| A Good Day to Die May you choose wisely From the Editor by Tim Miejan "Death is no more than passing from one room into another. But there's a difference for me, you know. Because in that other room I shall be able to see." -- Helen Keller I remember the day when my friend Wendy drowned. I received the call from her husband. I sat down and my immediate reaction surprised me. I was calm. I envisioned her soul being free, flying without limitation, far away from a world that seemed to limit her so much. I sent prayers of love to her, intending that she would receive them as she adapted to what must have been a profound transition -- and a sudden one. I'm sure she enjoyed the trip. Yet, I still wondered where the tears were. Was I in denial of my feelings? It was a time of sadness, so why did I feel so not-sad? Later, at the funeral, amid the emotions of her friends and family, I cried -- not for her, but for the pain and loss of those around me. Wendy's voice still comes into my mind unannounced. I know death is far from a sentence into oblivion, but a magnificent journey home. "Here is a test to find whether your mission on Earth is finished: If you're still alive, it isn't." -- Richard Bach I experienced the death of one of my three cats in December. My eyes were a watershed of emotion. Lady Madonna looked up at me with sad eyes as she took her last gasp for air. Perhaps she was confused about why I was crying. In January, I was a pallbearer at my Grandpa's funeral. I touched his hand and knew that that his mission on Earth was finished. He was a model of gentleness and a testament that men don't need to be macho to be strong. Guilt that I had not taken the time to see him more often lingered with me throughout the funeral, but I was able to forgive myself and be present with the fact that I can be with him now whenever I think of him. "In my belief, death is nothing to be feared. It is merely a stage of transition. But life without hope... that's living hell." -- "The X-Files" In response to my nagging questions about my life before I can remember it, my mom revealed that when I was very young, my dad would take a gun from his gun cabinet, announce that he was going to kill himself and then leave the house for long periods of time. She was left at home with young children, not knowing if their father and her husband was coming home. I couldn't imagine how she felt at the time. But I could imagine how he felt. At a time when I was feeling depressed and without hope, I also threatened to end my own life. I never made plans to actually kill myself, but in my unhappiness I tossed out words that I have long since regretted saying. It was not my finest hour. I do not own a gun, but I'm sure my words cut like a knife. I have since apologized for my emotional abuse. I scared my loved ones -- for what purpose? It is easy in such times of despair to bury oneself in pity and forget how your actions and words affect loved ones around you. But it's even easier to walk out of the darkness and into the light, reconnecting with one's spiritual resources in whatever form they appear. With such an intent, it doesn't take long for feelings of hope and support -- and trust that you'll always be protected, no matter what -- to return. "If you live without feeling the need to change, or the courage to make the change, then you merely exist." -- Brandon Abernathy There is physical death, the transition of your soul from your body to some undetermined place often described as very bright and filled with familiar and wise beings. And then there is another kind of death, the death of the old replaced by the new. Facing new things is a time of transition, and like physical death, it is accompanied by fear of the unknown. When we were young and preparing to enter school, we were forced to experience the death of a familiar way of life. For the first time, we were separated from our predictable pattern of being and had to encounter a more uncertain existence. That death often included a painful separation from our parents during the school day. A similar transition occurred when we graduated from high school and college and were forced to encounter an even more uncertain way of life in "the real world." Some of us who were unable to face that death became career students. Marriage also involves the death of a familiar way of life -- and some people do not survive that experience. When a relationship dies, due to separation, divorce or physical death, we must summon up the strength and courage to once again live anew. All of those circumstances pale in comparison to what occurs when we experience the death of ways of thinking that no longer serve us in our lives. When we are able to clearly watch our thoughts and observe that our repeated attitudes and resulting behaviors are not bringing us happiness, we can consciously decide to do things differently. We can choose again. We can adopt a different perspective, a different attitude and experience different results in our lives. What does that death ask of us in return? The courage to stay on our path. The wisdom to know when we have left the path and are beginning to walk through brambles that had hurt us in the past. The discipline to keep walking, one step at a time, especially when the rewards of doing so have not been fully realized. Know that each day many, many people are choosing to die to their old ways and embrace positivity and peace in their thoughts and deeds. May you choose to be among them. Tim Miejan is editor of The EDGE. Contact him at (651) 578-8969 or e-mail editor@edgenews.com Copyright (c) 2002 Tim Miejan |
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