Death-Defying Part 1

Today I find myself with one day left to live. Tomorrow, I'll have 0 days left to live, and on Monday, I will die. It's a strange thing to know you are dying. It seems there are still so many things that I want to experience. Yet, when you're dying, there's nothing to really do except surrender to what is.

I contemplate what I will say to those I know and love on my final day tomorrow before I die. My plan is to make a video message to them tomorrow, and to simply allow whatever arises to be expressed. Even thinking about it brings up emotion in my being.

  It's not like this is the first time I've "nearly died." I've had many brushes with death in this lifetime, starting when I was just an infant. My mother shares the story of me choking on a small piece of meat she'd chewed up a bit and given to me when I was around a year or two old... like a mama bird feeding her young. My eyes rolled back in my head and I turned blue. Somehow she managed to get that piece of meat out of my throat before it totally took me out. That was my first dance with death.

My second dance happened when I was around six to eight years old. One afternoon I asked my mom if I could have some sugar cubes from the jar she stored in our kitchen pantry. I wanted them for a snack; she kept them for guests who wanted sugar with their coffee or tea. She said no (as any responsible parent would). But I was stubborn and intent, and I LOVED sugar cubes; I thought they were the smartest invention ever!

So I sneakily and quietly opened that jar in the pantry for a small handful of the treats. I hid five of them in my palm as I walked back to my room, closed the door behind me and then sat in front of the big picture window by my bed and ate them... which would have been fine except that I didn't just eat them. I tossed them up into the air like I'd seen my older sister do with popcorn and caught them in my mouth one by one. This was a fun game! The first four went right into my mouth and landed on my tongue where I let them slowly dissolve... yum! The fifth one rolled right down my throat and got lodged there... Yep, choking again!

It didn't take me long to figure out that that sugar cube was not going anywhere without some help. Once I realized that I couldn't breath, I ran out of my room clutching my throat and making a very interesting sound as I tried to express to my mom and one of my older sisters what was happening. My mother stood up in a panic, not understanding; it was my sister who figured out that I was choking on something. They flipped me over and hung me upside down, one of them holding my ankles shaking me up and down while the other one beat on my back; I'm not sure who did what.

Eventually (and I have no idea how long it took) that silly little sugar cube came rolling out of my throat and onto the carpet below me, covered with blood. Well, that's all it took for me to snatch up that sugar cube and "tuck tail and run" in complete and utter shame about what I'd done. I don't recall my sister or mother saying a word; they just let me go hide in my closet, which was my way of coping when I felt uncomfortable.

I don't know how long I stayed in that closet but it felt like a very long time because I missed supper and it was dark outside before I finally eased my way out as quietly as I could and slinked into my bed for the night. I guess they figured the shame I felt for so actively disobeying my mother was enough of a punishment, so they let me be.

From my Spanish Catholic-raised young mind, I thought that God had punished me for sneakily going against my mother by making me choke, and I wondered why he waited until the last of my five sugar cubes to do so. It certainly made for a more dramatic experience. I must admit that I felt somewhat lucky and extremely grateful for it because there wasn't any evidence of the other four that I'd already eaten. "Maybe they'll just believe that I'm not that bad of a kid since they only saw one..."

I had a couple more brushes with death before I escaped elementary school. You can read about them in Part 2...

FIVE...!!

Five days left before my death... Oh boy, is my mind racing. Part of me wants to panic, feeling rushed to complete lots of projects and ideas ("Have I forgotten anything??"). Part of me wants to rest, feeling peaceful and full from all the things I've experienced here ("Wow. What a ride!"). And part of me wants to have a huge party with all the people who have been a part of it in celebration of a life begun in innocence, lived to my best ability, and now surrendered...for better or worse ("Thank you all. I love you all. Celebrate my transformation!").

I remember participating in a specific death ceremony not too many years ago at a sacred site down in Mexico with a couple of my spiritual teachers. Part of the ceremony meant gathering up a "double" of all parts of your self and your life, and offering it to The Angel of Death in gratitude. I remember being hesitant to do so, thinking to myself "I wouldn't wish this mess on anyone! I have nothing positive to offer. Do I really want to give this to the Angel of Death? It doesn't feel like an offering; it feels like a burden..."

Recalling that now makes me chuckle. My life today feels so different; I've come to appreciate every stinking bit of it...the good, the bad and the ugly, as I like to say. I've achieved many of the things I hoped to: survived high school, went to college, got my Ph.D., had a career, published a book, created an intimate circle of friends and seekers, and felt a full spectrum of things along the way.

Now I can say I'm living my dream - doing things that I love in service to the Divine - teaching Kundalini Yoga, counseling and spiritual life coaching, writing, and offering workshops to heal, open and inspire the heart. I am blessed to share a sacred partnership with a beautiful human being that supports, loves, accepts and expands me. I live in authenticity and feel good about who I am, continually seeking opportunities to get bigger in service. I love where I live and I love my pets. In fact, there is nothing about my life today that I am unhappy with; it is all potential to expand. Today, I happily offer the fullness of my life up to the Angel of Death with tremendous gratitude. I believe I've found heaven in my heart.

And I have aspirations and visions for more in my being - something even bigger than what I've already created. I feel it around the corner yet I don't quite know what's there yet... Oh Angel of Death, be merciful. May the transition be filled with light and grace, opening gateways to the vast and infinite beyond; and may I simply step up...

Countdown

There are so many thoughts and sensations moving through my body these days as I approach the end of my "A Year To Live" adventure. Changing the death countdown from 10 to 9 today felt a bit like hitting the big red button for a shuttle lift-off. I could hear my own voice in my head saying with passion and maybe even excitement and a bit of anxiety: "Ten! Nine!..."

Last night I returned to my favorite labyrinth to walk it beneath the big bright moon. The sky was virtually clear all day and night until about 5 minutes before I walked when a thin cloud bank moved over it. It was interesting to see and feel the difference in the energy of this walk compared to the last. The last moon was bright and vibrant with energy and the contrast between the light and shadows was stark. This time, the moon was veiled and the light-shadow contrast was barely noticeable. The energy and the light was gentle and soft.

I felt my body relating to that shift. As I approach the end of this year, my own energy feels more gentle and soft. There is an urge to slow down, rest into what's here, and stop all the business so I can drop more deeply into connection with it all. It's an interesting contrast between the ending and a beginning. I feel the ending of this year approaching; I also feel the possibility of birth, newness and freshness on the other side of it. There's a sense of spaciousness hovering just beyond the surrender...

Yesterday a client struggled with whether or not her presence in life was helping or hurting the world; she questioned her own purpose for being here. I heard myself say: "There's no greater purpose or service to the Divine than raising our own vibration." This is a truth that I have come to hold. We spend so much time in our lives questioning our choices, our reasons for being here, our purpose. The answer is in the process of questioning...

What I believe is that we don't have to do anything special to make our journey here meaningful or purposeful; all we have to do is question. The questioning guides us to raise our own vibration. That is living a purposeful life.

Every day my question is: "How I can be of service today?" The rest of my day is spent paying attention to that - to what arises within that frame. It's a very simple question with no specific answer. And it unfolds in powerful and mysterious ways.

As I approach this death, I'm still asking that question every day: "How can I be of service today?" Maybe I already have...just by the asking.