comas can survive literally into old age. On the other hand, if one were to try staying awake and conscious for much more than three days they would likely become delusional and possibly even die. In this sense, being in a deep state of sleep seems more natural for the body than remaining continually awake.
But where I feel I am right now is somewhere between that state of awake and asleep. This is the node that best captures the feeling that surrounds me. It’s the twilight and the dawn— it’s the end of all that was and the beginning of what will be. It’s all rolled together into one big, cosmic, vegetarian burrito for me to eat at my leisure. And it tastes right and it tastes good.
There is not a sense of higher and lower orders of spiritual evolution. It’s clear that all energies have a place that is important and significant. There is no ridicule or praise for one’s prior beliefs, or lack of belief for that matter. All of that now seems insignificant to me as I stand in awe of the greater picture. I sense what some would call the Christ Light, but I do not witness His personification. It seems the Light speaks to me in a way that I can understand. It is the Light of love and it’s within us all. In my heaven, we are not to be hoodwinked, embarrassed or judged. We are unbridled expressions resuming our truer form.
Gone to the Moon
One thing that is clear to me is that this “heavenly” state is not superior to our living state. It’s really a matter of perspective. It doesn’t pose the same limitations upon us at the physical level because there is no physical level. A body of flesh does not have the architecture to embrace the level of energy I’m picking up on the other side. If we tried, the body would explode. So there must be a tradeoff. But that is not to belittle our physical state. This state is beautiful in its own way. We can find heaven in this state or we can live in hell, if that is our choosing.
I wish I could tell the living how easy it is to do things and go places while in a physical body. Being dead is making all this abundantly clear. For instance, when was the last time you were on the moon? My spiritual body is screaming out to you, the living, and wondering why you don’t go. You see, we can visit the moon anytime we like, just not so much in the physical way. As for me, I like to lie down along the terminus were shadow meets the light. My feet get nice and toasty while my head freezes. Thank goodness it’s my spiritual body. It can handle such extremes. I listen to the moon speak and watch the Earth rise. I wish you could be there to experience it too. To watch you observe such a thing is more enjoyable to me than the effect of my own observation.
But people will tell you it’s all imaginary. It’s in your head, they’ll say. To them I ask if a thought is energy. If it’s energy, then is it not real? What if this energy is not confined to just the physical brain? What if it can transmit like some kind of quantum radio device and take you wherever you want to go? Well it can, and it does, so there!
You’re being here took a lot of effort from a lot of people who love you very much. You are valuable and have great purpose. I am grateful for your being here and I wish I could express to you just how important your role is. But I’m sort of dead right now. Yes, we are held in place in this physical world and yet, do we not hold someone in place when we hug them? The hug doesn’t last and all which you see around you is temporary and fleeting. Enjoy this present moment.
Dying with my eyes open is perfectly fine as a metaphor but maybe not so much in the literal sense. When I truly leave this world I will want to say I was awake and aware and conscious of those things within and around me. I was able to see through this artificial construct we sometimes call the matrix and that I was able to rise above it. Perhaps my being here was largely about this experience and the ensuing internal struggle that did follow.
Did you notice I never quite made it through heaven’s gate? I saw someone who could pass for Peter, but I was a little too shy to approach him. I found myself instead noticing this limbo land between both worlds. This is an important transitional stage where we drop off our remaining baggage and slowly acclimate to moving on. I had always put a toe in the pool before jumping in. I make no exception here. I want to make sure my affairs are in order and that the living are ready and willing to let me go. If they don’t, I’ll probably come down and haunt them until they do. There are some people up here that are kind of into that and have made it into a full time job.
From where I stand, I am now privy to knowing that what’s ahead is so beautiful, perfect and pure that I don’t want to contaminate it in any way. The proverbial “gate” is open to everyone and yet I’m stricken with the feeling of unworthiness. I’m simply not good enough to enter that light. Well fine, they say. If you want to sit around and mope about it you can. You’re welcome to flog yourself to your hearts content. Do you see why we shouldn’t carry so much baggage with us? Anyway, the gate is open 24/7 just like my favorite diner. All we really need to do is step in, self-incrimination notwithstanding.
What it might be like past this point I haven’t a clue. It’s beyond anyone’s comprehension. This may be why we are so steeped in amnesia. We may not have a choice in the matter. Our living, organic brains may be unable to process what is beyond those gates. If we had any inkling, it is quite possible that we could not function in the physical world. It would literally blow our minds. We would be so wrecked with homesickness and confusion that a good many of us might just jump off the first available bridge. It is my sense that we chose to be here and to be here largely on our own terms. The amnesia was the one non-negotiable (and essential) part of the package.
As we live from day to day our propensity to be fearful of the unknown can be easily exploited. There are religious constructs that will leverage this fear. They will have you believe that your fate is somehow in their hands and contingent on their ideology. I will not engage with those who are austere and belligerent in this arena. What nerve some people have. Might some be charlatans who don these robes? To think they know better than you or I as they shake their finger of judgment and indignation. I love that person who wags their finger. But I know they know not— and I fear that they fear much.
Take a moment and feel your energetic self. Feel how it is somewhat separate from your physical body. If you don’t sense it right away, keep trying. You’ll eventually become very aware of being aware. It’s really not much of a jump from there to feel that dividing line between the physical and spiritual worlds.
The physical body is the condensate, solidified expression of our spiritual being. Our car fits perfectly in this garage. Here we are provided the opportunity to observe ourselves and comb our hair in a mirror. Kind of a big deal, really. We don’t wish to be anyone else because who we are is what we are. So should we decide to come back again and walk the Earth once more, we will bear a striking resemblance to what we see right now. A gender change is perfectly within the realm of possibility. Let’s not forget, men do have nipples. Go figure.
Our every instinct promotes self-preservation. This is by design. But it seems to me that if we really knew the experience that awaits us, we just might find ourselves overly ambitious to get there. We came into this world with a lot of help and the help will be there when it’s our rightful time to leave. I sense with great certainty that we are never alone, and we are loved so very, very much. Oh yes, and I also sense the importance of chewing our food slowly and carefully before swallowing.
-Until next time
About the Author
There is a certain obscurity that follows Julian Wash. After all, any writer that starts off with “Dear Humans” might be a little hard to nail down. We sense he’s benevolent, a little crazy and we think rather enjoyable to read. Email: firstname.lastname@example.org
**This article was originally published at The Rattle Report.**
This article is offered under Creative Commons license. It’s okay to republish it anywhere as long as attribution bio is included and all links remain intact.
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