Our physical self is great matter for our spirit. It connects you to your experience in ways that your presupposed thoughts alone can’t. For the majority of us (not having a conscious appreciation of having experienced it before), death causes us to surrender to sensation, apart even from how our thoughts rationalize or interpret those sensations.
‘The’ truly personal journey, the expiration of our physical bodies, death inspires us to an appreciation of aspects of life we’re otherwise inclined to deny. Whether your own appears imminent, or is a long way off, ultimately, there’s no ‘thinking’ our way through it. It’s the one education that our minds can’t ‘solve’ for us, and as such, it grounds us in visceral experience.
It sets the appeal that you trust your intuition and throw the net of your awareness out into the world around you, pulling in truths that may defy your intellect, your rational mind, and what your conditioning might wish to (superficially) espouse.
As a force for appreciating the moment, death takes us beyond our ordinary, past the chaos of (modern) life, into a position of surpassing any concerns about what others might think. With it, ultimately, we put ourselves into a condition where we can no longer take this world personally. We’re moved to rise above it and ask for an alternate, truer vision.
Death takes away the burden of activity as a preferred habit, and in doing so, provides you with an opportunity most wouldn’t choose for ourselves: to trust our inner wisdom to guide our path. By default, this forced journey of no ‘doing’ subjects you to receptivity, a state of gathering power by receiving, allowing the mystical to show you its intentions.
What’s the profound ‘benefit’ of death? …strength, the kind that comes from being presented with a challenge you likely imagine as too difficult to endure. Death touches us to heal our wounds and mend our hearts. It’s the mediator by which we can make our friendships whole again (most prominently, yours with yourSelf)… not heart-breaking, but Heart-Making.
Big Medicine Love to You
David ‘Black Feather’ Nagy