On morphine, lying in a hospital bed, outfitted with tubes and electronic-sensor hook-ups on my chest like a pet octopus, I conversed with a host of beings who were giving me my spiritual name. My partner of five years stood by.  I was filled with a desire to tell her everything I had learned on this morphine, an hour after having had a massive heart attack. Primarily, I had learned that the absence of fear is ecstasy!  My spiritual name, I was shown, was a beautiful energy symbol in pale orange and pale pink.  The surrounding light was yellow-white, and I later tried to paint its brilliance.

Suddenly, five people, doctors and nurses ran into the room, pushed my partner into the corner and began working furiously for another five mutes. As suddenly as they came in, when done, they all left.

It was not until many years had passed that, in conversation, I learned that it was not the morphine that was giving me these incredible experiences and understandings, but the fact that when my partner looked at the monitor screen, she saw that I was dead.

Those few moments of absolute release of all pressures, all possible things that could ever go wrong in life, were the best moments of my life.  I was pure expansion.  Imagine having no fear of anything going wrong with your body, having no fear of mental illness, nothing owed to anyone, being so fully expanded in every direction without even gravity to hold you from containing the stars within you, all beyond any limits created by time or space.  This, as it turned out, is death.  Yes, the same death that we have all been taught to be terrified of since we could ask questions.

Since that experience, my own death, I have come to see life and death as a pulsation between expansion and contraction.  Life is contraction, while death is expansion, in a cycle like a great rhythm, creating its own count-out of time-space.

What struck me just last night was a fascinating idea.  Assuming expansion and contraction to be the nature of the universe, what if we are here to slowly learn to equalize the difference between these two cardinal polarities, in the form of the life-death cycle?  What if we are here in the life cycle, as they say, to bring that same expansive awareness that is death, into the contracted awareness of life?  It also struck me that perhaps this is why beings who are awakened find it possible and easy to say, “I will die next Sunday at three. I hope you can attend.”  It is possible for them to achieve this because they have found a way to equalize the difference between life and death. They have brought the expansiveness of death into the contractedness of life.  The transition is as easy for them as walking from one room in a house to the next, and closing the door behind them. In short, there was no transition between the two prime polarities. They have been equalized.

Upon our own death, I know from experience, we are no longer actually attached to our body’s.  Yet, without any of the things we attribute consciousness to, sentience to, a literal no brainer, we are conscious, sentient, and beyond, we are more astute than ever before.  I know this first hand.  We may wonder at how an ant, with such a minuscule brain, can do everything it does to find food, reproduce, reproduce, capture and raise aphids, milk them, make bread, and find a drop of honey on the eighteenth floor of a high-rise apartment building from the ground. Yet, when we see that consciousness has almost nothing to do with whether you even have a body, it becomes obvious how even insects function fully, without an economy grade intelligence that we dismiss in the name of instinct. The entire evolutionary process comes up for question.  I saw everything that was happening in that room in the hospital even though my body had been taken away from me. To the notion that there is some residual consciousness that lasts a while, I would say, not hardly. I saw it all in real-time, not some slow die-off.  I was dead.

My proposal is this. Perhaps, while here incarnate, we should attempt to equalize the difference between life and death, by practicing not being human, but instead, being the infinite expansion into all things.  The more we practice being this, the more we will equalize the two greatest polar differences, as far as we know.  Ultimately, this practice, which brings enormous pleasure, indeed, the greatest pleasure possible, while it teaches us that the absence of fear is ecstasy.

 

Ross Drago

Paint Rag Magazine