An Angel Walks Among Us

I woke up yesterday morning with death on my mind. In my spiritual circle Thursday night, we talked about an upcoming shamanic death ritual we are doing today. I will die... again. I think this will be my 6th or 7th time to die a ritual death. Some of these rituals have lasted a few hours, others a day, and others a year. In fact, the seed of this blog was born out of a year-long "Death Walk" I participated in from November 2009 to November 2010. This year, I am facilitating a year-long journey for others (my Awaken Circle) because the experience had such a profound impact on me.

We've all heard sayings such as "Death walks beside you" and "Death is always standing behind your left shoulder" or "Death is just over your shoulder" and  "Death is always knocking on your door." Have you  ever paused to really feel into what that means? Most of us, because of our social training to fear or resist death, don't give death much attention. But there's a tremendous opportunity here...

In many ancient spiritual teachings, death is held as an important adviser. In the Toltec tradition of the Eagle Knight lineage, we refer to it as The Angel of Death yet s/he goes by many names across cultures (e.g., Kali, Ganesha, Hunhau, Uacmitun Ahau, Kisin, Mictlantecuhtli, Hades, Hecate, Pluto, Hel, Ereshkigal, Cerridwen, Arawn, Skatha, Yen-Wang-Yeh, Ani-lbo, Anubis). You can find mythological or spiritual references to the keeper or guardian of death or the Underworld in just about every culture in the world.

My view of the Angel of Death is that she greets us with the gift of freedom from whatever binds our hearts. She bears the completion of one cycle and yet the beginning of something new. Without this completion, we would remain buried beneath the weight of our own hearts; we would never have the spaciousness to invite healing, change or growth into our lives.

The Angel of Death walks with clear steps and a keen eye. As She approaches, things change. She sees the obstacles to the blossoming of unconditional love in our hearts and does what's necessary to remove them. The gift of Her touch brings acute presence: suddenly nothing matters but the truth. She wields destruction for the sake of construction. It may mean a physical death yet it may also mean a symbolic death.

There's something healing and opening that emerges through the eyes of death. If you've ever sat with the dying, you know that the only thing of importance to them is the clarity of their own heart. I've heard stories about people blurting out their heaviest heart-burdens in the moments of their last breath, revealing family secrets that had been hidden for generations.

This is the gift of the Angel of Death; she offers the soul an invitation to surrender it's burdens and open into the wellspring of freedom born of a clear and unobstructed heart. From this view, nothing matters in life or death except that truth - the truth of a heart broken open. And in the spaciousness of such a heart, only love exists.

For all the human struggles I participate in, for all my searching and clearing and healing around love, there is always more deepening and opening to do. As I approach another opportunity to surrender what obstructs my heart - to hand it willingly over to the Angel of Death so that I can open more deeply into love - I find myself feeling calm and at peace inside. And so I prepare for yet another death of who I am to something new and (hopefully) more purely aligned with my spiritual intentions.

"Today is a good day to die for all the things of my life are present." I've written of this Native American saying before.  This is the state I want to be in when I die, when my body takes its last gasp of air and then releases it with a sigh of surrender. And in that sigh I want to feel the full freedom that comes with a completely clear and open heart, one without obscurations in which everything - all the baggage of my life - has been cleaned up and brought into a present state of love.

Sunrise at Rockport, TX.
Photo copyright 2006: Cecilia Zuniga

So today I do my best to attend to and clean up any areas of heaviness in my life. I heal what needs to be healed, speak what needs to be spoken, request what needs to be requested and I forgive what needs to be forgiven. I choose love and connection over being right and separate. It's not an easy way to live; it takes all the courage and willingness I can muster. It means risking relationships and identities and habits. It means letting go of the old and familiar for the new and unfamiliar. It means taking a radically honest look at myself and claiming responsibility for who I've been, who I am and who I want to become. Sometimes I'm not ready to stand in the blurry and oftentimes painful and muddy lines of personal truth, to risk what I know for the unknown. Yet it is as authentic a life as I can manage right now.

Some days, such as during the past two weeks, I question what's happening. When another layer of mud surfaces from the depths of my being for healing and clearing, I question my integrity. Questioning is a natural part of this journey. It helps me discern what is mine to clean up and what is someone else's. Yet it must be done with radical honesty and heart-centered action. Otherwise, it serves little. This process of questioning helps me return to a clear sense of my own integrity so that I can clean up what needs cleaning, take responsibility for what is mine, and honor my truth in the moment, despite the feelings or reactions of others.

Through this process I've learned that what is true for me requires no defense or explanation; it is simply my truth, whether others understand it or agree with it or not. Expressing my truth does not require understanding or agreement from others or that they change their behavior based on how I experience a situation. And this is true for them as well: I don't have to understand or agree with their views or change my behavior to acknowledge what feels true for them. The best I can do for each of us is listen deeply, honor the feelings that arise, keep my heart open, allow spaciousness for what's next and keep love present through any disagreements.

Limestone heart.
Photo copyright 2007: Cecilia Zuniga

I've learned over the past several years of exploring dying and death more intimately that there is a pre-death process that supports me in preparing for the transition from old to new: whatever obstacles are currently blocking the open flow of love in my heart will be flung into my full vision! Something always happens to enable me to see clearly where my own blocks to love are and where the next step in my healing work rests so that I can go about the business of doing it.

At the time of my own point of rememberance - that moment in death when I suddenly reconnect with my true, pure nature beyond the physical limitations of this body - I want to melt easily and gently into freedom. And so tonight I die knowing that I've done my best to keep learning about and opening to love in all of its expressions; knowing that I am, step by step, killing off love's obstacles and gently growing a deeply faithful, trusting and open heart.

As Stephen Levine so beautifully reflects in his book A Year To Live, I consciously cultivate a heart that cannot be distracted even by death. This is my chosen mission this year as I make my way through Adventures Of A Year To Love.