Words of Comfort: Lorna Byrne

Mystic and author Lorna Byrne describes a profound near-death experience (NDE) that she had in her book "A Message of Hope from the Angels."  According to her, our deceased loved ones continue to be a part of our lives just as much as they ever were, maybe even more:

"I know one of the reasons people fear death is that they are concerned about those they will leave behind.  At the moment of death, you will realize that you can do much more for those you love in Heaven than you can ever do for them on this earth.  I know this is hard to understand.  When a soul has gone to Heaven, it is in a position to intercede with God in a much more powerful way, on behalf of family and loved ones, than it could when it was here on earth."

Beliefs About the Afterlife: the Ancient Egyptians

Sam Tetrault, a contributing writer for Cake, has an article about the ancient Egyptians and their beliefs in the afterlife.   For historical reference, most historians regard the "ancient" period of Egypt as lasting from circa 3100 B.C.E. (when the first pharaohs reigned) to 332 B.C.E. (when Egypt was conquered by Alexander the Great).  Tetrault points out that death was not something the ancient Egyptians were afraid of:

"[The] Egyptians didn’t have much fear surrounding death. Because death meant continuing on to the afterlife, which was very similar to the life they knew—this wasn’t a reason to be sad. Daily life in ancient Egypt focused on living to the fullest, whether that meant joining festivals, gaining wealth, or appreciating moments with friends and family."

One aspect of Tetrault's article that I find particularly intriguing is the concept of a confession and "final judgement", which predates the beginnings of the great monotheistic religions (Christianity, Judaism, and Islam):

"The first stop for departed souls is to the Hall of Truths. This is where they wait in line for judgment from Osiris, the god of the afterlife. In front of Osiris and the Forty-Two Judges, the soul makes what’s known as their Negative Confessions. This is a list of 42 sins one can commit against one’s self, the gods, or others....From there, the judges discuss the confession and present the heart to Osiris. It’s weighed on a scale against the feather of truth. If the heart is lighter than the feature, the soul goes to the afterlife."

Many other interesting facts and tidbits in Tetrault's article, including the Egyptians' belief that not burying a body would cause that person to return as a ghost!

Videos That Have Have Helped: Timothy Ward's View on the Secret of Life

For the last several months, I've been following Timothy Ward's YouTube channel.  Tim has a lot of interesting content exploring minimalism, nomadic life, overcoming addiction, and discussing the state of our culture and society.  He just posted a new video: "I Think I Just Stumbled Across the Secret to Life."   Tim points out that, yes, life usually isn't easy or fair.  We will have setbacks and losses.  But he also points out that life can be more like an adventure, or an exciting journey, or a treasure hunt, if we approach life with the right attitude.  My words don't really do Tim's words justice -- go ahead and watch the 15-minute video in its entirety.  For those of you who are feeling "stuck" in life while you're grieving (and believe me, I've been there numerous times!)  Tim's words sound like a good friend giving you an encouraging and motivational pep talk.  While he doesn't explicitly discuss grief and losing loved ones, I think there are many applicable points here for those of us who are depressed and grief-stricken could use.

Philosophy of Dying: Seneca - Part II

There was another quote from Mustapha Itani's article on Seneca that I think is worth mentioning, and that has to do with the memories we have of loved ones who have died, especially if they've passed away recently.  Again, Seneca addresses his friend Marcia, who lost her son at a young age:

"Then, Seneca states that it is an awful choice not to consider the entirety of [Marcia's] son’s life, and focus only on the tragic ending: 'you pay no attention to the pleasure you have had in your son’s society and your joyful meetings with him, the sweet caresses of his babyhood, the progress of his education: you fix all your attention upon that last scene of all.'”

After reading this, I realize that many of us who are grieving, including myself, might be better off heeding Seneca's advice.  When we lost someone we loved dearly, we tend to focus on our final moments with them, especially if those memories were extremely stressful and/or sorrowful.  As a consequence, we tend to bury or forget the memories of all the good times we had with them, which in all likelihood greatly outnumber the sad or negative memories.  As day-to-day life slowly becomes more manageable for me, I'm putting more effort in to remember the numerous good times I had with my mother and Carter and Milton.

Philosophy of Dying: Seneca

Seneca (circa 4 BCE - 65 CE) was one of the great Roman philosophers, who along with Epictetus and Marcus Aurelius, was instrumental in the promotion of Stoicism.  Over at dailystoic.com, Mustapha Itani has a great in-depth piece in how Seneca attempted to comfort his friend Marcia, who lost her son Metilius to death.  Lots of great content here, and this one stood out for me particularly:

"In a clear statement of Stoic determinism, Seneca gives an analogy to express the true nature of life, in which he states that life is just like an inn and that all of us will soon leave to make space for another guest. He states that our time here is short and all men and their works have a brief time here, and take no part of infinite time. People always say that someone “died early” and “before their time”, but in actuality, Seneca argues, every man has a time in this life that has been assigned to him, and that no one dies before his time. We always associate death with old men and old age, but death is always floating around everyone, even the youngest of children.

Seneca finishes with an essential reminder, that we should evaluate life not by length and years, but by virtue. One should not measure life by the number of years lived, rather by what has been accomplished and how it was lived..."

What Pigs, Organ Transplants, and the Stars Can Teach Us About Life and Death

Over at CNN.com, Katie Hunt has an article: "Research in pigs shakes up what we know about dying".  To summarize, scientists have discovered that cellular functions and blood circulation in pigs can be restored even an hour after their deaths.  This could have major implications for humans, especially when it comes to being able to increase the number of available donor organs for those who need them.

Speaking of organ transplants, this reminds me of a story I heard back in the news in the 1990s, when an older woman by the name of Claire Sylvia, who was seriously ill, received a heart transplant from a young man, Timothy Lamirande, who was killed in a motorcycle accident.  Soon after the transplant, she developed a serious craving for McDonald's Chicken McNuggets.  Unbeknownst to her at the time, Chicken McNuggets were one of the favorite foods of her donor, Tim.  This phenomenon has been reported in multiple publications, including Dr. Thomas Verny in Psychology Today, Lorianna De Giorgio in The Toronto Star, and Marcus Lowth at Listverse.com.  Of course, the vast majority of organ donor recipients report no changes in their personalities, or preferences, but there seem to be enough cases that this could warrant further investigation.

Between these stories about restoring bodily functions in pigs and organ transplants, I've beginning to realize that the line between "life" and "death" might not be as definitive and crystal-clear as we tend to think.  And when I think about it, I have to ask: what is life and what is death, really?  Or are we all just on some sort of continuum where it all just kind of blends and blurs together?  It reminds me of the saying that "We're all made of star stuff" -- the components and elements that make up the stars in the universe make up our own bodies as well, including carbon, hydrogen, nitrogen, oxygen, phosphorus, and sulfur.  

And on a related note, I'm reminded of theologian Philip Yancey, who once wrote that we humans are so limited in our understanding of our world and our universe, and he used this analogy of a supernova in his book "Disappointment with God" to show how a Supreme Creator being could be so much bigger than we realize:

"Now we understand time as relative, not as absolute. Perception of time, we are told, depends on the relative position of the observer. Take a recent example: on the night of February 23, 1987, an astronomer in Chile observed with his naked eye the explosion of a distant supernova, a blast so powerful that it released as much energy in one second as our sun will release in ten billion years. But did that event truly occur on February 23, 1987? Only from the perspective of our planet. Actually, the supernova exploded 170,000 years prior to our 1987, but the light generated by that faraway event, traveling almost 6 trillion miles a year, took 170,000 years to reach our galaxy.

And here is where the higher view of eternity defies our normal understanding of time. Imagine, if you will, a very large Being, larger than the entire universe—so large that the Being exists simultaneously on earth and in the space occupied by Supernova 1987A. [This being could observe] both past (from earth, he saw the supernova explosion of 170,000 years before), present (the events of 1987 on earth), and future (what was happening on Supernova 1987A “now" that earthlings will not learn about for 170,000 years) simultaneously.

Such a Being, big as the universe, could, from some lookout post, see what is happening anywhere in the universe at any given time."

I realize that this post almost reads more like a "random stream of consciousness", but it makes me realize how much more there is to life and death than we realize -- it's all very mysterious and very fascinating at the same time, even if I'm still struggling to find the answers.  May you, dear reader, find comfort and reassurance, as you too continue to search for answers.

Words of Comfort: Pema Khandro Rinpoche

My dear friend August sent me a link to this article by Pema Khandro Rinpoche.  Rinpoche is a teacher of Tibetan Buddhism.  It has to do with the concept of "bardo", or "having the rug pulled out from under us", as she so succinctly puts it.  An excerpt:

“But to be precise, 'bardo' refers to that state in which we have lost our old reality and it is no longer available to us. Anyone who has experienced this kind of loss knows what it means to be disrupted, to be entombed between death and rebirth. We often label that a state of shock. In those moments, we lose our grip on the old reality and yet have no sense what a new one might be like. … Until now, we have been holding on to the idea of an inherent continuity in our lives, creating a false sense of comfort for ourselves on artificial ground. ....There is no ground, no certainty, and no reference point—there is, in a sense, no rest. This has always been the entry point in our lives for religion, because in that radical state of unreality we need profound reasoning—not just logic, but something beyond logic, something that speaks to us in a timeless, non-conceptual way.”

I replied to August by affirming that "bardo" has indeed been the state of my life for the past year, as I'm sure it is for you, dear reader, as you continue to live through and process your grief and loss.  It also reminds me of my previous post on how we can continue to think more expansively and creatively about how we can use language to describe what we are experiencing.