A few days ago, I began reading “The Year of Magical Thinking” by Joan Didion. I picked it up in part due to Ryan Holiday highly recommending it, but also in large part due to the subject matter. The loss of my father a few years ago and still coming to terms with that, but the deep, intimate portrait of marriage and being a parent.
What I was not expecting was the following:
“…I had dreamed an image that, when I woke, I knew had been death: the jagged ridge seen from the air off one of the Channel Islands, expect in this case all ice, translucent, a blued white, glittering in the sunlight…there was in this dream no dread…the ice island…seemed on the contrary transcendent, more beautiful than I could say, yet there was no doubt in my mind that what I had seen was death.
I had written about a very similar experience on February 12th, “The Mountain.”
In that moment, awake, I was flying through the air and saw snow covered mountains. Unlike Joan Didion, I could not place it specifically but it was so vibrant, clear and detailed. I knew I had never been there before in this life, yet I had.
It ended with me spiraling through a dark tunnel, then it was gone. I opened my eyes.
It was not my immediate thought, but later that day I had the thought: “Did I die?” Did I “see death”?
Not “death” in the traditional sense. The “Death” in this world where one sees the true “Life” one can have. Pure energy and Love, unimpeded by the past or the future. Simply being in the now, with no fear.
The limitlessness we all know deep inside, from the Source is there, because we were born of it.