Death

The Specter of Death

The Specter of Death

I saw death as a specter standing in the doorway. I saw it as an element in the room, a mist, a spirit. It is something that is part of life; something that is with us all the time. Then I saw my own death, as something that is imminent. I had a lot of reactions to that. I recognized later that they were the stages of grieving. And I came out at the end accepting my death and not being attached to how long I’m alive. The events showed me how attached I am to the things I do. But I came out feeling less attached; that the things I do are not very important compared to the fact of simply living. It is enough to be alive in this moment.

I turned on the love and left the faucet running. I pictured the bathtub in the basement filling up and overflowing and filling up the basement and then running into the room where I was sitting. Everyone started splashing around in the love and having a great time.

I saw a light circuit. I saw lines of light connecting everyone. It was a lattice and the more I looked at it, the more complex it was.

I was aware of the spirit moving and that (like my experience decades ago in a spirit-filled Baptist church) people more experienced than I understood the spirit had a will to do something that I was unaware of. Simply responding to my awareness of the spirit in the room might shift what was supposed to happen to a lesser manifestation of the spirit.

We were planted here by other beings. We are being watched, guided, raised. A multitude stands around us ministering to us. A host is ready at any moment to help us. It is possible to talk to them, but it is in another frequency; in a way we are not looking for, that we would not think to be aware of. Their reality is completely separate from ours. It is like a line cutting through crossways, a plane cutting through our reality. If we knew to look for it, we could carefully pop into it and then travel in that plane. I heard them talking to me during the music. They would go, “squawk, squawk, squawk” in moments between stanzas in the music.

I was aware of motion changing my reality.

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One thought on “Death

  1. lenagrace on said:

    People require unfathomable levels of patience~for the wary walkers amongst us.
    But—–
    Is one ever patient- just-because?
    OR—–
    Patience-to yearn, to dream about All the ways in which one hungers for the ear of another?
    The lips of the other?
    The sweet, sweat- filled portal of another’ soul?
    To flood the beholders minds eye with pleasurable conquests?
    To allow the quiver of truth to wash away the fragrant clouds of desire?
    To cultivate patient awareness to meet what is called for now?
    Is it really patience- the great motivator towards fulfillment of what is called for now?

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