Danse Macabre. N. Thomas Johnson-Medland

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ as the Gospel of Thomas, 70 states so clearly: “If you bring forth what is within you, what you bring forth will save you. If you do not bring forth what is within you, what you do not bring forth will kill you.”

      Take a look at what is going on in yourself when you consider the idea of “not-being”. What does it make you do, believe, feel, intuit, and desire? Remember your death—as the Fathers taught. It drives who you are. Be aware of that.

      * * *

      This one morning, I could feel Death’s presence as I put on my socks. He was cold and heavy, sitting there without uttering a sound. He did not call to me, or draw a grasping hand at me. He just sat there. I could not even hear him breathe.

      He lives on the back side of a fog we would do well to call ignorance. Sometimes we would do well to call the fog denial. Working with the dying has dissipated the fog some in my life. It is still there because so many people hide from the transformational ethos of dying, but I can see through it—like a haze—just a bit. The dying ones have made sure of that. They were eager to help me see.

      * * *

      It may not actually have been Death himself. It is hard to know if the presence you feel is Death or one of his minions (those that do His bidding). It is the same fine line between thinking about Death and thinking about dying. He and His minions have the same feel: cold and heavy, breathless. They are silent but clearly knowable. Talking about Death and dying has the same feel too. They are silencing. They bring an end to whatever is going on. Their lugubrious presence is heavy.

      It felt like Death, though, this morning. Death sat there next to me on the bed. It sort of reminded me of the Looney Tunes cartoon when the sheep dog and the coyote go off to work together and punch in at the same time clock. Once they punch in, they become enemies, but before that they are just folks who know each other.

      Death and I knew each other, but as I got closer to work—work at the hospice—He would become the very thing I was helping people to deal with. I would start to talk about Death like He was not there. He and I would be traveling together, but my job was to somehow open other peoples’ eyes to His presence in their life, so they could be “awake”.

      * * *

      You can tell when Death or His minions are in a room. You have been in a hospital room when nothing is being said, nothing is being felt. That not-saying and that not-feeling are because Death or His buddies are in the room—taking all of the life out of it. Death and his buddies consume everything—leaving a vacuous void. Silence beyond anything we could give word to.

      If you are not sure of what I am talking about, just say the word “death” the next time you are talking with a group of people. Simply interject the word into the middle of the conversation—an absurd non-sequitur.

      The blank, expressionless absence of words that saying “death” creates, that feeling is the feeling of Death himself. He has gained that feeling because we have filled his image with elemental impressions that are filled with fear. Our innards writhe at the mention of the word. The anxiety that swims in us is an overbearing pile of snakes. They steal our tongue and dull our minds. Just utter the word, you will see.

      He is what we have created him to be. Not that Death does not have his own intrinsic meaning. It does. He does. But, impressions add to meaning—that is for sure. Fear has added an immense stock of impressions to what is conjured up when we hear the mention of “Death” or think in his direction.

      When we do not talk about something, we are not saying that there is no belief behind that idea; that we have nothing inside us concerning that thing. We are saying that we struggle with being able to put words to what it is that is going on inside. This is what the Gospel of Thomas, 70 was getting at. If we do not put words to that thing in us, it will consume the whole of our days and drive us toward its own self fulfillment. Basic psychology, folks.

      We can have all sorts of linear beliefs about death and dying; “bumper sticker phrases” to shield our hearts from the dread we feel. But, most people when faced with transformation are not permeated with a peaceful surrender that longs for transition. They recoil with some ancient lurking sickness that is beyond them. Their dark silence runs deep. We fear Death most often.

      * * *

      His minions are made up of the recently dead, and His spiritual envoys—angels of Death if you will. His minions are new arrivals and the long-dead alike. His minions do his bidding. They are journeymen and masters. His minions are also small thoughts, images, and inklings of the idea of separation, loss, and death. Little things that give us a glimpse—askance—of death.

      You could say there are layers to the impressions and meaning of Death. There are pieces to the complete identity of Death. They float aloft like wisps of carbon around a fire. Those layers, those pieces, and those wisps make up the minions of Death.

      Most of the time people do not recognize that things in our lives have multiple and graded meanings. They do not recognize the layers to things. They believe they have streamlined and singular beliefs about things like God and love and death and sex.

      The fact is, most of us have concentric meanings and impressions about everything in our world. Without them we would be unable to survive. The echolocation of our lives is always seeking out where things are in conjunction to where we are. This sensing is able to identify depth where we had only thought there was a surface. We just do not rely on this sensing; we do not feel for more than initial soundings.

      * * *

      When you feel Death, it may be a minion. It may just be one of the recent dead who are unfamiliar with what has happened to them. It may be remnants of a conversation on the dismal topic. It may be Death himself has perched himself aloft in the space around you. It may simply be lineaments of your last funeral. You can feel Death, though. You can feel the presence of the idea of dying. It may be a missing of someone you no longer have within view; just outside your reach, and touch, and grasp.

      * * *

      When people die, some of them do not die knowing they are dying. Quick and sudden deaths are like this. These people seek out the living in order to carry on usual relationships with them. Since they do not know they are dead, they do not know they should stop living—and so they do not. They just keep on carrying on with “life” as they knew it. All the while, they are dead. Their echolocation is really poorly developed. It can happen with people that are in deep concentric rings of denial or ignorance—those who have not allowed things to come up and out into the conscious light.

      These unclear dead folks—transformed people who do not know they are transformed—try to crash in to familiar scenes. They go down the hall from their death room and seek out urgent and familiar feelings. They look for “Clara” or “Bob” and launch off into some one-sided, unheard conversation.

      They run after their sister that is running out of the house in tears. The gap between living and dying is not as cavernous as we had hoped. We see people who have died for weeks after the change has happened.

      The newly dead try to meet up with people. They are trying to see if things are really as different as they feel, or if they are only exaggerating what they feel. It is sort of like walking into a meeting and immediately joining into the conversation. You kind of hope people will forget you were late. That is what the newly dead do, if they did not know Death was coming. They are hoping people will somehow forget they are late. They are a bit unsure of their own lateness as well.

      It is amazing to me that more of them do not recognize something is odd right at the outset. СКАЧАТЬ